Copyright

by
Anna Mara Nogar
2008

The Dissertation Committee for Anna Mara Nogar

certifies that this is the approved version of the following dissertation:

La Monja Azul: The Political and Cultural Ramifications of a

17th-century Mystical Transatlantic Journey

Committee:

Jos Limn, Supervisor

Csar Salgado, Co-Supervisor

Cory Reed

Domino Perez
James Nicolopulos

La Monja Azul: The Political and Cultural Ramifications of a

17th-century Mystical Transatlantic Journey

by

Anna Mara Nogar, B.S.; M.A.

Dissertation
Presented to the Faculty of the Graduate School of
The University of Texas at Austin
in Partial Fulfillment
of the Requirements
of the Degree of
Doctor of Philosophy

The University of Texas at Austin

August 2008

Dedication

I dedicate this dissertation to my family, especially to my late father Nicholas Nogar,

mother Marcella, brother Joshua and sister Carmella. I could not have done this without
you.

Acknowledgements

There are many people I wish to thank for helping me during my time at The University
of Texas and while creating this dissertation. Though I can never thank him enough, mil
gracias to Jos Limn, from whose wise counsel and patient tutelage I have learned so
much over the past seven years. Many thanks as well to my very supportive dissertation
committee: Csar Salgado, Domino Perez, Cory Reed and James Nicolopulos. To
Cristina Carrasco and Maripaz Garca: I cant imagine life in Austin without you and
your constant friendship las quiero mucho! To the chicas (Carla Saenz, Cristina
Martnez, and Luca Osa Melero): thank you for making every single day in Austin
lively, interesting and real. Many thanks as well to Catherine Gubernatis, Bryan Dolejsi,
and Robert Keller for their support throughout all stages of this project; thanks also to
Peter Marlantes. To those Ive not included here, please forgive the omission; your
kindness is not forgotten!

And, of course, thank you always to my wonderful family: Mom, Josh, Carmella,
Grandma and Grandpa Snchez, Grandma and Grandpa Nogar, aunts, uncles and cousins.

La Monja Azul: The Political and Cultural Ramifications of a

17th-century Mystical Transatlantic Journey

Anna Mara Nogar, Ph.D.

The University of Texas at Austin, 2008

Supervisors: Jos Limn and Csar Salgado

This project sets forth a Mexican American cultural studies treatment of a US

Southwestern legend known as the Lady in Blue (La monja azul). The legend is derived
from17th-century religious memoriales (accounts) that narrate the miraculous apparition
of a living cloistered Spanish nun, Sor Mara de Agreda, to the Jumano tribe of western
New Mexico between the years 1620-1630. However, the Lady in Blues conversion of
the Jumanos was only the first of many recurring appearances she would make in the
Americas and Europe over the next three hundred and seventy years. In the American
Southwest, northern Mexico and Spain, stories about the apparating nun resurface and are
reshaped in response to the demands of their contexts. Her narrative is transatlantic both
in terms of what it recounts, and in terms of where it is recounted. She is not only
vi

represented on both sides of the ocean, but her portrayal almost always has to do with her
being on both side of the ocean. The Lady in Blue narrative brings together dialogues on
conquest, both secular and religious, dialogues on the significance of the female body and
the feminine written word, and dialogues on the negotiation of space, proximity and
identity.
Extant research on Lady in Blue focuses on the components of her story as
discrete entities, inadvertently divorcing related histories and legends from one another.
20th-century historians have read the account as a medieval holdover in Franciscan
mission writing; folklorists as isolated Indo-Hispano accounts; and literary critics as
individual anecdotes in twentieth-century literature. In contrast, this dissertation focuses
on is the continuity of the narrative- the way a series of historical figures and documents
capture the Lady in Blue as she moves from New Mexico, to Spain, and back to the
Franciscan missions of the Southwest, where she is viewed as a proto- or co-missionary.
From the missions, the traditions, legends, and folklore about her grew and were
contended, resulting in the contemporary dramatic works, novels, short stories and poems
about the Lady in Blue.

vii

Table of Contents

Introduction .. 1
Chapter 1 . 29
Chapter 2 . 78
Chapter 3 . 118
Chapter 4 . 154
Chapter 5 . 220
Chapter 6 . 256
Conclusion ... 314
Bibliography ... 319
Vita ..... 329

viii

If one considers the beliefs and practices

described in the text, which are clearly quite
startling, to be too startling to be true []
one might as well abandon ones research
right then and there. If, on the other hand,
one thinks that there may be a meaning to it
all, and that the document ought to be taken
seriously, then that clearly provides a
tremendous opportunity for a new approach
to medieval history.
- Jean-Claude Schmitt
The Holy Greyhound, 7-8

Introduction
This dissertation offers a cultural studies treatment of a US Southwestern legend
known as the Lady in Blue. The fascinating history, folklore and literature generated by
this legend have their roots in 17th-century religious colonial accounts originating in New
Mexico that later found audiences throughout Europe and the New World. The bestknown representation of the account is simple; it consists of a series of spiritual
visitations (bilocations) that a female figure later identified as the Spanish nun Sor
Mara de Agreda allegedly made from Spain to various groups of indigenous peoples in
what are now eastern New Mexico and west Texas. The result of these spiritual visits,
according to the Memoriales of Spanish Franciscan Fray Alonso de Benavides, was that
the Jumano Indians- one of the tribes visited by the Lady in Blue- traveled to the mission
at Isleta pueblo and requested baptism from the friars stationed there. The two friars sent

to evangelize the Jumanos later testified that the tribe displayed signs of Catholic
catechesis, such as making the sign of the cross, a fact which struck them as miraculous
since the tribe had not previously received instruction from the Spanish friars. This
particular version of the contact between the Monja Azul and the nomadic tribes of New
Mexico is the starting point of my interest in the bilocation narrative.
Yet the Blue Nuns visit to the Jumanos of New Mexico was just the first of
many recurring appearances she would make in the Americas over the next three hundred
and seventy years. I will deal with materials concerning Sor Maras bilocation to
obscure corners of the colonial Spanish world dating not only from the colonial period,
but from the 19th-, 20th- and 21st-centuries. One conclusion about the Lady in Blue/ Sor
Mara seems certain. Her narrative is fascinating for its resilience, its suppleness; for the
strange and surprising occasions when it appears; and for the range of meanings the
protagonist at its center has assumed. My dissertation will examine the origins and
development of this story over this span of time.
Perhaps if the account of the Lady in Blue were limited to a particular historical
moment, or if it could be analytically dismantled using the methodology and mechanisms
pertaining to a single field of study, her tale could be more discretely defined. If the
bilocating nun had appeared only in the early 17th-century writings of Fray Alonso de
Benavides, an analysis of those texts and their historical context alone might have been
sufficient to elucidate the narrative. But news of the nun surfaces both in colonial-era
documents that predate Benavides works and much thereafter. The Lady in Blue
narrative plays a prominent role in Sor Maras life as well, factoring into in her
2

examinations by the Spanish Inquisition; in the vita or saints life written about her after
her death; and in subsequent religious documentation promoting her canonization
process. She materializes throughout the 17th-, 18th- and 19th centuries in the northern
regions of New Spain, her renown radiating out from Quertaro and Zacatecas, Mexico,
to the regions inhabited by the nomadic tribes of Texas, and to the missions of Fray
Junpero Serra in California and Fray Eusebio Kino in Arizona. From the nineteenth
century until the twenty-first, Indo-Hispano folklore and religious observances in Texas,
New Mexico and Arizona evoke her image.
The Lady in Blue narrative materializes in the 20th and 21st centuries, taking form
both in a historical-religious context, and in the fiction and artistic works of a surprisingly
broad array of authors. In the 1930s, Mexican-American historian and folklorist Jovita
Gonzlez summons Sor Mara onto the pages of a Texas newspaper and names her one of
the Catholic Heroines of Texas. From novels by Ana Castillo and Luis Alberto Urrea
(both Mexican-American), Francisco Goldman (Guatemala), and Javier Sierra (Spain), to
the short stories of Costa Rican author Rima de Valbona and Americans Marilyn Westfall
and Lisa Sandlin, a modern literary interest in the narrative continues the legacy of its
retelling. The bilocating Blue Nun has persistently surfaced and been re-imagined in a
range of contexts, and to diverse ends over the centuries.
This story of the Blue Nun (or La monja azul or Lady in Blue) has fascinated
me for almost a decade, my interest in her sparked during a New Mexican history course
at the University of New Mexico where I first made her acquaintance. Since then, I have
researched and written about her in my Masters thesis, numerous conference
3

presentations and, now, a doctoral dissertation. By now, my relationship with the Lady in
Blue has matured, as I have become ever more aware of her multifaceted manifestations.
In this dissertation, I examine the Blue Nuns appearances and their relationship to their
individual contexts; in doing so, I hypothesize as to how the bilocation narrative
functions politically or socially in those contexts. For all her remarkable mobility, why
does Sor Mara appear when she does and what ends does her narrative serve? For
example, as in the case of Jovita Gonzlez, why does the Mexican-American historian
link a legendary Spanish nun to the history of Tejana women and to a broader concept of
Tejano identity? How does this folklore function in Gonzlez subtly politicized writing?
Given that the Lady in Blue is not an especially prominent historical or legendary figure,
what motivated Gonzlez to invoke her?
Critical Background
Given the continuity of Sor Maras narrative, there are surprisingly few critical
studies on the nature of her bilocation to the Americas, and even fewer that discuss its
representation in contemporary texts. Many studies of the Lady in Blue account have
examined its presentation in Fray Benavides two Memoriales, or the construction of the
Memoriales as a whole. Other projects have considered the corpus of Sor Maras
writings, including: her correspondence with Felipe IV, her spiritual work The Mystical
City of God, and her guidelines for religious practice. A small group of studies examine
the presentation of her bilocation in specific texts. In this section, I offer a review of the
literature that treats Sor Maras bilocation narrative as a critical context for my own case.

Three texts have traditionally been considered central to the bilocation narratives
foundation: Fray Alonso de Benavides 1630 and 1634 Memoriales, respectively, and the
1631 letter he and Sor Mara sent to the friars stationed in New Mexico, the Tanto que se
sac de vna carta, que el r. padre fr. Alonso de Benavides, custodio que fu del Nuevo
Mxico, embi a los religiosos de la Santa custodia de la conversin de San Pablo de
dicho reyno, desde Madrid, el ao de 1631 (which I will hereafter abbreviate as the
Tanto). In the course of this dissertation, I will introduce two additional texts that also
contributed to the foundational narrative of the Lady in Blue. The earliest of these three
documents has been published in translation three times (1916, 1954 and 1996), and all
versions offer some critical commentary about the bilocation episode. While the first of
these translations offers the most extensive criticism, the latter two also provide
interpretations of the episode and its function within the 1630 Memorial.
The notes Charles Fletcher Lummis and Frederick Webb Hodge appended to the
1916 printing of the 1630 Memorial (the Ayer edition) are often cited in more recent
studies on colonial New Mexico and its inhabitants because they are extensive, detailed
and often accurate. Judging by their commentary on the text, Lummis and Hodge read
Fray Benavides work is search of the facts, generally treating the text as an accurate
historical chronicle, and supplementing Benavides writing with additional
anthropological and historical information to contextualize the friars account. Their
interpretive approach includes the occasional comment on more fantastic episodes in the
text, such as the curing of a blind boy at the Moqui (Hopi) pueblo. But in other instances,
such as that of the revival of a dead Acoman child (in the Peol de Acoma section),
5

Lummis and Hodge refrain from remarking altogether on the veracity of the episode. In
these two cases, it seems that the historians are willing to either suspend their
incredulousness, or to avoid assigning Fray Benavides authorial responsibility for them.
However, in contrast to their critical response to other supernatural episodes in the
text, Lummis and Hodge fundamentally question the historical validity of Benavides
section Conversin milagrosa de la Nacin Jumana, in which the Lady in Blue visits
the Jumano tribe. Finding the Lady in Blue episode markedly irreconcilable with the rest
of the Memorial, Lummis and Hodge impute motive and agency for the creation of the
bilocation account with Sor Mara- oddly divorcing author (Benavides) from text. In
their notes on the episode, they surprisingly focus on Sor Maras so-called mystical
manifestations (Hodge and Lummis 276), comment explicitly on the preposterous
things (Hodge and Lummis 176) Sor Mara wrote in La mstica ciudad de dios and note
the Sorbonnes condemnation of that text. Rather than examining Fray Benavides role
in the chronicling and dissemination of the Lady in Blue narrative, Lummis and Hodge
focus on Sor Mara instead, undercutting her credibility through her biography, which
they assure no doubt will prove sufficient to indicate the mental character of this nun
(Hodge and Lummis 278). In mentioning the 1631 encounter between Sor Mara and
Fray Benavides, Lummis and Hodge comment that during their meeting Benavides had
every opportunity of hearing from the ladys own lips, of her marvelous flights to New
Mexico (Hodge and Lummis 276), of the miracles marvelous in the extreme (Hodge
and Lummis 189) that Sor Mara claimed to have executed. The two historians resolve
the difficulty of applying empirical historical analysis to the mystical account by
6

paradoxically first assigning agency to Sor Mara, and then discounting her credibility.
Unable to construct a straightforward resolution to the enigma of the bilocation narrative,
Sor Mara and her unusual life are held accountable.
But Lummis and Hodges conclusion is problematic. First, they incorrectly assert
that Benavides mentions Madre Mara de Jess somewhat at length in the Memorial in
connection with his description of the conversion of the Jumano Indians (Hodge and
Lummis 189). Benavides does not explicitly refer to Sor Mara in his 1630 Memorial; in
fact, he does not state that the Sor Mara and the Lady in Blue of the 1630 Memorial are
the same individual until he and Sor Mara write the Tanto in 1631 (and later restates as
much in the 1634 Memorial). Second, Lummis and Hodge claim that Fray Benavides
became convinced that Sor Mara had converted the Jumano tribe when he visited her
convent and she named the tribes who lived in the Jumanos region. Lummis and Hodge
note that though perhaps Sor Mara simply made up the names of the tribes, some of the
names mentioned [] were derived from the Memorial published the year before
(Hodge and Lummis 190). This statement confounds their previous (incorrect) statement
that Sor Mara was already featured in the 1630 Memorial. How could Sor Mara both be
depicted as the Lady in Blue in the 1630 Memorial, and yet later need to use material
from that text prove that the she was the Lady in Blue? Lummis and Hodges argument
for Sor Maras agency in the bilocation narrative is confounded by their rationale;
though they present Sor Mara as responsible for the bilocation narrative, the logic does
not hold in the face of the fact that Benavides did not write about Sor Mara until after he
met her in 1631. By anachronistically linking Sor Mara to the1630 Memorial, Lummis
7

and Hodges criticism mistakenly assigns Sor Mara agency early in the narratives
appearance and also utterly discredits her role.
Further in their notes, Lummis and Hodge cite Fray Damian Manzanets 1689
letter to Don Carlos de Sigenza y Gngora concerning his encounter with indigenous
Texans, and their folkloric tradition associated with the Lady in Blue. Although Lummis
and Hodge would use this account to prove the Blue Nun narrative false, it in fact has the
opposite effect. Obliged to acknowledge that accounts other than Benavides mention the
Lady in Blue, Lummis and Hodge nonetheless cast doubt on Manzanets letter by noting
the differences in the way she is described in the Tanto and Manzanets text (Regarding
the color of baize so particularly specified by the Indian, Benavides just as explicitly
states that nuns habit was gray (Hodge and Lummis 277)). Further, they preface
Manzanets description of the Hasinai folk practices with a citation establishing that the
friar knew about Sor Mara de Agreda, implying that his report was the direct result of
this prior knowledge. By distancing Benavides letter from Manzanets text in their
notes, Lummis and Hodge continue to portray the Lady in Blue episode as a fantastical
aberration in Benavides otherwise matter-of-fact Memorial. But, in fact, the very minor
differences they find between the two narratives only serve to bring them into dialogue,
in effect dispelling the sense that the Lady in Blue episode in Benavides text was an
exception, and taking the first steps towards establishing her historical continuity and
connection to the folk tradition.
Cyprian Lynchs commentary, in Peter Forrestals translation of the 1630
Memorial, conflates the Miraculous Conversion of the Jumano Indians episode in the
8

1630 Memorial with Sor Maras bilocation, referring to the 1634 Memorial as his source
for the association of the nun with the Woman in Blue figure. Lynch contextualizes the
bilocation incident by setting it against the backdrop of Sor Maras life, writing and postmortem hagiography, and ultimately removes the question of bilocation from the domain
of historical analysis. Lynch states that questions regarding Sor Marias sanctity,
revelations and bilocation are primarily theological problems whose definitive solution
lies beyond the competence of the historian (Lynch 59). Sor Maras credibility is
affirmed by Lynch, who stresses that the censure of her writing was based on historical
improbabilities rather than for [La mstica ciudad de dioss] doctrinal impertinences
(Lynch 58). He does not consider the function of the bilocation text in a wider cultural or
historical context, but rather is concerned with the exoneration of Sor Mara (and Fray
Benavides) from the implicit censure levied against them in the Lummis/Hodge 1630
Memorial commentary. By responding in this way, Fr. Lynchs criticism of the
bilocation rejects the binary of historical fact versus fiction that Lummis/Hodge offer by
relocating the debate over the Lady in Blue narrative to a theological framework. In
doing so, Lynch shifts the line of critical questioning away from truth versus fiction
regarding bilocation, and greatly widens the possibilities of interpretation.
By comparison, Baker Morrows introduction and textual notes offer little to the
interpretation of the Lady in Blue narrative that is new. Morrow also conflates Sor Mara
de Agreda with the Blue Lady of the Jumano conversion episode by referring to the 1634
Memorial, but Morrow focuses on the reception of the Blue Nun episode by Benavides
17th-century contemporaries. He determines that the positive reception of the Lady in
9

Blue narrative in Spain was indicative of the lingering influence of the Middle Ages in
the seventeenth-century world (Benavides, Harvest xx). He describes the individuals in
Benavides works as characters primed for miracles in a medieval morality play
(Morrow xx), interpreting the bilocation episode as one example of many in the
Memorial that were tailored to an Spanish audience conditioned to accept and decode that
particular type of narration.

Morrow does not examine why such a narrative would have

worked to Benavides (or others) advantage, nor does he look beyond Spain to
understand the appeal of Benavides text. The fact that the 1630 Memorial was translated
into four languages (Dutch, French, Latin and German) and republished throughout
Europe, indicates a more widespread medieval mindset than that which was Morrow
proposes was held by the Spanish. While Morrows reading generally addresses issues of
reception and epistemology, it does not answer questions about the acceptance and
promulgation of the Lady in Blue narrative, nor does it speculate as to the ends
promulgation of the narrative could have served.
Anthropologist Daniel Reffs article on the Benavides Memoriales,
Contextualizing Missionary Discourse: the Benavides Memorials of 1630 and 1634,
proposes reading the Memoriales more connotatively than denotatively. In doing so, Reff
does service to the analysis of both Benavides texts and the Lady in Blue narrative by
leaving the issue of mystical travels verifiability aside completely, and instead focusing
on how the text as whole functioned in its historical context. Reff suggests that the more
extraordinary elements of the Memoriales, including incidents like the appearance of the
Blue Nun to the Jumanos, be read connotatively, as constitutive of the friars reality,
10

rather than denotatively, in which case they would call into question Benavides
credulity and powers of observation (Reff 52). Reff emphasizes that Benavides texts
function in a religious and political milieu in which the Franciscan friars perceived
themselves in competition with other missionary orders for the Indians they were
converting (Reff 53). In the Memoriales, Benavides offers as proof of the Franciscans
effectiveness in the region 1) the expulsion of demonic influences, and 2) the
establishment of Christian practices among the tribes. Benavides rhetorical techniques
are thus meant to suggest the successful religious work on the part of the Franciscans,
both generally on behalf of the Catholic Church, and also in contrast to the mission work
of the Jesuit and Dominican orders.
Reff states that Benavides composite medieval and Counter-Reformation
epistemology allowed him to effectively present the Lady in Blue narrative in the context
of the colonizing (understood as order-creating) work the Franciscans undertook in New
Mexico. Of course, for an expository example such as that of the Lady in Blue to be
comprehended, Benavides audience must have shared his epistemology, a suggestion
which Reff asserts was the case, given the popularity of the Benavides 1630 Memorial in
Spain. Reff indicates that Benavides must have anticipated his audience quite well,
affirming their shared paradigm (Reff 59).
Clark Colahan is currently the foremost scholar on Sor Mara, having published
the most widely read study on Sor Mara de Agredas life and writing, The Visions of Sor
Mara de Agreda: Writing Knowledge and Power. He has also authored an article on the
New Mexican alabado dedicated to Sor Mara, and another on the nuns success in twice
11

avoiding reprimand by the Spanish Inquisition . In The Visions of Sor Mara, Colahan
gathers an impressive array of materials about and written by Sor Mara, including one of
her earlier pieces, Face of the Earth and Map of the Spheres, which predates La mstica
ciudad de dios. In regards to the bilocation account, Colahan offers the most-extensive
and best-contextualized explanation, and the only investigation that seriously examines
how Sor Mara interpreted and responded to the bilocation. Colahan juxtaposes the
bilocations to the mystical journeys Sor Mara reports in Face of the Earth, and explains
that such mystical trips to New Mexico were in keeping with others she had already
allegedly taken. He notes that such mystical travels were in no way unique among
Catholic religious figures, and cites the cases of St. Anthony of Padua, St. Phillip of Neri
and St. Catherine Ricci to whom bilocative experiences were attributed. Colahan
likewise comments on the similarity of Sor Maras explanation for her travels with the
Spanish medieval devotional stories of the Virgin Mary, the Cntigas de Santa Mara.
Colahan notes that the writing and popularization of the bilocation narrative were
largely out of Sor Maras control, and under that of Benavides and other male church
officials, who would have had the ultimate say in how the account, and particularly her
role, were couched. She would later testify to this fact in front of the Inquisition, and
indeed criticize Benavides and her confessor for exaggerating her version of the
bilocations (Colahan, Mara de Jess). Colahan focuses his observations on how Sor
Mara as a living historical figure functioned in and related to the bilocation. Citing Jean
Franco, Colahan comments that for Sor Mara, and indeed for Spanish women of her
epoch limited by social and religious constraints, her mystical journeys of conversion
12

among the remote Jumanos reflect the symbols of heroism in her culture but defy their
gender limitations because Sor Mara appropriates them for a woman- herself (Colahan,
Visions 98). Colahans interpretation of Sor Maras bilocations positions the
experiences in relation to her life and the manner in which she might have understood
them or anticipated they might have functioned in her time.
Anna Heron Moores Harvard honors thesis La mesa puesta, A Table Set By
God : Document, text, and Historical Narrative in Sor Mara de gredas Mystical
Visions of New Mexico, 1619-1648 presents an interpretation of Sor Maras bilocation
that emphasizes the constructed nature of her narrative, and underscores the Blue Nun
phenomenon as an ideological narrative whose import and historical effects few others
have superceded (Herron Moore 3). Moore examines how the writings of Sor Mara,
and the reports of missionaries Fray Gernimo Zarate Salmern and Fray Benavides
functioned in concert to bring the bilocation account to prominence and widespread
acceptance. According to Moores argument, Fray Zarate Salmern presents a concrete
representation of missions in the Americas, providing a backdrop against which Fray
Benavides narrative of the Lady in Blue functioned as an intermediary between Spain
and the colonies. More characterizes Sor Maras early writing of dream-like travel,
Mapa de los Orbes Celestiales y Elementales by the external influences of science and
mysticism that gave rise to its composition. More contextualizes the Lady in Blue
narrative within 17th-century European epistemology, suggesting that the Lady in Blue
figure gained currency because she represented an extraordinary example of Gods
Apocalyptic plan as a manifestation of simultaneous events at the antipodal extremes of
13

the earth (Herron Moore 4). The Lady in Blue narrative thus unified Spanish ideology
and the lived experience on the North American missionary frontier (Herron Moore 85)
by uniting the pre-Apocalyptic European view of the mission in the 17th century with
documented experiences on the northern frontier.
Maribel Larragas 1999 dissertation La mstica de la feminidad en la obra de
Juan Villagutierre Sotomayor contextualizes the prominence of the account in Juan
Villagutierre Sotomayors 1698 document Historia de la conquista, prdida, y
restauracin del reyno y provincia de la Nueva Mxico en la Amrica septentrional.
Larraga further develops the hypothesis proposed by Colahan in regards to Sor Maras
travels as a cloistered woman. She defines Sor Maras mystical travels as means by
which the nun is able to escape, at least discursively, from the strictures of a maledominated ecclesiastical environment and participate in the conversion process in New
Mexico.
Katie MacLeans 2002 dissertation, Transatlantic Mysticism: Women, Religion
and Colonization, briefly examines the historical background for the bilocation narrative,
and notes its persistence throughout a lengthy historical period. MacLean is concerned
with the relationship between Spanish mysticism, gender and imperial intent during the
16th and 17th-centuries and she uses Sor Maras mystical travels as an example of a
transcontinental, mystical and uniquely female conquest. She acknowledges the wide
variety of sources that have cited or incorporated the legend of the Blue Nun in the
southwest and beyond. MacLean additionally includes an analysis of the role the account
plays in Ana Castillos novel So Far From God, citing Gloria Anzaldas concept of the
14

Borderlands and Jos Rabasas debunking of the peaceful conquest of New Mexico.
She ultimately concludes that the account functions as a neutralizing symbol of cultural
hybridity that both downplays the actual violence of conquest in the southwestern United
States and meets the political ends of radical Chicana feminists by standing in as an
element of female agency.
Jane Tars 1998 dissertation, Literature of Franciscan Nuns in Early Modern
Spain, submits Sor Maras La mstica ciudad de Dios to a feminist interpretation, placing
her work in the context of that of contemporaneous female Franciscan writers. Tar
privileges the work of Sor Mara over the mystical writings of her contemporaries; she
argues that most woman-written mystical writing in early Modern Spain, with the
exception of Santa Teresa de Avila, was disregarded and proposes Sor Maras works as a
legitimate and powerful counterpart to Santa Teresas recognized works of female
mystical reflection. She thus re-positions Sor Mara and her writing more prominently in
the canon of women Franciscans, and implies a closer reading of her life and its various
exceptional elements, including the bilocation.
Several other texts, El papel de Sor Mara de Jess de Agreda en el Barroco
Espaol, Agredistas y antiagredistas, La Madre Agreda: Una Mujer del Siglo XXI, La
Madre greda y la Mariologa del siglo XVII, Otras obras de la Venerable Madre Sor
Mara de Jess de greda, Celtiberia: Numero Conmemorativo del III Centenario de la
Muerte de Sor Mara de Jess de Agreda and Obras inditas de Sor Mara de Jess de
Agreda: El jardn espiritual examine Sor Maras life and writing from the point of view
of the Spanish peninsula. Two are especially relevant to this project. El papel de Sor
15

Mara de Jess de Agreda en el Barroco Espaol is a collection of essays from a 2001

conference held at the Universidad Internacional Alfonso VIII celebrating the four
hundredth anniversary of Sor Maras birth. This collection explores how Sor Mara
functioned in her historical context, as person and as symbol, in the art, politics,
architecture and writing (especially mariological texts) of baroque Spain. Agredistas y
antiagredistas, by Ztico Royo Campos, is a study of the individuals throughout history
who have supported or opposed Sor Maras case for sainthood, and the acceptance of her
religious text, the La mstica ciudad de dios, by the Catholic Church. These two texts in
particular are relevant to this dissertation, as they deal in a direct way with the
mechanisms for dissemination of the Blue Nun narrative (Agredistas y antiagredistas) or
detail the specific ways Sor Maras environment in Spain interacted with her and she
through it (El papel de Sor Mara de Jess de Agreda en el Barroco Espaol).
In addition to the texts above cited, there is a large body of both scholarly and
activist work that treats specific elements of Sor Maras life as a mystic abbess, writings
(particularly her correspondence with Felipe IV, authorship of La mstica ciudad de Dios)
and three-hundred year process for sainthood. Interest in Sor Maras writing and
beatification frequently are intimately related to the mystical travel also attributed to her,
a facet that will be explored more extensively in Chapter 3. Studies pertaining to these
aspects of the Blue Nun narrative will be referenced as necessary throughout this
dissertation.

16

Continuity of the Lady in Blue Narrative and Critical Rationale

Individually, these studies commit to a tight reading of a particular discrete topic
relating to the Lady in Blue and thoroughly explore it. Taken together, however, this
body of scholarly work on her is fragmented. While my own analysis references and reconsiders these previous studies as part of the narratives larger course, in the end, I
follow her trajectory to where it leads. The result is an examination that takes a
transatlantic cultural studies approach to the material.
Why follow the Blue Nuns path in this way, scrutinizing where she appears over
changing time and space? When she does materialize, it is not by accident. The narrative
of the Blue Nun is sufficiently marginal that for it to re-appear in a text or legend, an act
of recovery, of will, must be made. Her presence at any given time inherently indicates a
deliberateness in election of her narrative, as the Lady in Blue is notoriously hard to find.
This election indicates that there is something about the narrative that draws people to it.
Thus, although material on the Blue Nun may not be as abundant as that pertaining to
other folk figures, existing artifacts are important because they suggest intentionality, an
invocation. The most logical means to study these instances, then, is to examine where
the Lady in Blue might appear, and why or how she was summoned there.
Finally, the continuity the Lady in Blues story embodies is as much geographical
as it is temporal. One of the more remarkable elements of the Blue Nun narrative is that
it links Spain in such a defined, concrete, verifiable way to her remote colonies. She is
not only represented on both sides of the ocean and but her portrayal almost always has to
do with her being on both side of the ocean. Her narrative is transatlantic both in terms
17

of what it recounts, and in terms of where it is recounted. It would be tempting to say

that the Lady in Blue straddles the distance between Spain and her colonies, but its more
accurate to say that she simultaneously occupies both. She is the link between Spain and
Greater Mexico, bringing the center and the periphery (from Texas to California), into
intimate contact. The intrinsic transatlantic, geographic connection the Lady in Blue
narrative signifies and reproduces is in itself reason enough to bring texts from all varied
geographies and varied time periods into conversation with one another.
Mexican-American Cultural Studies
Because the narrative develops outward from that point of contact between
colonizer and colonized, it naturally pertains to the Spanish colonial experience, but also
more specifically to the Mexican American Spanish colonial experience. Though
infrequently treated in the field, Mexican American cultural studies are linked to their
Spanish colonial roots, which extend not only into colonial Mexico, but into the Iberian
Peninsula as well. One work that places Mexican American studies in dialogue with its
Spanish colonial roots is Ramn Gutirrez When Jesus Came, the Corn Mothers Went
Away. Gutirrez uses the institution of marriage during the 16th, 17th and 18th centuries in
New Mexico as a means for explaining the changing religious, social and ethnic dynamic
between the Pueblo Indians and the Spanish settlers during that time period. Gutirrrez
assumes that a basic condition of inequality underlies this dynamic, and seeks to explain
how the symbol of marriage reflects the way this condition is played out among the
various inhabitants of New Mexico during the Spanish colonial period.

18

Similarly, since this dissertation seeks to provide insight into the tension of
contact, distance, and identity suggested by the symbol of Lady in Blue in Spanish
colonial society, her history logically lends itself to a study of this nature. Her story is
one in Mexican-American cultural history in which Spanish colonial influence is
paramount and requires contextualization within the field. By addressing this element of
the Spanish colonial legacy inherent to Mexican-American cultural studies, one may
come to understand better the complex and early interactions that conditioned the modern
Mexican American experience.
Because the bulk of the material concerning the Lady in Blue originates in the
American Southwest, Greater Mexico and Mexico, this dissertation is also more
generally oriented towards the field of Mexican-American cultural studies. Issues of
nationality, gender, religion, otherness and colonization are the significant factors that
have determined how the Blue Nun narrative was born and developed, and how it has
come to be understood and utilized in the Southwest. Since she has left her clearest trail
in the history, literature and folklore of the Southwest, and since her transatlantic,
colonial narrative primarily deals with and reflects on the populations that occupy Greater
Mexico, Mexican American cultural studies offers a natural theoretical framework on
which to hang her story. As this dissertation is invested in tracing the series of changes in
the narratives evolution and in deciphering what those changes signify, the mechanisms
of analysis offered by Mexican American cultural studies are most aptly applied.
In this sense, this dissertation is influenced by the fundamental structure of studies
by modern critics including Amrico Paredes, Jos Limn, Richard Flores, and Domino
19

Prez. Amrico Paredes 1958 study on the Greater Mexican corrido, With His Pistol In
His Hand, is the foundation from which many later studies have derived their critical
structures. As Paredes states in his introduction, though his initial objective was to
examine just the corrido, the book is in fact the study of its protagonist, Gregorio Corts,
as well as his legend. It is an account of the life of a man, of the way that song and
legend grew up around his name, and of the people who produced the songs, the legends
and the man (Paredes xi). Paredes study of the life and context of the historical figure,
as well as of the communities and tensions that created his legend, is a seminal work.
With His Pistol In His Hand provides a model for the study of the historical-mythical
figure, and a means of understanding the interplay of the legend with its environment.
Jos Limns Dancing With the Devil is by the authors designation an
ethnographic essay on the Mexican American community of South Texas, that draws on
a range of expressive culture concerning this sector in relation to its socially dominated
condition (Limn 7). Limn creates a type of ethnographic text that he sees is in short
supply, an integrated [work] addressing popular folkloric forms, scholarly discursive
practices, mass media, and written literary forms in one interpretive universe always with
a close attention to political economy (Limn 12). Limn examines a diverse body of
artifacts, from late 19th century Texan ethnographies (by both Anglos and Mexican
Americans), to the cultural practices (a carne asada, a South Texas baile) of the workingclass Tejano community. In each of these artifacts, Limn searches out a metaphorical
Devil, that is, the element that represents the ideological response of a people [] to a
history of race and class domination (Limn 14). He thus seeks to identify what
20

Frederic Jameson termed the political unconscious (Limn 14) of the Texan Mexicano
community, ultimately discovering a dynamic much more complex than a binary of
resistance or domination. By analyzing discourses diverse in terms of genre, intent, and
mode, Limn reveals what is consistent among these texts- though it is never static nor is
it simple.
Anthropologist Richard Flores Remembering the Alamo focuses on the specific
question of how an iconic historical representation was influenced by political, social and
racial factors. In studying the development of Texas Battle of the Alamo trope, Flores
examines the factors that shaped this story into the foundational fiction it has become.
Flores considers the battles historical origins, comparing it to the Alamo trope to
distinguish which historical facts carry over into the modern narrative, and which were
omitted, glorified or downplayed. From this basis, Flores then examines how both
specific organizations, and more widespread social pressures conditioned the construction
of the Alamos history. By deconstructing the modern Alamo trope, Flores unearths
the motives that precipitated its creation, and in highlighting the differences between
history and trope, he exposes those parts of the Alamos history that have been
suppressed through its reconstructions and retellings.
Flores is primarily concerned with how the retelling of the Alamo trope has
affected the concept of the self, particularly within the Mexican-American community in
Texas. He writes that, whether stories told and retold are true, they inscribe our present
and shape our future; stories of the past are linked to the formation of selves and others in
a complex tapestry of textured narratives (Flores x). For Flores, the impact recounting
21

stories of the past makes may be the only quantifiable quality about such stories. To
whatever degree the narrative is manipulated, its final result is that it provides narrative
representations and public imaginaries that help us to make out way through the world
(Flores x). It is to this end that he studies the Alamo trope, to understand how its
reception has shaped its audiences perception of themselves and their worlds.
Domino Perezs There Was a Woman: La Llorona From Folklore to Popular
Culture treats the Greater Mexican folk figure La Llorona (the Wailing Woman),
examining her origins and her evolution in the folkloric, literary and pop culture artifacts
that depict her. Perez traces the La Llorona legend to Fray Bernadino de Sahagns 1587
translation of Aztec mythology, the Florentine Codex, examining revisions to the
indigenous account precipitated by the changes in racial, religious and cultural dynamic
caused by the Spanish conquest of Mexico. Perez establishes the normative elements of
the Greater Mexican folkloric tradition concerning La Llorona, and then comments on the
variations of the legend which reference or play off of that normative tradition. Perez
distinguishes among the representations of La Llorona in folklore and modern popular
representation based on how these representations deviate from the normative narrative,
and who creates these representations and to what ends. These groupings reveal that the
cultural identities of the self and the other are closely wrapped up in this manner in which
La Llorona is used, by whom and for whom. Perezs analysis connects the legends
historical sources to its subsequent development within the Mexican American
community, and then to its pop culture, literary and artistic renditions. In doing so, Prez

22

makes a case for the changing significances, underlying motives, and inscribed readings
the figure of La Llorona has assumed over nearly five hundred years.
Dissertation Trajectory
As this dissertation will trace the trajectory of the story of the bilocating Blue
Nun, it is fitting and in keeping with the studies above cited, to begin with the historical
sources for the story and to move forward chronologically. The historical investigation
tracks the early 17th-century paper trail that housed and cultivated the historia about a
mystical female presence in New Mexico, and through this dissertation I will develop that
facet of the Lady in Blue narrative. As noted earlier, 20th-century historians of New
Mexico grappled with the question of the Blue Nuns empirical authenticity in her 17thcentury context, obliging the narrative to conform to that system of analysis. But no
matter how Ive urged the narrative into a historical colonial discourse, attempting to
corner the story at that moment by defining the motives surrounding its emergence, the
Ladys subsequent reincarnations do not allow her to be so easily confined. Though the
legend arises from a set of colonial historical documents intended to serve informational
and political ends directed from the New World to Spain, the accounts earliest meaning
is modified as the locus and context of transmission shift. Her narrative functions in
distinct capacities depending on the historical and political moment in which her story is
revived, recast, or omitted.
Given the mobility, mutability, and relative marginality her narrative, a study of
the movement of the Lady in Blue lends itself to a multi-disciplinary, transatlantic
analysis. As the time period and genre of the various sources of the account vary, so, too,
23

do the ways in which the material surrounding the Lady in Blue narrative must be treated.
It seems inconsistent, for example, to read the fictional works of Ana Castillo and Luis
Alberto Urrea with the same analytical objectives as one would the historical writings of
Fray Benavides or Sor Mara herself. This study maintains that it is more productive to
interpret collectivities of accounts (i.e. early colonial, peninsular religious, folklore, etc)
discretely, analyzing those works using critical frameworks pertaining to those genres. In
this way, the narratives function in a given context can be elucidated in a manner
consistent with that context. Final analysis of these examples will hopefully chart the
trajectory the Lady in Blue has traveled.
Dissertation Organization
This dissertation includes six chapter, four of which pertain to the colonial era,
examining the historical development of the Blue Nun narrative from the 17th century to
the early 19th century. The last two chapters are more contemporary, treating folklore and
modern creative production involving the Lady in Blue narrative, seeking to decode her
sociopolitical meaning in these works.
In Chapter 1, I outline the historical context out of which the Blue Nun narrative
evolved. Because the Lady in Blue spans two continents, this chapter describes the
political, religious and social situations in both the European and New World
environments where her account was born, developed and circulated. Spain under the
rule of Felipe IV was on the brink of economic crisis, experiencing the CounterReformation response to the growth of Protestantism in Europe. Our interest will
principally be in how these factors were manifested in New Mexico and how the arrival
24

of Fray Benavides in Spain figures into them. In the New World, the New Mexico
territory was clinging to existence by a very fine thread, one that existed nearly
exclusively for reasons of evangelization at the hands of the Franciscan friars.
Underlying the regions precarious survival was Spains legacy of conquest (both
political and religious), incipient conflicts between church and secular leaders in the
region, and the autonomous nature of both settlers and indigenous tribes. Finally, the
opinions and influence of the institutional Catholic Church, whose own dealings with the
evangelization process in the New World were fraught with tensions among the orders,
Pope Urban VIIIs questions about New World sanctity and sainthood, and the roles that
women could undertake in the colonizing project, are considered. Given these varied
elements, this chapter provides a backdrop that contextualizes the Lady in Blues
unfolding narrative.
Chapter 2 examines the narratives originary accounts. It delves into the
historical documents that present the Lady in Blue in print to readers throughout Europe
and the Americas in the 17th and 18th centuries. In analyzing works of the primary
authors of the bilocating nuns account, Fray Gernimo de Zarate Salmern, Fray Alonso
de Benavides, Sor Mara de Agreda and Fray Joseph Ximnez Samaniego, this chapter
creates a coherent picture of how her narrative grew through their writing. The way these
texts interface with one another, barrowing elements from and referring to each other
both directly and indirectly, reveals the complex interplay of ordinal interests, theological
objectives and colonizing desires that gave rise to the narratives normalized rendering.
Additionally, the question of order of publication bears on this dissertation, as the
25

documents which spread her renown are not those that were first composed, a fact which
affects assumptions about the pubic reception of the Lady in Blue narrative. The timeline
by which protagonists interact with the texts, and the texts interact with their audiences,
determines the first steps the legend of the Lady in Blue takes towards recognition and
collective remembering.
Chapter 3 details Sor Maras life, in particular her renown as an author in New
Spain. The widespread reading of her controversial Marian treatise La mstica ciudad de
dios is inextricably intertwined with the path the Blue Nun takes in the Americas. Sor
Marias writing achieved an unusually wide distribution in New Spain in the 17th, 18th,
and 19th centuries, appearing unexpectedly in collections in the most remote corners of
the Spanish mission frontier. In New Spain, writers such as Sor Juana Ins de la Cruz
and painters such as Juan de Correa feature her writing, incorporating her into their own
context. This chapter examines how this re-contextualization of Sor Maria as a writer
and mystic in New Spain underpins and develops her identity as the Lady in Blue.
Chapter 4 treats the dissemination of and interest in the Sor Mara/ Lady in Blue
figure in 17th, 18th and 19th century Mexico and what is now the American Southwest.
This chapter examines the inscription of the Lady in Blue narrative into the history of
northern Mexico, Texas, New Mexico, California and Arizona. It also details the
particular interest the Franciscan order had in the perpetuation of both Sor Maras
spiritual writings and of the bilocation account, thus offering a suggestion for the agency
by which the Lady in Blues renown spread in the Americas. The perception of Sor

26

Mara a proto-, pre- or co-missionary among various mission groups is presented and
discussed.
In Chapter 5, the focus turns to legends and folk traditions regarding the Lady in
Blue. This chapter illustrates how the Blue Nun narrative, has adjusted in the folkloric
tradition in response to particular social, racial and political pressures. This chapter
compares differences in regional retellings of the narrative, discusses the folkloric nature
of a narrative that is rooted in writing, and examines the invocation of the Lady in Blue
folk narratives within turn-of-the century Mexican American communities in Texas. The
existence of and innovation on the narrative embodied by these folk texts is indicative of
the degree to which the narrative became embedded in regional history and collective
recollection.
Chapter 6 considers contemporary works in which the Blue Nun appears and how
she functions in them. These works originate not only in the American Southwest, but
also Spain and in Latin America, a wide dispersal that highlights the unusually mobile
nature of the indefatigable Lady in Blue narrative. As she materializes in a variety of
genres, written by authors of significantly different backgrounds, her very presence in
these works begs the question why here? What is the appeal of her narrative and how
does it function in specific environments? If in the past, the Lady in Blue has served as a
link between the colonizer and the colonized, as a miraculous archetype for regional
identity, and as a focus for political and racial definition, how does she function in her
modern context?

27

This dissertation is, in the end, about a narrative that emerges in multiple places at
unpredictable times, that is transformed as it relocates, and that has retained a
fundamentally engaging character over the years. It is in order to understand,
contextualize and assign meaning to this attraction that this dissertation now advances.

28

Nuns in the [colonial New World]

chronicles certainly travel on real as well as
spiritual journeys, but they effectively go
nowhere, for it is precisely by
acknowledging no change in the matter of
place that the New Worlds difference is
neutralized and its religious (and political,
racial and social) orthodoxy asserted in
terms of its asymmetry to the Old World.
- Elisa Sampson Vera Tudela,
Colonial Angels, 5

Chapter 1
In 1629, upon returning to Mexico City from his post in New Mexico, the
Franciscan custos (religious administrator) to the New Mexican territory prepared to sail
back to his native Spain after meeting with his superiors. Prior to his departure from
New Spain, Fray Alonso de Benavides presented a document to the Franciscan prelates in
Mexico City, another version of which would be made for the King of Spain, Felipe IV,
and later for Pope Urban VIII. On arriving in Spain, and reporting to Felipe IV regarding
his charges in the new northern frontier, Fray Benavides would make the acquaintance of
the leaders of the Franciscan order in Spain, Minister General Bernardino Siena and
Commissary General Juan de Santander, but also that of Sor Mara de Agreda. The trip
Fray Benavides undertook in 1629, the individuals he met, and the series of events to be
carried out had effects that resonated directly back across the Atlantic to the place from
which he had departed. The document reviewed and recommended by the viceroy of New
Spain, Don Rodrigo Pacheco y Osorio, and Commissary General of the region Fray
29

Francisco de Apodaca, in Mexico City would become celebrated at Spanish court and,
eventually, the cloistered nuns alleged activities in New Mexico would become known
not only in Spain and in Rome, but also back in the new northern colonies.
But from where, precisely, does Fray Benavides report in his 1630 Memorial?
What is New Mexico at this time? And what kind of Spain is he sailing to in 1629?
What worlds does Sor Mara cross connect? The nature not only of the colony Benavides
describes in his two Memorials, but also of the places where he presented these works, all
contribute to the subsequent events pertaining to the custos texts. The early history of the
Mexican colonial project affected the settlement and evangelization of New Mexico,
underlying the relationship of colony to colonized Benavides writing represents. What
dynamics of church and state governed the region? The 1630 Memorial was drawn from
the context of the New Mexico territory, but what was it like while Benavides was there?
Using secondary sources, I will discuss the role of the Church and colonial government in
New Spain, specifically in New Mexico, at the beginning of the 17th century, in order to
understand the connections and dependencies that are played out in Benavides work.
As for the European atmosphere in which the friars texts were read, I am
principally concerned with the religious and political dynamics that determined how
settlement and evangelization in New Mexico proceeded or that conditioned interests in
the region. Regarding the court of Felipe IV, I am principally interested in the way the
Spanish government weighed further investment in the New Mexico colony, as well as
the general condition of the monarchy and the Spanish state. What about that particular
environment stimulated intense interest in the story of the Lady in Blue? The bilocation
30

narrative pertains to these facts because they relate to how and why such an account
might have been interpreted by figures of secular authority and acted upon in a colonizing
context.
Next, I consider issues regarding the centralized Catholic Church hierarchy, both
in the sense of how the Church influenced the politics of Spanish colonization, and
related to the issues of normalization of the actions of the colonial church. Though the
Vaticans Counter Reformation response to the rest of Europe certainly influenced the
degree of attention that was devoted to the colonies, we will try to determine how the
centralized Church was directly invested in colonial evangelization at the time
Benavides work gained renown. In terms of the official recognition of the miraculous,
how did Urban VIII receive reports of the miraculous made from colonial outposts, where
recorded events frequently tended towards magic-realistic narrative?
Finally, an understanding of women and their potential influence in the remote
colonies of northern New Spain colony is significant in understanding the meaning that
would have been attached to a female mystical figure undertaking masculinizing tasks of
conversion. To what degree were women involved in the efforts of colonization and
evangelization in New Mexico? How did peninsular women relate to the colonizing
project? Was there a greater acceptance for the participation of women in religious labor
than secular labor? Under what conditions? How did popular opinions of sanctity and
mysticism as they pertained to women affect the roles they could potentially undertake in
colonial evangelization? We will return to further discuss these topics in Chapter 3.

31

If we view the narrative of bilocation that Sor Mara, Fray Benavides, and
subsequent authors recount as a New World shaping event undertaken by a peninsular
woman, this chapter then seeks to understand both the world from which Sor Mara
traveled and the world into which she appeared. Although in subsequent chapters I use
primary historical materials, because this chapter is more general in nature and describes
broad tendencies and beliefs rather than specific details of the Lady in Blue narrative, I
draw on secondary sources.
Spanish Colonization in the Americas
I begin with the religious life that is at the center of this dissertation, although the
relationship between not only religion and politics, but also gender is complicated. The
Spanish conquest of Latin America that began in 1492 significantly paralleled the forced
religious homogenization of the Iberian Peninsula concurrently underway in Spain when
Cristbal Coln ran into the New World. The Reconquista of Spain from Moorish
control, completed by the Reyes Catlicos Fernando and Isabel in 1492, signified an end
to Spains long-standing religious plurality. The Reconquista was followed by more than
300 years of Spanish Inquisition, an enterprise intended to root out and punish false
converts to Catholicism. In 1610, yet another step in the religious homogenization of
Spain was taken when the moriscos (Spanish Muslim converts to Catholicism) were
expelled from the country. Simultaneous to this ongoing project within Spain, the
country began to invest in the exploration and colonization of the area soon to be known
as New Spain. Beginning with the encounter between Cristbal Colns expedition and
the island inhabitants of San Salvador, Cuba and Hispaniola in 1492, Spains interest and
32

expenditure in the unknown regions to the west increased. Under the efforts of the Reyes
Catlicos, for whom the motto tanto monta, monta tanto, Isabel como Fernando
extended to the countrys explorations and conquest (and whose meaning is echoed by
the Lady in Blues actions), Spain stretched its reach towards the Indies while employing
religion as a means of attaining homogeneity on the peninsula and abroad.
In Colns arrival to the Americas, real and mystical travel intersect in a truly
remarkable fashion. Colns voyage across the Atlantic ends when he lands in the New
World on October 12, 1492, the feast day of La Virgen del Pilar. La Virgen de Pilar was
the first person in the religious history of the Catholic Church to bilocate, alleged to have
miraculously traveled from the Middle East to Spain in the first century AD. The Virgin
Marys mission was to help Saint James the Greater (Santiago) convert the inhabitants of
the Iberian Peninsula to Catholicism. She is considered the patroness of Spain, as
Santiago is its patron. The profound interplay between physical and spiritual travel,
between the masculine and the feminine, and between conversion and conquest begins
with this first European explorers arrival to the New World. Even as Coln takes the
literal first steps in the colonization of the Americas, disembarking from his boat onto the
sand of a Bahaman island, he does so under the protection of Spains bilocating,
evangelizing patroness.
Several years later, in 1521 and under the reign of Emperor Carlos V, Hernn
Corts conquered the capital of the Aztec empire, Tenochtitln while on an illegal
expedition into the Mexican mainland. In Corts pithy, political accounts written for the
Emperor, he describes the wealth and hierarchical organization of the Aztec Empire,
33

making the abundance of resources to be found among the native people of the Indies
more than evident (Corts 59). Corts second letter (1520) suggests- by reference to the
riches that Moctezuma enjoys- that Carlos V, as the ruler who will supercede him, will
equally benefit from a continued investment in Mexico (Corts 60). Corts additionally
takes pains to depict his interaction with the priests at the Aztec temple, in which,
perhaps in parallel to the Biblical narrative of Christ smashing the booths as the temple,
he destroys the idols in the chapels of sacrifice. Corts states unequivocally that that the
Aztec religious leaders in Tenochtitln, as well as the leader of the Aztec empire himself,
acknowledged the error of their worship practices and willingness to adapt the Catholic
beliefs of the Spanish empire:
Yo les hice entender con las lenguas cun engaados estaban en tener su
esperanza en aquellos dolos [] que haban de saber que haba un solo
Dios [] y que a l haba de adorar de creer y no a otra criatura ni cosa
alguna[] Y todos, en especial el dicho Mutezuma, me respondieron que
ya me haban dichos que ellos no eran naturales de esta tierra, y que haba
muchos tiempos que sus predecesores haban venido a ella, y que bien
crean que podan estar errados en algo de aquello que tenan por haber
tanto tiempo que salieron de su naturaleza, y que yo, como ms
nuevamente venido, sabra las cosas que deban tener y creer mejor que
no ellos [] Y el dicho Mutezuma y muchos de los principales de la
ciudad dicha, estuvieron conmigo hasta quitar los dolos y limpiar las
capillas y poner las imgenes [of the Virgin Mary and other saints]
(Corts 64-65)
These two early episodes of Spanish colonial conquest convey an eagerness on
the part of the indigenous populations for catechization into Catholicism. Along with the
confirmation of financial benefit to the crown, either actual or projected, and almost of
greater importance than their willingness to acknowledge the authority of Spanish secular
authorities, Corts and Coln are consistent in emphasizing the potential for complete
34

conversion among the nations they encounter, as in the following quotation from Colns
letter to Luis Santangel:
dava yo graciosas mil cosas buenas, que yo levava, porque tomen amor, y
allende desto se fazen cristianos, y se inclinen al amor servicio de Sus
Altezas [] y no conocan ninguna seta nin idolatra salvo que todos
creen que la fueras y el bien es en el cielo (Columbus 9-11)
Because of the intimate relationship between Church and State in late 15th and early 16thcentury Spain, any indication of willingness or ability for catechization could be
understood or encoded as a positive sign of alignment with the secular Spanish state,
more so even than the very recognition of Spanish secular authority, as Colns account
rather directly states. If the concept of a distant European authority seemed too abstract
or too foreign or too irrelevant, a set of concrete religious practices certainly was not.
And while the recognition of a distant, formless head of state might not induce great
allegiance to that head of state, religious practices had meaning, presence, and physical
representation in the form of friars and Spanish soldiers. As the Church was the
institution under which Spain consolidated and defined its national identity, the explicit
willingness on the part of indigenous communities to accept Catholic beliefs, so
effectively depicted in Corts account, is the most crucial evidence of the tribes
imminent incorporation into the Spanish Empire.
Serge Gruzinski elegantly draws this same parallel between the respective
missions of the Church and Spanish state in 16th-century colonial Mexico. In his critical
history Images at War, Gruzinksi articulates the related processes of secular conquest and
religious conversion :

35

From the sixteenth century on, the Church sent forth its evangelizing
missionaries; they carved out churches and dioceses everywhere. The
Spanish Crown cut out vice-kingdoms, set up tribunals, installed a
continentally scaled bureaucracy [] The Crown brought forth new
cities; the Church built convents, churches, cathedrals, palaces.
(Gruzinski 5)
For Gruzinksi, the efforts of colonization and conversion are intimately, inextricably
intertwined, and the power of the image functions in equally potent ways in both
contexts. In constructing this argument, Gruzinski also references Corts dramatic
actions in the temple at Tenochtitln, underscoring the fact that the military leader, and
not the priests accompanying him, engaged in the symbolic act of destroying the statues
in the temple (Gruzinski 31). He notes that, in the case of Corts, the conquistadors
political motives were perfectly indissociable from the religious project (Gruzinski
32). Gruzinski reinforces his argument for the power of the image in these overlapping
objectives by selecting the particularly potent symbol of Corts standard, which read
Let us follow the sign of the cross with it we shall conquer (Gruzinski 32).
Gruzinski concludes that this combination of image, secular conquest and religious
conversion leave little doubt as to the efficaciousness of Corts action on a variety of
levels. We will return to Gruzinski in Chapters 2 and 5, in discussing the value and
impact of the image of the Lady in Blue in colonial northern Spain, and in latter-day
collective folkloric memory.
In 1568, Bernal Daz del Castillo wrote his eyewitness account of the exploits of
the conquest of Mexico. In Daz Historia de la conquista de la Nueva Espaa, the
former soldier of Corts expedition responds both to other accounts of the fall of the
Aztec empire (principally that of Francisco Lpez de Gmara), and to reports of the
36

Spanish soldiers treatment of the indigenous people. Of principal importance to Daz is

the fact that he himself was witness to the events he describes, unlike Gmara, who did
not participate in the events he describe in his historias of Mexico. For Daz and for his
audience, the weight his personal witness to the conquest in Mexico carried was
considerable; in many historical texts following his, the authors assertion of his
credibility as eyewitness is one of defining elements of the piece.
Unlike Corts, Bernal Daz historia goes into great detail about the campaigns
undertaken by the troops in the course of their exploration and conquest, and about the
political maneuvers Corts employed against the Aztec empire. For reasons mainly
having to do with Daz later claims to land and fortune as a conquistador, Daz
emphasizes the importance of the common foot soldiers role in the success of the
conquest. In doing so, he draws attention to other overlooked, but important agents in the
conquest of Mexico, among them Corts translator and companion, Doa Marina.
While Corts second letter mentions only peripherally the importance of any
individual other than himself (and Montezuma), Bernal Daz goes into some detail about
Doa Marina, one of the twenty female captives given to Corts by the caciques of
Tabasco as a bribe to keep Corts from further pursuing his explorations in the direction
of Tenochtitln. As is now well known, Doa Marina became Corts translator. She
and Gernimo de Aguilar, a priest left on the Yucatn peninsula by the 1511 Pedro de
Valdivia exploration, formed a chain of translation that began with Doa Marina, who
spoke Nhuatl and Mayan, and continued with Aguilar, who spoke Spanish and Mayan.
Through their coordinated efforts, Corts was able to communicate with many of
37

Mexicos inhabitants. In addition, Doa Marinas astute intervention helped him avoid
many disastrous pitfalls, diplomatic and military. Because Doa Marina was one of the
very few women who feature prominently in colonial narratives, her role in the conquest
of Mexico and as a representational figure have been extensively studied among more
modern critics, including Octavio Paz, Norma Alarcn and Cherre Moraga, to name only
a few.
Bernal Daz, precisely in the chapters in which he describes Doa Marina, in her
function as intermediary and agent in the process of conquest in Mexico, also depicts
several instances of religious symbolism enmeshed with the goals of conquest. Shortly
after Doa Marina and the other women are handed over to Corts, Fray Aguilar baptizes
them, making them las primeras cristianas que hubo en la Nueva Espaa (Daz Del
Castillo 59). In the case of Doa Marina, this formal incorporation into the Catholic
Church is the crossing point in her functions as an interpretive mediator of empire. While
she herself does not originate from the center of the empire, she is confirmed a member
of it by her baptism and represents, if in a complex, indeterminate way, its interests.
In addition, Daz depicts Corts interaction with the Tabasacan leaders as one in
which the conquistador wishes to solidify their alliance, and the primacy of the Spanish
crown, while demonstrating elements of the Catholic faith. When Corts asks that the
Tabascans repopulate the village that the Spanish have just claimed, he also asks (with
the help of Fray Aguilar) que dejasen sus dolos y sacrificios (Daz Del Castillo 59) and
explains to them the rudimentary elements of the Catholic faith. In response to Corts
description of the Virgin Mary, the caciques respond that les pareca muy bien aquella
38

gran tececiguata (Daz Del Castillo 59), and term which Daz interprets as the name
given to las grandes seoras en aquellas tierras (Daz Del Castillo 59). Corts reacts to
their apparent syncretic credence by having an altar built in the middle of the pueblo,
naming the town Santa Mara de la Victoria, and ensuring that the caciques and their
families worship with the Spanish the morning before Corts party sailed away. In this
way, although Corts does explain to the leaders the primacy the King of Spain exerts
over them (as they are his vassals), the mechanisms by which this incorporation is
ensured is through the establishment and practice of Catholic traditions, in this case,
through a female figure. Again, as in Corts letter, the modes of conquest and
Catholicism overlay and reinforce one another, the institution of Catholicism perhaps
standing in for or representing participation in Spanish colonization. In the cases of Doa
Marina and the Tabascans acceptance of a new tececiguata, however, the role of the
woman in this complex negotiation comes into play.
As the wealth of Mexico was explored and exploited, the Spanish conquista
spread throughout what are now Mexico, and Central and South America. Zacatecas
mines were revealed in 1546 by Juan de Oates father Cristbal (among others); this
find secured interest in exploration north of Mexico City. Explorations also turned
southward, as Francisco Pizarro fought first against the extensive, sophisticated, wealthy
Incan empire, and later against his own compatriot Diego de Almragro for control of the
riches and people of Peru. In Chile, battles against the Mapuche for control over that
region continued for tens of years, as that indomitable tribe used all means of defense
against the Spanish. The death of the Spaniard Pedro de Valdivia is particularly
39

exemplary in highlighting the dynamic between covetous conquistador and the native
populations during this period of expansive exploration. According to legend, his
unappeasable thirst for wealth was quenched by the slug of molten gold poured down his
throat by the Mapuche who captured him. Despite violent encounters between Spanish
and native populations, peninsular incursion continued into remote regions throughout
Latin America, from Florida in the northeast, to Argentina in the far south, with varying
degrees of military and economic success on the part of the Crown in these regions.
An evangelization echoing the processes of religious homogenization on the
Iberian Peninsula accompanied Spains northward and southward exploration in Latin
America. The venture on the western side of the Atlantic, in terms of its aspiration for
political and (to an extent) cultural conformity, resembled its parent project to the east. In
Spain, however, debates over the theological and financial ends of this conversion
process arose. The conflicts and contradictions inherent to the simultaneous
implementation of Catholic conversion and the encomienda system precipitated an
intense, rancorous discussion. The profit-making aspirations of most encomendados
were generally in conflict with the evangelization of the natives by the religious
communities; thus, the encomenderos abuses of the native population frustrated the
friars goals of conversion. Although the mission labor exacted from indigenous
populations was carried out by the friars, it was more often the case that encomenderos
would abuse the native population to such an extent that the population would be greatly
reduced, or would be unwilling to endure conversion at the hands of the friars. In either
case, the loss of potential converts set the friars against the encomenderos.
40

The conflict between the financial ends of colonization and the spiritual (and
cultural) goals of evangelization came to a head with the debate at Valladolid between
Dominican friar Bartolom de las Casas and Juan Gins de Seplveda. During the
debate, the treatment of the indigenous people was the central issue based on the
theological meaning and justification for converting the indigenous populations. Las
Casas steadfastly defended the humanity of the indigenous populations, and rejected the
idea that the Spanish had cause to wage just war on them. In response to the proceedings
at Valladolid, Charles V revoked the encomienda system in 1542 under the New Laws,
intending to prohibit the mistreatment of the indigenous people. In spite of the Charles
Vs declarations regarding the contradictions of conversion and economic yield, the
encomienda was gradually reinstated, though with the addition of specific restrictions on
the treatment of the indigenous people in the Americas.
Prior to the debates at Valladolid, however, and to the passage of laws protecting
the indigenous populations by her grandson, Queen Isabela established the first governing
bodies charged with regulating the treatment of the indigenous communities of the New
World. In 1503, the Secretario de las Indias placed jurisdiction over the treatment of the
indigenous populations in the hands of the central government, technically removing it
from the control of individual conquistadores. In its early stages, the Secretario did not
wield an extraordinary amount of administrative power over the new colonies, though
once it developed into the Consejo de las Indias, it was Spains primary governing body
in the New World. And it was through Isabelas direct intercession that the council came
into existence, mediating the complex relationship between Crown, Church and New
41

World. The creation of the Consejo de las Indias by Queen Isabela is thus a primary
example of a peninsular woman undertaking colonizing work at a distance in the
Americas; her insistence on a consideration of the nature of the Indians, and of their
treatment in the face of colonizing interests indicate her participation in processes to
which she was not an eyewitness. The complex question of gender in relation to
indigenous people remains before us.
Religious unification was of fundamental importance to the political projects both
in Spain and abroad in the colonies. Keeping in mind the schema of conversion and
conquest that were being played out early in the colonization of the Americas in general,
lets turn our attention to colonizing affairs in the north of New Spain. The frontiers of
exploration, evangelization and colonization were pushed ever further from known
regions, into what would come to be called the New Mexico. How, then, did these
processes transpire?
Exploration Into New Mexico
Fueled by a curiosity for what existed beyond the boundaries of the known
settlements, the desire to capitalize on any possible lucrative opportunities, anxiety about
encroachment by other European interests, motives of conversion and on occasion,
arbitrary mishap, exploration northward began shortly after the conquest of Mexico City.
However, this view towards the north existed long before the Spanish extended their
empire in that direction. As Corts notes in his second his letter to Carlos V, the Aztecs
did not consider themselves native to the central region of Mexico; their ancestors had
immigrated to central Mexico from some other location. Gaspar Prez de Villagrs
42

Historia de la Nueva Mxico further develops the origin account of the Mexica in the
second canto of his epic poem. According to Villagr, the Mexica migrated south to
Tenochtitln, looking nostalgically back Toward that sweet fatherland theyd left/ In the
regions of the hardy North (Villagr 14), ending their travels once they encounter a
cactus upon which, a beautiful red-tailed eagle sits, quite enormous/ And it be eating
greedily/ On a great snake (Villagr 12). By the third decade of the 16th century, the
Spanish were headed back in the direction of the Mexican ancestral homeland. Though
they were not in search of an eagle, the Spanish explorers who headed northward sought
chimera of their own: prosperity and conversion.
In 1527, Alvar Nez Cabeza de Vaca set sail with an expedition that began with
approximately six hundred men, with royal permission to explore the region of Florida.
Under the command of Pnfilo de Narvez, the maritime expedition encountered trouble
shortly after putting out from Cuba, shipwrecking on the Florida coast. Of the four
hundred men, four ships and a larger brigantine that set sail to Florida, only four, Alvar
Nez, Andrs Dorantes, Alonso de Castillo Maldonado, and Estevan, survived to
journey from Florida to Mexico. Near the Ro Sinaloa in northern Mexico, they famously
encountered a Spanish slaving party sent out by Nuo de Guzmn, and discovered to
what degree to which they no longer seemed Spanish. The members of the Guzmn party
were at first unable to believe that Cabeza de Vaca was Spanish, staring at [him] for a
long space of time, so astonished that they could neither speak to [him] nor manage to
ask [him] anything (Cabeza de Vaca 110).

43

During their nine-year trek, the group inadvertently explored the southern region
of what is now the United States, including what is now Texas and New Mexico, though
the precise path of that route is a matter of debate. Enrique Pupo-Walker suggests that the
cohort had contact with the Jumano and Conchos tribes of eastern New Mexico, and with
the Pimas, Opatas and Cohuilatecans of northern Mexico. Cabeza de Vacas carefully
constructed narrative of the journey, his Relacin, with its repeated usage of the term
cristianos is a very strong example of how motives of colonization and conversion
overlapped. Cabeza de Vaca is careful to detail the extent to which he maintains and
attempts to spread his Catholic beliefs, even while under extreme duress and learning
assimilative techniques as he encounters various native groups. Of the Relacin in
general, Rolena Adorno states Cabeza de Vacas narrative was timely in the 1550s
because it could have been seen as a treatise and even a case study on Christian
colonization (Adorno 85). In Adornos estimation, the totality of Cabeza de Vacas
experiences represented a glimpse of what might be considered an ideal conquest
(Adorno 84), asserting that treating the indigenous people kindly was the only way to
attract the natives to Christianity and to obedience to his Imperial Majesty (Adorno 84).
For Adorno, then, the objectives of colonization, of a peaceful colonization, are carried
out under the paradigms of Christianization or of Christianity.
Critic Silvia Molloy reads a different type of identity and colonization politic into
Cabeza de Vacas usage of the term cristiano, noting towards the end of the Relacin,
el texto repite insistentemente [] la palabra cristianos (Molloy 446). Molloy
maintains that throughout the text Cabeza de Vaca is careful to differentiate himself from
44

the indigenous people he encounters, writing a narrative that describes processes of

diferenciacin, despojamiento y traslado (Molloy 428). However, once Cabeza de
Vaca begins his career as a healer, his use of Christianizing acts in his cures signifies, for
Molloy, the re-establishment of Cabeza de Vacas ascendiente sobre [el indio] (Molloy
444), and the institutionalization of his text (bringing it more in line with other
crnicas gloriosas) for its incorporation of la conquista espiritual. The outward
expression of Christian beliefs, used to in some way convert the Indians to
Catholicism, is tantamount to conquest. Though Cabeza de Vaca and his travel mates are
only three men, the type of Christianizing practices they undertake would be understood,
Molloy seems to suggest, as constitutive of a genre of conquest chronicle. For Cabeza de
Vaca, the difficulty at the end of the narrative, during which the term cristiano has
stood in for Spaniard, is reconciling that identity with the fact that the Nuo de
Guzmns Spanish slaving expedition consisted of cristianos. The terrible presence of
these otros cristianos highlights the differences between the conquest by force and the
conquest by conversion. In the case of Cabeza de Vacas Relacin, the latter is
understood as the preferred means of conquest, the way by which indigenous people
could be incorporated into the Spanish project of colonization.
Upon Alvar Nezs return to Spain in 1537, and the publication of his Relacin,
interest in the exploration of northern Mexico region increased; in fact, as of 1536 the
north country was a target (Bannon 14). Though it appears that Alvar Nez was
originally slated by the viceroy of Mexico, Antonio de Mendoza, to head a formal
expedition to the north of Mexico, the appointment eventually went to the governor of
45

Nueva Galicia, Francisco de Coronado. However, prior to Coronados February 1540

entrada into the region, the first official exploration of the southwest borderland frontier
occurred in March of 1539.
On this date, a retinue led by Fray Marcos de Niza and guided by Alvar Nez
companion Estevan, made its way north on what Bannon deems a private exploratory
mission on behalf of Viceroy Mendoza. According to Fray Nizas dubious account,
Estevan went ahead of the main group, sending messages back to Fray Marcos in the
form of a series of crosses, the size of the cross representing the wealth of the areas he
encountered. As Fray Marcos expedition was in search not only of Indians to convert,
but also of the mythical Seven Cities of Cbola, the fact that the crosses Estevan sent back
increased in size as he progressed further and further north was quite heartening for the
friars company. Abruptly, however the crosses stopped, and it was presumed that
Estevan and his company were killed, most likely near the Hopi province of Hawikuh.
Fray Marcos and his party continued exploring until he found what he believed to be the
first of the seven cities of Cbola, a site larger than the city of Mexico (Terrell 43),
which he claimed on behalf of Viceroy Mendoza. Fray Marcos then returned to
Compostela, where he shared the findings of his exploration with Coronado and later
with the viceroy in September of 1539 in his report Descubrimiento de las siete ciudades
de Cbola. In addition to the potential for economic success Fray Marcos report assures
its readers they would find in Cbola, the Franciscan also commented on the vast number
of new conversions to Christianity the party had successfully achieved, setting a

46

precedent for later reports by Franciscans who would also reassure the crown of the
widespread efficaciousness of their evangelizing.
As a result of Fray Marcos enthusiastic - and it has been suggested, liberally
fabricated- account, the expedition of Francisco Vzquez de Coronado was given the
viceregal go-ahead. Near the end of February1540, Coronado and a huge entourage of
settlers, livestock, soldiers and priests, including Fray Marcos himself, left from
Compostela. and began their deliberate journey up the Ro Grande corridor. The party
eventually split into a slower-moving group of settlers and animals, and several
exploratory parties who searched for the Seven Cities under the guidance of Fray Marcos.
These parties traveled further into what is presumed were the regions of Kansas and the
Texas Panhandle, under the lead of El Turco, an Indian the party met near Pecos. El
Turco led the group in search not of the Seven Cities of Cbola, but of a new site called
Quivira, whose riches allegedly exceeded those of Cbola. The search for Quivira proved
fruitless, costly and dangerous. Once Coronados expeditionary party witnessed for
themselves the utter lack of resources, the absence of an empire comparable to that of
Mexico in the north, El Turco was hanged, and the expedition returned to Mexico.
Though the soldiers did not find the wealth they had expected from Quivira and
Cbola, the friars on the Coronado expedition continued their work of baptism among the
indigenous peoples, finding abundant outlet for their vocation there. In fact, three of the
friars chose to remain in the north once the rest of the expedition had left, to continue in
their mission of conversion. According to historian John Terrell, friars Luis de Escalona,
Juan de la Cruz, and Juan de Padilla believed they had been presented with a great
47

opportunity, for they had been permitted by God to go to a country containing

innumerable souls to be saved, where the banners of Christianity had never flown
(Terrell 130). Coronado permitted the friars to continue their work in the region; as
Terrell notes, this made them the first missionaries in the north (Terrell 130). Two of
these, Fray de la Cruz and Fray Padilla, were killed, and nothing was heard from Fray
Escalona after Coronados departure. This first attempt at permanent missionization in
New Mexico was short-lived, and came to an unhappy end; however, it set the course for
the establishment of the territory. Though the secular explorers were unsuccessful in
their search for fortune among the adobe pueblos of the south and west, and the shaggy
cows (Bannon 20) and rolling plains of the east, the friars felt that the possibility for
conversions was reason enough to remain in an otherwise fruitless territory.
Upon returning to Culiacn in the early summer of 1542, Coronado filed his
report on the expedition. Understandably, after two years of near-constant conflict with
nearby tribes and a demonstrated lack of material resources in the area, the explorer was
less than enthusiastic in his description of the region to Viceroy Mendoza. Coronados
report offered virtually no encouragement for secular investment in New Mexico, as the
conquistador testified that the region offered, as summarized by historian John Francis
Bannon, only cantankerous Indians, whom only the most devoted and saintly
missionaries might love, buffalo, prairie dogs, rattlesnakes, burning summers and
freezing winters (Bannon 21). As a result of the findings of the Coronado expedition,
official interest in the New Mexico region cooled considerably and for a period of over
forty years.
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However, Coronados account had sparked interest in some of the inhabitants of

New Spain. In the years between authorized expeditions into the New Mexico territory,
there were several smaller entries northward by parties wishing to further missionary
labor, undertake rescue missions, establish a foothold in the region, develop trade, or
continue exploration. Coronados captain Pedro de Tobar guided the 1564 entry of
Francisco Ibarra, then governor of Nueva Vizcaya, along an indeterminate northward
route, possibly arriving at the llano outside of Las Vegas, N.M. In 1581, Francisco
Snchez Chamuscado and Father Augustn Rodrguez led a small group up the Ro
Grande to the Pueblo settlements deep in northern New Mexico, the plains to the east and
the Zui and Acomans to the west. Fray Rodrguez formed the party with the explicit
intention of stationing himself and two other friars, Fray Francisco Lpez and Fray Juan
de Santa Mara, among the tribes there, thought the soldiers that accompanied him clearly
had their own economic objective in mind. Fray Juan de Santa Mara was killed
attempting a solo return to Mexico, and shortly after his death, the most of the Snchez
Chamuscado party left. Two exceptions, friars Rodrguez and Lpez, remained behind at
Puaray pueblo, as had been arranged prior to the expeditions departure for New Mexico.
Upon reading the Chamuscado expedition report (apparently written by Hernn
Gallegos, a veteran of the expedition), the viceroy Conde de Corua approved a rescue
party to return to the area and find Rodrguez and Lpez. One year later, in November
1582, Fray Bernardo Beltrn and Antonio de Espejo took a company northward for that
purpose. Although they soon found that the two friars had been killed, Espejo pushed the
groups exploration into central Arizona, headed back northeast, returning through the
49

Jumano province in southeastern New Mexico, near the Ro Pecos. Although the
ostensible mission of the group was to recover the missing friars, Espejo was a keenly
interested in the economic opportunities that might there await him, as his very positive
report to the king attests.
Interest in the north was again piqued by the Espejo expedition, and while various
groups sought permission to explore the region legally, two parties entered illegally,
apparently tantalized by rumors of the lucrative opportunities that there lay. When the
viceroy Marqus de Villamanrique found out about the clandestine1589 Gaspar Castao
de Sosa settlement party, he summarily sent out troops to find the group and escort it
back to Nueva Galicia. In 1593, a second illegal incursion led by Antonio Gutirrez de
Humaa and Francisco Leyva de Bonilla self-destructed even though the company
reached the beginnings of the Great Plains, as Humaa killed Bonilla and the remainder
of the group died on the western Plains.
Oates Expedition
By 1595, and after many other candidates including Espejo had been considered
and rejected for the job, an official adelantado for the settlement of New Mexico was
named. Viceroy Luis de Velasco chose Juan de Oate, a former governor of Nueva
Galicia and native of the northern frontier of Mexico. Due to his father Cristbal de
Oates success at the Zacatecas silver mines, Juan de Oate was exceptionally wellpositioned, well-funded and well-married, to a natural granddaughter of Hernn Corts.
Of his own merits, Oate had spent many years fighting the Chichimecos and
Guachichiles in the northern borderlands. Additionally, since that one goal of the
50

settlement of New Mexico was the exploitation of the mineral wealth, suggested most
recently by the Espejo expedition report, Oates personal contact with the mining
industry might have made him an even more attractive candidate. These factors served to
promote Oates case, even as a change in viceroys slowed the official approval of his
expedition.
In 1598, Oates party was finally permitted to enter into New Mexico. Although
Oates original contract requested autonomy from the viceroys jurisdiction, the final
contract, granted by the new Viceroy Gaspar de Ziga y Acevedo, specified that the
party would be answerable to the viceroy, and not directly to the Consejo de las Indias.
After this slow start, the Oate party traveled northward, establishing a settlement at San
Juan de los Caballeros, near present-day Espaola. The settlement was beset with
difficulties from the beginning, ranging from shortages in supplies, to conflict with
neighboring tribes, to desertion from colonists and soldiers alike. Villagrs Historia
recounts Oates swift and often brutal response to the many problems that presented
themselves, from punishing a band of deserting soldiers, to laying siege to and eventually
slaughtering Acoma pueblo. Oate explored eastward into Kansas, again in search of
Coronado and Fray Marcos Quivira, and far westward, leaving his signature at El Morro
in the Malpas of western New Mexico.
Women figure into the narrative about the Oate expedition, in Villagrs
Historia de la Nueva Mxico. In fact, in contrast to some of the men portrayed by
Villagr (particular those whose treasonous actions would seem to later exonerate Oate)
the women in Villagrs poem, both Spanish and indigenous, are nothing if not stalwart
51

examples of the best characteristics of both cultures. The women portrayed in Villagrs
work take on a special significance as symbolically representative, at least from the point
of view of Villagr, of the women of colonial New Mexico. Of particular interest to this
study is the way the Spanish settler Doa Eufemia is depicted.
In Canto VIII, Doa Eufemia, wife of the royal ensign Pealosa, upbraids the
discouraged men of the expedition party, enjoining them to be brave and continue to
struggle against the hardships they encountered during settlement and exploration
(Simmons 81). She later exhorts the women of the settlement party to take up arms
against the San Juan Indians when the new settlement at San Juan de los Caballeros is
threatened (Simmons 144). These two episodes interestingly depict Doa Eufemia not
only in a position of leadership and empowerment, they represent her in such a way in
front of both the men and the women of expeditionary party (women were as
contractually obligated as men to see through the terms of their settlement contract). In
the tradition of Greek heroines such as Aristophanes Lysistrata, Doa Eufemia is a
leader to be reckoned with by both men and women. She is valiant, powerful, and
respected and, as a character in the epic poem, is a powerful dramatic addition to the text,
as compelling as any of her male counterparts in the text.
While Oate undertook expeditions in the region, the colonists became restless,
anxious to abandon the settlement; as Hammond and Rey assert, Oates control over
the colonists had [] been in jeopardy nearly all the time (Hammond and Rey 29).
While Oate explored the region of Quivira in 1601, a large group of colonists simply
defected from the settlement. In 1604, Oate headed south in search of South Sea port in
52

Arizona, hoping to improve the impression his leadership and settlement were making on
the Spanish administration by finding a valuable resource; this was to no avail. A few
years after his 1607 resignation, Oate, his nephew Vicente de Saldvar and captain
Villagr were charged for the atrocities committed against soldiers and native people in
New Mexico. A trial in Spain that lasted from 1612 to 1614 sentenced the three men:
Oate and Saldvar were fined and banished from New Mexico forever, and Villagr was
banned from New Mexico for a period of six years. Literary critic Miguel Lpez (Lpez
44) suggests that perhaps the Spanish courts would have overlooked Oates offenses
altogether if his expedition had found mineral wealth the crown anticipated it would find
in the New Mexico territory.
What remains certain about the Oate expedition to New Mexico is that, despite
the appointment of a new governor, the settlement retained the taint of failure and scandal
associated with Oates entrada. Oates efforts had done little to secure Spains
foothold in the region north of New Mexico, and certainly discouraged further investment
in the region.
A Permanent New Mexican Territory
These political problems were reflected in the decisions regarding the New
Mexico territory Viceroy Velasco and the Spanish Crown made following Oates
departure from the region. In 1603, then-Viceroy Zuiga y Acevedo decided to delay
Oates residencia, or formal accounting of the adelantado, anticipating that such an
investigation could lead to the end of the New Mexico venture. As the viceroy was not
completely certain that the Spanish should scuttle the venture (Bannon 39), he
53

postponed the inquiry in the hopes that perhaps something positive would come of
Oates further explorations. As his expedition in search of the South Sea proved as
fruitless as previous ones, and with Oate himself under scrutiny, by 1607 Oates friend
Viceroy Velasco was inclined to end the settlement venture in New Mexico. He advised
the removal of settlers and Christianized Indians from the region to avoid ever-increasing
costs of maintaining the region (Simmons 183). The viceregal leadership had not
positively lobbied for sustaining the New Mexico territory in the past; in fact, the
previous Viceroy, the Marquis of Montesclaros, had written to Felipe III in 1605 that I
cannot help but inform your majesty that this conquest [of New Mexico] is becoming a
fairytale (Hammond and Rey 30). It seemed as though the colonial leadership viewed
the settlement of New Mexico as neither financially feasible, nor a worthwhile endeavor.
The Franciscan leadership in Mexico City did not share this viewpoint. When
Franciscan colonial leaders realized that there was a good chance the Spanish government
would abandon the region, and thus that the missions in New Mexico would be lost, the
potential loss of their missionary foothold galvanized them. A report composed by Fray
Lzaro Jimnez, a friar who had been stationed in New Mexico, was sent to King Felipe
III in 1608. In it, Jimnez details the missionary work completed among the indigenous
people of the region, namely the near-doubling of conversions in a period of a few
months, from four thousand to around seven thousand by the time Jimnez report was
submitted. Jimnez also suggested that thousands more native inhabitants desired to be
baptized.

54

Jimenez report is politically significant for the Franciscan order in the southwest
because it demonstrates the extent to which they desired to sustain their presence in the
region. The Mexican Franciscans did not want to see their conversions of the people of
New Mexico lost, nor did they wish to lose their ordinal domination over the region.
Given their argument that such a quantity of new converts to Catholicism could not be
left without catechesis and sacramental support (Bannon 39), King Felipe III decided to
keep the New Mexico region open and part of the colonial empire. Thus, primarily due
to the Franciscans effective lobby for retention of New Mexico, the territory survived
and its purpose became largely religious.
Although Viceroy Velascos predecessor Montesclaros considered any further
investment in the region wasted, or at best [] a gamble (Terrell 236), Velasco worked
to maintain a Spanish presence, however minimal, in New Mexico, in spite of his own
personal misgivings about the long-term feasibility of the colony. Perhaps the viceroy
realized that if New Mexicos legitimacy could be secured by means of its establishment
as a royal colony, it would be nearly impossible to legally abandon the region in the
future. Velasco and his advisors hoped to guarantee that the burden for the financial
support of this settlement would rest with the Spanish crown, rather than with the
colonial government of Mexico. Thus, though New Mexicos principal raison dtre,
thanks to the Franciscan intervention, was missionary work, at the suggestion of Viceroy
Velasco, it became a royal colony, but never without a profound religious character, a
most appropriate context for religious/miraculous occurrences.

55

The New Mexico Colony

By the early 17th century, then, New Mexico was recognized as the northernmost
outpost of the Spanish empire, but it clung to existence only precariously. Although the
Spanish crown found in favor of retaining the settlements there, the terms under which
New Mexico would be governed and maintained were extremely limiting, and reflective
of a disinclination to invest in the region. New Mexico did not seem to merit the degree
of financial and military support awarded other colonial sites because it had proven to be
more a financial burden than boon, and would continue in this manner for the foreseeable
future. The territory had been written off by the Spanish Crown as a profit-making
colony (Riley 90). As nearly all explorations of New Mexico seemed to indicate that
there were few resources worth exploiting there, expeditions to out from New Mexico
were permitted only with the direct consent from the King (Terrell 239). The San Gabriel
stronghold was defended by fifty married soldiers, and the pueblos served by twelve
priests sent among them to continue their Catholic formation (Terrell 239). Though some
early Spanish settlers clustered near the garrison and soldiers in Santa Fe (where the main
settlement had been relocated from San Gabriel by Governor Peralta), Riley notes that the
New Mexico colonists were unique in that they were reluctant to cluster in defensible
towns (Riley 145), instead spreading out over the landscape. In keeping with the
objectives of evangelization, friars could continue to convert the indigenous people of the
region, but not forcibly. The colony would receive tri-annual grants directly from the
Crown to financially support its efforts (Scholes 59). As Hammond and Rey comment,
56

with King Felipe IIIs decision to retain New Mexico for purposes of conversion and
evangelization, the course the colony would take was securely set for the next three
hundred years (Hammond and Rey 34).
The New Mexican colonists that remained to settle were few and, and they found
their already difficult job of eking out a living on the land exacerbated by a scarcity of
supplies and the difficulty of trade. As Benjamin Read notes, the Spanish colonies were
in lack of artificers, farming implements and many other things necessary for their
development (Read 252). Mostly engaged in subsistence agriculture, the New Mexican
colonists in the early 17th century traded wool and wool products, salt, pine nuts, candles
and various animal skins (Bannon 79), which were exchanged for commodities that could
only be acquired from the population centers farther south. Trade caravans moving north
to south along the Camino Real faced a slow and perilous journey, making trade, and thus
contact, between the colony and northern Mexican cities infrequent, occurring every two
to four years by Rileys estimation (Riley 135). News of what was happening either in
the colony, or in Mexico and beyond, traveled as slowly as the goods that inched along
the route.
The New Mexican settlers remained wary about remaining in the remote,
underfunded colony. Though the opportunity to possess an encomienda and possibly
profit from it was attractive to the settlers, their investment in the region was not
ultimately well rewarded. These settlers to the north, unlike those located in cities like
Zacatecas, were poor, for as Bannon points out, no one of these items [traded by the
New Mexican settlers] was likely to turn the New Mexicans into millionaires (Bannon
57

79). Most of the colonists who had come with the Oate expedition had desperately
wanted to leave the settlement once they realized the that the environment they were to
settle in was harsh and their recourses nonexistent (Simmons 159, 65-66); in that case,
many of the friars on the expedition agreed. When Fray Isisdro Ordez arrived Santa Fe
in 1612 bearing papers he claimed released the settlers of their obligation to remain in the
territory, all but forty-seven Spaniards who were not friars left the colony, in the face of
protests by then-Governor Pedro de Peralta (Terrell 252). Over the course of the
seventeenth century, beginning with Benavides tenure as custos, the small territory
continued to grow, but only very gradually, a slow but steady progress, in a relative sort
of way [] The number of Spaniards increased from a few hundred to a few thousand
(Bannon 41). The number of colonists in the region remained low and reports of their
activities there, scanty.
In addition to their role as settlers and, in the case of the priests, evangelizers of
the Indian tribes, the settlers of the royal colony served an important symbolic purpose.
The occupants of the colony, by their very presence, assumed representational value as
markers of the Iberian presence in the northernmost region of the Spanish empire.
Though the soldiers stationed in New Mexico offered an undeniable degree of physical
protection from the neighboring tribes, the existence of the garrison and its occupants was
more effective symbolically than defensively. Given the small number of soldiers and
their limited arsenal, the soldiers and settlers could not truly defend the region from
serious attack, either by Indians or by explorers from other countries. However, the fact
that Spain maintained a colony in the northern frontier was sufficient for it to lay claim to
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vast tracts of territory in what was then northern New Spain. The Spanish, by proof of
the settlement in New Mexico, were the first European claimants, in a previously
unclaimed area. The presence of these settlers had a particular legal meaning, as the
Spains claim on the undefined northern regions was dependent on their remaining there.
The enlargement of empire had as its justification the northern settlement.
Franciscans in New Mexico
Thus, by the time the author and priest with whom we began this chapter, Fray
Alonso de Benavides, arrived as custos to the New Mexico territory in 1625, he had his
work well cut out for him. If the secular situation in New Mexico was precarious, the
relationship between church and state in the colony was even more fraught. Benavides
predecessors had left him a legacy of troubled relationships both within the New Mexican
missionary hierarchy, and between the secular and religious administrations, beginning
with Fray Isidro Ordezs 1612 excommunication and imprisonment of the colonys
first governor (Terrell 253) Pedro de Peralta. Though Ordez has been generally
discredited as a being very much a loose cannon (Riley 95), the tone for the
relationship between church and state in New Mexico was set for the seventeenth
century. The first custos to the region, Fray Perea, who arrived in 1616 was also at crosspurposes for most of his administration with Governor Juan de Eulate (Riley 95), who
was eventually excommunicated as well by Fray Ascencio de Zarate (Riley 96).
As historian Lloyd Mecham comments, conflict between church and state in the
Indies was one of the most common features of colonial history, whether in Chile,
Colombia, Mexico or New Mexico (Mecham 230). However, Riley notes that perhaps
59

this conflict was acted out to an extraordinary degree in New Mexico, as he asserts that
even a casual reading of the fate of New Mexicos seventeenth-century governors gives
the feeling that something was very wrong in that province (Riley 90), citing their
imprisonment, and murder as an indication of the intensity of this conflict. The source of
this rancor was the conflict of interest arising from the friars objectives of conversion,
and the governors desire to maintain order (and try to turn a profit) in the colony. The
governors duties included that of the collection of tribute extracted from indigenous
labor under the rules of repartimiento. As Indians stationed at the friars missions were
exempt from contributing to the repartimiento, keeping them isolated from all
contaminating influences of the Spaniards (Mecham 221) (except, of course, the friars
themselves), their sequestration meant that the friars alone and not the colonial
government profited from their labor. In addition, some governors took advantage of
their position to engage in illegal Indian slave trade for profit, a crime which Eulate
engaged in and was eventually reprimanded for (Riley 96).
In spite of this precedent, Benavides personally got along with the colonial
governor, Felipe Zoytlo, along with whom he administered the custodia while Zoytlo was
governor from 1621 to 1629. Under their dual administration the most complete
harmony reigned with marked benefit for the Indians and Spaniards who dedicated
themselves with energy to the prosecution of the industries which their limited means
allowed them to develop (Read 252). This brief harmony between the two branches of
colonial administration was by no means common in colonial New Mexico, nor did it last
long beyond Benavides custodianship, though the remarkable nature of the cooperation
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between church and state may have conditioned Benavides Memorials. As neither
church nor state leadership could be immediately answerable to any authority due to the
regions isolation, greater localized leadership for the Franciscans might have brought
about a more permanent peace between Church and State.
In fact, the hierarchy of the Franciscan order in the New World had its head
across the ocean, in Spain. The leader of the entire Franciscan order, the Minister
General, was elected by the Franciscan community and a second leader, the Commissary
General, was elected from the family not represented by the Minister General (the order
was divided into two families, the Ultramontane and the Cismontane). A third post, the
Commissary General of the Indies, was charged with the management of colonial
interests, administering from Madrid, with two under-Commissaries assigned to
administer the mission in Peru and New Spain. Benavides would direct his Memoriales
first to these leaders of the Franciscan order, and then to the Spanish King and the Pope.
As historian Frances Scholes notes: The discovery of the new world and the
founding of new Franciscan establishments both in America and in the Orient greatly
extended the business and organization of the order (Scholes 35). From the Franciscans
headquarters in Spain, the order subdivided into subordinate units for mission
administration. The next smallest was the Province, which consisted of groupings of
convents or parishes that had their own administrative leadership. Under the Provinces
lay the custodias, which were smaller religious communities that did not have
administrative authority; thus, they were generally subject to the governance of the

61

province under which they fell. The head of any given custodia was called a custos
(Scholes 35-6).
In the early 17th century, the missions of Mexico were organized under the
Provincia del Santo Evangelio (centered in Mexico City), which was established as a
custodia in 1524, and was elevated to province in 1535 (Scholes 39). Santo Evangelio
was therefore the local religious authority, directing the appointment of religious leaders
to the missions under the provinces bailiwick, and making decisions that affected
parishes and convents. Custodiae were established as missions that lay far away from the
provincial center grew and direct administration of these missions by the Santo Evangelio
had become nearly impossible due to the physical distance. A degree of local leadership
was required to effectively administer the local church and its missionary endeavors
(Scholes 40). Custodiae were therefore established in Michoacn, Yucatn, Guatemala,
and Tampico (Riley 109); New Mexico was established as a Franciscan custodia shortly
after the region was declared a royal colony, in 1616 or 1617 (Scholes 61), called the
Custodia de la Conversin de San Pablo.
Though custodiae were viewed as a provisional state within Franciscan
organization, a step towards gaining greater administrative independence as a province
(Scholes 41), the Custodia of New Mexico remained such until the end of Spanish reign
over the region (Scholes 42). Like the custodia of Tampico, the Conversin de San Pablo
remained under hierarchical control of its superior province, and to a more extensive
degree than other custodiae. Though a custodia normally would elect its own leadership
from among the friars in their ranks, the custos of the Custodia of New Mexico were
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chosen by the Santo Evangelio until 1755. In spite of the control the Mexico City
Franciscans seemed to exert over the New Mexico custodia, its custos by necessity was
quite independent in his administration over the territory, as it was difficult and slow for
the Mexico City hierarchy to actively monitor his activities. The custos was in fact
prelate of the entire community, civil and ecclesiastical (Scholes 43), in the absence of
a bishop over the region until the early 18th century. He was in a position of de facto
leadership, exerting more influence over the regions operation than any secular leader,
but did not have the recognition, financial autonomy and local selection that the leader of
a province enjoyed.
With custos Fray Alonso de Benavides arrival at the Conversin de San Pablo of
New Mexico in December of 1625, the there were 32 friars administering to the 47 male
soldiers and settlers and their families (Read 251), though Benavides (Benavides, Harvest
26) and Read (Read 254) both claim that there were 250 Spaniards in Santa Fe while
Benavides was there. In addition, fourteen thousand native converts (Read 251), and
approximately 50,000 indigenous occupants of the custodial region (Bannon 41).
Benavides brought with him sixteen additional friars, and by the time his tenure in New
Mexico had ended, twenty-five missions were established in New Mexico.
Thus the stage was set in New Spain for the presentation of Fray Alonso de
Benavides account of the Blue Nun in the court of King Felipe IV: the remote northern
colony; a legacy of conquest assured by conversion to Catholicism with women
precipitating turning points in colonization; years of fruitless exploration into the north;
and, finally, the tenuous establishment of a northern province whose main purposes were
63

conversion and representation. What was the atmosphere on the other side of the ocean?
What were conditions in Felipe IVs court relative to the colonies? What was the Holy
Sees attitude towards motives of colonial missionization and the fruits of that project?
The Reign of Felipe IV in Spain
The reign of Felipe IV over Spain is viewed by many historians as the definitive
turning point in Spains imperial dominance, and the beginnings of its decline as a
European power. That the Spanish crown continued to support the northern frontiers of
its colonies during this period is at once both surprising and consistent with Spains
domestic policies at the time. Because Spain was overextended and financially illequipped to support an economically poor region, the decision to directly maintain a
colony that produced very little profit was surprising. However, maintaining the northern
colonies was reflective of the Crowns domestic and European spiritual and political
interests, as Spain fought other European countries in religious wars with political
motives. From the monarch to his advisors, concerns of religion, politics and dominance
that were being played out in Europe were reflected in the maintenance of the northern
Spanish frontier colonies (Elliott 287).
As historian Jose Delieto y Piuela notes, bajo Felipe IV desvanecase la leyenda
dorada, que hizo de Espaa el pas predilecto del cielo, designado por Dios para una
misin providencial (Deleito y Piuela 248). Though Felipe IVs reign was defined by
the clear decline of the Spanish empire, and though the monarch did little to reverse this
trend, his rule had the misfortune to reap the whirlwind of decisions made by his
predecessors (Deleito y Piuela 42). Under Felipe III and his vlido (political favorite)
64

the Duke of Lerma, the economic depression that had begun with the imperial endeavors
of Felipe II (Elliott 287) had worsened precipitously. These economic difficulties,
compounded by Spains famine, conflicts with other European countries, and internal
political strife, produced an environment that was tipping in the direction of disaster. As
historian J.H. Elliott comments about Spains condition at the beginning of Felipe IVs
reign, unless really effective measures could be introduced to relive Castile, the
Monarchy as a whole would be confronted with disaster (Elliott 329). Spain seemed
headed towards disaster at the beginning of the 17th century, a situation that would have
presented a considerable challenge to any monarch; Felipe IVs maturity and disposition
did little to help him stave off disaster.
Felipe IV was sixteen years old when he became the King of Spain upon his
fathers death on 31 March 1621. Two years after Felipe IV was made king, the artist
Diego Velzquez was appointed court painter and furnished with the exclusive right to
paint the Kings portrait, depicted Felipe IV throughout his reign. Through Velzquez
depictions of Felipe IV, it is possible to understand to a degree the Kings personal
characteristics:
El maravilloso realismo de su [Diego Velzquezs] pincel,
sobreponindose a toda adulacin cortesana de pintor de cmara, nos
muestra siempre a Felipe IV con expresin de linftica indolencia [] no
logr que el exange Soberano disimulase la endeblez de su naturaleza
(Deleito y Piuela 48)
Felipe IV was clearly not cut of the same monarchical cloth as his forebears, Isabella and
Fernando. In fact, Felipe IV is historically something of a cipher, ironically revealing the
most important facets of his personality (una serie de huellas tan finas y precisas de su
65

alma, como casi no haya otro ejemplo en la psicologa retrospectiva (Deleito y Piuela
250)) in his correspondence with Sor Mara de Agreda. This is a good thing, as most
political and economic histories of early 17th-century Spain ignore the monarch almost
entirely in favor of discussing his vlido Gaspar de Guzmn, the Count of Olivares.
Olivares was, in fact, the politician of the regime, the actor behind Spains
domestic and foreign actions. As Elliott suggest, because the relationship between king
and vlido began when the king was so young (Olivares had been Felipe IVs advisor for
nearly all his life), it was less the case that Felipe IV adopted Olivares as vlido than that
Olivares adopted him (Elliott 319). The fact that Olivares so quickly and agilely
maneuvered to a position of power was not surprising. Elliott characterizes him as less
one personality than a whole succession of personalities [] somehow he always seemed
larger than life size, bestriding the Court like a colossus (Elliott 320). Deleito y Piuela
considers his selection by Felipe IV a means by which the monarch could dar a sus
sbitos el estadista aplomado, entero y fuerte que haban menester (Deleito y Piuela
52), providing them the political leadership he could not. Olivares was also appointed by
Felipe IV as Canciller Mayor y Registrador de las Indias, a position that had been vacant
for quite some time but which furnished Olivares with a position on the Council of the
Indies, enabling him to share in Spains overseas empire (Lynch 91). Though Olivares
was involved in nearly every aspect of Spains governance, and though he undoubtedly
was the political agent of action during much of Felipe IVs reign, it was to the monarch
that Benavides 1630 Memorial was directed, and with the monarch that Sor Mara
corresponded.
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The Spain that Felipe IV and Olivares ruled had experienced more or less
continuously the organized religious homogenization that began with Isabella and
Fernando 120 years prior. Under Felipe III, Spains religious heterogeneity was further
reduced with the expulsion of the moriscos. Although Spanish Muslims (mudjars) were
initially permitted to retain their religious practices under Christian rule, in 1502 the
Spanish government compelled them to either convert to Christianity (becoming
moriscos), or leave the Iberian Peninsula. This forced conversion naturally brought with
it considerably political and social unrest. After two uprisings of the morisco community
in Alpajurras (1499-1500 and 1568-1570) indicated to the monarchy that the Muslim
converts to Catholicism were not excited about being subject to the jurisdiction of the
Catholic Church, Felipe III ordered the expulsion of the moriscos in 1610. Most of the
morisco population relocated to North Africa. By asserting their diversity via their
religious practices, the moriscos were too threatening to the unity of the country to
remain.
The motives for the expulsion of the Jews and Muslims from the Iberian
Peninsula was at least partially in concert with those of the Spanish Inquisition.
Officially established in 1478 by Isabela and Fernando, and sanctioned by Pope Sixtus
IV, the stated objective of the Spanish Inquisition was uncover false converts to
Catholicism. Although the Spanish Inquisition did not officially end until 1820, and
although the activities of the Inquisitors naturally diminished over the course of the years,
the Inquisition still exercised a great deal of authority during the reign of Felipe IV. (Sor
Maras two encounters with the Inquisitorial tribunals in the mid-seventeenth century
67

attest to this fact.) As Inquisition historian Henry Kamen points out (Kamen 43), the
political and ideological motivations behind the Inquisition were far more complex than a
simple binary of Christian/non-Christian. However, the fact that the institution continued
for so many centuries, and indeed crossed the Atlantic to the New World, demonstrates
the degree to which religion and religious homogeneity were central preoccupations
within Imperial Spain. Whether the its actions were always clear and consistent, the
Spanish Inquisitions enduring presence evinced the religious zeitgeist of 17th-century
Spain.
As Elliott comments, the late 16th century was marked by an extraordinary
intensity in Castiles spiritual life- an intensity which was apparent at many levels, and
extended to many different spheres (Elliott 239). Spanish Catholicism at this time was
marked by a move towards mysticism, as the writings of Santa Teresa of Avila and San
Juan de la Cruz were widely read. Yet this variety of mystical spiritual enlightenment
carried with it the risk of being accused of false illumination (alumbradismo), particularly
for women mystics.
The European conflicts that drained Spains economic resources in the late 16th
and early 17th, though clearly political in nature, were deeply infused with religious
concerns as well. As William La Due notes, at the conclusion of Trent in December
1563, the religious landscape of Europe had changed considerably since the 1520s (La
due 201). After the Protestant Reformation, Europe was divided in creed, from the
Lutherans in Germany and Scandinavia, to the Calvinists in France, Switzerland and
Holland, to the Anglicans in England. The formerly Catholic empire of the Hapsburg
68

was no longer unified by the Church (Cheetham 219), as it was divided into the Catholic
League and the Protestant Union. Thus although under Felipe III, Spain had generally
eschewed active military engagement with other European countries, Felipe III aligned
himself with his uncle Emperor Ferdinand II in 1619 and abandonaba la poltica
pacifista de la ltima dcada para apoyar militar y econmicamente la impresa de los
Hapsburgos y por tanto la defensa del ideal catlico (Martn Acosta 265).
Spains subsequent involvement in the Thirty Years War and in other European
conflicts was detrimental to the already fragile national economy. Clashes with England,
France, and the Netherlands, based both in Spains imperialist desire to protect its
interests in the Americans and in Europe, and in the religious tensions between Catholic
and Protestant already mentioned drained money and manpower from Spains reserves.
In spite of a brief peace with France from 1628-1635 (Elliott 331), Spain found itself
again at military odds with the Protestant factions of that country, the expenses from
which resulted in un flujo constante de plata hacia el exterior (Martn Acosta 287).
Spains domestic situation was in no shape to both participate in expensive
European conflicts, and effectively administrate their New World holdings. The country
was experiencing a combination of severe problems that further separated socioeconomic classes, and drove the economy downward. John Lynch comments that the
years 1629-1631 were particularly dire, marked by an agrarian crisis, brought on by a
classic combination of drought, famine and malnutrition, [that] pushed up mortality
rates (Lynch 119). Already difficult financial conditions domestically were made worse
by terrific inflation, as the government tried to regulate the currency and failed. In 1640,
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the domestic turmoil turned political, as first Catalua (in May) and then Portugal (in
September) rebelled against the monarchy. These conflicts led directly to Olivares 1643
dismissal by Felipe IV, and the country continued to struggle with internal and external
conflicts.
As Elliott notes, the nature of Spains relationships with Spanish America
changed as a direct result of Spains war with the Protestant powers of the north (Elliott
287), and due to Spains own interior problems. 16th- and 17th-century trade between
Spain and the Americas rose and fell, with two periods of expansion, from 1504 to 1550,
and from 1562 to 1592, and a period of depression from 1623 to 1650 (Lynch 267).
Within these more generalized trade trends, New Spains contribution to Spains
economy dropped in the 17th century from previous years, from 40 per cent in 16361640 to 22 percent in 1646-1650 (Lynch 276-7), making it, as historian John Lynch
terms it the sick man of the transatlantic economy from the 1620s to the 1650s (Lynch
273-4). As historian Emelina Martn Acosta notes, the financial support from the
Americas continued to diminish throughout Felipe IVs reign, principally because of a
reduction of the production from the mines that had previously been so profitable (Martn
Acosta 282). This loss in profit was due to the decimation of the indigenous population
that had been forced to work the mines (Lynch 273-4), as well as the high price of
establishing such mines, as they tended to be in northern frontier regions and therefore
required the support of troops (Lynch 303). In spite of the considerable financial boon
Spain received from the American colonies, exports to Spain during the reign of Felipe
IV, particularly those from New Spain, were lower than in past years.
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In short, Spain under Felipe IV was encumbered with difficulties domestic,

European, and American. Under ineffective leadership and suffering from continually
worsening economic conditions, Spain was overextended due to its religious-political
engagements in Europe, an artifact of the countrys continued negotiation of questions of
religion, identity and nationality. Martn Acosta offers the following pithy summary of
the state of Spain under Felipe IV:
hemos de decir que la poltica exterior de Felipe IV, con sus absorbentes
necesidades de numerario, deterior el tradicional sistema de armadas y
flotas, arruin el comercio y hizo que disminuyera el registro de la plata.
Y en paralelo, la decadencia del comercio indiano y de las remesas
americanas repercuti, en gran medida, en la creciente debilidad militar
de una Espaa que se acercaba a finales del siglo XVII en plena crisis
poltico-econmica. (Martn Acosta 293)
Urban VIII and the Papacy
The final European institution which directly influences the transatlantic dialogue
of the early 17th century is that of the Catholic Papacy, specifically the institutions and
policies enacted that pertained to the religious administration of the New World. Pope
Urban VIII, Maffeo Barberini, occupied the Chair of Saint Peter for most the period that
during which the Lady in Blue narrative arises, from 1623 to 1644. Indeed, Fray
Benavides directs his second Memorial in 1634 to Urban VIII, explaining to the Pontiff
the travels of Sor Mara de Agreda to the Jumanos of New Mexico.
In 1623, Urban VIII was elected to the papacy from a prominent Florentine
family. He was in a position of religious and political power at a time when, as has
already been commented, Europe was highly divided and continuously battling the
boundaries of those divides. In this regard, Urban VIII found an insuperable adversary in
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Frances Cardinal Richelieu, whose political and religious machinations for the
advancement of the French Crown prompted Urban VIII to comment, If there is a God,
Cardinal Richelieu will have much to answer for. If there is not, he has done very well
(Maxwell-Stuart 194). Historians have commented on Urban VIIIs inefficacy in
responding to the threat French Protestants presented, and unsuccessful intervention in
the Thirty Years War (Maxwell-Stuart 194), as the conflict resulted in losses to the
Catholic Church through the Treaty of Westphalia in 1643 (La Due 210).
Urban VIII was engaged in Roman politics, particularly involved in inter-familial
conflicts within Italy. These entanglements, combined with his patronage of the arts and
architecture did not make him popular in Rome (Maxwell-Stuart 195). In addition, to
Urban VIII fell the task of condemning the astronomical theories of Galileo Galilei.
However, even though Galileo had to recant before an Inquisitorial tribunal his theory
about the Earth revolving around the sun, Urban VIII made sure his friend was treated
gently and well for the rest of his life (Cheetham 223).
In terms of how Rome interacted or reacted to the events in the religious
colonization of the Americas, several key points are worth remarking on. Prior to Urban
VIIIs papacy, in 1622, Pope Gregory XV established the Congregation of Propaganda
Fide, the body entrusted with the administration of the missionary efforts of the Catholic
Church throughout the world (Maxwell-Stuart 191). This was a major step in the
normalization of the Churchs work in the Americas, in Asia and in India, and it indicates
that the numbers of missionaries, missions and converted were so great that they required
a higher organization than previously. And, of course, after its establishment,
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Propaganda Fide played a major role in the administration of the New World religious
institutions.
Urban VIII contributed to the development of the missionary effort, and its
centralization in Europe, by establishing the Collegium Urbanum within Propaganda Fide
in 1627. The Collegium Urbanum was a college for the training of missionaries, the
establishment of which addressed the need for the priests sent to foreign countries to
receive instruction particular to the missionary field. In a 1639 Bull, Urban also
prohibited all slavery in Paraguay, Brazil and the West Indies, a positive step in regions
dominated by indigenous and African inhabitants (Ott). By most measures, Urban VIII
supported the missionary endeavor, as well as the mendicant orders that supplied the
manpower to carry out catechesis in those regions.
A final, and most vital, point of interest as regards Urban VIII pertains the
policies he set forth on the processes of sainthood, and on the representation of noncanonized individuals. Urban VIII seems to have been shifting canonization and
determination of sanctity more securely under the Papal purview, perhaps lessening the
influence of local officials and individuals in establishing saints. As the New Advent
Catholic Encyclopedia notes, Urban VIII explicitly reserved the power of beatification
(that is, the ability to declare an individual blessed and place them on the first steps
towards sainthood),for the Pope, reducing regional jurisdiction on the matter (Ott). In
addition, in an October 30, 1625, Bull, Urban VIII prohibited the representation with the
halo of sanctity of persons not beatified or canonized [] and the printing of their
alleged miracles or revelations (Ott); this Bull seems to have the objective of reducing
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the veneration of local, unofficial saints. Both of these actions concentrate the power
for determining who and what is holy in Rome, very far away from the remote sites
where the worship of folk saints could occur.
Urban VIII himself canonized many saints during his papacy, reflecting a desire
to standardize or adjudicate the types of religious imagery and worship that were
emerging in unknowable places. By ensuring that the images and individuals venerated
abroad received approbation from the center, the normalized beliefs of that center could
be more directly and effectively transmitted.
Women and mystical missionization
In the stories retold, we can see how attempts were made to hold all these
contradictions together, at least at the level of narrative, and how such narratives did not
necessarily define themselves through their opposition to or rejection of empire and
cultural hegemony. (Sampson Vera Tudela 99)
How might Sor Maras account have been understood during her lifetime, given
the contexts detailed above? The tradition of mystics and mystical travels to which the
Lady in Blue narrative belongs serves to shed some light on the subject. Conceptually at
least, the changes her actions cause on the perception of place distinguish her
transatlantic narrative. Her travel could be considered a claiming for the Church or for
the Crown of a space on the cusp of being (it was thought) more firmly maintained by
both. Benavides himself admits that neither he nor his friars had been to the region of the
Jumanos, and nor did the Spanish understand the tribes language when the Jumanos
came to Isleta to petition for baptism. Yet, Sor Mara not only visited the isolated region
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where the Jumanos lived, she communicated with and converted the tribes she
encountered. In visiting New Mexico, Sor Mara confirms the regions presence, and
changes it from a remote unknown into a knowable, knowable and contacted place.
However, the enterprise of claiming space or of carrying out colonizing activities
was usually reserved for men. Even as a mystic, Sor Maras case is unusual, for though
women mystics were not uncommon in the 17th century, historian Ellen Gunnarsdttir
comments that womens narratives turned inward, eschewing details of earthly life
(Gunnarsdttir 10). The feminine mystical was less concerned with real-life events, in
contrast to male religious biography of the period, which tended to focus on mens
worldly work as founders and reformers. How might this feminine mysticism function in
Sor Maras case?
As Jean Franco maintains, mystical separations of body and soul were temporary
breaks in the general atmosphere of control to which cloistered women (women in
general) were subject. And as Gunnarsdttir points out in Mexican Karismata, by the
16th and 17th centuries, the Carmelites had adopted the tradition of Santa Teresas
mystical experiences. According to this thought, woman would use her weaknesses (a
condition of her naturally more unsophisticated state as compared to men
(Gunnarsdttir 7) as the means by which she became closer to God; mystical experiences
thus are the apex of such behaviors in which assumed inherent weakness is channeled.
Sor Maras mystical experience, by absolving her of her feminine frailty, promotes her
to the level of what Gunnarsdttir terms a spiritual varn (Gunnarsdttir 7). She, in
effect, becomes more masculine by transcending gender limitations via mystical
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experience. In fact, Sor Maras actions during her travels are those a male missionary
would have enacted. Colahan asserts that while visiting the Jumanos, Sor Mara actively
preaches, converts Indians, and repeatedly accepts death (Colahan, Visions 98), acting in
a manner similar to that narrated in the chronicles of Spanish conquistadores, and
missionary priests and brothers. In presenting her role in parallel to that of these men,
displaying her active, masculine, evangelizing functions, Sor Maras account is given
weight. Her mysticism, to the extent 17th-century real-life limitations permit, allows her
to become something like a contemporaneous missionary friar, the engaged presence of
the peninsular in the New World.
Finally, because Sor Maras physical, female body remained behind at her
convent in Soria, the Lady in Blue could be read as a direct link between the peninsula
and the periphery on a literal as well as symbolic level. As Elisa Sampson Vera Tudela
comments, in the didactic literature of [Sor Maras day], there is a clear attempt to
resolve and contain the contradiction between the nuns enclosure and her role as holy
voyager (Sampson Vera Tudela 3). In the case of Sor Mara, her body was at all times
enclosed in the convent, even as she experienced mystical travel; outwardly, at least, this
could have signified that she continued to be in conformation with the expectations of
women in that context to follow a male hegemonic lead. Thus, in spite of her masculine
actions, carried out in a masculinizing mystical state, the physical Sor Mara remained in
Spain and under the jurisdiction of her superiors.
The Lady in Blue narrative emerges out of this fraught political, religious,
colonizing social context, in dialogue with these varied elements. But what shape did her
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narrative take? Who wrote the first draft of the Lady in Blue narrative and what did it
look like?

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Images became vital as soon as Christopher

Columbus set foot on the beaches of the
New World [] the image was used as a
marker, then became a tool for acculturation
and domination. Colonization ensnared the
continent in an ever-growing net of images
that was cast out over and over again, and
that shaped itself according to the rhythm of
the styles, politics, reactions,
and oppositions it met.
- Serge Gruzinski,
Images at War, 2-3

Chapter 2
To map the trajectory taken by the Lady in Blue it is necessary to first understand
the foundation of the narrative, examining the documents from which it initially arose. In
doing so, I will answer some fundamental questions pertaining to how the narrative took
shape, who participated in its creation, and what specific characteristics they contributed
to the narrative as a whole. Through the four texts I present in this chapter, the narrative
of the Lady in Blue evolved and became identified with Sor Mara de Agreda, a
cloistered Spanish nun. These documents are: Fray Alonso de Benavides 1630
Memorial; a set of letters that Fray Benavides and Sor Mara directed to the friars in New
Mexico; Fray Benavides 1634 Memorial; and the vita (or saints life) of Sor Mara
written by Fray Joseph Ximnez Samaniego.
Although these fours works recount and develop the Lady in Blue narrative, they
may not be the narratives primary source. In fact, three of the texts refer to materials
and correspondences pertaining to the Lady in Blue that predate the texts themselves.
These references suggest that a notable transatlantic dialogue occurred between
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Franciscan superiors in Spain and Mexico prior to 1630, indicating an institutional

interest in the Lady in Blue narrative prior to that represented by the works I present.
Clearly, locating and analyzing these earlier records (if they exist) would offer further
insight into the origins of Lady in Blue narrative. However, this type of archival work
lies beyond the current research scope of this project (thought not, of course, beyond its
range of interest).
That said, the four documents I examine in this chapter are significant in terms of
their accessibility to audiences, and the degree to which they develop other (internal)
facets of the narrative. Three have been fundamental in influencing the popular
development of the narrative because, unlike the predating materials, they were widely
published and read. The 1630 Memorial was published in six different languages
throughout Europe, the Tanto had at least two printings in Mexico, and the vita appeared
on both continents wherever Sor Maras writing was. As such, what is contained in
these texts can be considered the public knowledge of the narrative. This public
knowledge is what becomes integrated into popular imagination and forms the basis for
the latter-day histories and folkloric representations- not the predating materials
themselves.
Above, I emphasized the importance of public accessibility of these documents;
therefore, the inclusion of Benavides 1634 Memorial in this chapter might seem
inconsistent. In contrast to the three other texts, the 1634 Memorial appears to have
never been published, aside from in form of a 1945 annotated English translation. In fact,
the Spanish text I cite is taken from my own transcription of a photostat of the original,
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loaned by the Notre Dame archives. As such, it would seem to have had a lesser
influence on the public development of the narrative than the other documents. However,
I present it in this chapter it because 1) it completes the suite of materials pertaining to
the Lady in Blue written by Benavides, 2) it suggests a great deal about how the Lady in
Blue relates to similar colonial miracle narratives, and 3) it offers direct commentary and
a chronology for the predating materials I mentioned previously. In addition, it offers a
glimpse into the one of the modes in which the narrative was presented, namely, as a
religious testimony for a Church audience.
In the interest of maintaining narrative chronology, I present the fours texts in the
order in which they were written (not published): the 1630 Memorial, the Tanto, the 1634
Memorial, and Ximnez Samaniegos vita. My intent in doing so is not to insinuate any
sort of retrofitting of the narrative, nor is it to illustrate the means by which the pieces of
the narrative were combined to synthesize a more generalized whole. It is to show where
parts of the narrative, which later enter into regional and religious history, and collective
remembrance, are derived. In doing so, I hope to understand better how the Lady in Blue
narrative was known in its many retellings, either as components extracted from one
document or another, or as the combination of several different versions.
1630 Memorial
Let us begin with Fray Alonso de Benavides 1630 Memorial, examining how the
narrative about the Lady in Blue and the Milagrosa conversin de la nacin Xumana
fits into it. Whether or not one agrees with the critical opinion that the 1630 Memorial
functions primarily as a piece of Franciscan missionary propaganda, the work is one few
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pre-Pueblo Revolt works that describes the Custodia de San Pablo, and that offers some
ethnographic information about the tribes in New Mexico. As Daniel Reff points out,
however, the document is best to be read as a work whose meaning is more connotative
than denotative. To apply this interpretive perspective, it is necessary to examine the
overall structure of the 1630 Memorial, and to understand how the Milagrosa conversin
de la nacin Xumana is positioned within the context of the rest of the document.
To this end, the analysis of this particular text is more comprehensive than that of
the other three. I am looking at the structure and function of the 1630 Memorial as a
whole (rather than, as in the cases of the 1634 Memorial and the vita, just the Lady in
Blue narrative alone). Thus, I hope to understand the weight the Lady in Blue narrative
was given within the text; the degree to which it was consistent with similar elements;
and how it functioned in relationship to the texts other objectives. I will also, of course,
outline the major features of the Lady in Blue narrative that the 1630 Memorial presentsthe details, places, individuals and presentation of the narrative. The analysis of the 1630
Memorial as a whole is more to ascertain how this first of the three widely-read
documents presenting the narrative framed and presented it.
Critics have tended to view Benavides authorship of the Memorial as a means for
the friar to address personal objectives, namely, the establishment of a bishopric in New
Mexico with Benavides at its head. As that interpretation does not fully explain the case
of the Lady in Blue narrative, I would like to shift interpretive focus from the influence of
Benavides ambitions on the document to a recollection of the conditions in New Mexico
at the time Benavides wrote (or at least presented) the text. As detailed in Chapter 1, the
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region was kept just alive as a royal colony, supported directly by monies from the
Spanish crown, and granted the continuation of its existence for reasons of conversion
and evangelization. Reff notes that the 1630 Memorial as a whole presents a varied,
intermeshed set of information, that speaks to secular and religious concerns regarding
the newly-established territory. Fray Juan de Santander, Comisario General de las Indias,
roughly outlines what the reader will find within the Memorial, in his introduction,
asserting that friars in the New Mexico territory experienced descubrimientos de
riquezas, as espirituales, como temporales (Benavides, Memorial of Fray Alonso 83).
The regions riquezas temporales are of significant importance to the memorial, mixed
in as they are with the maravillas y milagros of a more mystical-spiritual nature, that
Santander also alludes to.
Since, as Steven Greenblatt suggested in Marvelous Possessions, the rhetorical
task of Christian imperialism [] is to bring together commodity conversion and
spiritual conversion (Greenblatt 71) it is not surprising that the explicit overlap of these
two objectives occasionally surfaces in the Memorial. The chapter Nacin Mansa del
ro del Norte, for example, proposes that meeting objectives of trade and evangelization
could be mutually beneficial. By converting the Mansos and incorporating them into the
Spanish crown, north-south trade routes along the Rio Grande corridor could be secured,
facilitating trade movement and thus making the southward transit of profitable materials
from farther north (which Benavides later discusses) possible. Benavides also links the
Manso conversion to the need for greater Franciscan support; with more friars, the

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Mansos would be easily converted, securing the Crowns trade aims. Benavides thus
aligns the needs of his order with those of the Crown.
In contrast to the conversion of purposes portrayed in the Manso chapter, the
Minas del Socorro directly address the material expectations for the far northern
settlement. It seems refer to the pervasive expectation that New Mexico, like Zacatecas
and other northern colonies, might have rich silver mines that could partially compensate
the Crown for its expenditures in the region. Indeed, Benavides assures that he has
already found parties interested in extracting and refining the rich silver of the mines, and
that the viceroy had been assiduous in pursing the mining opportunities there con zelo
del servicio de V. Majestad, para aumentar por aqu sus Reales quintos (Benavides,
Memorial of Fray Alonso 99). And although by Benavides estimation in Nacin
Hemes nearly half of the Jemez nation had died, the Felipe IV could still look forward to
the profits from the ms de tres mil tributarios there. In other chapters, Benavides
discusses the fertility of the land, its potential productivity, and the various specific types
of assets the crown could expect the custodia to produce.
Benavides also reports on the friars difficult labor in the territory, and on their
success in conversion of the tribes, with a focus that is, ostensibly, solely spiritual.
However, as discussed in Chapter 1, the understanding of conversion as colonization
can be very aptly read into the cases Benavides presents. In Provincia y nacin de los
Piros, Senec, Socorro y Sevilleta Benavides credits himself with the successful
conversion of these pueblos (Benavides, Memorial of Fray Alonso 95). In Nacin
Picuries and Nacin Taos, Benavides makes clear that even thought the these tribes
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fought against the friars intents, the Franciscans are still to be credited for their efforts,
and for their long-term suffering. And in Quan bien acuden a las cosas de la
Christiandad, Benavides displays the breadth of the work the Franciscans effected
among the tribes of New Mexico, giving evidence as to the completeness of their
conversions: causa admiracin el ver, que en menos de veinte aos que ha que se
comenz el bautismo [] parecen Christianos de cien aos (Benavides, Memorial of
Fray Alonso 122).
As we have seen thus far, the 1630 Memorial addresses secular and religious
concerns regarding the New Mexico territory, and it also explicitly displays how the two
can serve one another to shared ends. The 1630 Memorial presents a paradigm of
commodity conversion and religious conversion, a fact readily accepted by the critics
who read this text as fairly typical of other colonial texts. But the numerous miracles
Benavides features throughout the text have proven to be more difficult to explain, and
have spurred debate as to the reasons for their inclusion. For historians such as Lummis
and Hodge, their presence signifies the friars inability to distinguish between fact and
fiction- a characteristic representative of a supposed medieval mindset prevalent in
Spain, particularly among Franciscans. Reff responds to this criticism by suggesting that
Benavides writing about miracles demonstrates that his viewpoint is actually a hybrid of
medieval and Counter-Reformation approaches. I take a different approach, again
focusing less on Benavides and the schools of thought that conditioned his writing, and
more on the text itself. In anticipation of the Lady in Blue, I am looking to explore how

84

miracles in general are presented in the text, how they are arranged, and how the
Milagrosa Conversin de la nacin Xumana relates to those other, perplexing miracles.
The miracles of varying range and effect are woven consistently throughout the
text, and the Franciscan friars are usually assigned as the agents of the their action. This
aspect is highlighted in Nacon Mansa del ro del Norte, in which Benavides specifies
that although he did not witness that a miracle actually occurred among the unbaptized,
uncatechized tribe, he is sure one would have come to pass, as miracles could be worked
tambin all (Benavides, Memorial of Fray Alonso 93). He confirms no miracles,
however, because there have been no Franciscans among the Mansos to bring them
about.
In places where processes of conversion are contested, as among the gente ms
indmita y traidora of the Nacin Picuries, the work of Franciscan conversion is
supported by miraculous events. The tribe members who had not already been converted
found their attempts to kill the friar stationed there flummoxed by miraculous
intervention: once, the priest became invisible, and another time, his attackers became too
nervous to lay hands on him. This miracle is echoed at Taos pueblo, where a woman of
the pueblo who tries to convince other women to return to their tradition of polygamy is
struck down by lightning in their presence. According to Benavides, the rest of the
pueblo immediately chooses to be married in the Catholic manner. These might be
considered miracles of consolidation, in which uncertain conversions are secured by
extra, miraculous help.

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In other cases, the miracles serve as confirmation of the truth of the friars
teachings. At Acoma, an infant at the point of dying immediately regains her senses and
embisti con los pechos de la madre y se volva muy risuea (Benavides, Memorial of
Fray Alonso 112) upon being baptized by the priest. While at the Hopi (Moqui) pueblo,
the local hechizeros challenge the words of the friars, bringing them a boy blind from
birth, and commanding the priests to heal his blindness as proof of the validity of the
beliefs they proselytized. Upon placing a cross blessed by Madre Luisa de Carrin (a
Spanish nun whose reliquary was highly valued in early 17th century missions) on the
boys eyes, he was able to see. This miraculous recovery encouraged his tribe to side
with the friars instead of with the hechiceros.
Benavides next turns his attention next to the tribes his considers Apaches with
Principio de la conversin de los Apaches, and describes the processes of conversion of
the Xila, Navajo and Vaquero Apache tribes. Benavides explains how conversion has
been attempted among these warlike nations that proved to be the el crisol del
esfuerzo de los espaoles (Benavides, Memorial of Fray Alonso 54). Here, the focus is
less on miracles that are strictly divine in nature, and more on how extremely effective
the preaching and actions of Benavides and the other friars are in bringing about full- or
extremely promising conversions. These changes among the Apache tribes are that much
more remarkable for the fact that those tribes are nomadic, have had little contact with the
friars and are, according to Benavides, bellicose.
With the Xila Apaches, a tribal leader is convinced of the truth of Catholic
teachings as a result of Benavides sermons and, indeed, Benavides depicts this Captain
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Sanaba as perfectly able to comprehend the relationship of his own previous religious
practices to those of Christianity. The captain interprets the former as an incomplete
understanding of the latter, and Benavides remarks of this deep understanding that he
doesnt believe mejores razones pudieran dar los filosofos naturales antiguos
(Benavides, Memorial of Fray Alonso 136). Benavides demonstrates the almost
miraculous effects of the Franciscans preaching through this episode.
The personal efforts of Benavides are as successful among the Navajo Apaches,
who he depicts as reluctant to turn themselves over to the friars, as they sought to engage
Christianized tribes in warfare. Benavides goes to great lengths to discuss the special,
well-planned approach he personally took in trying to convert the Navajo cacique. Much
as in the case of the Xila Apache leader, the Navajo cacique eloquently declares his
respect for the figure (a crucifix) on which Benavides and the other were swearing their
peace with his tribe. He ends this declaration with a dramatic acceptance of Benavides
offer of catechesis for this entire tribe, and, ultimately, with an agreement to peace
between the Navajos and Christianized Indians. Although Benavides does not explicitly
say that the Navajos were later converted (it seems that he might have left New Mexico
by the time they were), he does note that peace was maintained in that region which ms
pena y cuidado ha dado (Benavides, Memorial of Fray Alonso 150) to the Spanish and
Christianized Indians. In describing the Vaquero Apaches, Benavides makes explicit the
role he views the Franciscans have consistently played in mediating the relationship
between regional government and the indigenous communities that were being exploited.
Although on the threshold of converting this tribe, their catechization is impeded by the
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greed of the governor, described as the devils instrument, who sends out a slaving
expedition that killed the Vaquero Apache leader who had agreed to convert. The
Franciscans intervene and prevent major disaster, but although las diligencias posibles
para su conversin se hacen, Dios sabe cuado llegar su hora (Ayer 157)- these tribes
are as yet still unbaptized. As such, though they display a desire to accept the Catholic
faith, and thus incorporation into the Spanish crown, the proactive and thoughtful efforts
of the Franciscans are waylaid by the secular leadership. Among the Apache tribes,
although conversion (and thus incorporation into the Spanish crown) is not complete (it is
a work-in-progress), it is through the personal, charismatic intervention of the
Franciscans that significant advances are made in that direction.
The chapter following those about the Apaches is Milagrosa conversin de la
nacin Xumana. In keeping with the previous three chapters, it tells of the conversion
of another semi-nomadic tribe, though their conversion is more complete than that of the
Apache tribes. Geographically, the text leads the reader rather naturally from the Rio
Grande (where the converted Pueblos are located), eastward through the area of the
Vaquero Apaches, and into the region just west of Quivira.
Milagrosa conversin de la nacin Xumana
Benavides leads the reader to the most elaborate miracle narrative in the text, that
of the Lady in Blue. Within the chapter, Benavides explains that the Jumano tribe, who
had been briefly administered to by Fray Juan de Salas around 1622, had persistently
asked that Fray Salas to return to their tribe and continue catechizing them. Once the
new custos, Fray Estevan Perea arrived in 1629 with thirty new friars to help administer
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the region, Benavides sent Fray Salas and a new friar, Diego Lpez, to the tribe to
catechize them. Before the friars are sent, however, the Jumanos are asked why they
were so emphatic in their desire to be catechized. To the friars amazement, the Jumano
respond by saying that a lady who looked like a younger, more beautiful version of
Mother Luisa Carrin (whose portrait was hung at the Isleta mission they visited), had
been instructing them, admonishing them to seek baptism. In the intervening time since
they first requested that the friars come to their tribe they had been deterred from
contacting the friars due to changes in the grazing patterns of the buffalo they hunted and
were in fact preparing to move along when the Lady told them to go back to the mission
at Isleta and ask again.
When the friars sent to baptize the Jumanos report back, they testify that the
Jumanos brought out decorated crosses to greet them, wore crosses and venerated a statue
of Jesus, and happily requested baptism. The friars were able to cure many of the
maladies affecting the members of the tribe before they left, and there was another
moment of great religious understanding on the part of the tribes. Benavides closes the
chapter with an expression of great joy and pride on the part of the Franciscans: O
bondad infinita! Bendigante los ngeles, que as quieres honrar a esta sagrada religin, y
a sus hijos, confirmando por su mano, con tantos milagros su Divina Palabra
(Benavides, Memorial of Fray Alonso 163).
This section combines particular elements, regarding miracles and conversions, of
the preceding sections. As in the miracles at the pueblos, the appearance of the Lady in
Blue is clearly a miracle in and of itself, as the title of the section makes clear. Although
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the principal miracle of the chapter is the conversion of the Jumano tribe, Fray Juan de
Salas and Fray Diego Lopez are able to cure a variety of ailments that members of the
Jumano tribe suffered, resonating with the smaller miracles effected by the Franciscans at
the pueblos in previous chapters. And, there is a significant repetition of motif, as the
same Mother Luisa de Carrin whose cross cured the blind boy at the Moqui tribe serves
as the reference point for the Jumanos description of the Lady in Blue.
As in the episodes treating the conversion of the Apache tribes, the Jumanos
request catechesis from the friars only after they have been rudimentarily instructed by a
member of the church. The apparition, it is suggested, is another special means by
which the Franciscan order is blessed in their normal, but especially productive,
missionary labors. The Lady in Blue completes her evangelizing work in a perfectly
conventional way, by preaching to and exhorting the Jumanos, just as Benavides did
among the Apaches. And, through these recognized means of catechesis, she is very
successful in converting them. Though her presence is miraculous in the sense that the
earlier events were miraculous, the means by which she achieves their conversion is the
quintessence of missionary work- most notably, there is no violence nor coercion enacted
by her on the Jumanos.
This chapter is followed by twelve more, placing it somewhere near the end of the
1630 Memorial, but not in an especially powerful structural position for a chapter that
seems to be the climax of the several miracles and conversions that precede it. In fact,
following Reyno de Quivia Aixaos and Ocupacin santa, en que los religiosos se
entretienen are ten more that are extremely short and uncharacteristic of Benavides
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writing. As Wagner points out (Wagner 229), Benavides here often contradicts or repeats
himself, and there is scant discussion of missionary labor, miracles, or anything having to
do with the conversions themselves. This has led many scholars of Benavides work to
conclude that these chapters are not, in fact, of his writing. Though Wagner simply
comments on inconsistency of these chapters with the rest of the Memorial, Baker
Morrow suggests (Morrow 92) that these chapters were taken from Pedro de Castaedas
account of the Francisco Coronado expedition of 1540. Cyprian Lynch (Lynch 67)
concurs that the material could have come from a version of the Coronado account,
though he suggests a more modern edition. In his essay Las Casas and the Benavides
Memorial of 1630, Carroll Riley suggests that Benavides either selectively borrows
from an original manuscript of Fray Bartolom de las Casas Apologtica Historia
Sumaria and another unnamed source, or that both authors borrow the same material
from a common source, which Riley does not definitively identify. Whether or not the
actual source material for these last few chapters can be definitively identified, most
critics agree that the 1630 Memorial as Benavides wrote it ends with the Ocupacin
santa, en que los religiosos se entretienen.
Taking this structural change into account, how does the chapter on the Lady in
Blue now figure into the document as a whole? Most significantly, rather than lying
somewhere in the middle of the Memorial, the section becomes the climax of the pieces
discourse on religion, followed by two more climaxes, one economic, and one
exhortative. The Jumano episode is the last in a series of startling smaller miracles, and
of a series that portray the personal interactions between the friars and Indians as
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fundamental to the success of the conversions. It is in this section that the Benavides
steps out of his narrative persona, utters a shout of joy to the heavens, and directly links
the other miracles the Franciscans have experienced to this final miracle. It reinforces
and elevates the Franciscan labor portrayed in earlier chapters, while at the same time
surpassing the preceding miracles detailed.
The narrative of the Lady in Blue acts as link between the climactic Jumano
conversion and Reyno de Quivira Aixoas chapters: lleg tambin esta voz al Reyno de
Quivira, y al Aixaos [] y enviaron sus embajadores a los padres, para que fuessen all
tambin a ensearlos y bautizarlos; diciendo, como la misma Santa los andaba all, que
viniessen a llamarlos (Benavides, Memorial of Fray Alonso 165). As the friars were
already with the Jumanos, other friars were sent to Quivira in response the call of the
Lady in Blue. Benavides transitions, however, very soon after discussing the conversions
resulting from the Lady in Blue, to focus on the interrelationship between the friars work
and the economic potential of Quivira: No puedo dejar de decir en esta ocasin el
particular servicio que mi religin haze a V. majestad, en la pacificacin y conversin de
este Reino de Quivira, y Aixaos, pues es conocida su grandeza y riqueza (Benavides,
Memorial of Fray Alonso 166). The rest of this section describes geography and trade
possibilities, as Benavides offers a great deal of detail about the geographical relationship
between Quivira, the bay of Espritu Santo, and various coastal cities and locales,
presumably those with which trade from Quivira could be cultivated. Benavides points
out that the missionaries at Quivira could be better supplied by a trading port at Espritu
Santo, and that the Crown would also be protecting the region by blocking the enemigos
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olandeses (Benavides, Memorial of Fray Alonso 169). Benavides in fact uses the
supporting eyewitness documentation from the explorer Vicente Gonzlez to substantiate
his claims of the great wealth in Quivira. Here, as in the Manso nation episode,
Benavides emphasizes the benefits of trade with the region that is on the cusp of being
secured through Franciscan intervention and conversion- if only the friars were to have a
little more support from the Crown. As in the Jumano conversion, the stakes are raised,
as there is greater, confirmed promise of wealth in that region. It is the most dramatic,
climactic financial argument for the custodia, arguing on many levels of rationale.
Finally, Benavides closes with the exhortative coda of the 1630 Memorial
Ocupacin santa, en que los religiosos se entretienen, in which Benavides presents the
work of the friars in New Mexico as a great service to the King of Spain. Benavides
prompts the monarch to recognize that the ultimate responsibility for the welfare of the
Franciscan missions and for the newly converted Indians lies fully on his shoulders, and
that this responsibility is as much spiritual as it is secular. After extolling the
civilizing, conversion practices of the friars, Benavides rather brusquely admonishes
Felipe IV, obliging him to recall that V. Magestad debe acudir con todo favor y auxilio;
as por la obligacin en que la Iglesia puso a V Magestad en la Bula de Alexandro Sexto,
quando le dio en nombre de Dios estos Reynos (Benavides, Memorial of Fray Alonso
172). Felipe IV is also reminded of the potential for wealth in the region that he has
presented throughout the Memorial, and Benavides advises that such possibilities must be
cultivated, with the support of the Crown. The last chapter brings this trio of episodes to
a close with a comprehensive summary of the friars labors, and the admonishment to
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Felipe IV by virtue of his obligations as a Catholic monarch. In terms of tone and

content, it reaches a similar fevered pitch as the two previous spiritual and economic
climaxes of the work. Benavides rebuke of the king is intended to drive home the
obligations associated with the spiritual and secular gifts the custodia has to offer,
particularly those of the last two chapters.
What do we know about the 1630 Memorial as a document? First, it addresses
both religious and economic issues pertaining to the land and Franciscan missions of the
custos in New Mexico. Second, miracle events, including that of the conversion of the
Jumano tribe by the Lady in Blue, are consistent with those present in the rest of the text.
Third, the 1630 Memorial is likely a composite document that borrows sections from
earlier or contemporaneous works. And fourth, that the Lady in Blue narrative is
positioned in a rhetorically powerful section of the 1630 Memorial, employing elements
that are present in other textual episodes and offering a sweeping crescendo in its
recounting of the Jumano conversions.
The 1630 Memorial is frequently cited as the source for the Lady in Blue
narrative, but what essential elements of the Lady in Blue narrative emerge in the 1630
Memorial? To begin with, the friars at Isleta are stunned both by the request of the
Jumanos for priests to serve them, and for their assertion that a woman had been visiting
them to catechize them. That anyone would have been in the region, much less
catechizing- much less a woman catechizing- seems to stun the friars. The friars in New
Mexico had never heard of Sor Maria de Agreda; there is absolutely no mention of her in
the text. The Lady in Blue (or la Santa or la Voz as Benavides refers to her) has no
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fixed identity; she might have traveled from somewhere but there is no declaration of
mystical travel. Indeed, Madre Carrin is mentioned only as a point of reference for
defining who the European-seeming woman was- like Madre Carrin, but younger and
more beautiful. The woman who visits the Jumanos speaks to them in their language
and leaves the Indians fully instructed in the basic teachings of the church. As proof of
this, the Jumanos bring out crosses when the friars come to their encampment, understand
the friars ability to perform miracles, and request as an entire pueblo that they be
baptized. Additionally, Lady in Blue did not leave any physical gifts (such as rosaries)
with the Jumanos. The friars that accompanied the new custos Fray Perea in 1628 are
mentioned only insofar as they provided staffing for the Jumano pueblo; they bear no
particular news from Mexico or from Spain. There is no particular context for the
Milagrosa conversion de la nacin Xumana external to that of the document in which it
appears, Benavides 1630 Memorial; the conversion is presented as a singular event
occurring in New Mexico, without any stated relationship to the outside world.
Tanto que se sac de una carta
In the Tanto, consisting of the letters Benavides and Sor Mara wrote back to the
friars in New Mexico, the historical narrative continues to evolve, writing new elements
into the Lady in Blue narrative. The Tanto shifts the narrative considerably from that
presented in the 1630 Memorial, and provides many of the defining elements of its
modern and folkloric retellings. The most fundamental of these elements is the
identification of the Lady in Blue as Sor Mara de Agreda, a Spanish abbess, writer and
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mystic, and contemporary of Fray Benavides. Through the Tanto narrative, La voz
presented in the 1630 Memorial gains, un cuerpo that apparently confirms Sor Maras
role in the Jumano conversion. Ironically, it is Sor Maras own voicing of her travels
that becomes an issue of debate later in the nuns life, and afterward.
The document that I analyze in this section is a 1730 Mexican printing of the
Tanto, prefaced with a plate illustrating La V.M. Mara de Jess de Agreda Predicando a
los Chichimecos del Nuebo Mxico, and with an introduction by the printer. This
printing carries with it some important information about the Tanto itself. First, the
original letters from Fray Benavides and Sor Mara to the friars in New Mexico, written
in 1631, are probably a different text. Ximnez Samaniego claims in the vita that the
original letter had been stored at the Archive of the Custodia of San Pablo, para que
fuesse en los siguientes siglos memoria y testimonio a aquellas partes (Ximnez
Samaniego 137). He goes on to assert that un tanto de ella (Ximnez Samaniego 137),
an excerpt of the original text, was sent by the Comisario General of New Spain to the
Procurador of New Mexico at the court of the King in 1668, en testimonio de lo que la
Religin de San Francisco continuamente obra en aquel Nuevo Mundo (Ximnez
Samaniego 137). The introduction to the 1730 printing also asserts that the original is
stored at the archives of the Custodia, all of which suggest that a different, probably
longer, version of the Tanto existed and may still exist. However, as printings of the
Tanto that were publicly circulated and read were similar to the one I here analyze, I am
only focusing the Lady in Blue narrative as it is presented in this Tanto.

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Although Jos Toribio Medinas bibliography catalogues a publishing of the

Tanto in Mexico in 1631, I tend to agree with Wagner that it is unlikely that the letter was
published immediately after it was written. More likely, it was kept by the Custodia until
the process for Sor Maras sainthood was opened in the later 17th-century; Ximnez
Samaniego mentions that he did not become aware of the existence of the letter until the
version sent from Mexico to Spain by the Comisario General inopinadamente leg a
[sus] manos (Ximnez Samaniego 137) in 1668. The next printing of the Tanto Medina
catalogues (1730) is examined in this chapter.
As will be further discussed in Chapter 4, by the time the 1730 printing of the
Tanto was made, the foci of the narrative were New Mexico, the Franciscans, and Sor
Mara, as the introduction to the letter indicates. The 1730 printing is dedicated to
individuals who supported the missionary efforts of the Franciscan friars in the New
Mexico custodia, as the letters latter-day editor characterizes the Tanto a gift to them of
an obra que de aquellas partes sale, in spite of the fact that the documents were written
and sent from Spain. This reading of the Tanto places it squarely in the Americas, and it
seems likely its purpose was to popularize the Franciscans mission work. The editor
also privileges the contribution of Sor Mara over that of Benavides, as he terms the
document a Carta que al Venerable Maria de Jess de Agreda escribi a los Religiosos
misioneros de el Nuevo Mxico, without a mention of Benavides contribution.
The Tanto is a bicoastal dialogue about a transatlantic voyage that is brought
about by Fray Benavides visit to Spain from Mexico. Rather than reporting from one
side of the ocean to the other, as in the case of the 1630 Memorial, it represents and
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initiates an exchange from the center of Spain back to the outpost in New Mexico
drawing those two places together through the act of sending letters. The body is divided
into three parts: an opening letter by Benavides addressed to the friars in New Mexico; a
letter from Sor Mara to the friars in New Mexico; and, closing comments by Benavides.
All three sections pertain to Sor Maras travels to the Indians and missions of New
Mexico. Through the Tanto, the Lady in Blues narrative gains a living protagonist, and
changes its directionality to accommodate a peninsular compliment.
In the letter, Benavides gets right to the point. His second sentence introduces Sor
Mara to the New Mexican friars, confirming that she is the person who all anda
predicando nuestra santa fe en la forma que Vuestros Padres saben. He affirms that Sor
Mara had been taken (personal, verdadera y realmente) to New Mexico, a que nos
ayude con su presencia y predicacin en todas ellas Provincias. This statement is
significant, for it demonstrates a shift in identification (the holy woman who converted
the Jumanos is now Sor Mara de Agreda) that is based on the friars collective
acknowledgment of the events of the Jumano conversion.
He goes on to explain how he came to know about her while presenting the 1630
Memorial at the court of Felipe IV, adding that numerous printings of the Memorial were
made, several copies of which were sent to Pope Urban VIII. Due to the Memorials wild
popularity, Benavides attracts the attention of Fray Bernardino Sena, the Commissary
General, whose interest was piqued by the woman described in the Milagrosa
conversin de la nacin Xumana episode. Eight years previous, Sena had heard of a nun
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in Spain, Sor Mara de Agreda, who had been mystically traveling to the native people in
the region of New Mexico. Sena asserts that lo mismo que [Benavides] dixe, se lo haba
dicho la misma M. Mara de Jess. Senas words offer the peninsular side of the story,
adding to the Lady in Blue narrative the collective knowledge in Spain of Sor Maras
travels.
Benavides notes that Sena was also made aware of the connection between New
Mexico and Spain by a letter from the Archbishop of Mexico, Francisco Manzo y Zuiga,
a document que nos all avia enviado. It appears that Benavides and Sena received this
letter while in Spain. Though Benavides here offers no details, the letter clearly linked
Benavides 1630 Memorial to Sor Mara, and suggests an identification of Sor Mara
among Mexican religious authorities. This letter is more extensively discussed in the
1634 Memorial, and it is an example of the predating correspondence that was discussed
previously.
Benavides connects the 1630 Memorials Lady in Blue narrative and the friars
experiences in New Mexico, to the historical Sor Mara that he meets, corroborating what
he has discovered since arriving in Spain with known entities in New Spain. Benavides
provides an extensive physical description of Sor Mara, matching her with the oftrepeated statement in the 1630 Memorial that the woman who appeared to the Jumanos
was like Luisa de Carrin, but young and beautiful. Description of her habit, veil, age
and features, impress her physical being upon the friars, even as it rhetorically echoes the
earlier narrative. He recounts Sor Maras eyewitness testimony of the tribes,
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conversions and people in the New Mexico custodia, remarking on the quantity and detail
of her experiences there: son tantas las particularidades que de esta tierra me dixo, que
ni aun yo me acordaba, y ella me las traxo a la memoria (Benavides and Mara de Jess
de Agreda, 1730)
According to Benavides, Sor Mara also asserts she had most frequently visited
the region Titls, east of Quivira, since she began such travels in 1620. The kingdoms of
Chillescas, Cambujos and Jumanas living there would be converted at the sight of the
Franciscan friars. Benavides also asserts that she took with her objects such as rosaries
and crosses that she distributed among the tribes, and that she had been martyred several
times by the tribes she converted. These additional details fill out and confirm Sor
Maras relationship to the region and extend the areas of her influence.
The letter written by Sor Maria functions as a confirming document (a written
address to the people she had met spiritually), even as it is a piece of highly mediated
womens writing, as Sor Mara later comments in her own defense. Fray Sena gives him
la autoridad, para obligar a la Bendita M. por obediencia, que me manifestasse todo lo
que saba a cerca del nuevo Mxico (Benavides and Mara de Jess de Agreda, 1730).
Benavides later asserts that Sor Maras confessor, Fray Sebastian Marcilla, also invoked
her obedience in the matter. Although Benavides no doubt broaches this topic to
highlight the nuns modesty (in not desiring to reveal her mystical experiences), it also
heightens the tension of the narrative, showing the difficulty with which the story of the
Lady in Blue is brought into dialogue with the mystical experiences of Sor Mara de
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Agreda. Such obedience implied that the testimony was legitimate, since it was
requested by and filtered through male authority figures.
Sor Mara directly addresses the mediation of her voice. She begins her letter
with the heading Obedeciendo, -followed by a list of all the male superiors who compel
her to write her narrative to the friars in New Mexico. Although she apparently conforms
with the desires of her superiors, she criticizes the friars intervention and intrusion into
her mystical travels. That she speaks under duress is again suggested when she discusses
the tribes the friars will find in the region east of Quivira: the Titlas, Chillescas and
Caburcos, echoing both what Benavides writes in the Tanto and what the letter from
Archbishop Manzo y Zuiga state, as we shall see in the 1634 Memorial. She exhorts the
friars at the end of the letter to keep the things she has written to themselves, after stating
that she signed the document in obedience to her superiors. This signature, or acceptance
of responsibility (however it was provoked) for what is written may be the most
significant aspect of her testimony vis--vis the Lady in Blue narrative.
Regardless of the friars mediation, Sor Maras letter signifies direct
communication with the friars. It is a report to the missionaries of the area she visited,
confirming the vitality and divinity of their labor, and encouraging their efforts. She
expresses her desire to continue her work in the custodia, as well as her extreme
unworthiness to travel there. She begs the fathers that me hagan participante de alguna
obra de las menores obras, y trabajos, que Vuestros Padres hazen en essas conversiones

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(Benavides and Mara de Jess de Agreda, 1730), suggesting that she hopes her
missionary labors in New Mexico will continue.
Both the content and the nature of Sor Maras letter serve to reinforce the
relationship between the nun herself, cloistered in Spain and constrained both by her
gender and by the males who mediate her life and her voice, and the free-acting Lady in
Blue, who conducted her conversions of the Jumanos under no jurisdiction. While she
signs her letter from within the walls of her convent in Agreda, never to physically exit
the walls of that building, the Lady in Blue who converts the tribes of Titls is subject
only to the authority of God.
Benavides closes the Tanto with the suggestion that there is more proof of Sor
Maras visits to New Mexico, but these are ms para guardarlas en el corazn, que para
escribirlas (Benavides and Mara de Jess de Agreda, 1730). He repeats Sor Maras
assurances that the friars were proceeding correctly in their building of churches and
evangelizing. The repetition of this last point throughout the Tanto may be in response to
the criticism brought against the Franciscans by other orders regarding their
conversionary practices, as they were often accused of incomplete catechization of the
Indians.
Benavides states that Sor Mara prays for unity in the Catholic faith among all the
inhabitants of the area, para que Religiosos, Gobernadores, Espaoles e Indios,
unnimes, y conformes adoren y alaben al Seor (Benavides and Mara de Jess de
Agreda, 1730), perhaps alluding to the conflicts among theses groups contemporaneous
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to the Tanto. Benavides expresses his desire to return to the friars of New Mexico, hopes
that Sor Maras words will bring the friars consolation, and reinforces that her
assurances and presence in New Mexico confirm that the friars are doing good work in
New Mexico. He admonishes the friars that, regardless of how much money the
Conversin de San Pablo will receive (and Benavides has every confidence that they will
be well-funded), the friars deben tener por dichosos de ser patrocinados de la Bendita
Alma de Mara de Jess (Benavides and Mara de Jess de Agreda, 1730). The blessing
extended to the fathers is offered to the Indians as well because merecen su principal
amor (Benavides and Mara de Jess de Agreda, 1730). The New Mexican Indians and
their land, administered by the Franciscans, are thus blessed: bendita sea tal tierra, y
dichosos los habitadores, pues merecen tantos favores del cielo (Benavides and Mara de
Jess de Agreda, 1730).
From Benavides 1630 Memorial to the Tanto, the Lady in Blue narrative
expands, changes and acquires a more definitive tone and directionality. In the Tanto, the
unidentified Santa of the 1630 Memorial is identified as a cloistered Spanish nun who
traveled spiritually to the missions of New Mexico. That this woman is Sor Mara de
Agreda, herself a mystical author and charismatic advisor to be reckoned, will be
discussed in the next chapter. Far more than a character in a missionary communiqu,
her life and writings bear heavily on how the Lady in Blue narrative is subsequently
recollected and represented. In the Tanto, however, as she writes back to the friars of
New Mexico, she offers the most important confirmation of mystical travels to New
Mexico. Without her voice (or at least the mediated representation of her voice) the
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linkage between the female figure who converted the Jumanos and Sor Mara would not
be as compelling. The voice of this woman makes the narrative real, and charges it with
accountability.
Sor Maras participation in the epistolary exchange gives the Lady in Blue
narrative integrity, as she provides the link between Spain and the New Mexico missions.
Via the Tanto, the narrative acquires layers of transatlanticism that are not present in the
1630 Memorial. The letters from Benavides and Sor Maria are a transatlantic discourse
confirming a mystical voyage; they are sent from Spain to confirm something that
happened in New Mexico. These letters, and what they narrate, are about crossing over,
being in two places at once, and connecting the placement of people through words. The
only way the narrative makes sense is if both sides of it are defined.
Exemplifying this transatlantic dynamic, the Tanto fundamentally shifts the origin
of the narrative, from New Mexico to Spain. The 1630 Memorial, presents an account of
miraculous conversion that pertains only to the world of the missions in New Mexico. In
Benavides travel from New Mexico to Spain, this account is installed in the Peninsular
world. As Fray Sena asserts that the Sor Maras mystical travels were well known in
Spain years before Benavides came, and as it is suggested that the Archbishop of Mexico
also knew about Sor Mara, the narrative is no longer limited to the boundaries of the far
northern province. Through the Tanto, the Lady in Blue narrative is integrated into a
wider context that lies at the heart of empire. Center and periphery are thus drawn into an
intimate, mystical proximity.
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1634 Memorial
The Lady in Blue narrative takes on a more subtle change in directionality and
chronology in Fray Benavides1634 Memorial. Although the 1634 Memorial does
borrow much from the 1630 Memorial (and was in fact published in English as Fray
Alonso de Benavides Revised Memorial of 1634 in 1945 by the Quivira Society), its
recounting of the Jumano conversion significantly modifies the Lady in Blue narrative. In
the 1634 Memorial, more predating material is brought to light, shifting the premise,
point of origin, and dissemination of the narrative. Finally, with the incorporation of
Madre Luisa de Carrin into the schema of mystical voyages, the entire concept of
mystical transatlantic travel takes on a new dimension.
From the beginning, the account of the Jumano conversion in the 1634 Memorial
is quite different from that of the 1630 Memorial. The friars arriving in 1629 with Fray
Estevan de Perea, already know about a Sor Mara de Agreda, como en Espaa corra
voz de que una Religiosa llamada Mara de Jess de Agreda [] era llevada
milagrosamente al Nuevo Mxico a predicar nuestra Santa Fe catlica a aquellos indios
brbaros (Nogar [transcription] 109). These friars were also charged with a specific
purpose by the Archbishop of Mexico, Francisco Manzo y Zuiga: les encarg el
Arzobispo a los dichos religiosos la inquisicin de este caso (Nogar [transcription]
109). The reason given for the Archbishops interest in the case was an account he had
brought from Spain two years prior, given to him by a persona de crdito que le asegur
ser as en esta forma (Nogar [transcription] 110), and informing him of various tribes in
a region called Tidn. According to the Benavides, the friars brought with them this
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brief account, and the Archbishops orders for the friars to see if this information was true
when they arrived at the Isleta mission.
These predating documents- the account sent to the Archbishop, the letter from
him, the friars awareness of Sor Mara- all indicate a Spanish source for the Lady in
Blue narrative, again strengthening its peninsular side. The 1634 Memorial sets forth a
higher-level awareness of the mystical travels and conversion in New Mexico and a more
widespread recognition of the Lady in Blue narrative than in the 1630 Memorial and in
the Tanto. In the 1634 Memorial, the account of the friars among the Jumanos is brought
together with a transatlantic dialogue originating in Spain that travels through Mexico
City. The 1634 Memorial defines the Lady in Blue narrative within a deeper context, a
conversation between continents that travels westward, acknowledged by church
authorities.
Before the arrival of Pereas group, the friars in New Mexico had never heard of
Sor Mara: muy ignorantes estbamos de ella ni jams habamos tenido noticia de la
Mara de Jess (Nogar [transcription] 111). With the news brought by the
reinforcements, the friars realize that Sor Mara could be the woman converting the
Jumanos. This assumption is reinforced when the Lady in Blue is compared by the
Jumanos to Madre Carrins portrait. After Fray Diego Lpez and Juan de Salas return
from their mission to the Jumanos (during which the Quivira and Xapie tribes also
request baptism), the friars collectively conclude that aquella religiosa era la Madre
Mara de Jess contenida en aquella relacin del Arzobispo que mereca ser apstol de
dios milagrosamente (Nogar [transcription] 113). This is another significant element
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that the 1634 Memorial adds to the Lady in Blue narrative. In the 1630 Memorial, the
friars have never heard of Sor Mara; in fact, the premise of the Tanto, it would seem, is
to introduce Sor Mara to the friars in New Mexico after Benavides met her in Spain.
Thus, the friars reading of the Lady in Blue as Sor Mara de Agreda while in New
Mexico is added to the text.
Near the end of the Conversin Milagrosa de la Nacin Xumana account,
Benavides adds a completely different element to the Lady in Blue narrative. He writes
that Fray Juan de Santander, Comisario General de las Indias in 1630, knew about
Archbishop Manzo y Zuiigas letter, and also had read Benavides 1630 Memorial.
Upon reading about the cure Madre Luisa Carrins cross effected for the blind Hopi
child, Fray Santander became persuadido a que [Luisa de Carrin] era la contenida en
aquella memoria del Arzobispo de Mxico (Nogar [transcription] 113-4). Fray
Santander (like Fray Benavides) looked further into the case, and read what appears to be
the vita of Madre Carrin, written by her confessor. Fray Santander showed Benavides
that the vita described Madre Carrins spiritual travels New Mexico around 1628, and
testified that he believed Madre Luisa was the Lady in Blue. From this new information,
Benavides concludes that Madre Carrin must have been taken to the tribes in the west of
the custodia, and Sor Mara to the tribes in the east.
This portion of the narrative, in which the Lady in Blue is identified as both Sor
Mara de Agreda and Madre Luisa de Carrin does not appear in any later sources
regarding the mystical conversions of Indians in northern Mexico. Though it is possible
that those reports recounting a generic Spanish nun who traveled to convert the Indians
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could be interpreted as referring to Luisa de Carrin, most folkloric and historical

accounts attribute apparitions of the Lady in Blue specifically to Sor Mara de Agreda.
As will be discussed in Chapter 3, the desire to locate Spanish women in the colonizing
enterprise is conditioned by significant, gendered motives, on the part of both men and
women, as this episode displays. In regards to the Lady in Blue narrative, however, the
1634 Memorials inclusion of Luisa de Carrin is a suggestive, but not enduring
contribution.
Gernimo Zarate Salmern
Id like to return briefly, however, to the exchange between the Archbishop of
Mexico and the persona de crdito that Benavides discusses at the opening of the
Jumano conversion episode. In the exchanges regarding the nun between Spain and
Mexico City, Benavides cites a paragraph related, but not directly attributed to Sor Mara,
and an order from the Archbishop to Pereas friars that they see if what the paragraph
recounted was true. As I stated earlier, these predating documents (and suggestions of
documents) reframe the directionality of the Lady in Blue narrative. Because these two
paragraphs can be found in their entirety in a document that predates Benavides 1630
Memorial by two years, Frey Gernimo Zarate Salmerns Relaciones, they may also
change the original authorship of the narrative.
Zarate Salmern was one of the early missionary friars sent to New Mexico
shortly after it was established as a custodia. Though there is debate as to whether he
entered New Mexico in 1618 or 1621, it is agreed that he was a linguist who lived at
Jemez pueblo, wrote a Doctrina in their language, and returned to Mexico City in 1626.
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As Zarate Salmern addesses the Relaciones to Arzobispo Francisco Garca Apodaca,

historians have concluded that the document was probably written before 1627 and 1629
since Manzo y Zuiga became archbishop in the latter year. In the document, Zarate
Salmern presents a more or less comprehensive summary of the history (and missions)
of New Mexico desde el ao de 1538 hasta el de 1626 (Zarate Salmern, Relaciones de
todas las cosas). He starts with the exploration of Coronado to the region, continues
through the conquest and settlement of Oate, follows with sections focusing on nearby
regions (Florida, the South Sea, Anian), and closes with the section Relacin de la Santa
Madre Mara de Jess, abadesa del convento de Santa Clara de Agreda.
This section on Sor Mara consists only of the exact two paragraphs that appear in
the 1634 Memorial, without any sort of introduction to the narrative, or explanation of
why its there. Zarate Salmern does not cite where the text about Quivira came from,
nor how he came into its possession, nor who made it available it to him. And, the letter
charging the friars with investigating the findings in Quivira is exactly the same as that in
the 1634 Memorial, only it is signed by Licenciado Francisco Manzo y Zuiga (Zarate
Salmern, Relaciones de todas las cosas), instead of Arzobispo Manzo y Zuiga. How is
it that these paragraphs, from approximately1628, appear in the 1634 Memorial?
Certainly, that Benavides borrows text from other sources is evident in the1630
Memorial, and there is no reason to think otherwise in the case of his 1634 Memorial. I
do find it surprising, however, that historians such as Wagner, and Anna Heron More did
not note this similarity in their respective commentary on the texts. Again, access to
archival sources could clarify this question, if only to ensure that the section on Sor Mara
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was consistent with the rest of Zarate Salmerns Relaciones. In the 1856 reprinting of
the Relaciones in the Documentos para la historia de Mxico, Series Three, the segment
on Sor Mara was included at the end of the document. From the resources Ive
examined, it seems that Zarate Salmerns 1626 Relaciones is the earliest instance of the
Lady in Blue narrative, though it is certainly not the best known.
This finding adds new facets to the development of the Lady in Blue narrative.
Why is Zarate Salmerns not viewed as the originary source for her narrative? Though
historians including Carlos Castaeda mention Zarate Salmerns account, there is little
discussion of the friars contribution to the Lady in Blues narrative establishment. The
date of Zarate Salmerns work shows an early interest in Sor Mara specifically, separate
from an interest in the Lady in Blue (as she appears to the Jumanos) and the account
Benavides presents in 1630. It would support the friars claim in the 1634 Memorial as
to her renown in Mexico (and possibly Spain), at least in religious circles. Zarate
Salmerns text also leads to some interesting questions regarding communications
within the Franciscan order in Spain and in Mexico, and the types of narratives that were
prioritized at that time and places. For that reason, although the question of Zarate
Salmerns contribution pertains to a document that perhaps never directly affected the
latter-day path of the narrative, the role his work played is worth consideration.
The 1634 Memorial, for its limited influence on the popular development of the
Lady in Blue narrative, is of interest for illustrating how the narrative developed in
church circles, how it was presented to the Pope, and how the narrative it consolidates
was summarized. The three documents we have analyzed, all written by Fray Benavides,
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shape the nature of the Lady in Blue narrative profoundly- its directionality (periphery to
center, center to periphery), its origins, and its characterization of the protagonist. What
does Sor Maras biography our final document- offer to the Lady in Blue narrative?
Relacin de la Vida de la Venerable sor Mara de Jess de Agreda
The fourth major document recounting the Lady in Blue narrative has objectives
very different from those of three pieces above examined. Written in 1669 by Fray
Joseph Ximnez Samaniego, the Relacin de la vida de la Venerable Madre Sor Mara
de Jess is a saints life, or vita, for Sor Mara. As very specific genre of writing, a vita
presents the holy biography of an individual, usually with the intent of supporting the
cause for their canonization. Vita are generally written after their protagonist has died,
and use specific conventions in the portrayal of the subjects life that exemplify the
subjects sanctity in standard ways. Ximnez Samaniego writes in response to these aims,
for reasons that will be discussed in the next chapter, and in doing so, includes the
account of the Maravillosa conversin de los infieles.
The title and placement of the vita allude to the complex relationship between Sor
Maras life and her writing. The vita itself is the preface to another work, as Sor Mara
is referred to in its title as the escritora de esta obra. Esta obra is La mystica ciudad
de dios (hereafter abbreviated MCD) , as the vita was frequently published as forward
material to that work, a mystical treatise on the life of the Virgin Mary written by Sor
Mara. (The text was also published numerous times separate from the MCD.) We will
examine this relationship in greater detail in Chapter 4. Due to the popularity and

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controversy associated with the MCD, and by extension with the vita, the Lady in Blue
narrative contained in the vita may have been the most widely circulated of all.
As in the Benavides Memoriales, the miraculous conversion is treated as a
discrete episode, the twelfth chapter of Sor Maras vita. The Maravillosa conversin de
los infieles falls in the middle of several chapters dedicated to the nature of Sor Maras
raptures, and her life within the convent. Tellingly, neither the Jumanos nor any other
tribe is specified; they are referred to as infieles or Gentiles de Nuevo Mxico. Very
much in keeping with the conventions of the vita, the episode opens with a description of
Sor Maras lifelong yearning to bring the Catholic religion to those who had not been
exposed to it, and her prayers that she herself might bring about these conversions. Her
desire for this was so deep (se aument tanto este incendio de caridad (Ximnez
Samaniego 132)) that she would enter into states of ecstasy, during which she had
visions, and received revelations.
After several experiences of mystically observing the various peoples and places
of the world, it was made known to Sor Mara by God that there was a group of nonChristian people open to receipt of the Churchs teachings, to whom ms su misericordia
[de Dios] se inclinaba (Ximnez Samaniego 132) These people were los Gentiles del
Nuevo Mexico, y otros Reynos remotos de zia aquella parte (Ximnez Samaniego
132). As was asked of her, Sor Mara worked towards their conversion by praying
diligently for them, even as she received a greater understanding of their land and
dispositions. Once, while in a state of prayer, she seemed to come across a place she had
visited earlier through especies abstractas. This time, though, it seemed that Sor Mara
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experienced the place and its inhabitants ocularmente. She was told to channel her
anxiety about this new type of experience into compassion, predicando su Fe, y Ley
Santa a aquellas gentes. Ximnez Samaniego states that it seemed to her that she
preached to the Indians in Spanish, but that they seemed to understand her in their own
language. Before she returned to her convent, haca maravillas en confirmacin de la Fe
que predicaba (Ximnez Samaniego 132), converting and catechizing the tribes.
During the more than 500 visits Ximnez Samaniego states that she made to New
Mexican Indians, she converted an entire indigenous nation and its prince, and saw the
Franciscan friars working in the region. According to the vita, she sent one of the
nations, though far from the friars mission, to seek them out, and ask for friars and
baptism. Ximnez Samaniego asserts that this, and other, more remarkable things
happened while she was in the region, so many that sera muy largo el referir (Ximnez
Samaniego 132).
Ximnez Samaniego clarifies/argues a significant theological point that bore on
Sor Maras examination by the Inquisition: the physical nature of her travels to New
Mexico. Out of humility and because her travels were so unusual, Sor Mara believed
that she had most likely traveled in her spirit and not in her body (she specifies that her
travel no era cosa del demonio (Ximnez Samaniego 133)). Ximnez Samaniego
offers reasons supporting the argument for corporal travel: Sor Mara perceived her
surroundings through her senses, experienced day and night in various locations, and left
rosaries with the people she converted. Sor Maras confessor was also convinced that
she had traveled in her body, and Ximnez Samaniego deduces that the reason the
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religious community in Spain knew that she had traveled in her body was because her
confessor had spoken to some officials and the rumor spread because es tan difcil, que
secretos de este gnero, ya conferidos, se guarden (Ximnez Samaniego 133).
Ultimately, Ximnez Samaniego does not definitively say whether Sor Mara traveled in
her body or not; la verdad cierta (Ximnez Samaniego 134) was that someone, either
Sor Mara or an angel that looked like her, traveled to New Mexico.
Ximnez Samaniego presents a modified version of the Milagrosa Conversin de
la nacin Xumana from Benavides 1630 Memorial, adding a few suggestive elements
while mostly presenting the same account. He emphasizes the Franciscans vital role in
the conversions within the custodia, chosen, as they seem to be, for that specific purpose.
The religious knowledge of the unnamed Indians- perfectamente catequizados
(Ximnez Samaniego 134)- who seek baptism piques the friars interest in figuring out
who instructed them. A friars shows them the portrait of Luisa de Carrin sospechando
s sera ella, por la gran fama de santidad (Ximnez Samaniego 134). Ximnez
Samaniegos minor addition suggests the renown of Luisa de Carrin that Benavides
refers to in the 1634 Memorial.
Ximnez Samaniegos vita inverts Benavides authorship, making a character in
the narrative that he himself wrote. This varn de mucho espritu y zelo de la
conversin (Ximnez Samaniego 134), accompanies the Indians back to their home in
the hasta entonces incgnitas provincias (Ximnez Samaniego 134). The only person
who has been there, apparently, is the Lady in Blue, as the friars find the Indians tan
bien catequizados, que sin otra instruccin, pudieron baptizarlos (Ximnez Samaniego
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134). The seeds of the Lady in Blues work take root, and as the number of converts
increases, so do the numbers of friars sent there.
As in the Tanto and the 1630 Memorial, the friars in New Mexico have no idea
who converted the Indians; for this reason, Fray Benavides travels to Spain to determine
who had been catechizing the tribes. Ximnez Samaniego does not specify why,
precisely, Benavides would immediately think of Spain as where the Lady in Blue came
from, but this travel there is presented as principal fin de su jornada (Ximnez
Samaniego 135). The Comisario General Fray Bernardino Sena, was an ocular testigo
(135) to Sor Maras travels and determined that esta Sierva de Dios era el instrumento
[] para obrar aquellas misericordias (Ximnez Samaniego 135). Under his
assurances, and with an invocation of obedience for Sor Mara, Benavides, Fray
Sebastian Marcilla, and Fray Francisco Andrs de la Torre go to Agreda. Once there, Sor
Mara is compelled, against her natural modesty, to comment: y la Sierva de Dios,
haciendo sacrificio de su secreto, en obsequio de la obediencia, se confes con sincera
verdad lo que a cerca de la materia le avia sucedido (Ximnez Samaniego 135).
Benavides and the others composed una relacin de todos estos sucesos y lo que
a cerca de ellos la Sierva de Dios avia declarado (Ximnez Samaniego 136), leaving it in
the possession of Sor Maras confessor Andrs de la Torre. A reluctant Sor Mara, still
believing that she had traveled in spirit and not body, is presented as being overwhelmed
by the magnitude of the experience and the friars pressure to assert that she traveled
corporally; under their influence, se escrivi as (Ximnez Samaniego 136). This issue
was of sufficient importance to her contemporaries that she addressed it directly in a
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statement to Fray Manero. Ximnez Samaniego flashes forward in her life to cite a
portion of this letter in the context of this episode. In it, she states that she does not know
whether she traveled in body or in spirit, but that neither did San Pablo who estaba a
mejor luz (Ximnez Samaniego 136) than Sor Mara and thus would have been more
likely to understand the nature of his travel than she of hers. We will return to the topic
of physical versus spiritual travel in Chapter 3.
Upon leaving Sor Maras convent, Benavides insists that she write to the friars in
New Mexico; thus compelled, she composes una carta exortatoria a los Religiosos, que
estaban en aquellas conversiones [] alentndolos a la prosecucin constante de su santa
ocupacin (136)- what appears to be the original Tanto. Ximnez Samaniego then
attributes the dissemination of the news about Sor Maras to Benavides, who, aunque
sabia quan importante era, que tan inauditos secretos no publicassen en Espaa, viviendo
la sierva de Dios [] fueron muchas las personas a quien en este Reyno comunic estos
sucesos. The events se hicieron pblicos (Ximnez Samaniego 137).
In regards to the letter that Benavides had Sor Mara write, the Tanto, Ximnez
Samaniego very casually casts it in a political way. As commented in the section on the
Tanto, it was sent to Spain from Mexico as a testament to Franciscan labor in the region
and contra cierta emulacin, que le pretenda obscurecer esta gloria (Ximnez
Samaniego 137). This offhanded comment surely refers to a specific attack on the
Franciscan missionary work in the area. The miraculous, transatlantic conversion of the
Indians of New Mexico, it is suggested, provides powerful evidence to the contrary.

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In the Relacin de la Vida de la Venerable sor Mara de Jess de Agreda,

Ximnez Samaniego writes the Peninsular, personal compliment to a narrative that was
written into public in the Americas. As the purpose of the vita is to demonstrate the
holiness of Sor Maras life, and her compliance with the will of God, the perspective of
the Lady in Blue narrative naturally shifts so that her role dominates. The narrative gains
a focus on the physical nature of the travel, as much for the movement of her body and/or
spirit to the Americas, as for the rosaries that are left there. In the vita, the Lady in Blue
becomes rooted in Spain, seeking confirmation in the New World. In the next chapter,
we will examine Sor Mara de Jess more closely, examining how her life and writing
reinforced and disseminated the Lady in Blue narrative in the Americas.

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[Su] fama de santidad egregia se

haba ya grandemente dilatado por
entonces y se haba difundido no
slo en la Antigua sino en hasta en la
Nueva Espaa.
- Juan Jos de Eguiara y Eguren,
Biblioteca mexicana, 232

Chapter 3
Given her renown in Spain during the 17th century, it is perhaps unsurprising that
Sor Mara de Jess de Agreda was frequently- painted subject. One particular painting of
her, featured in Ricardo Fernndez Garcas article on her17th century iconography,
stands out because it acts as a vita-in-paint, an organized collage depicting the events
of her life. The work summarizes the nuns life, seamlessly incorporating its varied
facets into a single statement. Fernndez Garca comments that the painting, located at
Sor Maras convent in Agreda, seems to function as a sermn grfico (Fernndez
Garca 169), intended to instruir a las nuevas religiosas [del convento] en la vida de sor
Mara (Fernndez Garca 169). The painting does so well, effectively capturing
significant themes of her life and presenting them in fashion that both draws them
together and maintains an episodic feel.
The work consists of a large central scene surrounded by eighteen much smaller
images depicting various moments from Sor Maras life. At the center of the painting,
Sor Mara sits at a small table, book in front of her and quill in hand. Six angels surround
her as she looks slightly upward to the Virgin Mary, suspended in the air to Sor Maras
left, who seems to be inspiring Sor Maras writing. The surrounding images do not
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appear to be in any particular order, but they refer the observer to episodes from Sor
Maras peripatetic life. These vignettes include: Sor Mara taking the veil to become a
nun, burning of her own portrait, burning her work La mstica ciudad de dios (henceforth
referred to in this dissertation as the MCD), being tempted by the devil, and (last but not
least) visiting the Americas and converting the indigenous people she meets (another
picture shows their baptism by two friars). Clearly, though, the focus of the piece is the
outsized central scene: Sor Maras engagement in writing the biography of the Virgin
Mary, the MCD.
I find this painting not only fascinating in content and structure, but also reflective
of this chapters theme, and its relationship to the rest of this dissertation. Just as the
artist incorporated varied elements from Sor Maras biography, but draws ones attention
to her spiritual writing, so this chapter focuses on the influence of Sor Maras writing in
colonial Mexico. As the painting shifts Sor Maras identity as the Lady in Blue to the
side, still placing it in the context of her life, so this chapter hones in on the woman with
pen in hand. The act of Sor Maras writing made her a true literary presence in colonial
Mexico. While still recognizing as the Lady in Blue as a major theme of Sor Mara's life,
this chapter focuses on the paintings central concern- Sor Maras writings- and on its
ramifications for and relationship to New Spain.
Why examine Sor Maras written work, a documentable, concrete entity, if this
dissertation is on the more evasive Lady in Blue legend? Mainly because, aside from the
accounts in Fray Benavidess texts (and the other predating materials mentioned in
Chapter 2), the legacy of Sor Maras spiritual writings is tightly bound up with her
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identity as the Lady in Blue. In many historical accounts, the Lady in Blue is understood
simultaneously as both the mystical writer, Sor Mara de Agreda, and also as la voz de la
conversin, (a term I take from a 1686 royal cdula directed to the governor of San
Agustin de la Florida, Don Juan Mrquez Cabrera). As la voz de la conversin, the
Lady in Blues function is unique in the history of American colonial settlement- she
represents a force that literally prepares the way for the friars who arrive later. Sor
Maras work reappears with unexpected consistency throughout the colonial period.
Because the voz is so intimately bound up with the letras penned by the woman
writer, it is necessary to discuss the two different facets of the same inscribed history: on
one hand, the 17th- and 18th-century narratives of the Lady in Blue and on the other, the
spiritual and literary legacy of this Spanish nun in the Americas. Sor Mara and her
writings are inextricable from the legacy and renown of the Lady in Blue. These two
aspects, individually and as they intersect, locate Maria de Agreda in the landscape of
colonial northern Mexico.
One particularly strong example of this is a New Mexican Penitente (lay
brotherhood) alabado dedicated to Sor Mara (to be discussed at greater length in Chapter
5), whose lyric not only offers the anticipated lauds for the nuns holiness and virtue, it
also mentions her writing specifically. The alabado mentions not only the mystica suid
de luz (Colahan and Rodrguez 5-6), but a more mysterious treinta y seis consejos que
[dio] a Santa Teresa (Colahan and Rodrguez 5-6). That these two references to works
by Sor Mara exist in a folk song of praise from New Mexico would appear to point to an
awareness not only of the mystical figure of the Lady in Blue, but also of the Spanish
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nuns writings. Though it is true that that alabado does not appear to conceive of Sor
Mara as the Lady in Blue specifically, the text itself is nonetheless a traditional rendering
of the legacy of Sor Mara that arises from one of the many places where folklore about
her, and therefore the recognition of her legend, exists. If only for this reason, it is
necessary to examine, the real historical presence of the literary Sor Mara in colonial
Mexico. To do that, however, we must know something of the author- her biography and
what she wrote.
Thus, in Chapter 3, we will take a very brief look at the woman behind the
writings and the legend, understand a little bit about her life, and discuss her writings,
paying specific attention to the MCD. Next, we will discuss the publication and
distribution of Sor Maras written works, focusing on its publication in Europe and in
Mexico. Third, we will look at the three examples in colonial Mexico of artists whose
own works were influenced by Sor Maras writing. Fourth, we will briefly note some of
the more unusual places her work appeared in the northern frontier region of Mexico,
namely in New Mexico and California. Finally, in transition to the next chapter, we will
conclude with some comments on two interesting cases where the understanding of Sor
Maras writing intersects with her identity as the Lady in Blue.
Sor Maras Biography and Works
In attempting a brief summary of Sor Maras biography, it is nearly impossible to
narrow down her life into a paragraph or two, and still do the topic justice. Clearly, such
a reduced synopsis cannot adequately encompass her fascinating mystical experiences;
her correspondence with King Felipe IV and with others in Spain and Europe; her
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extensive and varied written works; her testimonies before the Inquisition; and her
administrative experience as abbess of her familys convent. Truly, Sor Mara, like Sor
Juana or Santa Teresa, is a multi-faceted historical actor who merits an attenuated modern
historical examination; unfortunately, this dissertation does not allow for an extensive
treatment of this topic. Clark Colahan has undertaken a modern history of her life. In
Spain, interest in her life has been consistent over the past 370 years; there is some
scholarly focus not only on her works, but on how she functioned in her historical and
theological contexts.
There are a number of primary sources for Sor Maras biography, such as her
autobiographical works (including De los sucesos que tuve en la edad pueril), and Fray
Joseph Ximnez Samaniegos vita (which derives, in part, from her own autobiographical
writing). Others sources offer additional primary biographical information: from her
testimony to Father Manero regarding the nature of her mystical travels; the glimpses into
her own life that her political advisement of Felipe IV offer; and the reflections of her
history to be found in her correspondence with others. Secondary sources focus on a
variety of elements: from the sanctity of her life and the promotion of her case to
sainthood; to the corpus of her writing; to the theological and doctrinal points presented
in her writing; to her role as a political and representational figure. As interest in her
canonization in Spain has been ongoing, and as her theological texts have exerted
increased influence since the 19th century, a corresponding scholarly interest has
accompanied it.

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Mara de Jess Coronel y Araa was born in Agreda, Soria, Spain on April 2,
1602, to a family of converso heritage through her father, Francisco Coronel. Around
1615, Sor Maras mother Catalina Arana began to effectuate the conversion of the
familys estate into a convent. After convincing her husband of the divine importance of
this plan (Francisco and his two sons subsequently entered a Franciscan monastery), the
home became a discalced Conceptionist convent in 1619. At that time, Sor Mara, her
mother and her sister became nuns, and Sor Mara began to experience intense spiritual
raptures, the notice of which traveled widely, as Sor Mara wryly notes in her letter to
Father Manero regarding her mystical travels (Colahan, Visions 115-127). In 1627, she
was elected abbess of the convent, having been granted a special dispensation on account
of her youth. Shortly thereafter (1630-31) Sor Mara met with Fray Alonso de Benavides
at her convent, and the two wrote the letters back to the friars in New Mexico that
comprise the Tanto. By 1637, she commenced writing the MCD for the first time, though
she subsequently burned the text in 1645 under the admonitions of a substitute confessor
(Madden 97), who also ordered the destruction of her other writings. In 1643, King
Felipe IV, having recently dismissed the Duque de Olivares of his responsibilities as
vlido, and intrigued by Sor Maras growing reputation, visited her at the convent. Thus,
the two began a 22-year correspondence in which Sor Mara functioned as his political
advisor. By 1655, Sor Mara had begun a second version of the MDC (although it
appears Felipe IV had retained a copy of the first version) (Madden 97) with the
encouragement of her last confessor, Father Andrea de Fuenmayor, and finished the text

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in 1660. On May 24, 1665, Sor Mara died. Her literary legacy, however, was just
beginning.
Sor Mara wrote prolifically throughout her life (IV Centenario). Above, I only
mentioned two of her works, but she produced copious writing, some of which was
printed and others of which remained in manuscript. As it is unlikely that manuscript
material would have traveled to Mexico from Spain (and thus would have had little
influence on Sor Maras renown in the Americas) I will not dwell on it, though it does
bear mentioning. Her Segundo ejercicio cotidiano, for example, is a continuation of a
work printed numerous times, including in Mexico, the Ejercicio cotidiano. The
Tratado de la unin celeste and Jardn espiritual y nivel del alma seem to be in
keeping thematically with Sor Maras earlier mystical writing. Las sabatinas, a prayer
collection, also serves a bibliographic purpose, as it identifies texts that were destroyed
by Sor Mara earlier in her life. The aforementioned Escrito al Rvmo. Fr. Pedro
Manero explains and justifies the raptures and travels she experienced throughout her
life.
Much of Sor Maras writing has been published since 1670, when the first
printing of the MCD is documented. Her exchanges with Felipe IV, as well as
monographs of letters to other people, have been published numerous times, as have
numerous editions of the Vida de la Virgen (a version of which was prefaced by one of
Sor Maras prominent promoters, 19th century Spanish novelist Emilia Pardo Bazn).
Historian and bibliographer Jos Antonio Prez-Rioja places the publication of her
Escala para subir a la perfeccin, Ejercicio cotidiano, and Leyes de esposa in the
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mid-19th to 20th centuries. Others works were first published during the colonial epoch,
including the Ejercicios espirituales and, of course, the MCD. Though others of Sor
Maras pieces enjoyed popularity, the MCD (and the excerpts and prayers derived from
it) was clearly the most widely published and read of Sor Maras writing from the 17th
through the 19th centuries.
In Prez-Riojas Proyeccin de la Venerable Mara de Agreda, he notes that three
and four volume sets of the text appeared throughout Europe during that period, but that
the MCD reached its zenith during the 18th century (Prez-Rioja 4). He also offers
abundant information regarding the locations and languages in which the MCD appeared.
He found that within thirty-five years of Sor Maras death, the MCD was published
(either in its entirety or excepted) 22 times, in Spanish, French, Portuguese and Dutch.
During the 18th century, Prez-Rioja documents 72 instances of its publication, including
in Germany, Poland, Guatemala, Italy and Austria, and in Arabic, Latin and Greek. In
the 19th century, the work was finally published in English (in Philadelphia), and
continued to be printed in Mexico, Spain, Italy and France. Interest in the MCD,
particularly after its criticism by the Sorbonne for its perceived heretical content in the
late 17th and early 18th century, is indisputable.
In fact, indications of the range of the MCDs reach appear in unexpected places,
as both the website of Sor Maras convent (which is still operating today), and Monique
Gustins El barroco en la Sierra Gorda confirm. Both sources cite Giacomo de
Casanovas Histoire de ma vie in discussing the circulation of Sor Maras work in
Europe. In the famed European lovers late 18th-century biography, Casanova reads the
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MCD in Venices I Piombi prison while imprisoned by the Italian Inquisition for moral
laxity. Given a copy of MCD for his spiritual betterment, Casanova remarks with cynical
distaste that the book was authorized avec la permission de la trs sainte et trs horrible
inquisition (Gustin 265), and comments that if the book was supposed to turn his heart
towards religious matters, it wasnt quite successful. Instead il mexcitait traiter de
fableaux tout ce que nous avions de mystique et mme de dogmatique (Gustin 265). He
does find of the MCD that tout est dit de bonne foi avec pleine conviction and that ce
sont las les visions dune cervelle sublimqui [sic], sans aucune ombre dorgueil, ivre de
Dieu, croit ne rvler que se que lEsprit divin lui inspire (Gustin 265). Casanovas
subtle, tongue-in-cheek doubts about the text and its author are framed by his distaste for
the Venetian Inquisition (and for moral restrictions generally). For our purposes, the fact
that Casanova is forced to read the celibate nuns mystical treatise of the Virgin Marys
life (or so he claims) is ironic in itself, and, more importantly, is indicative of the works
wide European audience into the 18th century.
Though we could pursue the theological debates over the MCD that exploded in
Europe, particularly against its support of the dogma of the Immaculate Conception,
others have thoroughly studied this topic. To the extent that documents pertaining to this
Europe-based debate were published and circulated in Mexico and its northern borders,
we will touch on this topic. Turning our attention westward from Europe, let us next
examine how Sor Maras writing appears in Mexico, as documented by the eminent
bibliographers Jos Toribio Medina and Amaya Garrtiz Ruz, and cross-correlated with
Prez-Rioja.
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Corren sus escritos

As in Europe, the MCD was the most widely circulated of Sor Maras works in
Mexico. Readers in colonial Mexico had access to both European and New World
printings of the text, and it appears in some of the most remote corners of the northern
Spanish frontier. This distribution of Sor Maras writing related directly to the diffusion
of the Lady in Blue narrative. As commented in Chapter 2, Sor Maras biographer Fray
Joseph Ximnez Samaniegos Prlogo galeato (the nuns vita) was published as a
preface to the early versions of the MCD. The vita includes the episode of her travel to
New Mexico and her conversion of the infieles she find there. Though this document
was also printed separately, naturally, wherever the early versions of the MCD appeared,
so also did the narrative of the Lady in Blue. Thus, the legend traveled sidecar with the
popular religious text, sharing the same geographical distribution if not the same nature
of influence.
Another document printed in Mexico similarly fostered the identification of Sor
Mara with the Lady in Blue. In 1730 and 1747, the Tanto was printed, each time with a
different plate depicting Sor Maras evangelization of the Chichimecos of New
Mexico. As we will see in the next chapter, the printing and circulation of this document
exerted a remarkable influence over explorers and missionaries alike, and presented the
narrative of the Lady in Blue/Sor Mara publicly for the first time, one hundred years
after Fray Benavides wrote about her. For although editions of the 1630 Memorial had
been published in the 17th century, that document did not positively identify Sor Mara as
the Lady in Blue; the Tanto and the vita attached to the MCD, however, did. As I pointed
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out in the previous chapter, the 1730 printing emphasized that that the Tanto supported
the missionary work of the Franciscans, as evidence of their important role in northern
Mexico. Clearly, some other politic was played out in the printing of that Tanto in the
mid-18th century, one in which Sor Mara exemplifies Franciscan mission work. It serves
a dual or triple role, as a testament to Sor Maras literary presence, an affirmation of the
Lady in Blue, and perhaps an argument in favor of Franciscan mission work.
Returning to the topic of Sor Maras literary presence in Mexico, Id like to
mention that I am primarily depending on bibliographies to describe what was printed,
where, and by whom. Although ideally I would have access to the original documents,
these reliable bibliographical sources are sufficient to demonstrate the existence and
prevalence of Sor Maras writing in colonial Mexico. Certainly a more extensive study
of the documents themselves would supplement this research, though the three
bibliographies that I used overlapped enough to give me confidence in the existence of
the works I will discuss. In addition, other texts, such as historian Nora Jaffarys False
Mystics, provide substantial secondary information regarding the reception of her writing
in colonial Mexico; Jaffary finds in the Inquisitorial records of several cloistered Mexican
nuns (Josefa de San Luis Beltrn, Mara Rita Vargas, and Josefa Palacios (Jaffary 208))
testimony documenting their familiarity with the MCD. Hopefully, such information will
suffice to begin to hypothesize as to Sor Maras place in colonial Mexican letters.
These bibliographies indicate that excerpts of the MCD were by far the frequently
printed of Sor Maras works from the 17th through the 20th century. In fact, from 1693 to
1821, the MCD and documents relating to or borrowing from it were printed 27 times;
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segments of the Ejercicios espirituales were published but once. Considering that Sor
Mara was a Spanish woman writer who was not recognized as a saint by the Church, the
extent to which she was published in Mexico is astounding. In addition, the
bibliographical information associated with these texts offers insight into how Sor Mara
was conceived of as a spiritual writer in Mexico. I believe that printings of her works
other than those mentioned in these bibliographies exist, particularly in cities such as
Quertaro and Zacatecas which, as the next chapter demonstrates, expressed an
inordinate interest in Sor Mara and her writings.
These bibliographies do document what was printed and when. Only two
versions of the MCD in its entirety are documented by Prez-Rioja as being published,
both in Mexico City in 1731. One document directly addresses Sor Maras authorship of
the MCD, linking it to two other remarkable incidents: Traduccin verdica, y autentica
de tres sucesos prodigiosos [] el tercero de una Religiosa discreta, en que la Bondad
Divina se ha dignado de acreditar los Libros de la Mystica ciudad de Dios (1729)
(Medina, vol. 4 279). One of the most frequently published excerpts of Sor Maras
writing was the Septenario al Gloriosissimo Patriarca Sr. S Joseph de los siete
privilegios de su Patrocinio, que refiere la V.M. Maria de Jess de Agreda en su Mistica
Ciudad de Dios (1726, 1768, 1774, 1808) (Medina, vol. 4 174; Medina vol. 6 14, 146;
Medina, vol. 7 424); these seven days of prayer were to fall over the seven days prior to
Santa Teresas feast. The 1777 Ofrecimiento de la corona en honra de la Pursima
Concepcin (Medina vol. 6 239) asserts that it derives its authority from the first part of
the MCD, clearly in reference to the texts Conceptionist content.
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Other publications refer simply to Sor Maras works rather than to the MCD
specifically. One, by Fray Agustn de Vetancurt, an 18th-century Franciscan colonial
historian known for his Teatro Mexicano and Menologio Franciscano, focuses on the
role of Joseph in Sor Maras writing: Vida [..] y favores hechos al Patriarca San Jos
trasuntada de las obras de la Venerable (1700) (Prez-Rioja 24). Another such text is
the Oraciones A Mara Santsima, y Seor Joseph, para saludarlos y alabarlos, y para
alentar nuestras confianzas (1785) (Medina, vol. 6 426), which were Deducidas de
varias partes de la Venerable Madre Sor Maria de Jess de Agreda. Prez-Rioja also
attributes two novenas dedicated to angels to the MCD as well: Novena [] en honor de
los mil ngeles (1749) (Prez-Rioja 16) and Novena [] angelica dolorosa (1763)
(Prez-Rioja 16) though he notes that he borrows these citations from Antonio Palau y
Dulcets Manual del librero hispanoamericano. The only example in these
bibliographies of a printing that explicitly derives from text other than the MCD is the
Elogios a la reyna del Cielo Maria Santsima, sacados Del Libro intitulado Exercicios
Espirituales de Retiro, que compuso la venerable Madre Maria de Jess de Agreda
(1784) (Prez-Rioja 16). This document clearly draws from Sor Maras Ejercicios
espirituales; as we will see in the next chapter, versions of these exercises are also likely
to be found in the convents Santa Cruz de Quertaro, where Sor Maras guides for prayer
life were commonly used.
Several prayer series dedicated to the Virgin Mary are based on Sor Maras
writing. The Triduo mensual [] Sacada de las obras de la V.M. Maria de Jess de la
Villa de Agreda (1783, 1817) (Medina, vol. 6 381; Medina, vol.8 124) was to be prayed
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the 13th, 14th and 15th of every month, para alcanzar mediante su proteccin, una dichosa
muerte. Another prayer with the same petition was the Viernes de Maria en obsequio
de su gloriosos Trnsito, taken from lo que la misma Seora revel a la venerable
Madre Sor Maria de Jess de Agreda. Lib.8. Cap.28. Nm. 745. (1816) (Garrtiz 571-2).
A novena used by the discalced Franciscan friars (Novena sagrada, que a la Inmaculada
Concepcin de la Serenissima Reyna de los Angeles Maria Santissima Nuestra Seora,
1758) (Medina, vol. 5 333-4) derives more generally from Sor Maras works, which
works the title claims were excerpted by un Esclavo de la Reyna de los Angeleslikely the printer, Augustn Bernal.
The Compendio de la Sagrada Passion y muerte de N. Seor Jesu-Christo,
Sacado de la Mystica Ciudad de Dios y Historia Divina de N. Seora was published in
1693 and 1717 (Medina, vol. 3 106, 539). This document has several important features.
First, it specifies which parts of the MCD it derives from, as the title states: de la
segunda parte, libro quatro, desde el Captulo nono, hasta el vigsimo quarto de dicha
historia (Medina, vol. 3 106). This specificity is helpful in identifying what particular
segments of the four-volume MCD were most often cited or were of interest. Second, it
is excerpted by Franciscan Fray Joseph de San Antonio y Flores, who hailed from the
Province of Santo Evangelio, to which the friars of the newly established College of
Propaganda Fide in Quertaro pertained. This relationship between the Colleges and
Mara de Agreda will be more fully developed later, but suffice to say that its interesting
to note the early interest in her among the those missions. Third, and most significantly,

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the title states that El Ilustrissimo Seor Arobispo deMexico, (sic) concede quarenta
dias de Indulgencia los que leyeren este Compendio (Medina, vol. 3 106).
Indulgences in 17th- and 18th-century Mexico are interesting for the numerous
political angles they manifest; they can reflect powerful private parties promoting the
cases of particular individuals; the will of the Church hierarchy to increase devotion to a
saint or cause; or the collective public desire for veneration of something or someone
specific. In the case of this particular printing of Sor Maras writing, the attachment of
400 days of indulgences (accompanied by the appropriate approbations by representatives
of the Franciscan Order, the Viceroy and the Archbishop) demonstrates an official
recognition of Sor Maras writing and the assignation of a spiritual value/benefit to it. In
order for this excerpt of the nuns work to have acquired official indulgences (and to be
reprinted with the same), it had to have passed through a process that validated it. It
appears that process occurred in Mexico. This printing demonstrates the centralized
Churchs recognition (not just the Franciscans or secular local groups) of its spiritual
worth and apparently its desire for continued veneration.
Another text, the Aurora alegre del dichoso dia de la gracia Maria Santsima,
Digna Madre de Dios [] Eptome de los Libros Mystica Ciudad de Dios y Vida de la
Virgen Madre de Dios (1730) (Medina, vol. 4 301-2), attributed to Franciscan Fray
Antonio de Vereo is interesting not only because Fray Vereo, like Fray San Antonio y
Flores, is also from the Province of Santo Evangelio, but because it includes the decree
for the beatification of Sor Mara. The document itself consists of MCD excerpts, is
dedicated to the Virgin of Tepepan, and includes the approbation of the Viceroy, Jesuit
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Juan Igancio de Uribe and the Commissary General of the Franciscan Order. Though the
existence of the document demonstrates Sor Maras literary influence, it is fascinating to
note that interest in the development of her case for sainthood was public in Mexico in
1730. The investment in the progress of this Spanish nuns case for canonization is also
reflected in the biography of the Mexican painter Juan de Correa, as will be discussed
shortly. The identifications of writer and saint converge on Sor Mara in this
document, which was published the same year as the Tanto, and by the same press.
One of the most often-reproduced of Sor Maras texts in late colonial Mexico
was the Modo de andar la Via-Sacra, sacado de la Mstica Ciudad de Dios part. 2. lib. 6.
cap12. por uno de los fundadores del Colegio de la Sta. Cruz de Quertaro (1774, 1808,
1809, 1817, 1819, 1821) (Garritz 41, 106, 181, 373, 591, 676, 1064). The 1774 printing
does not appear in any of the bibliographies I consulted, but it is among the University of
Texas Harry Ransom Center holdings. The 1774, 1809, 1819 and 1821 versions were all
printed in Mexico City, and add in the title that the text is reimpresa a devocin de los
Misioneros del Colegio Apostlico de S. Fernando de esta ciudad de Mxico (Garrtiz
106). The 1808 printing was also made in Mexico City, and the 1817 in Guadalajara, but
neither of these two versions mentions the friars of Propaganda Fide at San Fernando in
Mexico City. In addition to the fact that it was printed so frequently within a short period
of time in the early 19th century (apparently with an 18th-century precedent), the title
itself intrigues. Who was the fundador of the College of Quertaro the title refers to?
Why is the text so deeply linked to the Colleges of Propaganda Fide, both in the past (as
Quertaro was established around 1687) and well into the late 18th/early 19th centuries?
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And what does this interest on behalf of the missionary college of San Fernando signify
at so late a date? And finally, how are these versions different from that published under
the name of Fray Diego Miguel Bringas y Encinas in 1815, the Prctica de las
Estaciones de la Va Sacra, Sacada de la Mstica Ciudad de Dios. Por Fr. D.M.B. y E.
Misionero Apostlico del Colegio de la Santa Cruz de Quertaro (Garritz 275-6)?
And in reference to Bringas y Encinas, there is one final example that bears
discussion. Although this text is not a printing of Sor Maras writing, it does reference
her and her convent in a most unusual way. Bringas y Encinas 1813 Sermn poltico
moral (Garritz 373-4) is recognized by historians for the prediction it make that if the
Mexico were to break from Spain, the United States would invade Mexico (Bringas y
Encinas himself being a supporter of the Spanish crown). The sermons title mentions
that the friar dedicates it to la admirable y herica virgen Sor Mara de Jess de
greda. The title adds that any profits that are made from the sermon are indicated al
socorro de las actuales urgencias del religiossimo convento de monjas de la Pursima
Concepcin de la Villa de greda (Garrtiz 373-4). Clearly, at least in Bringas y
Encinas case, Sor Maria and her convent continued to be a presence in the early 19th
century, and through his speech, he links Mexico to Spain by referring the modern
political conundrum to the 17th-century mystical writer.
Bringas y Encinas sermon is an appropriate transition to the next section, in that
the friar, even in his political speech-making, seems to be influenced by Sor Mara, or by
an idea he has of her. I believe that the brief bibliography I have thus far presented
provides a general sense of the presence of Sor Maras writings in the 17th through 19th
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centuries in Mexico. For her works to have been as thoroughly synthesized and
manifested as they are in the three cases we will next examine, it seems certain that her
writing not only was printed, but also that it had achieved considerable circulation and
influence.
Sor Maras Cultural Influence
Contextualizing the reading of Sor Maras writings in Mexico is best led with the
words of her counterpart, Sor Juana Ins de la Cruz. The dcima musa of Mexican
letters, Sor Juana (1651-1695) was celebrated not only for her writing, but also for her
astucia- the breadth and depth of her erudition on a variety of topics- supported y
external patronage behind the doors of her Heironymite convent in Mexico City. Her
poetry, rich and dense in the Gongoran culteranista style, and her prose, often seating her
argument within a context of deep knowledge of classical works, was recognized in its
time for its scholarly and literary value. But, as was the case with Sor Mara, Sor Juana
confronted the difficulty of negotiating gender relationships, within the church and
outside of it. In her 1691 Carta de respuesta a Sor Filotea de la Cruz (in actuality the
Bishop of Puebla, Manuel Fernndez de Santa Cruz), she makes her argument for the
education and scholarship of women.
In her essay on the Carta, literary critic Nina M. Scott notes that Sor Juana
cites[s] an extensive list of illustrious women of the past in order to justify [her] own
literary activity (Scott 206). Scotts appendix identifies the women that Sor Juana
includes in her defense of feminine letters, offering brief biographies and explanations for
how they are connected to literature and intellectual endeavors generally. Scott notes that
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Sor Juana selects particular types of women to use as her examples of women writers in
order to create a sisterhood among women across the centuries (Scott 212). Sor Juana
includes among the women from the classical era to the 17th century la monja de
Agreda (Juana Ins de la Cruz 843). In the context of her exposition on female religious
writers, and along with saints Gertrudis, Teresa and Brgida, Sor Juana presents Sor
Mara de Jess as one of the women religious writers whose work was sanctioned by the
Catholic Church. Sor Juana further employs Sor Mara as an example of a non-canonized
religious woman whose works were sanctioned by the Church: ahora vemos que la
Iglesia permite escribir a las mujeres santas y a las no santas, pues la de greda y Mara
de la Antigua no estn canonizadas y corren sus escritos (Juana Ins de la Cruz 843).
Sor Juanas inclusion of Sor Mara among this sisterhood of women intellectuals is all the
more remarkable for that reason. The Mexican nun apparently knew enough about Sor
Maras writings and historical role to consider her a compelling example of legitimate
feminine intellectualism.
The way Sor Juana discusses Sor Maras writing in the Carta is also revealing.
Sor Juana notes that, in spite of the fact that Sor Mara had not yet been canonized (which
she notes ni cuando Santa Teresa y las dems escribieron, lo estaban [canonizadas]
(Juana Ins de la Cruz 843)), her works were widely read. This comment is interesting
for two reasons: one, it positively correlates Sor Maras writings to the canonical
mystical works of Santa Teresa; and two, it suggests a parallelism between Sor Maras
canonization-in-progress and Santa Teresas sainthood. Sor Juanas comment that
corren sus escritos alludes to the circulation of Sor Maras works in the late 17th136

century in Mexico. Sor Juana wrote her reply to Sor Filotea, a short twenty-six years
after Sor Mara had died, yet the Carta reference indicates that Sor Maras work was
already popularly known in Mexico at that time, in spite of the fact that 1693 is the
earliest publication date for her work in Mexico. Sor Juanas is but the briefest of
references to the circulation of Sor Maras work in Mexico; however, the comment
emerges spontaneously from a reliable source who had a compelling personal investment
in the soundness of her arguments, including this one in regards to Sor Mara. For these
reasons, Sor Juanas seemingly offhanded reference wields more power than its brevity
might otherwise indicate.
One of Sor Juanas own religious texts, her Ejercicios devotos, indicates the
degree to which the Mexican nun read and synthesized the writing of Sor Mara. While
Scott notes that Sor Juana alluded to the Mystica ciudad de dios in some devotional
exercises she composed in honor of the Virgin (Scott 222), Spanish literary critic Grady
Wray examines the relationship between Sor Juanas work and Sor Marias writing
closely, highlighting the degree to which Sor Juanas work derives from Sor Maras, and
referencing a critical agreement that Sor Juana was very familiar with the Agredan nuns
text (Wray 126). In the Introduccin al intento to the work, Sor Juana seems to
concede as much, acknowledging explicitly that Sor Maras writing underlies the texts
thesis: la Venerable Madre Mara de Jess cuenta los inefables favores que Su Majestad
Divina hizo a su escogida y carsima madre (Juana Ins de la Cruz 848). Wray
concludes that there remains no doubt that the Mystical informs the Exercises (Wray
126), the latter borrowing particular premises from the former. It assumes the validity of
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the Immaculate Conception theology presented in the Mystica, explores the resulting
ramifications of that theology as it pertains to the Incarnation, and shares with Sor
Maras text an appreciation for and imitation of Marys wisdom. Wray comments that
Sor Juana deliberately reframes gredas topics to fulfill her own agenda, namely the
proclamation of Marys wisdom (Wray 128), implying that Sor Juana further develops
the message of feminine significance outlined in Sor Maras in accord with her own
theological and feminist views.
Wray pinpoints the specific philosophical and theological points developed by Sor
Juana in the Ejercicios, emphasizing those originating in Sor Maras work such as the
imitation of Mary. In the Mystica ciudad de dios, Mary asks that Sor Mara follow the
example of Marys (and Christs) humility, sorrow and wisdom even as she imparts her
wisdom to Sor Maria directly. Sor Juana takes this concept a step further in the
Ejercicios, suggesting that the pursuit of knowledge and wisdom is a way of imitating
the virtue of Mary: the pursuit of wisdom, one of Marys most outstanding attributes, as
well as her humility, becomes a legitimate goal for imitation by Sor Juana and her
exercitants (Wray 135). Wray links the Immaculate Conception theology, detailed and
defended in the Mystica ciudad de dios, and the pursuit of feminine wisdom and
knowledge promoted by Sor Juana in the Ejercicios, emphasizing how Sor Juana draws
on and cultivates the Agredan ideas that circulated during the Mexican nuns lifetime.
Clearly, Sor Maras historical literary presence, as well as her philosophical/theological
influence, are observable in Sor Juanas work,

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A similar effect emerges in the work of Sor Juanas contemporary, the painter
Juan Correa (1646-1716). He was one of the best-known and most prolific painters of the
late 17th-century in Mexico, and his attributable works focus principally on religious
themes and allegories. Although most of his paintings depict fairly canonical topics,
many of which are rendered consistent with the artistic guidelines of colonial artistic
guide, two articles discuss different ways the influence of Sor Maras writing in
manifested in his work. In the first case, art critics Amanda Martnez Reyes, Elisa
Vargas Lugo and Jos Guadalupe Victoria find that the depiction of angels in Correas
work agrees with the description of angels provided by Sor Mara in the MCD. Although
Italian Renaissance angels were nude, contemporaneous colonial angels were always
represented as pdica en las formas corpreas y ostentosa en las vestiduras. Como
mxima libertad de expresin generalmente se dejaron desnudas una o las dos piernas de
las figuras (Vargas Lugo 16). Both Martnez Reyes and art critic Francisco de la Maza
agree that Pacheco and Sor Mara played important roles in determining how Correa (and
others) conceived of and painted angels: influyeron definitivamente en la manera de
vestir a los ngeles dentro del arte barroco espaol (Vargas Lugo 15). According to de la
Maza, the tendency of novohispanic artists including Juan Correa to vestir con elegancia
y desnudar con gracia a sus mancebos alados (De la Maza 28) is traceable back to
particular writers, included among them, Sor Mara. De la Maza in fact cites Sor Maras
description of the Angel Gabriel as indicative of the concepts 17th-century artist had in
mind when painting angels: el vestido era rozgante, y como si fuera todo resplandor,
semejante a un lucidsimo y brillante oro esmaltado o entrepuesto con matices de
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finsimos colores con que hacan una admirable y hermossima variedad para la vista
(De la Maza 28).
But the influence of Sor Maras writing can be directly observed in one of
Correas pieces, part of a series depicting the life of the Virgin Mary: La comunin de
Mara. The scene depicts the Virgin Mary receiving communion from angel Gabriel, a
topic which, though of interest to 9th-century mystics, was not recognized in Catholic
dogma in the 17th century (nor is it now). As Elisa Varga Lugo notes, the theme for the
painting deriva, casi seguramente, del texto de la madre Mara de Jess de Agreda
titulado Mstica Ciudad de Dios (Vargas Lugo 85). Vargas Lugo recounts Sor Maras
description of this event: Mara ador la Eucarista en cuanto sta fue instituida por
Cristo y que una vez que tuvo lugar la Comunin entre los apstoles, Jess parti otro
pedazo de pan consagrado y lo dio a san Gabriel, para que comulgase Mara que se
encontraba en un aposento contiguo (Vargas Lugo 85). Correa must have been keenly
aware of Sor Maras narrative, as he closely reproduces her description on canvas,
providing an image Vargas Lugo describes as una de las ms sugestivas creaciones de
Correa, en la que logr un tono de irrealidad (Vargas Lugo 85). Against the dark
background of the Last Supper, the Virgin Mary receives a wafer from the angel, wings
outspread, the somber contrast between light and darkness masterfully managed. The
theme of the Virgin Marys communion was not widely reproduced in colonial Mexican
artwork; in fact, Vargas Lugo cites only one other example- a work signed Arellano in
the church at Tepepan. It is evident that Correa, however, internalized Sor Maras
mystical writing, reproducing and weaving it into his creative production.
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Lastly, Correas understanding of Sor Mara and her writings highlights the
degree to which the nun was known in the Americas not only as a writer, but also as a
holy figure in the process of institutional legitimization. Vargas Lugo comments that it is
not clear whether Correa chose the theme of La comunin de Mara por su propia
iniciativa o por la sugerencia de otra persona (Vargas Lugo 85). I would suggest that
Correa came up with the theme on his own, based upon what appears to be a personal
interest and involvement in her case for canonization. Correas last will and testament,
dated October 17, 1716, includes the directive that money be given for the beatification
processes of various individuals, included among them the Mexican bishop Juan de
Palafox, the priest of Puebla, Sebastin de Aparicio; and la madre Mara de Jess de
Agreda (Vargas Lugo, 176). The fact that Correa is aware of the case for canonization
for Sor Mara is indicative of the degree to which her renown had spread to the Americas.
Indeed, patentes and cdulas (dated 1708, 1711 and 1713) from the Biblioteca Nacional
de Mxico point to a significant institutional interest in her canonization, as they
document the collection of donations in Mexico for the promotion of her beatification
(lvarez de Toledo, Sanz, Felipe V). That Correa wills money for the promotion her
case demonstrates an interest in Sor Mara as a religious figure with relevance in the
Americas (the other cases to which he wills money are mostly Mexican figures).
The final example demonstrating the deep effects of Sor Maras writing in
Mexico is that of Cristobal de Villalpando, Correas contemporary. In his 1706 painting
La anunciacin, located at the monastery of Guadalupe de Zacatecas, Villalpando seems
to have cleaved fairly closely to Sor Maras narration of the encounter in the MCD. In
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her version, the angel Gabriel is accompanied by millares de ngeles hermossimos que
le seguan en forma visible (de la Maza 205). Thus, in contrast to most other artistic
renderings of the Annunciation which feature the Virgin Mary and the angel Gabriel
alone, Villalpandos work includes an entire celestial choir of angels arranged in rows
circling above the two main figures. While de la Maza does not affirm that Villalpandos
depiction of this scene is the only one of its kind in colonial art, he does assert that that
particular aspect of the painting is in conformation with Sor Marias writing, having little
precedent other than what the critic terms a baroque sensibility for complication,
excess and activity.
Villalpando also references both Sor Mara and her role as a spiritual writer
explicitly in another work at the Zacatecas monastery, La mstica Jerusaln (de la Maza
108). Villalpando depicts Saint John the Evangelist and Sor Mara in their roles as
authors of works pertaining to the theological concept of the Mystical City of God:
respectively, Saint Johns Book of Revelation and Sor Maras MCD. In the painting,
Saint John sits to the left and Sor Mara to the right, each with a quill in one hand for
writing and a book either in the lap (St. John) or in the hand (Sor Mara). Behind them,
the New Jerusalem spreads its walls, and above them, the Virgin Mary is assumed into
heaven, surrounded by the three persons of the Holy Trinity.
Villalpando clearly considered Sor Maras writing in the context of that of other
recognized religious writers; to conceive of a relationship between the writings of St.
John and Sor Mara indicates that Villalpando likely had read both. Considering that St.
John is a Biblical author, this collocation of Sor Mara alongside him is all the more
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impressive, and is indicative of the renown of her writing, at least within particular
circles. In fact, de la Maza remarks of this apparently unequal pairing that igual daba el
guila que la grulla en [las] superficiales devociones (de la Maza 204). His cynical
comment, implying that in colonial Mexico great theological writers were given equal
weight as lesser-known ones, only underlines the influence Sor Maras works had on
Villalpando and perhaps his contemporaries as well (regardless of how negatively de la
Maza views her).
As these three diverse examples demonstrate, Sor Maras writings impacted 17thcentury Mexican artistic and literary thought. Though these cases are by no means
comprehensive- indeed, there are likely other similar examples- I believe they do offer
insight into and confirmation of how Sor Maras works (principally La mstica ciudad de
dios) were read, internalized and synthesized in colonial Mexico. Sor Juana capitalizes
on the dual aspects of wisdom and femininity represented by and presented in Sor
Maras writing. Juan Correas artistic work demonstrates an extensive familiarity with
the contents of Sor Maras work, and his last will and testament demonstrates his
awareness of and engagement with her case for sainthood. Cristbal de Villalpandos
work indicates a similar recognition of Sor Marias writing, and contextualizes her with
other canonical Church authors. It is safe to say that, via her writings, Sor Mara the
author and candidate for sainthood, was true historical presence in colonial Mexico.
The Distribution of Sor Maras Writing
Having examined the numerous printings of Sor Maras work in Mexico, and
delved into some specific examples of how that work permeated colonial Mexican
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thought and art, Id like to examine another facet of the impact of Sor Maras work in
Mexico; namely, its documented distribution. It would be one thing if her writing
remained only in urban centers such as Mexico City, where many of the presses were
located, or in cities such as Zacatecas (where Villalpandos work referencing the MCD is
located), or even in the libraries of the Colleges of Propaganda Fide in Quertaro, Mexico
City and Zacatecas. However, her writing achieves a much wider audience that it
continues to develop over decades. Not only do her works travel widely, they (and other
works about her) appears in libraries with nominal collections demonstrates a
disproportionate interest in her writing in those areas. Although, again, it is impossible to
examine the primary documents themselves, secondary documentation serves the purpose
of demonstrating the presence of the texts in particular locations.
The first of these examples is the library of Diego de Vargas, governor sent to
New Mexico in 1689 to resettle the New Mexico territory after the 1680 Pueblo Revolt
precipitated its 12-year abandonment. By 1692, after de Vargas bloodless
Reconquest, Spanish settlers were again installed in the communities surrounding the
presidio of Santa Fe. After de Vargas successor Pedro Rodrguez de Cubero tried to
have him permanently removed from New Mexico, resulting in de Vargas exile from the
community, de Vargas fought for and was granted a reappointment in 1697. A year after
his return in 1703, De Vargas died, leaving behind a personal library, which was
inventoried in 1704 by his lieutenant Juan Paez Hurtado as part of de Vargas will.
Although the small library consisted of only thirty-three texts, including histories of the
political families of New Spain, Spanish American histories and political tracts,
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Hurtados list includes a curious, yet revealing entry: tres tomos de la Madre Mara de
Jess de agreda [sic] (Adams 151). Historian Eleanor Adams surmises that these three
tomos are the multi-volume MCD, and cites the 1670 Madrid printing, among others,
as a possible source of the texts. That de Vargas was in possession of this text while in
New Mexico at the turn of the 18th century is remarkable. And, though de Vargas likely
read the MCD simply as a piece of religious writing, Adams commentary links the MCD
immediately to the legend of the Lady in Blue: Its author, the Spanish mystic Sor Mara
Jess de Agreda, was identified as the famous Lady in Blue of Southwestern legend
who was transported to that region in the early seventeenth century and prepared the way
fro the conversion of certain tribes (Adams 139). Whether de Vargas was familiar with
the legend of the Lady in Blue remains to be seen; certainly, he seems to have been a fan
of his writing.
Later in the 18th century, a Fray Atanasio Domnguez was sent from the
Provincial office to report to the superiors in Mexico City on the Custodia de San Pablo.
In his 1776 report on the progress of the missions in New Mexico, he lists the books at
each mission, including those at the Custodias library at Santo Domingo Pueblo.
Although the smaller missions had few books apiece- the bare minimum for offering
mass and administering the sacraments- the collection at Santo Domingo consisted of
some 300 works. Fray Domnguez inventory, as well as a 1788 inventory of the same
library (comparatively presented by Fray Anglico in his commentary on the Domnguez
account) offer a glimpse into the interests of the friars of the Custodia. This glimpse is

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particularly important, as no traces of the original collection remains, likely destroyed by

Rio Grande flooding in 1886.
Although the majority of the texts are extremely practical in nature (books of
sermons, apologtica, guides for administering particular sacraments), there are a number
of volumes by or about Immaculate Conception theologian Duns Scotus as well as two
that deal directly with the debate over the MCD. Although neither version of the
inventory indicates that the mission had a copy of the MCD, they do document the
presence of two works that dealt specifically with the Sorbonnes criticism of the text.
The 1776 inventory (provided by both Adams and Fray Anglico) features one work of
interest, the Certmen Mariano de Arbiol (Adams 157). This 1698 work (Certamen
marianum Parisiense ubi veritas examinatur in splendo. Ribus Sanctorum, et pous
mirabile mysticae civitatis Dei, a censura doctorum, sacra facultate parisiensi
deputatorum, exegitatur liberum) by Franciscan Fray Jos Antonio Arbiol is an apology
for the MCD. In Chves and Adams comparison of the 1776 and 1788 inventories,
another text pops to attention: Fr. Jos Nicols Cavero Anti-Agredistae Parisiense
Expugnati (Domnguez 221). Like Arbiols apologia, the Franciscans 1698 defense of
the first part of the MCD is a strong challenge to French theological criticism of the text.
It is startling that the knowledge of Sor Maras writing was perhaps sufficiently assumed
that critical texts in her defense found a welcome home in the late 18th-century custodial
library at Santo Domingo.
A final example clearly demonstrates an interested in the MCD among the
missions well into the late 18th century. Founder of the California missions, Franciscan
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Fray Junpero Serra was a devotee of the writing of Sor Mara. Serras companion and
biographer, Fray Francisco Palu, confirms that the friar took with him copies of the
MCD when he worked on the construction of the Sierra Gorda missions, and the evidence
of the influence of her writing is observable in the architecture and artwork of the Jalpan
and Landa churches. Franciscan historian Maynard Geiger observes in his notes to
Palus biography of Serra that the College of San Fernando had various copies of the
MCD in its library collection at the time Serra was sent to the Sierra Gorda (as per an
1800 inventory of the library) (Palu, Palus Life 408). Geiger explains that not only
did Palu and Serra have copies of the MCD with them in the Sierra Gorda, but that these
copies were sent to them at Jalpan from the college itself (Palu, Palus Life 408). In
fact, while in the Sierra Gorda, Serra followed the practices of humility outlined by Sor
Mara in the MCD; although when in Mexico City in the College of San Fernando, Serra
wore sandals, while in the Sierra Gorda missions, he resumed the use of alpargatas
(hemp shoes), como nos lo dice la V. Madre Maria de Jess de Agreda en su Mstica
Ciudad (part. 2. lib. 4 cap. 28 num. 685) (Palu, Vida 290).
Copies of the MCD arrived as far as California, shadowing Serras progress along
the west coast, In Serras February 5, 1775 report to the Mexican Viceroy Antonio Maria
de Bucareli y Ursua, for example, the friar states that, among the improvements made to
the new five California missions, Mission San Luis de Obispo had recently acquired los
tres tomos de la Mstica Ciudad de Dios, para la librera (Serra, vol. 2 235). Serra
biographer Maynard Geigers states that, there was a set of [the MCD] at Mission San
Diego in 1777 and other at Mission Santa Barbara in 1834. In 1777 Mission San Diego
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also had a life of the Venerable Mara de Agreda (Geiger, vol. 2 291). It seems Geiger
is referring to a specific inventory in regards to both mission churches, though he does
not cite which. The Online Archive of California lists a 1744 printing, (with the
inscription Fr. Thomas de la Pena Saravia. Del Colegio de San Fernando) (Mara de
Jess. Mystica ciudad de Dios) among the holdings of the collection at Mission Santa
Clara (founded in 1777), and confirms that the text was in the possession of the library
when an inventory of the library was taken by a Fr. Real in 1851. Given Serra devotion
to Sor Mara, it seems more likely than not that her writings would also be present in the
far-flung missions of California at the end of the 18th century.
Though Sor Maras writing was widely published in Mexico, the distribution of
her writing to the most remote regions of the northern Spanish empire is extraordinary.
The journey her works take is in itself surprising.
Point of Departure: the Written Word, the History, the Legend
Finally, and by means of a transition to the next chapter, I present two examples
that are superficially quite different from one anther. These cases illustrate the complex
relationship between on the one hand Sor Mara writing and her recognition as a spiritual
figure, and on the other with her identity as the Lady in Blue. The first example is
literary; it refers to one of the texts we will examine in the next chapter. The next
example is architectural and artistic, in dialogue with the missionary labors of the friars
of the Colleges of Propaganda Fide.
The first example, the Eptome de la bibliotheca oriental, y occidental, nutica y
geogrfica, de Don Antonio de Len Pinelo, an interesting overlay of bibliography with
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history and legend emerges. This bibliography cataloguing the collection of Antonio de
Len Pinelo, features a section called Ttulo V. Historias del Nuevo Mxico, which
includes numerous entries of primary sources for New Mexican history, including works
by Fray Benavides and Fray Zarate Salmern. One of the last entries is credited to V.M.
Mara de Jess de Agreda, citing her work the Tratado de la redondez de la Tierra , de
los Habitantes de ella, i de los quatro elementos (Len Pinelo, 612).
Although the attribution of the text to Sor Mara is now regarded as dubious;
regardless, it seems that the treatise, in which Sor Maras describes her mystical travels
to the four corners of the world, was attributed to her. The biographer, citing the Ensayo
cronolgico para la Historia de la Florida, and Fray Augustn de Vetancurts Teatro
Mexicano, states of the Tratado de la Redondez that Trata de la America: de que la
procedi el deseo de predicar los Barbaros del Nuevo Mxico, que logr, aunque no
pudo discernir, si realmente en espiritu (Len Pinelo 612). As we will see in the next
chapter, it would seem that the author of this entry makes explicit the relationship
between Sor Mara as an author and as a mystical missionary. Later in the same
bibliography, under the additions to the section on the history of New Mexico, Len
Pinelo adds another citation for Sor Mara in the Carta de su Nueva Misin en el Nuevo
Mxico (Len Pinelo 916)- a reference to the Tanto. These two bibliographic entries
are fascinating because they illustrate the close proximity between her writing and her
travels, the juxtaposition between what she writes, the texts that were printed and read in
Mexico and their seamless relationship to the Lady in Blue who visited the brbaros of
New Mexico. Although I cant be sure that Chapter 4 of the Redondez does mention
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explicitly that she traveled to New Mexico, from the chapters I have seen, the section that
pertains to America does not mention New Mexico explicitly, nor does it mention her
questioning whether she traveled in body or in spirit. Those elements, it would seem,
derive from other sources (likely her vita) but are linked to her writing.
The second example of the intersection between Sor Maras literary legacy and
her very real presence as the Lady in Blue in the northern frontiers of Mexico is viewable
with the naked eye. The faade of the Santa Mara de la Pursima Concepcin del Agua
Mission at Landa in the Sierra Gorda is a masterful combination of theology and mission
work. This mission church, thought to have been completed in 1768, was one of five
constructed in the region under the supervision of the Franciscan friars from the College
of San Fernando in Mexico City, an outlet of the College of Quertaro. Under the
leadership of Fray Junpero Serra, the towns of Jalpan, Tilaco, Conc, Tancoyol and
Landa each had mission churches of remarkable architectural beauty completed by the
mid-to late- 18th century. Although it is unclear who designed and supervised the
construction of the Landa church (thought both Serra and Fray Miguel de la Campa
influenced its development), one of its unique and highly commented elements is its
faade, prominently featuring Sor Mara de Agreda (Gmez Mont 81-2).
She is placed centrally over the church entry; opposite and seated facing her is
Duns Scotus, whose writings were preserved at the library of Santo Domingo. Each sits
at a covered table, pen in hand, resting just about the Virgin Mary and flanking the
bottom sections of the octagonal window over the churchs entry. Scotus was a popular
theologian among the Franciscans for his defense of the Immaculate Conception
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theology; at Landa, he also appears in the arched ceiling of the church, poised to defend
the Immaculate Conception through his writing. But, why does Sor Mara figure into the
faade of a mission created of by the Franciscan fathers of San Fernando? Sor Mara
hadnt been canonized, was not a doctor of Church, and was not as widely popular a
figure as the Mexican bishop Juan de Palafox or the Virgin of Guadalupe. How or why
does she arrive at Landa? Or on the faade of the mission church at Zacatecas, which
also features Scotus and Sor Mara (Faade of Zacatecas church)? Or, for that matter,
at the Convento de Ozumba in Mexico City, where a similar image depicting Scotus and
Sor Mara is located (Sor Mara and Duns Scotus). The answer lies in the popularity of
her writings in Mexico.
To explain this surprising appearance, historian Monique Gustin suggests that the
idea of juxtaposing the two figures arises from the cover of one of the printings of the
MCD. In this image, Scotus is on the left, Agreda on the right, San Juan in the middle,
with the Virgin of the Immaculate Conception and the City of God suspended above all
three writers, who are looking up in contemplation as they write. The layout for the
faade is quite similar, minus San Juan and the City of God, and maintains the allusions
writing and to the Immaculate Conception (as per the churchs title and principal theme).
It does appear that the design for this element of the faade derives directly from, or at
the very least refers to, Agredas writing.
Gustin also suggest that the unusual incorporation of the Virgin of Pilar in the
faade at Jalpan is a reference taken from the MCD, as the Virgins bilocation to Spain
while Santiago (Saint James the Greater) was carrying out conversions there is discussed
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extensively in the MCD (Gustin 146-147). (Interestingly, the Virgin of Pilar and the
Virgin of Guadalupe are both featured in this mission faade- the Virgin patronesses of
both continents.) Thought this more subtle presence in also notable (to say nothing of the
juxtaposition of Marian images), the most remarkable aspect is how the Franciscan friars
left a physical representation/recollection of her in the architecture that indicated their
familiarity with and dedication to her writing. At the same time, friars such as Junpero
Serra and Francisco Palu display in their writings a cognizance of and belief in her
mystical visits to their missionary areas. We will take a closer look at the shape of this
belief and how it is inscribed in the next chapter, but for the time being, I will quote
Serras biographer Palu who affirms Sor Mara as a compatriot in the missionary work
he shared with Serra. In discussing his own decision to become a missionary of
Propaganda Fide, Palu states:
This is a joy so great that in the mind of the Venerable Mother Agreda it is
the envy of the blessed as this Servant of God wrote to the missionaries of
my Seraphic Order, who were laboring for the conversion of the pagans in
the Custody of New Mexico. I shall reproduce her letter at the end of this
book if space permits. (Palu, Palus Life 292)
Palu is referring, of course, to the Tanto, in which Sor Mara not only wrote in support
of the friars mission labor system, but also confirms her presence among native tribes of
New Mexico. The awareness of the Lady in Blue, to say nothing of the view of her as a
fellow missionary, who predated Serra and Palu , coexists with an appreciation for her
as a mystical writer.

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Sor Maras writing presents a vital bridge between her and the missions of the
Americas; through her works, she traveled literally (and literarily) from one continent to
another. As we have seen in this chapter, her texts were printed and read throughout
Mexico, establishing her spiritual literary presence there. Although it does seem that in
some cases Sor Mara is known only as a writer, frequently those who recognize her as
the Lady in Blue also acknowledge her as a writer. The portrait of Sor Mara above, held
at the Museo Nacional del Virreinato in Tepozotln, sums up this chapter (Sor Mara
depicted as writer and missionary). The image is of Sor Mara as an author, wearing a
blue mantle and standing with quill in hand, poised to write in the book she holds; a
ribbon of words above her startlingly reads: La V.M. Mara de Jesus, De Edad 20 Aos
Y De Esta Predico A Los Yndios De El Nuevo Mexico. In one image, writer and
missionary are joined. As this portrait and chapter illustrate, the Lady in Blue is often
shadowed by the writing of the historical Sor Mara; the former is almost always
supported, sustained and grounded in the latter.

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Dar primero un sucinto diseo del principio

de su admirable vida con el cual se les d as
el ascenso debido como que sirvan de
estmulo, celo y fervor a los operarios
evanglicos y entran a sacrificar sus vidas en
al conversin de tantas y tan innumerables
gentilidades.
-Juan Mateo Manje,
Luz de Tierra Incgnita, 183
Mientras ms la [Sor Mara] lea, ms la
crea arraigada en la realidad del Mxico
colonial. Tanto, que ni por un solo
momento la sospech ajena.
- Rima de Valbona, El legado de la
Venerable Mara de Jess de Agreda, 38

Chapter 4
In what was the dining room of the St. Katharines Indian School in Santa Fe,
New Mexico, in the near-complete darkness of the abandoned building, an unexpected,
contemporary rendering of the colonial presence of the Lady in Blue emerges from the
adobe walls. Artist Edward OBrien painted a mural, an artistic spiritual meditation on
Catholicism in the Americas, in the late 1960s or early 1970s, as part of his Our Lady
of the Americas mural series (OBrien Our Lady of the Americas). Two other murals,
one in Pecos, New Mexico and another in Espaola, New Mexico, fill out the triptych of
murals, each of which centrally features the Virgin of Guadalupe. Though we will
examine this mural in greater depth in Chapter 6, for the moment, Id like to focus on an

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element of the mural that elegantly reflects the role Sor Mara and the Lady in Blue
played in the landscape and history of colonial northern New Spain.
OBriens mural covers the entire long wall of the room, which has a fireplace at
its center. Above the fireplaces mantel sits the Virgin of Guadalupe, the point of focus
for all the other figures in the mural. She in flanked on her left by figures from the
history of the Spanish Catholic conquest in South America, including Hernn Corts,
Cristbal Coln, Doa Marina, and a miniaturized version of Guadalupes apparition to
Juan Diego and Bishop Zumrraga. On her right, figures from the Catholic tradition in
the United States, including Kateri Tekawitha, St. Katharine Drexel, and representations
of numerous tribes and pueblos catechized Catholic missionary friars are arranged. In
addition to these historical figures, OBrien included not only two of the best-known
missionaries to the southwestern United States, Fray Junpero Serra, O.P., and Fray
Eusebio Kino, S.J., but also Sor Mara de Agreda as the Lady in Blue.
The two friars are surrounded by representations of the missions they created and
the geographies they occupied. What appears to be Arizona mission churches,
surrounded by cactus, lie behind Serras head, and under Kinos chin, another mission
springs out of the desert landscape. Above them, a large cross divides the section on the
southwest from the fleur-de-lis and trees of Kateri Tekawitha and the French missionaries
of the northeast. The two friars heads are staggered, Serras tonsure below and to the
right of Kinos black hat, and they both intently gaze along the same line at the Virgin of
Guadalupe. Their shared steady gaze, however, passes over the peninsula of Baja
California and straight through the bilocating Sor Mara. In an powerful, succinct
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representation of the nuns mystical travel, Sor Maras profile, eyes open, is
superimposed on half of her full-frontal face, eyes closed. OBriens illustration gives
the forceful impression that she is fully present in two places at once, and the friars
behold her dual presence. Though the friars are ultimately fixed on the Virgin of
Guadalupe, they literally see her via Mara de Agreda in the moment that she is the Lady
in Blue.
If I might be allowed a moment of allegory, Id propose reading this mural as a
metaphor for the inscription of the Lady in Blue/Sor Mara in the history and landscape
of the northern Mexico. Kino and Serra, who knew both of Sor Mara, her writings and
her bilocations, discuss her in the context of their respective missionizing expeditions to
the region. Though in fact Serra seems to have been far more devoted to writings and
mission work of Sor Mara than Kino himself (the basis for which we will discuss later),
both found Sor Mara in the conversion of the indigenous people they encountered to
Catholicism- a process embodied by Virgin of Guadalupe herself.
Qualification of Texts and Contexts
However, before I take this flight of fancy too far, pressing this metaphor in
excess of what it can sincerely encompass, I would like to acknowledge the Native
American side of secular and religious colonization. Although I recount in this chapter
the views of many religious and secular explorers towards the objects of their
colonization (i.e., Native Americans, their traditions and practices, and the lands they
inhabited), I do not in any way wish to give the impression that I share their viewpoint,
nor that I read their thoughts and interpretations regarding these peoples to be accurate, or
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even remotely reflective of indigenous reality. As noted by critics such as Steven

Greenblatt and Sylvia Molloy, colonial writers write about their own experiences,
referencing the (frequently European) contexts with which they are most familiar, and not
that which surrounds them. Their writings speak more to who they are and who they are
writing for than to their actual environs, and its inhabitants and dynamics.
In this chapter, I consider many histories and accounts that are fundamentally
reflective of the colonizing gaze, as these texts tend to both describe Sor Mara and that
place the Lady in Blue in the context of the nuns writing and life. In the words of my
dissertation advisor, Sor Mara (at least in the 17th and 18thcenturies) is the archcolonizer. Although her story pertains directly to and is intimately involved with the
native populations of northern Mexico, in its colonial manifestation it says more about
the colonizers than the colonized. Many of the accounts pertaining to the Lady in Blue
are legitimized or derive their significance from accounts that are presented as Native
American legends or practices, as in the cases of the California friars, Fray Damin
Manzanet, Fray Benavides and Juan Mateo Manje. In these three cases, witnesses report
the actions or words of Native Americans, and present what their evidence for the Lady
in Blue in those regions. Thus, whatever native versions of these accounts that might
have existed are always mediated, seen through the eyes of, and interpreted by Spanish
colonizers. In addition, as far as I have been able to discern, there is no indigenous
counter-narrative to complement the Spanish accounts; for as much as I wish that there
were a voces de los vencidos, I have been unable to find anything analogous. As we
shall see in the next chapter, however, folklore pertaining to the Lady in Blue does have
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indigenous variations. In the case of the narratives colonial manifestations, I feel that it
is impossible to accurately render the Native American voice regarding the topic, if
indeed there is one.
Which brings us to another point regarding the contextualization of the Lady in
Blue narrative; namely, the historical moment in which this legend and the people who
recount it participated. This narrative unfolded in the context of violence against and
exploitation of native peoples. Though it seems obvious to say, it bears repeating that
most of the chroniclers of the Lady in Blue actively acted as agents of the duallyreinforcing projects of conversion and colonization. What the people who write these
histories did was always disruptive, often violent, and there is no doubt that their actions
had grave ramifications on the cultures and peoples with which they came into contact.
Though I do not wish to divorce the actions of the friars and conquistadores from
their texts, in my analysis I do focus narrowly on what is claimed by observers regarding
the Lady in Blue. As this dissertation intends to chronicle and comment on the
development of the Lady in Blue narrative, I maintain my focus rather narrowly on her
story, who tells it, when, and where. And the Spanish-language voices, regardless of the
activities they were engaged in, are those that recorded the narrative in print. For this
reason, this chapter centers on Spanish and Mexican accounts and how they locate and
describe the Lady in Blue, rather than problematizing what the friars or Spanish
authorities are actually doing in the region at the time. In the conclusion of this
dissertation, I will propose some ideas as to why the Lady in Blue is recalled in this
particular context of brutal and intimate contact between cultures (which occurred for
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European explorers at the very edge of the unknown). For the moment, I simply wish to
acknowledge that she emerges during a period of intense violence and conflict, that her
story is recounted contemporaneously by those who are doing the conquering, and that,
as a result, I concentrate this study on those accounts and others that are similar in nature.
Sor Mara and the Lady in Blue in the Landscape
In this chapter I will demonstrate that the Lady in Blue became deeply inscribed
in the landscape and history of colonial Mexico, specifically that of its northern frontier.
I will also discuss the various means (accounts, histories, etc.) by which this inscription
occurred. Far from a historical aberration, or figure of fleeting interest, the Lady in Blue
becomes part of what I call the known history of the region. The Lady in Blue was a
widely-recognized figure whose narrative contributed to the human geography and rich
historical texture of the northern frontier. This renown was sustained by the deep roots of
her literary presence in the region, discussed in Chapter 3.
Through a variety of texts and references, I will examine how Sor Mara/the Lady
in Blue is viewed and depicted as a real, significant actor in the history of the region.
Religious chroniclers and secular historians alike wrote about the Lady in Blue in the
context of northern frontier history, including her alongside living historical figures such
as Juan de Oate and Fray Antonio Margil de Jess. Based on particular texts that
discuss the Lady in Blue and her evangelizing role in the northern region, it seems that
the dissemination of her narrative is intimately linked with the Colleges of Propaganda
Fide in Quertaro, Zacatecas and Mexico City (College of San Fernando). The beliefs
and actions of its friars, Franciscans sent to create and administer the missions of Texas,
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Arizona, New Mexico, California and the Sierra Gorda, were fundamental in situating the
Lady in Blue firmly within the region, as much for the ways they positioned her in the
region, as for they ways they related to her presence and influence there.
Others not directly associated with Propaganda Fide, such as Jesuit fathers
Eusebio Kino, and Fray Luis Velarde, and their lieutenant Juan Mateo Manje, also
present histories that directly place Sor Mara in the history of Pimera Alta. And in
addition to the narratives that establish her historical precedent in the northern Mexico
borderlands, other historical documents repeat or add to these earlier histories,
participating in the creation of a collective memory by recounting her narrative in other
contexts. Lets begin with Texas, California, and the Franciscan friars of Propaganda
Fide from the convents of Quertaro, Zacatecas and San Fernando (Mexico City).
Posterior to the popularization of Fray Alonso de Benavides 1630 Memorial, the
idea that the region and its inhabitants were marked by the presence of someone was
prevalent, as the 1686 royal cdula for the Descubrimiento de la Baha del Espritu
Santo (Real Cdula 52) (modern-day Matagorda Bay) amply demonstrates. The cdula,
directed to the governor of San Agustin de la Florida, Don Juan Mrquez Cabrera, refers
to an earlier cdula regarding exploration and the French threat in the region. The
cdulas intent is to explain how possessing the Baha would allow the Spanish to
circumvent the dangerous regions between Mexico, and Quivira/Tagayo, as the latter
promised gold and silver. To this end, the cdula defines the area of Quivira/Tagayo- not
only by its distance in leagues from the New Mexican missions, but also by what had
already happened there: lleg tambin aquella Voz de las Conversiones al reyno de
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quibira y al de los ayjoas [] y que enviaron sus embajadores a los Religiosos para que
fuesen all tambin a ensearlos y bautizarlos (Real Cdula 53). Not only had la voz
de las conversiones already been to Quivira (and the friars, later, tambin), her
presence there is part of the geographical characterization of Quivira.
Though it later mentions that establishing a presence in the Baha would facilitate
missionary work in Quivira/Tagayo (para que se consiga [] la conversin de sus
naturales a nuestra Santa Fe Catlica) (Real Cdula 55), the tone of the document is
clearly secular and political, in spite of the fact that it partially derives from Fray
Benavides 1630 Memorial. There would thus seem to be even less reason to include
aquella voz de la conversin, except that, as I above proposed, la voz was already so
associated with that region that a designation of the area would call for her mention.
Since the cdula draws from the 1630 Memorial, it cannot refer to Sor Mara specifically,
but it does give us a sense of the Lady in Blue and how she was developing ever more
into part of the landscape when the Franciscan friars of Propaganda Fide arrived in the
northern Mexican frontier.
Other documents that predate or are contemporary to the presence of Propaganda
Fide in Texas also seem to suggest a more diffuse conceptualization of La Voz de la
Conversin in the region. Alonso de Lens own account of the 1689 expedition to
Texas, comments of the tribes there that that they perform many Christian rites, and the
governor asked us for missionaries to instruct them, saying that many years ago a woman
went inland to instruct them, but that she had not been there for a very long time
(Donahue 310). Another source (1668) from around the San Augustine mission in West
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Texas alluded to a similar visitation, as a group of indigenous people from around the
Pecos River visited the mission and requested that priests be sent to them, A woman had
visited their people many years before, and had made known to them the life and
doctrines of Jesus Christ; her visits to them had been many, and it was she who had told
them to come to the missionaries. Where she had lived, how she came, they did not
know (Donohue 311). While it would be difficult to discern whether the authors of
these texts were referring explicitly to Sor Maras bilocations to area or not, they are still
in dialogue with and reference the account of a lone woman proselytizing the tribes of
Texas, and inducing them to seek out baptism- the narrative presented in Fray Benavides
1630 Memorial. The history and landscape of Texas showed indications of being marked
by the Lady in Blue.
The Colleges of Propaganda Fide
But why focus in particular on Propaganda Fide? As I alluded to in the previous
chapter and will demonstrate in this section, its missionary friars had particular contact
with Sor Mara not only through her writings, but through her manifestation as the Lady
in Blue in the regions they worked as missionaries. Franciscan chronicles repeatedly
demonstrate that the friars read her work, and occasionally considered her a co-worker in
their labor of conversion. To this end, we will also briefly examine the establishment of
the College of Propaganda Fide, a process facilitated and approved by the author of Sor
Maras vita, Fray Joseph Ximnez Samaniego. But lets start at the beginning, taking a
look at one of the earliest and most frequently-cited narratives, definitively placing the
Sor Maria as the Lady in Blue among the Tejas.
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Fray Damin Manzanet, one of the original twenty four missionaries from Spain
who established the missionary college in Quertaro, became a missionary to the Texas
borderlands as early as 1689, when he first accompanied governor Alonso de Len on his
expedition to the region. After establishing the San Francisco de los Tejas Mission in
1690, he continued to work in the region until 1693, when he and the others who
remained abandoned the mission and returned to Quertaro. At the conclusion of a letter
he wrote to Mexican intellectual Carlos Sigenza y Gngora (1689), describing the
Descubrimiento de la baya del Espritu santo y Ro de los Tejas, he relates what he
observed among the Tejas vis--vis the Lady in Blue.
Namely, the governor of the Tejas requested a piece of vayetta aul para
mortaja y enterrar a Su Madre, cuando muriese (Manzanet 279); when offered a piece of
pao instead, the governor insisted on blue fabric. When Manzanet asked que
misterio tena el color aul (Manzanet 279), the governor told him that they preferred to
bury people in blue because en otro tiempo los yba ha uer una Mujer mui hermosa la
Qual bajaua De lo alto Y dha Mujer Yba bestida de aul y que ellso queran ser como dha
mujer (Manzanet 279-80). When asked how long ago it was that the woman had visited
the tribe, Manzanet was told that it wasnt during the governors lifetime, but that su
Madre que era bieja la hauia bisto y los demas viejos (Manzanet 280). As the tribe
collectively participated in this commemorative tradition, and as Manzanets estimation
of the governors mothers age corresponded with the period of Sor Maras travels, he
concludes: se ve claramente fue la Madre, Maria de Jess de agreda la qual estubo en
aquellas tierras (Manzanet 280). Manzanet continues, correlating Sor Maras account,
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as dictated Fray Benavides, with the tradition and history of the Tejas that he has
observed.
As far as the narrative of the Lady in Blue in Texas goes, this is a fundamental
account, for, as in Fray Benavides Memoriales, the accounts of the Kino/Manje
expedition and others, it locates her definitively by describing events and traditions that
are consistent with the written accounts of her travel. Manzanets narrative will later be
retold and intertwined with folk beliefs as well; in its time, however, it simply presented a
definite stand on Sor Maras mission work as a conclusion to a letter to one of Mexicos
greatest colonial-era intellectuals. The beginning of the letter, however, suggest further
insight into how Manzanet, and other friars of the missionary college, became aware of
the literature surrounding Sor Mara.
Manzanet states at the beginning of the letter that when he began to explore the
Baha del Espritu Santo he was living as Misin Caldera, and that:
hauia ydo ya con ynttenzion de ver si podia desCubrir y ttener alg[una]
[255] Noticia de la thierra adentro haia el norte Y nordeste por las
noticias que ttenia de una carta que para en mi poder lo qual dieron a en
Madrid a nro Padre frai Antonio linza la cual carta hace menion de de lo
que la Beata Madre Maria de Jhs. de agreda comunico en su Conbento al
Padre, Custodio del nuevo Mxico, Fray Alonso de Benauides (Manzanet
254-255).
Manzanet claims to have been sent to the area at least in part to determine what might
have been heard there about Sor Mara, based on a letter that Manzanet received via the
director of Propaganda Fide at Quertaro, Fray Antonio Llinz. Llinz, in turn, had been
given the letter while in Madrid. It seems likely, given the fact that Manzanet mentions
that that document is a letter, that the letter involves a conversation between Sor Mara
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and Fray Benavides specifying conversion among tribes in the Texas region, that
Manzanet is referring to the Tanto. However, as far as the friars of Propaganda Fide and
their collective interest in Sor Mara as a missionary go, it bears taking a quick look at
how the father general of the College of Propaganda Fide could have acquired such a
letter while in Spain in the first place.
Although Colleges for the Propagation of the Faith had previously been
established in Portugal, (Abaro 293-300), it was Fray Antonio Llinz, a native
Mallorcan who had been a lector in Michoacn for fifteen years (McCloskey 15), and had
been selected to participate in the general chapter meeting of the Franciscan Order in
Spain in 1679 (Carreno 297), who seems to have got the ball rolling for such efforts in
the Americas. In Madrid in 1681, Llinz presented his idea of sending 12 missionaries
(including himself) to the northern frontier regions to the then-Minister General of the
Franciscan Order, Fray Joseph Ximnez Samaniego, Sor Maras biographer, and editor
responsible for the post-mortem publication of her MCD. Ximnez Samaniego
considered Llinz request and then denied it, because it must be expected that the time
will without a doubt come when all eleven have died. Then the life of those tender
spiritual plants will falter and die (Carreno 298). Instead, Ximnez Samaniego ordered
the founding of a missionary college in the most convenient place and in the vicinity of
those pagan peoples whose conversion is proposed (Carreno 298) to ensure that the
missionary endeavor in the area would endure. As Franciscan historian Alberto Maria
Carreno comments in his article The Missionary Influence of the College of Zacatecas
(299), the establishment of the College of Propaganda Fide at Quertaro (and later at
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Zacatecas, San Fernando and Guatemala) was ultimately a joint effort between Fray
Joseph Ximnez Samaniego and Fray Antonio Llinz (Carreno 299), occasioned by the
latters visit to Madrid in 1681. Quertaro was the third College of Propaganda Fide
shepherded by Ximnez Samaniego, and el primero de los de Propaganda Fide con
destino directo a la conversin de los infieles (Abarro 306).
McCloskey links this latter objective to Ximnez Samaniegos awareness of Sor
Maras work: The Congregation of the Propagation of the Faith and the Spanish Crown
appear to have been rather dissatisfied with the fact that that Franciscan missions of New
Spain made no suitable progress for forty years; while Samaniegos association with
Mary of Agreda must have made him keenly aware of the work to be done (McCloskey
22-23). Though I have found no documentation indicating that Ximnez Samaniegos
motive for establishing the College of Quertaro was influenced by Sor Maras writing,
the friar was undoubtedly a dedicated supported and promoter of her writings in general,
particularly the MCD. Abarro comments that Ximnez Samaniego was complicado
personalmente (Abarro 326) in the question of recognition of the MCD by the church.
When the text was condemned by the Roman Inquisition without having yet been sent to
Rome nor published in Italian (Abarro 326), Ximnez Samaniego appealed directly to
King Carlos II, asking him to petition Rome and the other nobility to have the decree
revoked. It was eventually revoked in Spain and in Portugal, and as Ximnez
Samaniegos colleague Fray Juan de Torres died, todo el negocio de la V. Madre Agreda
qued sobre los hombros del P. Samaniego (Abarro 327). Though he did eventually
distance himself from the active promotion of Sor Maras works, due to Ximnez
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Samaniegos intervention and efforts on her behalf, the Supremo Consejo de la

Inquisicin de Espaa issued an approbation of the MCD in 1686. The friar did write
her vita (based in part on Sor Maras own writings on the topic), and was therefore
aware of the narrative of bilocation and missionization of the region of Quivira contained
therein (Abarro 373). Ximnez Samaniegos efforts seeking the institutional support of
Sor Maras writings began with his assignation as her biographer and editor by the
Franciscan order, and extends beyond his tenure as Ministerio General of the Franciscans
(1678-1681), when he met with Fray Antonio Llinz and provided a cdula for the
Colleges founding.
Though it is possible that, given Ximnez Samaniegos active role in the
composition and promotion of Sor Maras work, he might have relayed a copy of the
Tanto to Fray Antonio Llinz prior to his departure to the missionary field, it is by no
means certain. Manzanet does state that Llinz brought the letter with him from Madrid,
and Llinz left Madrid directly with the cdula from Ximnez Samaniego to recruit
priests; the unit of friars traveled from Spain to Mexico, and settled in Quertaro in 1683.
Llinz appears to have personally recruited friars from Catalua, Valencia and Murcia
(McCloskey 24), and it would be very difficult to determine how many times he returned
to Madrid and could have been offered the document Manzanet refers to. Again, I offer
Ximnez Samaniego as a possible, but by no means certain source. However, from
whomever Llinz received the letter, the connection between the northern frontier
missionary field (and those sent to administer to it) and the writing of Sor Mara had been

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explicitly forged by the time the friars of Propaganda Fide were establishing their
missions in the regions described by Sor Mara.
Espinosas Chrnica Apostlica
The College of Propaganda Fide of Quertaros best known cronista, Fray Isidro
Flix de Espinosa, also noted the relationship between Ximnez Samaniego and Sor
Mara in his history on the early years of the College and on its founders. Espinosas
Chrnica apostlica, y serphica de todos los Colegios de Propaganda Fide de esta
Nueva-Espaa also highlights Ximnez Samaniegos dual roles as Minister General and
as author of Sor Maras vita in discussing the friars role in establishing the College. In
regards to Ximnez Samaniegos role in the MCDs publication, Espinosa comments that
la edicin [del MCD] fue encargada al P. Samaniego en 1668 y sali a la luz en 1670,
procedida del citado prlogo galeato, que se ha incluido despus en todas las ediciones
posteriores (Espinosa 284). In regards to the founding of the missionary colleges
themselves, Espinosa comments that Ximnez Samaniego jug papel principalsimo en
la institucin de los Colegios apostlicos de misiones, segn iremos viendo (Espinosa
284). Espinosa emphasizes Ximnez Samaniegos wisdom in mystical matters as well,
offering that [su] circunspeccin en materias msticas es notoria, y con luces meridianas
lo da a conocer el Prlogo Galeato prefijo en las Obras de la V. M. Mara de Jess de
Agreda (Espinosa 282). Thus even in the earliest histories of the College, Ximnez
Samaniego is both the lynchpin for the establishment of the College and the
collaborator/defender of Sor Mara.

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But Espinosas Chrnica offers even further insight into the way the original
friars individually interacted with Sor Mara. Through his numerous subtle references to
her in the descriptions of the friars lives, a pattern emerges that underlines the degree to
which Sor Mara entered into the day-to-day lives of these religious men and,
contextualized and underpinned their experiences as missionaries. Espinosa also reveals
his own familiarity with Agredan themes and representations, particularly as they
pertained to the missionary field. At the opening of his description of the life of Fray
Melchior Lpez, Espinosa introduces the founding friar as an rbol racional on account
of his penitente vida (Espinosa 529). The image Espinosa feels captures the friars
sensibility is una cruz bien formada a manos de su penitencia y mortificacin (Espinosa
529), and he conjures up the image of Fray Lpez with a bculo (crosier) in his right
hand, and a small stick in his left, como llevaban los Apstoles en sus caminos, segn
refiere la V.M. Mara de Jess de Agreda (Espinosa 529). Espinosa derives his concept
for the figure of the apostle, applying it to one of the founding members of the College,
from Sor Maras revelations. In Espinosas history, the missionary apostle is cast into a
figure that Espinosa recognizes as originating with Sor Mara.
Devotion to Sor Maras writing and the practices detailed in them are featured in
Espinosas portrayal of the lives of founding friars Francisco Casaas de Jess Mara and
Francisco Frutos. In the case of protomrtir Fray Casaas de Jess Mara, it is unclear
whether the reference to Sor Mara originates from Espinosa or if the friar intentionally
imitated her spiritual practices:

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Tena tiempos algunos das que dedicaba a hacer ejercicios semejantes a

los de la V. M. Mara de Jess de Agreda, especialmente el de la muerte,
en cuya profunda meditacin se consideraba como la cerca de los ltimos
lances de la vida, y se dispona como si acabado aquel ejercicio hubiesse
de partir su alma a la eternidad (Espinosa 466)
In the case of Fray Frutos (whose name Espinosa plays with in the title Vida Fructosa
del Apostlico y Venerable P. Fr. Francisco Frutos (Espinosa 506)), the friars
dedication to Sor Maras writing and the practices therein is quite clear: En la leccin
de libros sagrados se ocupaba todos los ratos que poda cercenar de las obligaciones de su
ministerio, y stos eran los de la Mstica Ciudad de Dios, las obras de la Mstica Doctora
Santa Teresa de Jess, el libro de oro de San Juan de la Cruz (Espinosa 506). Fray
Frutos, a close associate of the Jesuits in Quertaro, was also Espinosas teacher and
mentor.
Indeed, Espinosa was present when Fray Frutos passed away, and he inserts
himself into the narrative about his maestros death. After confessing to Fray Antonio
Margil de Jess, Fray Frutos requests a particular favor from Espinosa:
me mandaba que en un librito escrito de mano, donde tena trasladadas las
doctrinas que dio Mara Santsima a su sierva la Venerable Mara de Jess
de Agreda, le leyesse una, puesto de rodillas; y luego que la acababa, me
mandaba lo dejasse solo y no dejasse entrar persona alguna a la celda
hasta que l me llamasse. Quedbase en este tiempo en oracin, rumiando
lo que haba odo en la doctrina (Espinosa 518)
For the next fifteen days prior to his death, Fray Frutos repeta muchas veces esta
diligencia (Espinosa 518), meditating on the Marian revelations penned by Sor Mara.
As the MCD was earlier associated with Fray Frutos (as are the writings of Maria la

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Antigua), it seems a likely candidate what Espinosa was reading him, and which he
contemplated.
Another founding friar of Propaganda Fide in Quertaro (and in Zacatecas and
Guatemala for that matter) who was an avid reader of Sor Mara was Fray Antonio
Margil de Jess. The first book of 18th-century Franciscan chronist Fray Juan Domingo
Arricivitas Crnica apostlica y serfica del colegio de Propaganda Fide de la Santa
Cruz de Quertaro en al Nueva Espaa dedicada al santsimo patriarca el seor San
Joseph (1792) (printed alongside Espinosas Crnica apostlica) is a summary biography
of Fray Margils life, drawing on others histories (including Espinosas) of the famed
missionary. Arricivita, writing in support of the case for Margils sainthood,
demonstrates the devotion the founding father of the College of Zacatecas and the Texas
missions had for Sor Mara and for her writing.
When called to direct the college of Quertaro, Margil establishes an unusual
routine of prayer and confession with another friar, Fray Antonio de los Angeles during
which they would begin each session by reading a lesson from the Venerable Madre
Agreda (Arrcivita 70). Once president of the college of Zacatecas, Fray Margil
personally continued to practice the precepts set forth in Sor Maras writing: To imitate
Mary, as he did Jesus, he took special care in observing the doctrines, which in the
Mstica Ciudad de Dios unravel the excellence of their virtues, with which he also
aroused souls to emulate them (Arricivita 171). Indeed, Fray Margil did more than
arouse other souls to emulate, as the Virgin was elected as the Colleges principal prelate
(in conformance with the most pious circumstances that are read in the Venerable
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Mother Mara de Jess (Arricivita 171)), and the other friars of the community began to
observe Sor Maras practices as well: whose imitations they all embraced happily
(Arricivita 171). Another source, cited in Lzaro Lamadrids 1951 article on a collection
of Margils letters at Guatemalas Archivo de la Recoleccin, features Fray Margils
undated letter of spiritual consolation to an unknown recipient. In it, the friar quotes
extensively from the MCD in advising his addressee, adding in the margin of the letter
Ojo aqu before the section citing Sor Mara (Lamadrid 347). It seems that Margil was
not only personally interested in Sor Maras writings, but encouraged (and instated)
practices that actively employed her teachings as well.
In book two of his Crnica, Arricivita similarly describes how Fray Margils
confession and meditation partner, Fray Miguel Antonio de los Angeles (Arricivita 335),
was also a devotee of Sor Maras teachings. Although not a founding member of the
College, Fray Antonio de los Angeles, a Santander native (Arricivita 315), professed in it
in 1690 (Arricivita 326). Arricivita reiterates the nightly prayer practice Fray Margil and
Fray Antonio de los Angeles shared for the four years the former was prelate of the
College: At eleven in the evening he [Fray Margil] would call me. We read the doctrine
of Mother Agreda. He would sit as if my teacher, and I would confess my sins
(Arricivita 353).
In the chapter describing how Fray Antonio de los Angeles prepared for his death
after years of charity and Marian devotion, the consistency of his devotion to Sor Mara is
revealed: He respected the Divine Lady [Mary] as a teacher, and every day he read with
profound meditation some one of the teachings that she gave the Venerable Mother
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Agreda (Arricivita 381). As his death draws closer, Fray Antonio de los Angeles, like
Fray Frutos, meditates on and prepares for death by following the guidelines prescribed
by Sor Mara: [he] reflected on its [deaths] agony and prepared himself with particular
care of it, using the same exercises that the Venerable Mother Agreda had practiced
(Arricivita 383). In discussing Fray Antonio de los Angeles personal spiritual practices,
Sor Mara again emerges as a consistent presence: This earnest devotion induced him to
ask for permission to go into retirement for ten days in order [] to reawaken his spirit in
the exercises arranged by the Venerable Mother Agreda. In these, he centered his
attention in learning how to die well (Arricivita 364). Indeed, Fray Antonios overall
spiritual life is couched within the context of Agredan texts: This was what illuminated
his soul [] for he follows the footsteps of the Almighty and His Most Holy Mother
through the history of the Venerable Mother Agreda (Arricivita 362).
Texts outside of the religious context
Although the preceding examples could suggest that the friars of Propaganda Fide
were devoted only to Agredan writings (a likely product of her works overall popularity
in colonial Mexico), their interest in Sor Mara goes beyond the literary/spiritual. I
hypothesize, as Manzanets account suggests, that the friars viewed Sor Mara
simultaneously as a spiritual author whose works were worthy of imitation and practice,
and as a missionary presence in the regions they proselytized. Sor Mara was already a
presence within the institution of Propaganda Fide in northern Mexico at the end of the
17th century, but this person exists concurrently with Sor Mara, the mystical missionary.

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One example of the pervasive influence of Sor Mara as a co-missionry can again
be found in Espinosas history, in a section pertaining to Colleges actions in Guatemala.
Espinosa cites a letter sent from Fray Francisco de San Joseph and Fray Pablo Rebullida,
stationed in the region, to the president of Guatemala. The two friars are frustrated with
the secular presence (soldiers and settlers) in the region, stating that although masses of
soldiers might seem to support the endeavor, that Sor Maras advice concerning missions
and settlements (deriving their information form the Tanto) recommends just the
opposite: que es consejo de la V.M. Mara de Jess de Agreda que los soldados para las
conversiones sean pocos y de buen ejemplo [] slo servirn los pocos soldados para
algunos descomedidos (Espinosa 881). They add that their belief that few soldiers are
needed relates to their religious order, and its particular concession for conversion, again
as per Sor Maras in the Tanto: tiene concedido privilegio a N.P. San Francisco para
que todas las naciones se conviertan con slo ver su hbito (Espinosa 881). They finally
suggest that the governor send fewer men to them at the mission. One imagines this
request was in response to the actual difficulties the soldiers might have presented to the
friars in their conversion work, but the fact that they defer to Sor Maras authority on the
issue of mission staffing as a means of explaining their request is surprising.
The friars labor as missionaries corresponded to and correlated with Sor Maras
role as a missionary in other ways as well, as her name was invoked as a landscape
marker in the same region, and among the same people, as the Tanto states she visited. In
1716, a group of friars from Propaganda Fide, including Friars Isidro Flix Espinosa,
Antonio Margil and Francisco Hidalgo, arrived in Texas and established or re-established
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a series of missions in eastern Texas. These missions included: San Francisco de los
Tejas, Nuestra Seora de Guadalupe de los Nacgdoches, Nuestra Seora de los Dolores
de los Ais, San Miguel de los Adaes, Nuestra Seora de los Dolores de los Texas, and
Nuestra Seora de la Purssima Concepcin, the headquarters (Cliz 13) for the friars
from the Quertaro College, under the direction of Fray Espinosa.
Two years later, in response to a perceived French threat to the Texas settlements
and to re-supply the missions and settlers, the Spanish crown sent Martn de Alarcn to
head an expedition to see to those needs. Fray Francisco Cliz, a friar from Coahuila
who served as the partys chaplain (Cliz 2), kept a diary of the 1718-1719 journey. In
Cliz dairy, quite matter-of-factly and without explanation, the friar simply and
repeatedly refers to the indigenous village of La Concepcin de Agreda (Cliz 76),
(and, it is suggested, the mission by association as Concepcin de Agreda) Although
the editorial notes to the diary (Cliz 105) suggest that Alarcn himself renamed the
Hasinai village and mission (which would subsequently change names, to settle on
Concepcin de Acua), there is no particular indication in the diary that this was the
case, nor does Alarcns brief biography allude to a particular Agreda dedication. It is
possible that other documents pertaining to the Alarcn expedition (including the
correspondence of another of the expeditions friars, Fray Olivares) could shed further
light on the question of whether Alarcn himself chose the name.
However, I propose to focus on the reference itself rather than on its origins. As
Fray Cliz casually refers to Concepcin de Agreda, in his text, it would again seem as
though this was the accepted term for the tribal settlement (and the mission). Whether or
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not name Agreda originated with the friars of Propaganda Fide, its common usage does
not seem to be in question; one would imagine this terminology would also have been
adopted by the friars who worked among the tribe and at the mission. The appending of
Agreda to the title Concepcin in the region of the settlement and the mission is
additionally fascinating because it references the Conceptionist theological themes in Sor
Maras writings, while at the same time tying her actual name, not just that of the Lady
in Blue, to the geography and people among which she ministered. Concepcin de
Agreda is a marking of the missionary territories by an explicit attachment of the
Spanish nuns name (and even theological/literary identity) to the geography and people
with whom she shared a mystical missionary relationship.
A final example of the understanding of Sor Mara as a mystical missionary
presence among the friars of Propaganda Fide (one which is surely a single incident of
which more are probable] can be found in the life of Quertaran nun Francisca de los
ngeles (1674-1744). A member of the religious community of Santa Cruz, Francisca
had as her spiritual advisors Fray Francisco Frutos, Fray Damin Manzanet and, to a
much greater extent, Fray Antonio Margil de Jess (among others). As historian Ellen
Gunnarsdttir notes of Franciscans convent:
it was known that the communitys great role model, Madre Mara de
Jess de Agreda, the famed Spanish nun, had experienced such bilocations
to New Mexico between 1620 and 1631. With the help of angels she had
been taken to several faraway kingdoms located beyond hostile lands []
Astutely, Madre Agreda hinted that perhaps her bilocations were simply
owed to Gods awareness of her intense evangelical desires, which had led
Him to allow her to believe they were true (Gunnarsdttir 93-94)

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Gunnarsdottir notes that in Quertaro and in the convent of Santa Cruz in

particular, awareness of the mystical missionization of Sor Mara was widespread.
In fact, Francisca herself began to have similar experiences of bilocation to some
of the same places Sor Mara herself had visited; namely, the areas of the Tejas
tribes, where Fray Manzanet and Fray Margil had traveled and would continue to
travel, the renown of which increased in Quertaro with Fray Manzanets 1690
return from Texas (Gunnarsdttir 91).
In her communication with Fray Margil, Francisca states that her travels to
Texas began before the friars of Propaganda Fide had fist visited there (94), with
Alonso de Len and Fray Manzanet. Her experiences were very similar to Sor
Maras, involving spiritual rapture, an intense desire to participate in the mission
endeavor, and physical travel, and she also was careful in how she represented
them, as she took Madre Agredas tack of diluting her experiences with doubt
and caution (Gunnarsdttir 94). Francisca traveled to New Mexico, visiting
some of the tribes described by Sor Mara and meeting old people who she
claimed had been baptized by Madre Agreda (Gunnarsdttir 96). Francisca did
not claim to herself have baptized the tribes in New Mexico, although she did
administer last rites to an old man who had lapsed into his pagan ways after Sor
Mara baptized him and left (Gunnarsdottir 96).
In writing to Fray Margil in 1699, Francisca outlines what the friar is
likely to find in Texas when he was to travel there to establish missions. Her
knowledge, of course, derives from her experiences of bilocation, and she is able
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to offer advice to Margil regarding the nature of the people he will find and what
their lives are like. In spite of the fact that Margil did not find Francisca
sufficiently humble, the fact that she mystically traveled to exactly the same
places Sor Mara had did not seem to surprise him, nor does he question Sor
Mara as her model and predecessor for her mystical travels. It is rather how
Francisca presents herself and her relationship with God, as well as the continued
development of her soul, that concerns Margil. Sor Mara the mystical
missionary seems to be an acceptable (and comprehensible) example for
Francisca.
This not only indicates the awareness of Margil and Manzanet of Sor
Mara as the Lady in Blue, but it also indicates that this knowledge extended
beyond the immediate Franciscan missionary community. That, in fact, other
women were aware of Sor Maras actions and, at least in the case of Francisca de
los Angeles, experienced similar episodes and exercised similar capabilities. A
profound knowledge of and devotion to Sor Maras writing, therefore, seems to
co-exist and even perhaps reinforce the presence of the Lady in Blue, even in later
17th-century colonial northern Mexico.
Though we could here discuss the masculinizing missionary impulse
among cloistered women of the epoch, Francisca being an open manifestation and
realization of that desire, we will explore that point at greater length in the
conclusion. But as Francisca de los Angeles herself, her relationship to the friars
of Propaganda Fide, and her missionizing travels to northern Mexico and Texas,
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the influence of Sor Mara de Agreda as a role model is evident. Whether directly
through the instruction and guidance of the friars, or more generally through Sor
Maras renown in the city that was their headquarters, Francisca seems to have
been influenced by Sor Maras mystical mission work, and indeed presents
herself as Sor Maras successor in that endeavor. That Francisca communicates
as much to the friars and her narrative is accepted and disseminated indicates the
degree to which, at that historical moment at least, the legacy of her predecessor
Sor Mara already permeated the landscape.
Junpero Serra, Francisco Palu and the California friars
In keeping with the friars of Propaganda Fide, and their knowledge of and
dedication to Sor Mara de Agreda and the Lady in Blue, let us turn our attention to one
of that organizations most prolific missionaries: Fray Junpero Serra. As OBriens
mural suggests, depicting Serra gazing up at the Lady in Blue, the friar was not only a
devotee of her writing, he also seemed to have viewed her either as a co-missionary, or at
the very least as someone whose revelations regarding his mission work serves as
reasonable justification for their labors. Serra and his companion Fray Francisco Palu,
as well as other missionaries in the California field, place Sor Mara in the California
missionary context with a far more than incidental frequency. Although Serra and Palu
do not directly claim that Agreda traveled to California to convert the tribes there, other
friars contemporaneous to and subsequent to them do. And as we shall see, Sor Mara is
a constant presence and referent in Serra and Palus writing, particularly in regards to
how they view themselves as missionaries to the northern regions.
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Id also like to mention at this point that the case for Sor Maras sainthood was
closed in 1773. Prior to this date, her case was as viable as any other for canonization,
her writing and the claims about her life accepted lacking evidence to the contrary. After
her case was closed by Pope Clement XIV, asserting that she had actually traveled to the
Americas might not have been viewed favorably by church hierarchy. As such, it would
be prudent in most cases not to mention the travel directly, if indeed one did put faith in
that travel. Serra and Palu cite on various occasions (as we saw with Fray Margil in
Chapter 3) Sor Maras exhortation that los Gentiles con solo ver sus hijos se
conviertan nuestra Santa F (Palu Vida 160). This quotation regarding the
missionary work of the friars, and in which so many of them places great faith, is taken
from the Tanto, the document that corroborated Sor Maras mystical travels and is
mostly about them.
I am not sure why neither Serra nor Palu asserts directly Sor Maras travels to
the California region. It could very well be because they didnt believe it was the case.
In the above paragraph, and in this section, it is clear that both friars were familiar with
Agredan writing (in fact were very devoted to it), and incorporate it in significant ways
into their own worldviews, interpretations of what they encounter during the course of
their mission work, and conceptualizations of themselves as missionaries. At times, as
we shall see, Serra and Palu refer so closely to Sor Maras account of travel, and
articulate their belief in episodes that are quite similar, that it seems almost absurd to
suggest that they do not ascribe to it. They certainly do view themselves in the context of
her travels, as agents of the type of missionary work that she outlines in her writing.
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In Palus Relacin histrica [] del Venerable Padre Fray Junpero Serra,

Serras biography written by his longtime companion and apprentice, the life of Junpero
Serra a as a missionary is literally bookended by Sor Maras narrative. In this biography
as well as in Serras letters and diary, Sor Maras presence is palpable. As commented
briefly in Chapter 3, Serra preferred to go shoeless, or wear hemp shoes rather than
sandals, a practice he continued during his time in the Sierra Gorda. Palu states that
Serra practiced this self-ablation in empezando su oficio de la predicacin imitacin de
Jesu Christo de las sandalias, como nos dice la V. Madre Sor Maria de Jesus de Agreda
en su Mstica Ciudad (Palu Vida 290). I earlier used this example to demonstrate the
far-reaching readings of the MCD, but this example also highlights the regard in which
her writing and authority were held by Serra and Palu. Serra demonstrated by his
imitation of practices outlined in the MCD that he placed faith in them, in what Sor Mara
had written. Palu locates this Serra anecdote in the chapter summarizing his virtues,
specifically that of Profunda Humilidad (Palu Vida 290). Palu comments of Seras
humility esta divina doctrina [humility] de tal manera se imprimi en su corazn []
que desde luego propuso en su corazn imitarlo, siguiendo su doctrina en quanto le fuera
posible, ponindola en prctica (Palu Vida 290). The first example Palu gives of
Serras humility is that of the barefoot/hemp-clad Serra ministering in the Sierra Gorda.
Although Palu offers several other anecdotes demonstrating Serras humility, the most
prominent of his examples is founded on the imitation of the behaviors outlined in Sor
Maras writing. The weight given to the practice, and thus to the work, gives foundation
to the argument for Serras humility; without that, the practice lacks context, and thus
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substance. It is also worth nothing, that in going barefoot or wearing hemp sandals in the
Sierra Gorda, Serra transfers the procedures of an unacknowledged European mystic to
the unknown regions of north-central Mexico.
But let us first discuss the nature of the bookending of the Relacin histrica, and
then what it means in terms of Serra and Palus views regarding Sor Mara. In the
Relacins second chapter (Llmalo Dios para Doctor de las Gentes, solicita patente
para Indias, y consiguela. Se embarca para Cdiz y lo que sucedi en el camino), Palu
explains how Serra (and by extension, Palu himself) was called to a life of mission work
in the Americas. Serra asks that si era de Dios dicha vocacin, tocase el corazn
alguno que lo acompaase en la empresa de tan dilatado viage (Palu Vida 7); Palu
finds himself called to follow Serra and join the ranks of Propaganda Fide in the
Americas, a fact he attributes to las oraciones de mi venerado Padre Lector Junpero
(Palu Vida 8). Palu goes on to say that being a missionary in the Americas is a
felicidad tan grande que en sentir de la Venerable Madre es envidiable de los
Bienaventurados (Palu Vida 8). What was Palus source for this assurance,
underpinning and giving meaning to Serra and Palus mission from its very beginning?
In fact, it was reading of Sor Maras comments on the subject in the Tanto: como lo
escribi dicha Sierva de Dios a los misioneros de Nuestra Serfica Religion empleados en
la conversion de los Gentiles de la Custodia del Nuevo Mxico (Palu Vida 8). In other
words, it seems that Serra and Palu believed their specific mission work was of
particular spiritual importance based on what Sor Mara had written on the subject. One
of the ironies here, of course, is that in the Tanto, Benavides writes this section; he claims
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to recount Sor Maras testimony that the native tribes would be converted on sight.
However, as we have seen, most of the Propaganda Fide friars attribute the Tanto to Sor
Mara alone, and thus the role of Fray Benavides as intermediary for Sor Mara is
forgotten entirely.
Palu goes on to say that he will reproduce the letter from Sor Mara in its
entirety lo ltimo si tengo lugar (Palu Vida 8); he does indeed reproduce the entire
letter, the body of which describes her experiences among the tribes of the Custodia. He
also affirms that the letter es bastantemente eficaz para animar todos que vengan al
trabajo de la Via del Seor, (Palu Vida 8) was an influential recruiting tool for future
missionaries to the Americas specifically. Not only does the Tanto encourage the friars
and verify the importance of their work, it also confirma y aprueba el regimen que
acostumbramos en estas Misiones (Palu Vida 8). Palu can state that the mission are
run well and appropriately because Sor Maras text confirms that fact.
There seems to be little ambiguity in Palus treatment of the Tanto in this
section. He references Sor Maras letter (or the document that he considers as a whole to
be Sor Maras letter) as source for mission work in the areas administered by
Propaganda Fide, acknowledging both the influence of the text on the missionaries call to
the Americas, as well as its importance insofar as it confirma y aprueba the institution
of the mission system. While it is true that Palus introduction does not affirm Sor
Maras travels to northern Mexico as the Lady in Blue, is does assert her authority as
someone whose reflections on and knowledge of the missions are eminently respectable,
and in some way authoritative.
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Looking now to the appendix of Palus Relacin, we note that Palu makes good
on his promise to print the Tanto at the end of the life of Serra. There, after the last bit of
argument in favor of Serra, Advertencia al curioso Lector y Ultima Protesta, Palu
reproduces the entire document, from Fray Benavides introduction of Sor Mara and the
narrative of the Lady in Blue (wherein the assurances regarding the instantaneous
conversion of the native tribes can be found), to her statements to the friars in New
Mexico, to Benavides closing words on the matter. In expressing the humility typical of
authors of the genre, Palu expresses his concern that he might have omitted some of
Serras virtues in the course of the Relacin, as Palus demands as Guardian of the
College of San Fernando prevented him from spending further time on it. In spite of his
constraints and preoccupation with having not represented Serra completely, Palu both
forces the text to accommodate, and believes that it is sufficiently important even in the
context of elements of Serras life that were not included in the text, to reprint the entire
Tanto. This placement also offers an ellipticity to the text, as Palus claims in the
introduction as to the importance of the Tanto in Serras life are made manifest in the
conclusion of the work, where the influential document appears.
What did Serras life have to do with Sor Mara de Agreda, and her missions in
the Americas? Outwardly, and without Palu to illustrate, nothing. But by alluding to
and ultimately placing Sor Maras narrative where he does in Serras life, Palu draws
our attention to how she does play into his missionary role, why she was important to the
way he conceived of his orders mission, and the events that he himself witnessed. In the
concluding section of the Relacin, Palu reveals that he was granted permission from his
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superiors to publish the text because they thought that reading it moveria muchos
alistarse para Operaciones de la Via que plant este exemplar Misionero (Palu Vida
327). Perhaps Palu thought that, as the narrative of the Lady in Blue had served to
motivate himself and Serra, it belonged in the biography of Serra for the same reason- to
inspire others as it had inspired him. Of course, the attachment of the Tanto to Serra
biography had the additional effect of further disseminating the narrative of the Lady in
Blue, which rode sidecar to another widely-read text.
Palu does not assert the belief that Sor Mara traveled to northern Mexico. In
addition, both Serra and Palu focus on other specific sections of the Tanto (the
immediate conversion of the tribes, the two Friars mystically sent to the missions, the
mystical transport of objects from Spain to northern Mexico) that do not have anything to
do with the Lady in Blue narrative. We will discuss these specific references below, but
in doing so it is important to keep in mind that the Tantos objective is to relay the Lady
in Blue narrative. Palu believed it was important enough to include in its entirety rather
than in excerpts, or via the citations incorporated into the text. I would again suggest that
the context (the Lady in Blue narrative) is inseparable from the episodes that the friars
Serra and Palu actually cite, whether or not they refer to it explicitly.
This being said, lets take a look at some of the places where Serra and Palu both
discuss Sor Mara and her writing in the context of their mission work. Many of the
friars comments derive in some way from the Tanto, usually indirectly referencing or, as
Geiger suggests, assuming knowledge of, particular passages from it. One such case of
the latter is Serras 1770 letter to Joseph Galvz written from Monterrey, CA during the
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celebration of Corpus Christi. Finding that he lacked the candles needed to light the
ceremony, Serra thought of the one lantern in the ships cabin. Fortunately, and to
everybodys great surprise, the crew opened a box they thought contained medical
supplies and se hallo ser de faroles de vidrio sin esttrenar, de que nadie tena noticia
(Serra, vol. 1 184) instead. This would seem to be simple enough, but the unusual part
about it is that Serra says of the origins of these lamps that si no lo trageron los Angeles
al menos a nosottros se nos hizo como llovido (Serra, vol. 1 184). Serras gentle
suggestion that angels brought the lamps to the missionaries has its basis in the Tanto,
which Serra refers to at the outset of the anecdote, teniendo pressente el caso que se
refiere de los dos religiosos nuesttros llevados al remoto reyno de Titlas (Serra, vol. 1
182). Serra perhaps assumes that Galvez also tena presente the Tantos reference to
two friars who were also mystically sent to the missionary field (also alluded to by later
18th-century California friars). Remarkably, Serra continues the preface to the lamps by
stating that those same two friars found a custodia (a monstrance for the host) that les
fue llevada desde Espaa por manos de Angeles y de la Venerable Madre de Agreda
(Serra, vol. 1 184). That Serra draws the parallel between the miraculous appearance of
the lamps in California, and Sor Mara (and the angels) bringing religious paraphernalia
to the region of the Titls demonstrates the degree to which he views (literally or
figuratively) himself and his missions as a continuation of that mystical missionary
tradition. Serra also assumes that others, in this case Galvez, would also understand the
context of this vision.

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This particular incident is also important because although Serra alludes to

episodes in the Tanto, he generally does not locate Sor Mara in Titls. In this case,
although Serra attributes the appearances of the monstrance to both Sor Mara and the
angels he does definitively assume that she was present in northern Mexico: the
monstrance was brought by her hands. He is quite clear to place Sor Mara in the past
by suggesting that only the angels (and not Sor Mara) could have brought the
monstrance to California. Nevertheless, Sor Mara presence as a missionary in Titls is
confirmed by Serra in this example.
In 1769, as Serra traveled from the presidio of Loreto in California to San Diego,
the friar discussed Sor Mara in his personal diary and in a letter written in San Diego to
Fray Juan Andrs. In these instances, Serra mentions the Franciscans efficacy of
conversion, as per the abovementioned Tanto segment. He writes in his diary on May
18th that after baptizing a tribal leader and 43 of his followers, the leader was renamed
Francisco in honor of St. Francis, de cuya intercesin pamente cre provenir aquella
feliz novedad como cumplimiento de la palabra que le tiene dada Dios Nuestro Seor en
estos ltimos siglos (segn afirma la Venerable Madre Mara de Jess de Agreda) de que
los gentiles con slo la vista de sus hijos se han de convertir a nuestra santa fe catlica
(Serra, vol. 1 64). Serra views the willingness to convert to Christianity among the tribes
as evidence of Sor Maras assurances regarding the friars mission labors. In his letter to
Fray Juan Andrs, dated July 3, 1769, Serra says as much, but again assumes that the
recipient will understand to what he is referring in regards to the Franciscans effect on
the tribes. Serra says of the conversions at the new San Diego mission: y con la gracia
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de Dios me parece que se har cuanto se quisiere, y que le cumplir Dios Nuestro Seor
la palabra dada a nuestro Serfico Padre San Francisco de que con sola la vista de sus
hijos se conviertan en estos ltimos siglos los gentiles (Gomez Canedo 79). Without
saying where this prophecy came from, Serra affirms Sor Maras authority on the matter
of Franciscan missions.
This proposition is confirmed in Serras 1772 letter to Palu, written while the
former was at the San Carlos de Monterrey mission, and which Palu includes in its
entirety in the Relacin. In it, as Serra discusses the progress of the conversions made
there, he again compares his experience to Sor Maras words on the matter in the Tanto:
Y sobre todo, la promesa hecha por Dios en estos ltimos siglos N.P.S. Francisco
(como dice la Serfica M. Maria de Jess) de que los Gentiles con solo ver sus hijos se
han de convertir nuestra Santa F Catlica, ya me parece que la veo y palpo (Palu
Vida 137). Among the California tribes, Serra perceives that Sor Maras testimony as a
missionary is held true, and that it is being realized. In discussing the Serras labors to
move the San Carlos mission to the Carmel River (where Serra wrote the letter to Palu),
Palu comments that Serra did not foist this responsibility onto other friars, but worked
on it himself, as through such actions se dirigen tan noble fin, y son muy del agrado de
Dios (como dice en su citada Carta la V.M. Mara de de [sic] Jess (Palu Vida 127).
Thus, both Serras actions at San Carlos, and the resulting conversion of the tribes are
couched in terms of Sor Maras accounts of their mission work in the Americas.
It would also seem that the Tantos statement regarding the Franciscan friars
efficacy at conversions circulated not only among the friars of Propaganda Fide, but also
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in the viceregal court. According to Palu, Serra advised viceroy Antonio Mara de
Bucareli y Ursa about exploration along the California coast, particularly in regards to
the inclusion of Franciscan friars among the crew. Palu states that Bucareli insinu
[] al V. Padre los deseo que tenia de que fuese algun Misionero a dicha expedicin
(Palu Vida 160). Bucareli y Ursa wanted to send a missionary on the basis of the
Serras testimony regarding the instant conversions at the hands of the Franciscans; in
fact, Bucareli tena muy presente, y no olvidaba S. Eca. desde que la oy al V. Fr.
Junpero (Palu Vida 160). Whether or not Serra did advise Bucareli to this effect is
unclear; however there seems to be little doubt in Palus mind that the Tantos
assurances, insisted upon by Serra, had a significant effect on the secular exploration of
the coast. While Serra and Palu placed trust in the prediction regarding their order
seems in keeping with their missionary order, that the viceroy would have as well is
astounding- and certainly the friars did in fact travel with the expeditionary parties along
the coast.
The last example of Sor Mara in Serras conception of the mission and Palus
writing about Serra is twofold, both elements based on the Mission San Antonio de
Padua. In the first case, Palu illustrates a side of Serra that shows the friar considering
his own work in the context of Sor Maras missionizing desire. Upon selecting the site
for the San Antonio mission, Serra had the church bells unloaded, hung from a tree, and
then vigorously rang them. When a fellow missionary criticized Serra for his jubilant
turn, Sera replied: Dexeme Padre explayar el corazon, que quisiera que esta campana se
oyese por todo el Mundo, como deseaba la V. Madre Sor Maria de Jess de Agreda
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(Palu Vida 122). In his moment of happiness as a missionary, Serra relates what he does
as a missionary- building churches, converting tribes, exploring unknown regions- to Sor
Maras will as a missionary, or as an authority on missions. The relationship that Palu
highlights between the real-life actions of Serra, and Sor Maras texts or the concept of
her as a missionary reveals a deeper sort of relationship between the two than perhaps
even the previous examples demonstrated. Serras happiness at the establishment of the
mission is intimately tied to Sor Mara's longing and joy.
Finally, Palu records an unusual account from Mission San Antonio, one that
Geiger (Geiger, vol.1 293) states the friar had heard from Fray Verger, Fray Sitjar, and
Fray Pieras, both of whom had been stationed there. Though Geiger stipulates that this
narrative did not originate with Palu, the friar certainly does not hesitate to include it in
Serras Relacin. It concerns a new convert, a very old woman (representaba tener de
edad cien aos (Palu Vida 124)) named Agueda who came to the mission and
requested baptism from the friars. When asked why she wanted to be converted, she
claimed that a long time ago a man dressed like the missionaries, with the ability to fly,
came to her tribe and taught them the same doctrine as the missionaries. Upon further
investigation, the friars discovered that the other tribal members confirmed this legendary
tradition. Palu correlates this information to the Tanto, concluding that the individual
who visited this tribe must have been one of the two men Sor Mara said had visited the
region during her lifetime. The events that Palu describes are portrayed as happening in
the distant past, in the early 17th century; he makes no claim for Sor Maras presence at
Mission San Antonio any time in contemporaneous history. But the fact that Palus
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connects this information with Sor Maras text demonstrates the proximity between
these two missionary manifestations. And, of course, the name of the new convert who
shares the tribes history with the friars is surprisingly similar to Sor Maras.
Other Californian friars from the later 17th and early 18th centuries continued to
reference Sor Mara, and many cited tribal histories that recalled a Catholic
evangelization predating Serra and Palu (Geiger, vol. 1 295-7). These accounts extend
the Lady in Blues narrative even further in the history of Spains last northern
missionary frontier. With dates as late as 1856, the view of Sor Mara as a missionary
that began with Serra, Palu and the missionaries of Propaganda Fide continued in the
region well into the mid-19th century.
Eusebio Kino and Juan Mateo Manje
Although in OBriens mural, the artist places Fray Junpero Serra, OFM
alongside Fr. Eusebio Kino, SJ, both looking up and at the image of Sor Mara de
Agreda, the nature of their individual relationships to her was different. As we have
already seen, Serra was a devotee of Agredan writings, his belief in her religious texts
and mystical travel manifested in his correspondence and in his missionary labors. In
contrast, Kino does not seem to have had personal devotion to Sor Mara. This isnt
especially surprising as Kino, a Jesuit, would have had far less exposure to Sor Mara
than the friar from the San Fernando branch of Propaganda Fide did. Why, then, does
OBrien pair the two figures in his painting?

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Kino does indeed briefly mention Sor Mara in his account of exploration to
Pimera Alta (Kino Misiones). In Book Six, Chapter Six of this account, dated February
7, 1699, Kino writes of the partys exploration to the Ro Azul and the Hopi region:
Grasias a infinita bondad del Seor, tan patentemente logramos el deseado
desengao de si los naturales del Rio Grande o del Rio de los Apstoles y
sus contornos tatemavan y comian gente, que el Seor Theniente Juan
Mateo Manje, en su curiosa y aseada relacion que escrivi de esta entrada,
por aver tanta afabilidad, amor y cario destas nuevas gentes, dize era de
parezer que aos antes la Venerable Madre de Jess de Agreda les avia
venido a domesticar e instruir, como ay tradision de que vino desde
Espaa milagrosamente a instruir algunas otras Naciones del Nuevo
Mxico. Que los Rev. Padres de San Francisco las allavan ya algo
catequizadas (Kino Misiones 70)
Kino immediately offers another (perhaps to his mind more easily rationalized)
explanation for the tribes afabilidad, amor y cario: otros an sido de parecer que la
venturosa sangre del V.P. Francisco Xavier Saeta, fertilisa y zazona todas estas tan
dilatadas mieses (Kino Misiones 70-71). Fr. Francisco Saeta was a Jesuit missionary
killed on April 2, 1695 at mission Concepcin de Caborca. The first section of Kinos
account consists of letters sent from Saeta to Kino, regarding the formers work at the
missions, and the event leading up to his death. As Kino writes in metaphor in regards to
Saeta, it is not clear whether he means that the Indians Kinos detachment had just
encountered were previously in contact with Saetas mission, or if the friars work and
death had a more general spiritualizing effect on the native populations of the region.
Perhaps Kino had been appraised of the existence of Sor Mara via his friend and
fellow scientist Carlos de Sigenza y Gngora, who had received notice of Sor Maras
presence in Texas via Fray Damin Manzanets letter reporting on the missions of Texas.
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Perhaps her renown within Mexico, or at least in Mexico City and the state of Sinaloa,
where Kino was stationed prior to his explorations of California and Pimera Alta, was
such that the Jesuit priest was aware of Sor Maras voyages of conversion to the
Jumanos of New Mexico. Though he does acknowledge that ay tradision regarding
Sor Mara in the region, Kino comments regarding Sor Maria give no indication of his
devotion to such a belief. One gets the sense from Kinos brief account that the Jesuit
priest is primarily relieved to find that the regions inhabitants are not cannibals, and that
they appear to welcome his party. While acknowledging that lieutenant Juan Mateo
Manje believes that this affability is due to Sor Maria, Kino subtly distances himself from
that hypothesis. Kino refers to Manjes account of the same events rather than to Manjes
personal opinion of them, and offers an alternative explanation that is less metaphysical
and also reflects well on his own order. However powerful the artist effect of his
presence alongside Serra in OBriens mural is, Kino really serves a more symbolic
purpose, standing in as a representative for the true author of her history in Pimera Alta:
Kinos lieutenant, Juan Mateo Manje.
Manje accompanied Kino on his explorations throughout Arizona and California,
compiling a work on the experience in the process. His text, Luz de Tierra Incgnita en
la Amrica Septentrional Y Diario de las Exploraciones en Sonora, is one of the most
oft-cited pieces of colonial writing from the Arizona region. Historians and
ethnographers find in the second of the two books comprising the text useful information
regarding the people, customs and geography of that region in the late 17th- and early
18th- centuries. We will examine Manjes description of the events relative to Sor Mara,
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which appear in the second book of Luz de Tierra Incgnita. Certainly, Manjes
assertion (and that of Fray Luis Velarde, a friar who traveled in the company of Kino and
Manje) of her presence among the Pimas in this second book is much more enthusiastic
and emphatic than is Kinos circumspect allusion. It is clearly from Manje and Velardes
account that later folkloric and modern literary works are drawn, as the frequentlyreproduced details of the narrative indicate.
As Manje editor Francisco Fernndez del Castillo notes of the lieutenants life no
se tienen ms noticias biogrficas que las que l mismo intercala en su obra (Fernndez
del Castillo VII). As a result it is quite difficult to discern where Manje might have heard
of Sor Mara /The Lady in Blue, or who he conferred with in the process of composing
and publishing the work. Fernndez del Castillo ascribes Manjes serious interest in the
case of Sor Marias travels in the Southwest to la credulidad propia de la poca
(Fernndez del Castillo VII): as se explica que Mange ponga como cierta la tradicin de
que la Madre Sor Maria de Jess de Agreda, caminando por los aires, se transportara []
a los indios de Nuevo Mxico (Fernndez del Castillo VIII).
But it seems that there is more to it that this, as the first, often disregarded book of
Luz de Tierra Incgnita indicates. More than just the a manifestation of the credulity of
the period, as Fernndez del Castillo indicates, Manjes portrayal of and reference to Sor
Mara exemplifies the intersection of her literary influence in colonial Mexico, with her
contemporaneous and co-locational historical presence. Through the dual movements
and natures embodied in Manjes work, the Lady in Blue/Sor Mara becomes part of the
textual history of Sonora and Arizona.
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Let us first focus on the second half of Manjes work, in which he describes
events that led him to conclude that Sor Mara had visited the Pima Indians sometime
prior to the arrival of the Kino/Manje expedition. When questioning the Pimas as to
whether they had heard of Spanish men in the area (anticipating a response in reference
to the Oate expeditions of the early 17th century), Manje states the Pimas volunteered
some additional information:
Aadieron (sin ofrecernos preguntar la tal cosa) que siendo ellos
muchachos, vino a sus tierras una mujer blanca y hermosa vestida de
blanco, pardo y azul, hasta los pies y un pao o velo con que cubra la
cabeza, la cual les hablaba y gritaba, y rea, con una cruz, en lengua que
no entendan y que las naciones del ro Colorado la flecharon y dejaron
por muerta dos veces y que resucitado se iba por el aire sin saber donde
era su casa y vivienda, y a pocos das volva muchas veces a reirlos; lo
mismo nos haban dicho 5 das antes en la ranchera de San Marcelo a que
no dbamos ascenso, pero confirmando stos lo mismo y en lugares tan
apartados, discurrimos si acaso la venerable Mara de Jess de Agreda, por
decir en la Relacin de su vida que por los aos de 1,630 predic a los
indios gentiles de esta Septentrional Amrica y contornos del Nuevo
Mxico, y habiendo pasado 68 aos hasta el corriente en que nos dan esta
noticia los viejos que parecen segn el aspecto de 80 aos pueden
acordarse. (Manje Luz 266)
Manjes explanation for Sor Mara de Agredas visit is multi-layered and complex. First,
he asserts that the tribe offering this information did so without any prompting from the
exploration group: sin ofrecernos preguntar tal cosa. Manje makes clear that this
narrative arose spontaneously (much as Fray Benavides did) and that, furthermore, other
tribes at the San Marcelo settlement had related the same information (lo mismo) to
them five days pervious. Manje asserts that both versions recalled the detailed account of
a beautiful veiled woman dressed in white, brownish and blue who visited them, carrying
with her a cross, and scolding them at in an unknown language. In addition, this figure,
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whose home was unknown, was short through with arrows twice, returning then, and on
other occasions to rebuke the tribes in her incomprehensible language.
In a statement that links literature to history, Manje references Sor Maras vita,
by Ximnez Samaniego, the Relacin, published separate from the MCD. Manje asserts
the Spanish partys skepticism of the tribes account of this woman, but then correlates
what he has heard from the tribes with what he has previously read. The final detail, as
was the case with Manzanets contemporaneous account in Texas, concerns timing and
the nature of the visits the woman made to the region. Manje says that the Relacin
places Sor Mara in the region around 1630. He states that at the time he writing his
diary (apparently 1698), those telling who have related the account are in their 80sclearly old enough to have been alive and witnessed Sor Mara when she was alive. This
particular detail is important because, theologically, it is very safe. The date of the visits
simply corroborate the dates already established for Sor Maras bilocation; it doesnt
assert anything regarding Sor Maras possible sainthood as she was not appearing after
her death.
Then, Manje explains why both reports indicate that Sor Mara was
incomprehensible; for in the Relacin of her life and in the Tanto, she comments that she
was understood by those she evangelized. Manje suggests that perhaps the reason the
tribes said they could not understand Sor Mara was because they lacked comprehension,
but for other reasons:

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Solo reparamos el aadir no la entendan por que Dios obrando el mayor

milagro de ser conducida a estas regiones desde Espaa, no hace las cosas
imperfectas y le haba de dar el don de lenguas para ser entendida, as,
pues, a lo principal sigue lo accesorio de ser ella, pero como ha pasado
tanto tiempo y ser entonces muchachos haran poco concepto en lo que les
enseaba o el Demonio, caos de confusin, los confundi despus
borrndoles la memoria, o ser los que notamos en estas naciones, en que
hablndoles en distinta lengua a la suya, aunque la entiendan usan de la
frase de no la entienden, para explicar que no es su lengua. Apunto slo
esto, por si en algn tiempo se hicieran ms individuales pesquisas con las
naciones del Norte. (Manje Luz 267)
Manje suggests that perhaps either the individuals who had seen her were young, and did
not remember what she had taught (or that the Devil later played tricks on their
memories). His final suggestion is the most interesting, as it suggests that the problem in
communication lies not between Sor Mara and the tribes, but rather between the tribes
and the present company, as according to Manje, their manner of expressing in a
different, intelligible language is to say we didnt understand.
The final narrative of Sor Maras visit to region of Pimera Alta during the Kino
expedition is also located in the second book of Luz de Tierra Incgnita. According to
Fernndez de Castillo (VIII) and Luis Gonzlez Rodrguez (19) it is taken from the notes
of Fray Luis Velarde, a Jesuit friar whose texts on Pimera Alta were employed by Manje
because, as Gonzlez Rodrguez suggests, completaban perfectamente el plan de Manje
y por eso los utiliz, dando pleno crdito al autor (Gonzlez Rodrguez 20). Velardes
account, completed May 30, 1716 (Gonzlez Rodrguez 9), after Kinos death, is very
similar to Manjes, in that it mentions the Relacin, uses the title venerable to refer to
Sor Mara, and explicitly places her evangelizing in the region, but it includes a few new
details:
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Lograrse averiguar que misterio tendr lo que dicen los Pimas del Norte,
de una mujer espaola que en aos pasados sala a temporadas de una casa
de la otra banda del Colorado a predicar lo que predican los padres y a
ensear a aquellos naturales gentiles el camino del Cielo, lo cual conviene
con lo que se lee en la vida de la Venerable Madre Mara de Jess,
conocida por el nombre de la Venerable Agreda, y mucho ms por sus
celestiales escritos que muchas veces fue vista en las partes del Nuevo
Mxico y adyacentes, predicndole quizs y repartir rosarios y otros
donecillos a los indios, lo cual se averigu en la manera que se escribe en
su vida a que me remito y de aqu puede ser se origine la divisa de los
crucferos. (Manje 330-331)
Velarde also refers to Sor Maras own writings, in addition to the Relacin, and
mentions that the tribes apparently had crucifixes or crosses in their possession. Fray
Velardes narration of the encounter between Sor Mara and Pimas demonstrates least a
familiarity with the nuns writings, even as it adds further details to the overall account of
her missionizing presence, and suggests the physicality of the nature of her travel
(someone must have been able to bring the rosarios, donecillos y crucferos to which
Velarde refers.
But if Fray Velardes addition to the account suggests a previous knowledge of
Sor Maras work, the Introduction and first book of Luz de Tierra Incgnita openly
displays Manjes knowledge of and ascription to Sor Maras writing and to writing about
her. In reference to the dissemination of Sor Maras writing, discussed in Chapter 3,
Manjes interest in it seems particularly relevant and speaks to the degree to which
Agredan knowledge had extended by the late 17th century. In regards to the Jesuit orders
missionary work in Pimera Alta, Manje seems to quote Sor Maras Tanto regarding
conversions in that region: dice el Seor por la Venerable Mara de Ag(r)eda, que el
servicio ms grato a su Divina Majestad y a quien da ms grados de gloria, es a las almas
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que se emplean en convertir a otras y las obras que recibe con ms agrado y
complacencia que dir su carta (Manje Luz 7). Though this attribution to Sor Mara
regarding the mission work could also have arisen from Ximnez Samaniegos Relacin
of her life, the fact that Manje later cites the Tanto (as this quotation suggests) would
make that seem the more likely of the two sources.
Manje goes on in the same introduction to quote from the MCD and, in the
process, to flesh out a fascinating parallel between the conversion of the Apache nation
by the Jesuit friars, and the conversion of the cesaragustanos (Manje Luz 7) of Spain by
Saint James the Greater. Santiago, dejected by the Zaragossans unwillingness to
convert, is encouraged by a most unexpected individual, the Virgin Mary. According to
Sor Mara, she was appeared in life as la Virgen del Pilar, sent from Jerusalem to
Zaragossa to reassure Santiago and encourage him in his labors there. Manje says that it
such miracles occur por que entendamos que [los] mandatos [de Dios] embeben
diferentes sentidos que nuestra limitada comprensin alcanza (Manje Luz 7). Manje
then concludes the metaphor by pointing out that the nations that are the most difficult to
convert are also those whose conversions are the longest-lasting; a double metaphor for
the Apaches awaiting conversions, and the Spanish converted by Santiago.
At its most fundamental level, this segment demonstrates that Manje was familiar
with the particulars of Sor Maras writing. He also clearly viewed his role as a secular
official involved in the actions of conquest as analogous to his religious antecedents.
Though Manje does not complete the parallel triptychs of Spain- Santiago- la Virgen del
Pilar, and Apache nation- Jesuits- Sor Mara, their relative relationships almost suggest
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themselves. I previously suggested the similarities between the bilocations of la Virgen

del Pilar and Sor Mara; though Manje does not say so explicitly, the construction of his
argument seems to draw the two into closer dialogue.
In closing the introduction, Manjes Protesta del autor further suggests the
lieutenants understanding of the provisional status of an individual such as Sor Maras
within the Catholic Church. Although she was widely read and, as we shall see, both
imitated and venerated, her case for sainthood had not been (still has not been) approved.
As if to acknowledge the fact that he discusses Sor Mara at length in his work, calling
her Venerable and citing her works, he nonetheless cites Pope Urban VIIIs 1634 bull
(referred to in Chapter 1) prohibiting the dar culto de santidad o de mrtires o varones
que de esta vida pasaron sin estar declarado por tales en el orculo del Espritu Santo
(Manje Luz 11). This bull was intended to curb the practice of representing local holy
people as saints before they had passed through the complete process of beatification; the
bull served a centralizing purpose as it sought to maintain the establishment of sanctity
within the Church organization. In reference to the bull, Manje asserts that, although he
might call individuals in his text by the titles Santo, Beato, and Venerable (as he
does Sor Mara), no es [su] intencin (ni que lo entiendan otros) caigan tales elogios
sobre las personas (Manje Luz 11). Manje states that he in applying such terms, he only
defers to custom as he narrates the actual events. He affirms that he is not is not trying to
make a claim for the sanctity of such events, but rather that right est reservado, toca y
pertenece a la infalible decisin de la Santa Sede Catlica (Manje Luz 11).

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This Protesta indicates that Manje wrote in response to, or in the context of an
environment that might have interpreted his narratives regarding martyred priests,
miraculous events, and Sor Mara as an attempt to kindle regional adoration of or
devotion to these individuals, previously unrecognized by the Church. Though these
comments to not directly indicate that that Manje was aware of Sor Maras pending case
for sainthood, it at very least illustrates his awareness of a tenuous category between
legitimacy and popular recognition into which a narrative about Sor Mara (particularly
one explicitly connected to her writings) could potentially fall. For all that Manje will
subsequently write about Sor Mara (in the process, inscribing her into the history of the
region), he clearly does not wish to invoke sanctity when it is not permitted for him to do
so. As the Introduction and first book are peppered with references to Catholic figures,
beliefs and doctrine, Manjes deep faith is evident.
I would suspect that the reason most historians pass over the first book of Luz de
Tierra Incgnita is because in it, Manje summarizes other histories of discovery and
exploration in the Americas to present. Of the books 27 chapters, the first four deal with
the earliest exploration of the Americas and what was found there. The first include
everything from the end of the Spanish reconquista ((Manje Luz 14); to Corts first
marriage to Catarina Surez (Manje Luz 19) and conquest of Mexico (Manje Luz 19-41)
(including Doa Marinas role as his translator (Manje Luz 22)); to the Spanish presence
in Peru/Chile (Manje Luz 41-42), the Philippines (Manje Luz 42-43), and New Mexico
(Manje Luz 43). Manje continues to describe generally the geography, flora and fauna of
the Americas (Manje Luz 44-46); the nature of the religious hierarchy in the Americas
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(Manje Luz 46-48); the origin and lineage of the indigenous peoples (48-55); various
specific cases of conversion (and the friars that effected them- another source, perhaps,
for Manjes caution in the Prlogo) (Manje Luz 59-64); and of the creation of the
magnetic compass needle, ultimately used by the Spanish, according to Manje, for the
conversion of the peoples of America. Manje specifically cites the MCD in this last case
(Captulo 4), in support of the claim that 5200 years had elapsed between the creation of
the universe and the birth of Jesus.
The next 23 chapters generally recount the history of exploration and conversion
on the northern frontiers of Spains empire: the Californias (Captulos 5, 7, 15, 18, 21,
23-24), Florida (Captulo 6), New Mexico (Captulos 8-13, 16, 19-20); as well as outside
threats to its integrity, namely that of Captain Francis Drake (Captulo 14). He includes
further commentary directed to the Crown regarding the settlement of the region, and its
potential benefits (Capttulo 22), reports on the semi-mythical Strait of Anin and Quivira
(Capttulo 17), and as summary of the actual settlements and necessary exploration that
remain to be completed (Captulo 25). The last two chapters, however, are devoted
solely to Sor Mara, her life and her travels to New Mexico.
Manje writes at the beginning of Captulo 26 that the two letters of Sor Marias
that he is planning on presenting will serve para coronar esta obra (Manje Luz 183),
acting as the centerpiece for the first book. He wishes to include these two letters in his
history of the early exploration of the Americas (particularly its northern frontiers)
because they report on the las gentilidades de esta Amrica Septentrional (Manje Luz
183). For Manje, it seems that Sor Maras letter regarding her travels to the Americas
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(the Tanto) was as much a part of the history and known anthropology of the region as
were the accounts of Corts and Zarate Salmern that he had earlier cited. As Manje
demonstrated in the introduction and in the chapter on the compass needle, he was
knowledgeable about other Agredan writings; in this chapter, he shows that he also has
read Ximnez Samaniegos vita of Sor Mara, whether as a loose document (the Relacin
referred to in the second book of Luz) or simply as the introduction to the MCD, as he
presents extensive biographical information about her. In this particular summary history
of the Americas, the life of a Spanish nun plays a prominent role.
In Captulo 26, Manje presents a summary of Sor Maras life, derived from the
abovementioned sources (and ultimately taken from Sor Maras own account of her
childhood), as his quotes and references to a tratado (work) indicate. Manje reduces
the text somewhat, presenting the details about her birth and family history, as well as the
founding of the Coronel family Conceptionist community. Following the lead of the vita,
Manjes abridged version recounts the physical trials that Sor Mara underwent as her
spiritual encounters (divine and demonic) increased in intensity, culminating in the
ecstatic experiences in which the nations of New Mexico were revealed to her. Manje
cites: dgalo el tratado que por obediencia escribi que llam escala (Manje Luz 187),
which would seem to refer to another of her works, the Escala para subir a la perfeccin.
Manje continues in the same vein as Ximnez Samaniego, commenting extensively on
Sor Maras numerous spiritual/mystical experience, in particular on her role in the
conversions in New Mexico (Manje Luz 188, 192-93), her blue robes (Manje Luz 191),
the debate regarding whether her travels were corporeal or spiritual (Manje Luz 192-193),
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and her eventual meeting with Fray Alonso de Benavides of the Custodia of New Mexico
(Manje Luz 194-6).
In Captulo 27, Manje (who was clearly already familiar with Fray Gernimo de
Zarate Salmerns Relacin) cites the same two paragraphs attributed to Archbishop
Manso y Zuiga that Zarate Salmern quotes, and adds the friars reflections (derived
from some unknown source) on Sor Maras presence in New Mexico: Lo que yo s
acerca de esto, no por revelacin que soy muy malo [] digo que no lleg indio alguno
de la tierra adentro del Nuevo Mxico que no le preguntase los secretos de ella (Manje
Luz 197). In introducing his abridgement of Sor Maras part of the Tanto, Manje adds
some confusing commentary regarding the loss of a collection of documents, apparently
including the Tanto as well as a cuadro (Manje Luz 198) in the 1680 Pueblo Revolt.
Manje offers a fairly short modified excerpt from the Tanto (la carta exhortatoria de la
Venerable Madre [] que es del tono siguiente (Manje Luz 198)), citing the portions
pertaining to Sor Maras obedience to her male superiors, the kingdoms (slightly
misquoted) that she visited and converted, her recommendations regarding settlement
(que los gobernadores pudieran ordenar, los [frailes] acompaen algunos soldados de
buena vida y costumbres (Manje Luz 199)), and the divine importance of the friars
work for conversion.
Then, the chapter takes on a melancholy tone, as Manje (or someone he is
quoting) ascribes to Sor Mara sentiments that are perhaps more reflective of his own
view than of anything Sor Mara actually said. He mourns the lack of missionary zeal
and rigor which Sor Mara advises the friars against, but does not in fact accuse them of.
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Manje (or the person he is citing) carries on a sort of imagined dialogue in which Sor
Mara is an implied participant, as the repeated ejaculations of oh hija ma (Manje Luz
199, 201) indicate. In this dialogue, Manje criticizes those whose actions undermine the
work of conversion: en qu lamentable estrago han puesto al pueblo cristiano los
poderosos pastores, los malos ministros que estas les ha dado por sus secretos juicios!
(Manje Luz 201). It seems that Manje holds Sor Maras conversions in positive contrast
to the missionary labor executed by the actual religious and secular explorers who were
present in the region. For Manje, Sor Mara would seem to be the epitome of what
conversion in the colonial borderlands would ideally have been: passionate, mystical,
selfless, and faith-filled.
Clearly, Juan Mateo Manjes relationship with Sor Mara extended beyond his
report of her real-life presence among the Pima tribe of Sonora/Arizona. As the text from
the first book of Luz de Tierra Incgnita demonstrates, he not only viewed her as a major
historical figure of the region (on par with figures such as Oate and Coronado), he had a
working knowledge of her writing, and viewed her as an exemplary missionary figure.
Though the relationship between Kino/Manje and Sor Maria alluded to in the St.
Katharines mural is still fundamentally valid, Manjes clear devotion to her as a spiritual
missionary and writer nuances an already complex relationship.
The legacy of Sor Maras missionizing presence in what would be Arizona,
pioneered by Manje and Kino, continued into the mid-18th century, and seems to have
been partially adopted by the Jesuit missionaries. Fray Carlos Delgado, a Franciscan
writing from the San Felipe Presidio in 1746 comments on a report from the Hopi area:
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Los honorables Padres Jesuitas me dijeron [] cmo nuestra Madre

Mara de Agreda se halla todava en las vertientes de Moqui en va
corprea, cuia noticia tienen de los Indios gentiles q por all transitan
[] noticia que puede alegrar a Vuestra Ilustrsima para q vea cmo
nuestra apreciada misionera nos est ayudando a cultivar la Via del
Seor. (Valbona 41-42)
Thus, Nuestra misionera, the Lady in Blue, remained deeply inscribed in the
conceptual landscape of the Arizona and New Mexico even as the mission field
continued to expand.
Contemporary and later histories
As we have just discussed, many colonial missionaries and explorers identified
Sor Mara within the context of their own, lived frontier environments. Others would
either include her narrative explicitly in their own colonial histories (as is the case of Jos
Augustn Campos, Andrs Gonzlez de Barcia, Juan Villagutierre Soto-Mayor, and, of
course, Fray Agustn de Vetancurt, Fray Rosa Figueroa), highlighting the degree to which
the narrative was considered worthy of historicization; or, as in the case of Vlez de
Escalante, impart a startling insight into the degree to which Sor Mara/the Lady in Blue
truly existed in the collective conceptualization of the northern borderlands. That she is
invoked intentionally speaks to the official meaning allocated to her narrative; that she
appears unintentionally as well, as in Vlez de Escalantes account, the naming of the
Concepcin de Agreda mission, and the royal cdula for the exploration of the Baha del
Espiritu Santo, suggests that she was even more present that the histories themselves
indicate. We will begin with Vlez de Escalante, and a history that, while it does not
explicitly intend to include Sor Mara, does so anyway.

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Vlez de Escalante
In Documentos para la Historia de Nuevo Mxico (Series 3, Tomo 1), Fray
Silvestre Vlez de Escalante presents another summary regional history, dated 2 April
1778, on Pueblo Revolt-era New Mexico. Vlez de Escalante had apparently been
charged with recovering governmental documentation from the region for the Reverend
Lector Juan Agustn Morf. In an introductory letter for the materials, Vlez de Escalante
apologizes for the lack of documents predating the 1680 revolt, and para que V.R. vea
que estas dilaciones no son escusas (Vlez de Escalante 115), he sends his historical
narrative accompanied by original, usually excerpted texts from the epoch, written by
secular and religious officials.
Near the end of the eptome, there is a demarcation for the year 1707, and the
governorship of Don Jos Chacn Medina Salazar; Vlez de Escalante continues,
narrating the growing hostilities between the Spanish, and the Hopi and Navajo tribes
under governor Juan Ignacio Flores Mogollon five years later. The governor hears that
en algunos pueblos haban los indios reedificado sus estufas (Vlez de Escalante 201)
and he orders destroyed; he also orders that arms be collected from all but a few
Christianized indigenous people. Flores convenes the secular and religious leadership to
consider whether they should require that the same indios reducidos quit painting their
bodies various colors and using their monterrillas de piel (big leather pack covers), as
this gave them opportunity to steal from (an assumption that Vlez de Escalante
characterizes as sin el ms dbil fundamento (Vlez de Escalante 202)) and otherwise
subvert the Spanish. The soldiers are in favor of forbidding the painting and monterrillas,
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while the majority of the friars (with two noted exceptions) are not, and request that the
Viceroy be consulted lest this act of little faith cause una grave y general inquietud
(202).
Vlez de Escalante quotes Fray Antonio Miranda, un religioso de una vida muy
ejemplar, de experiencia y activsimo celo (Vlez de Escalante 202), stationed at
Acoma, who offers his deftly-crafted recommendation. He suggests that ripping away a
centuries-old tradition from the indigenous tribes might not be the best course of action,
that they should be treated con la paciencia con que un hortelano cultiva una huerta
recin planteada (Vlez de Escalante 203). Miranda continues his garden metaphor,
responding to the criticism against the indigenous people there, and deferring ultimate
authority as to the worthiness of those they cultivate to Sor Mara: Muy repetidas vienen
las consultas contra este nuevo-verjel, de los naturales del Nuevo-Mexico, huerto que
Dios se inclina como lo dice la madre Agreda. Y pues Dios se inclina a estos naturales,
alguna cosa buena mueve la voluntad (Vlez de Escalante 203).
Thus, if Sor Mara testifies that the people of New Mexico are favored for
conversion, they are. And from Mirandas point of view, this testimony is enough to
stand in face of the muy repetidas consultas against their worthiness for conversion.
Such a fact suggests that they are inherently worthy of the Spaniards trust, and not their
abuse; that their habits of body painting are no worse, Miranda points out, than Spanish
practices of putting on makeup.
Through Vlez de Escalantes history and selective documentary recopilation, we
are offered a rather starling view into another historical context into which Sor Mara
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suddenly, yet candidly appears. In this case, the argument for the significance of her
presence in this history is different from that for Campos, Barcia, and Villagutierre
Sotomayor; selective recollection at the level of text does not function well here.
However, the nature of Mirandas usage illustrates quite clearly what this chapter has
intended to demonstrate: Sor Mara became inscribed into the northern colonial history
and landscape, and into the way those who recalled her framed, and argued for the
actions in which they participated. She may not appear everywhere, but where she does,
she is present to a remarkably profound degree.
Fray Jos Augustn de Campos
But Kino and Manje werent the only colonial explorer/historians of Arizona to
write about Sor Mara. One later work, written by Jesuit missionary Jos Augustn de
Campos, clearly draws on Kino/Manje/Velarde narratives of Sor Mara/Lady in Blue.
Texts such as this make no original claims regarding her existence, but by including this
improbable and improvable narrative, these histories repeatedly affirm her place in the
colonial northern borderlands. In this and other later colonial chronicles, the narrative
appears even when its repetition does not have any apparent bearing on the rest of the
document, or when the author is not especially invested in miraculous/spiritual accounts
(much less, in those of women in the Americas). In once instance, it appears in a
summary history that describes and entirely different section of the frontier region
(Florida).
Fray Campos account of Sor Mara appears in a proposal the friar intended for
the superiors of his order in regards to the settlement of Pimera Alta. Campos had
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already been a missionary for thirty years when he composed his proposal to the Mexican
Viceroy (Marquis of Casafuerte) in Mexico City in 1723, having accompanied Kino in
his explorations in 1693. Campos had been sent with general Domingo Jironza to assess
the damage accompanying Fray Saetas at the Inmaculada Concepcin mission in April
of 1695 (Gonzlez Rodrguez 229), and himself narrowly avoided Saetas fate at Mission
Dolores shortly thereafter. He was stationed in the region, rebuilding and administering
missions, in particular San Ignacio, (Gonzlez Rodrguez 232), until 1722, when he was
sent to Mexico City.
Clearly no stranger to the Jesuit missions of Pimera Alta, Campos account is un
plan para colonizar el noreste de la Pimera, con la fundacin de una villa en el remate
donde el ro Terrenate entra en el Gila (Gonzlez Rodrguez 245) and proposal for the
reduction of the Moqui (Hopi) nation of east-central Arizona. Campos is in the midst of
describing the indigenous nations living near the Ro Colorado, who frequently fought
with the Pima, when he includes the following anecdote:
Deca el mismo Padre [Gonzlez suggests Kino] haberle contado los
indios esta rareza: haber una casa o saln, donde vive una mujer sola, que
ya no habla con nadie. Venla salirse como a pasear, y se vuelve. Dan a
entender suele estar escribiendo en su casa; que antiguamente les hablaba
y enseaba varias cosas, y sola repartirles algunos donecillos. Discurra
el padre si sera la venerable madre Mara de Jess de Agreda. Fundbase
en lo que en su vida, por el padre Samaniego, se refiere de su
transmigracin, por virtud divina, a las regiones del Nuevo Mxico, y el
caso de los rosarios. Cotejado el convenir indios ignorantsimos de
historias distantes tantas mil leguas de Espaa, con la relacin de su vida,
parece impele a una probable verdad. Esta, Dios la sabe y sus fines.
(Campos 256)
Though Campos states that he is citing Kinos words on the matter, he does add some
interesting details to the narrative: namely, that a woman still lives there and occasionally
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walks around and also writes, but no longer talks to the people as she did in the past.
Campos also mentions not only the Relacin, but that it was written by Ximnez
Samaniego, perhaps demonstrating his own familiarity with the text.
Aside from the new features it contributes (which Campos ascribes to another
source, and does not claim as his own observations), this retelling of the narrative is
significant because it places Sor Mara in the context of the northern missions as naturally
and straightforwardly as any other element in the proposal- whether thats the location of
the Ro Colorado, or of the exploration of the Siete cuevas (Campos 253). Though
Campos frames Sor Maras presence in the region as conjecture (parece impele a una
probable verdad), thereby complying with his assurance to the viceroy that he presented
lo cierto como cierto, lo dudoso como dudoso (Campos 256), the fact that he includes it
at all is notable. To Campos, it would seem, a document treating what one might find
near the Gila River was not complete without mentioning Sor Mara, and her instruction
of the indigenous people there. Whether or not confirming her continued existence in
Pimera Alta was possible (Esta, Dios la sabe y sus fines), that she was already a part of
the history of the region seems evident by Campos presentation of her as such.
Ensayo Cronolgico
Another excellent example of the deft, casual inclusion of Sor Maras narrative
into a more general history is Andrs Gonzlez de Barca Caballido y Zigas Ensayo
cronolgico para la historia general de la Florida (written under his pseudonym Don
Gabriel de Cardenas ZCano). Printed in Madrid in 1723 as an appendix to an edition of
El Inca Garcilaso de la Vegas La florida del Inca, the text attempts to describe
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chronologically the exploration and settlement of the region known as La Florida from
its discovery in 1512 by Ponce de Len to 1722. Barca includes the incursions of the
French, Spanish, Danish, English and Swedish as well, commenting on the various places
they had established footholds that would challenge the Spanish.
Barcia opens the chapter Dcada duodcima with a short list of the highlights
the reader will encounter therein. This includes the throwing out of Franciscan friars
from the English province of Acadia (1628) (Barca Caballido y Ziga 196), the
political conflict between France and England for control in Canada (1630) (Barca
Caballido y Ziga 197) and the following: Predica los Teguas la V.M. Maria de Jesus
de Agreda (Barca Caballido y Ziga 192). In the chapters first section, Ao
M.DC.XXII. (1622), just after discussing the routing of the British in Virginia, Barcia
tucks in his rendering of the Lady in Blue narrative: La V. Madre Mara de Jess de
Agreda, Predic en la Provincia de los Tejas; si fue en Espritu, o realmente, no pudo
distinguirlo ella misma (Barca Caballido y Ziga 193). This departure is fascinating
for many reasons: Barca seems to be referencing an entirely different date for Sor
Maras visits to the southwest than the accepted one of 1630; he limits where she visited
to just la Provincia de los Tejas; and he seems to be using as a source something other
than Benavides or the Tanto, as he refers to Sor Maras personal doubts regarding the
nature of her travel. Immediately after his foray into Texan conversions, Barca returns
to describing the tribulations experienced in New Rochelle and Qubec.
Had Barca randomly slipped this anecdote into the rest of the narrative for the
year 1622 (as it is context-less placement could suggest), it seems unlikely that he would
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also have featured it as one of the key points of the chapter. What I like about this
particular historical, extremely brief recounting of the account is that it is so casual, yet
tells so much about the events themselves and how they were perceived and weighed
historically. If you are trying to write a concise historical summary of all the conquest
and settlement undertaken over a period of 200 years, why give space to the story of Sor
Mara unless is really is part of that history? The inclusion of this particular episode was
important enough to interrupt the flow of the rest of the northeasterly-oriented chapter; it
is a telling inclusion.
In his introduction, Barcia says that the intent of the Ensayo cronolgico was as a
reflexin general (Barca Caballido y Ziga 5), excerpts of history para que se
comprenda universalmente algn indicio, do lo mucho, que havia de decir (Barca
Caballido y Ziga 5). He goes on (as the pseudonymous Don Gabriel) to list the major
sources for the historia, most of which were held in the collection of a Seor Don Andrs
Gonzlez de Barcia. Among the works cites, it seems that the most likely candidate for
the source of the Sor Mara anecdote is Fray Agustn de Vetancurts Teatro Mexicano
(Barca Caballido y Ziga 6), Part 4, in which the Franciscan historian details the
religious conversion that took place in Mexico (including that of Sor Mara). Barca
seemed to have no lack of sources for information about Sor Mara. And, of the
countless other noticias regarding the history of Florida (que especificarlas todas, era
salir de los lmites (Barca Caballido y Ziga 5), Barcia chose to include Sor Maras.

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Villagutierre Soto-Mayor: Historia de la Nueva Mxico

A very suggestive example of the Lady in Blue/Sor Maras incorporation as an
active agent in the history of the colonization and settlement of New Mexico is present in
the Historia de la conquista, prdida y restauracin del reino de la Nuevba Mxico en la
Amrica Septentrional (1698), by madrileo Juan de Villagutierre Soto-Mayor.
Villagutierre Soto-Mayor was the Relator (royal historian) del Real Consejo de las Indias
(Lrraga 3) from approximately 1695-1709 (Lrraga 2). Having never himself traveled
to the America (Lrraga 8), Villagutierre Sotomayor relied on other historical documents
to compose his historia from Madrid, namely Gaspar Prez de Villagrs epic poem and,
apparently, Fray Joseph Ximnez Samaniegos vita on Sor Mara.
In Chapter 15 of the Historias third book, after having cited segments of histories
from Villagr and others, and in beginning to describe the missionary work of the friars
in the region of New Mexico, Villagutierre Soto-Mayor jumps directly to Samaniego, en
la Vida de la Madre Mara (Villagutierre Sotomayor 113). He smoothly transitions
directly from Oate and his conquests, to the friars and their missionary work, to Sor
Maras vita, and its bearing on the conversions of the region. He begins in the middle of
the narrative, as does Benavides, with legions of indigenous people requesting baptism
from the friars of the custodia, without previous catechization. In condensing
Samaniegos account, Villagutierre Soto-Mayor summarizes Sor Maras action among
the tribes prior to the friars baptizing: por tener ya la sierva de Dios tan bien dispuestas
aquellas almas con su maravillosa predicacin, habiendo dejado tan poco que trabajar con
ellas fueron innumerables las que en cortsimo tiempo bautizaron los religiosos
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(Villagutierre Sotomayor 115). Sor Maras work was so effective that, in reality, the
friars had little to do other than administer baptism. Throughout Chapters 16 and 17,
Villagutierre Soto-Mayor continues to cite Ximnez Samaniegos version of the Sor
Mara narrative, possibly with some interjections of Benavidess 1630 Memorial.
That Villagutierre Soto-Mayor incorporates Sor Maras history so seamlessly
into the flow of the rest of the document is, of course, in keeping with the other histories
that do the same. From his station in Madrid, he, too, locates Sor Mara in the colonial
borderlands, placing her on equal ground with other explorers and missionaries. Near the
end of the treatise on Sor Mara, he presents the issue of the nature of Sor Maras travel,
citing Sor Maras reflections (via Ximnez Samaniego) on whether she traveled in body
or in spirit, while asserting that there were many reasons (tena muchos fundamentos)
(Villagutierre Sotomayor 121) to believe that she traveled in body. In addition to the fact
that he develops the Sor Mara facet of New Mexican history extensively, what sets
Villagutierre Soto-Mayor apart is that the way he frames her actions and describes her
role. How he presents her reveals that she was understood, at least from the part of the
Royal Historian, as an active agent in the colonial borderlands. As Maribel Lrraga
points out in her dissertation on this history: Villagutierre Sotomayor no hace ningn
comentario crtico en torno a lo que signific Sor Mara de Agreda ni tampoco menciona
en su manuscrito alguna razn que haya tenido para incluir este episodio en su obra.
Concluyo que su fin principal para incluir la historia de Mara de Agreda fue de presentar
una historia integra sobre el norte del Virreinato de la Nueva Espaa y hacer hincapi en
la meta evangelizadora que tenan los espaoles (Lrraga162-63).
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As we have already seen, Villagutierre Soto-Mayor draws the conclusion that the
reasons so few friars were needed to baptize the tribes was because Sor Mara had
already catechized them. At the conclusion of the section Relacin de la Madre Mara
(Villagutierre Soto-Mayor 127), in which he remarks of that travels that en ninguna otra
parte de los dilatadsimos imperios de la Amrica, no se habr odo que haya sido
practicado (Villagutierre Soto-Mayor 127), he says of Sor Mara y que la aadi a esta
venerable sierva de Dios, el dictado que la ponen los que de ella escriben en aquellas
partas, llamndola La Madre Mariana de Jess, de greda, Predicadora de la Nueva
Mxico (Villagutierre Soto-Mayor 128). Here, her role extends beyond the venerable
that she is in other accounts: she is una predicadora, a preacher in New Mexico.
Furthermore, Villagutierre Soto-Mayor suggests that those already living in that area
(que de ella escriben en aquellas partes (Villagutierre Soto-Mayor 128)) refer to her
and/or conceive of her as a missionary or preacher.
At this point, the history seemingly leaves off with Sor Maras conversions, only
to pick up with them near the end of the book, when Villagutierre Soto-Mayor brings up
the loss of the Tejas tribes to the Spanish crown. In spite of the fact that por tan
maravillosos medios, como vimos, haban sido convertidos a nuestra santa fe (145), the
unconverted Tejas tribe defeated the Franciscans and the converted Tejas. Villagutierre
Soto-Mayor adds a comment about this towards the end of the section Slo qued la
memoria in which he laments the failure of the mission. He mentions the Tanto, sent to
the friars que andaban en las conversiones de la Nueva Mxico, y bautizando en el reino

216

de los texas a los indios que la misma Madre Mara haba reducido (Villagutierre SotoMayor 145).
Villagutierre Soto-Mayors word choice is important in understanding how Sor
Mara is cast in this historical role; rather than use the terms haba convertido or
catequizado, he chooses reducido. While these other verbs suggest a mostly
instructive function, one that does not necessarily draw conclusions about the ultimate
socio-political objective of Sor Maras actions, reducido compellingly construes her as
an actor in the colonizing process. To reducir was to not only catechize, but to
hispanize a native population, changing beliefs as well as a way of life. For Villagutierre
Soto-Mayor, Sor Mara is the active agent who accomplishes this, well in advance of the
friars who later follow. She clearly both converts and colonizes. Even if Villagutierre
Soto-Mayors history is derivative, lacking firsthand evidence and experience, what is
says about Sor Mara, and how it places her in the context of colonization is instructive,
because it offers insight into who she was in the Historia de la Nueva Mxico and that
of the region.
Fray Augustn de Vetancurt and Fray Francisco Antonio de la Rosa Figueroa
A final pair of examples of Sor Mara in colonial histories is, perhaps, not
surprising. Both Fray Augustn Vetancurt and Fray Francisco Antonio de la Rosa
Figueroa were Franciscan administrators and historians, Vetancurt from the late 17th
century and de la Rosa Figueroa from the mid- to late- 18th century. Vetancurt, in his
1697 Teatro mexicano, discusses Sor Maras mystical conversion of the Jumanos
explicitly (Vetancurt 96), citing the 1630 Memorial and the Tanto as his sources for the
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account. Vetancurt also mentions Sor Mara as the Lady in Blue in his 1697 Menologio
Franciscano, under his entry on Fray Alonso de Benavides. Vetancurt states that his
source was the Tanto, though the earliest recorded date for its publication is 1730. As
Fray Manzanet claims in 1689 that he possessed a copy of the Tanto brought from Spain
by Fray Antonio Llinz, it seems that it must have been circulating in Mexico well before
it was printed. One result of this is that Sor Mara becomes part of history as that history
is unfolding.
De la Rosa Figueroa also discusses Sor Mara in his 1764 manuscript Bezerro
general menolgico y chronolgico de todos los religiosos que ha avido en esta Sta.
Provincia desde su fundacin hasta el presente ao de 1764 y de todos los prelados
que la han governado (Benavides Fray Alonso 200). De la Rosa Figueroa ostensibly
reports on Fray Alonso de Benavides, offering a bit of biography and some history of his
role as custos in New Mexico. Very shortly into this description, the historian veers into
a description of the meeting between Fray Benavides and Sor Mara, and, after chiding
Vetancurt for inaccuracies and misleading information in the Teatro, cites the versions of
the Tanto printed in Mexico, a letter written by the venerable father in the year 1631 in
Madrid after he spoke with the venerable mother (Benavides Fray Alonso 202) which I
believe is related to the Tanto, and the vita of Sor Mara printed as a preface to the MCD.
This last source supports the idea proposed in Chapter 3 that the vita attached to the MCD
could be and was in fact read as an account of the Lady in Blue. In any event, de la Rosa
Figueroas entry on Fray Benavides very little is said about the friar himself; a significant
portion is dominated by the account of Sor Maras bilocation. Through this late- 18th
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century religious text, the narrative of the bilocating Lady in Blue becomes an even more
fixed element in the history of the region.
As this chapter has demonstrated, the narrative of the Lady in Blue developed into
an integral part of the history, landscape and mission to the northern Mexican frontier in
the 17th through 18th centuries. In Chapter 5, we will examine some of the ways this
history because manifest as folklore in various communities, as well as how that folklore
functioned socio-politically in its time.

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Las virtudes de los Siervos de Dios salen al

pblico medrosas, hasta que la perezosa
volubilidad de los aos va limpiando la idea
de ciertas materiales impresiones que le
ofuscan el brillante lustre.
- Francisco Palu, Relacin histrica, 329

Chapter 5
Though we are now into the fifth dissertation chapter, it must be said -in this
chapter on the Lady in Blue in folklore- that I indeed came upon my dissertation topic
through the folklore/oral tradition in my native New Mexico. I had heard legends of a
nun visiting what is now New Mexico during its colonial epoch, and suggestions and
rumors spun about her spiritual travel and her conversion of the native populations to
Catholicism. When I first started research on the project, I learned of an alabado
(Catholic-based folk song of prayer and praise)(Perea), an artifact that demanded my
attention as it evidenced her commemoration within in the oral tradition. I had no sense
for the complexity of the narratives history, nor of its transmission. As I met the Lady in
Blue through her lore, I encountered only el brillante lustre produced, as Palu
observes, after centuries had smoothed the roughness from her story. I hope I have
described this roughness in previous chapters, leaving behind the brilliant glow for this
chapter.
Folktales about the Lady in Blue are a midpoint in the trajectory of her narrativea transitional, but vital link between transatlantic colonial-era histories that cast her as a
contemporaneous missionary figure, and contemporary literary and artistic works that
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selectively re-imagine her actions. The Lady in Blues inscription into the
conceptualized landscape during the colonial epoch (as indicated by the artifacts
presented in Chapters 3 and 4) resulted in narratives migration into collective history.
Contemporary renderings, such as those in Chapter 6, frequently derive the narrative
from the body of folklore that developed out of the regional history, rather than from the
historical documents. For many contemporary artists and writers, the folklores
stickiness- the narratives recounting and preservation over hundreds of years- is its
most appealing characteristic, the reason artists choose the narrative as a subject for their
works.
But what makes up the body of folklore on the Lady in Blue? What elements are
shared across various artifacts? What significance has the folklore assumed over time? I
present the folklore as pertaining to three categories: 1) lore that reproduces and
conforms to the original narrative without adding new information; 2) lore that
contributes new elements to the Lady in Blue narrative; and 3) lore used for purposes of
resistive self-definition within the Tejano Mexican American community. Although the
first category does not provide the same newness of content or usage as the other two
groups, it is no less significant for it; the means by which the narrative is reproduced is
important, as is the fact that such repetition establishes the fundamental folkloric
narrative. The second category displays the degree to which the figure of the Lady in
Blue was internalized in various communities; the resulting accounts about her conceive
of a far broader range of action for her than her narrative does. The final grouping

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conveys a sense for how the folkloric figure was actively used in a political way,
illuminating its continued representational relevance well into the 20th century.
Interestingly, a glimpse into the entry Agreda, Mara de Jesus Coronel- The Blue
Lady in the Dictionary of Chicano Folklore offers examples of the three kinds of
folklore about her outlined above. The first and longest portion of the entry presents the
fundamental Lady in Blue narrative, representing the first type of Lady in Blue folklore:
A woman dressed in a blue veil or the blue habit of a nun who appeared to help the sick
and afflicted during the 17th century [] it appears her goal was also to Christianize the
Indians of the Southwest, whom she visited often (Castro 6). This is the most frequently
encountered type of folklore about the Lady in Blue, recounting basic narrative elements:
woman, blue, Spanish, conversion, Indians and (often) text. These highly regular
narratives are of interest for the frequency of their occurrence, where they appear, and
that fact that this narrative consistency produces a recognizable, coherent body of
folklore. In this section in which I discuss the foundational folkloric narrative, I will
examine several examples of this type of folklore (both oral and written accounts),
discuss the lores textual origins, and discuss the Lady in Blue as a leyenda.
Near the end of the Blue Lady entry in the Dictionary, De Zavalas recounting
of the Lady in Blues once-a-generation gift to the women of San Antonio is cited: a
mystifying woman in blue [] bearing a distinctive gift that she bestows on a woman
(Castro 7). In the Dictionary entry, De Zavalas account contributes new elements to the
Lady in Blues original narrative, representing the second type of folklore (though we
will analyze her text later on as an example of the third, politically active folklore). Other
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accounts are less dramatically different from the base narrative than hers is, yet their
contributions are still noteworthy for how they calibrate ones reading of the narrative. In
analyzing this group of folklore, I will identify several accounts that present the Lady in
Blue in different contexts and endowed with novel abilities, and will attempt to determine
the representational meaning of such accounts. What might her actions and abilities
signify?
Finally, tucked in among entries on La Llorona, Joaqun Murrieta and El
Chupacabras, the inclusion of the Blue Lady with these well-known folk figures indicates
a similar renown for her within the body of Chicano folklore. This last example of
Lady in Blue folklore shows the figure cast into her political role. First by claiming
rights over the Lady in Blue narrative, and then by assigning it the political identity
Chicano, as opposed to Mexican-American or Hispano, the collection itself
participates in the type of self-conscious, self-defining political action for which the Lady
in Blue narrative is employed, and which I will describe in this last section. (While the
intent of including her in the this collection may not have been explicitly political (in that
it documents the fact that her narrative is reproduced and commemorated by the Mexican
American community), the term Chicano is nevertheless a politically-charged
appellation.) I will examine how Tejanos Adina De Zavala, Jovita Gonzlez, and Carlos
Castaeda wielded the Lady in Blues folk narrative as a means of political selfidentification during the racially charged period of social change.

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Folklore: Repeating the Narrative

The most commonly encountered type of folklore about the Lady in Blue is that
which recounts the basic mystical bilocation and/or conversion narrative. One can find
this type of folklore, which does not deviate from the core account, in a variety of
collections, from the Texas Good Roads Associations Texas Parade Magazine; to the
American Catholic Church Extension Society (an organization dedicated to supporting
Catholic missions) publication Extension Magazine (The Lady in Blue); to standard
folklore collections such as Legendary Ladies of Texas (Abernathy Legendary), The Lore
of New Mexico (Weigel and White), Legends of Texas (Hemisath), The Folklore of Texan
Cultures (Abernathy Folklore), Las Mujeres Hablan (C. DeBaca Lady), Ghost Stories
from the American Southwest (Young and Young), Texas Unexplained (Sharp), Folk
Tales of New Mexico (C. DeBaca Folk) , Off the Beaten Trail (Syers); and many, many
other works. The core folkloric narrative of the Lady in Blue appears as unexpectedly,
surprisingly and frequently as it did during the colonial epoch. Although in this section
we will focus on the lore that presents the core folk narrative only, most of the accounts
discussed in the other two sections have the core narrative as their base or referent.
In these texts, the Lady in Blue is presented as a folkloric legend, based on a
historical individual. The categorization of the Lady in Blue as folk legend allows the
speaker to recount the narrative without the obligation of proving historical veracity
(though many accounts do address this question and produce interesting explanations- see
note). Without addressing questions of why contemporary narrators are inclined to
categorize the narrative as folklore rather than as history, or extensively problematizing
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the types of folklore collections that feature the Lady in Blue, Id like to discuss the
nature of this type of folklore and its idiosyncrasies.
One the reasons for the consistency across versions of the Lady in Blue narrative
is that, unlike other folk stories that originate in the oral tradition and migrate to written
texts, the Lady in Blues folklore is based on a written text. The original narrative is
fixed in writing, a fact that naturally lends stability to subsequent folk stories. A survey
of critical literature in the field of folklore studies that addressed narratives of this type
did not yield the interpretive angle I had hoped to find. Most folklore studies are
concerned with the movement of narratives from the oral tradition to the written,
precisely the opposite of how the Lady in Blue moved. Such studies examine the
movement of certain topics, genres, themes, etc. from the oral tradition to the written,
looking at compilations, exclusions, inclusions and emphases. Lacking critical literature
on the subject of folklore derived from text, I decided to interrogate the Lady in Blues
text-based folklore. Is it folklore if it derives from text? Given the fixed origins of such
lore, does its repetitiveness have validity?
In response to the first question, the issue of transmission of the narrative is very
significant in defining its folkloric nature. As I discovered when examining the
Baughman Folklore collection at the University of New Mexicos Center for Southwest
Research, it appears that many speakers recount the narrative, whether orally or in
writing, without having read the originary texts. They reproduce what they have heard, a
practice which his most readily observed in the oral folklore collections. In the
Baughman collection, for example, four correspondents (G.L. Campbell, Julia Keleher,
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Mark Gens and Mrs. Ed Dwyer) recounted the major elements of the Lady in Blue
narrative orally, and several could not remember when they had first heard the legendbut they recalled the telling and the listening. The Hispanic Legends From New Mexico
collection features the same orality in its entry on the Lady in Blue; the narrator, Father
J.M. Holman, not only tells the story, but it appears he himself heard it, as he starts the
narrative Once upon a time and concludes the same story is told over and over again
in Spain (Holman 531-2) And in Ghost Stories from the American Southwest collection,
one version assigns the storytelling tradition about her to a particular indigenous group:
In the Pueblo, they used to tell the story of [] (Young and Young 117). These
several examples evidence the fact that, although the Lady in Blues narrative might have
had written textual origins, its transmission and reception in many cases were oral,
affirming the folkloricity of the narrative.
What of the narratives repetitive nature? Although it is true that the folklore
about the Lady in Blue likely derives some of its repetitiveness from its textual
foundations, many non-text-based folkloric stories are also repetitive. The Dictionary of
Chicano Literature in fact posits the Lady in Blue as a leyenda (Castro 150) because
the places and protagonist are recognizable to the audience. This familiarity, of course, is
only possible via repetition; if the story does not repeat particular vital elements, it cannot
be recognized and thus cannot survive as a coherent folk account. As Domino Perezs
There Was a Woman: La Llorona From Folklore to Popular Culture demonstrates, the
recurring core narrative can be added on to, recast, and re-contextualized, but for the final
product to be part of the tradition of the legend, it must conserve enough core elements to
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be decipherable. It thus seems that faulting this grouping of the Lady in Blues lore for
its consistency is at odds with requirements of folklore itself. Since the mechanism by
which this uniformity is produced does not seem to drive directly from the texts (as
discussed above) it seems that it is indicative of the lores folkloric nature.
Finally, whether called sacerdotal humbuggery, as J. Frank Dobie terms Lady in
Blue lore in the introduction to his Tales of Old Time Texas (1984); or one of the most
beautiful legends of the Texas missions, as Extension Magazine calls the narrative (The
Lady in Blue 18); or simply the story of Texas infinite journey, over three centuries
ago (Syers 117) which is not for skeptics (Syers 117), the designation of the Lady in
Blue narrative as lore is important. What was named and read as history a hundred years
previous changes title to folklore. Through the important process of claiming the
narrative as lore, rather than as history, it begins to pertain to a particular group of people
or to a region, rather than just to the anonymous timelines of history. By applying the
term folklore to the Lady in Blue narrative, the focus shifts from the content of the
legend, to the communities that conserve and reproduce it. And when the narrative
belongs to the collective, the collective can begin to do work on it, as we will see in the
next section.
The Lady in Blue in other roles
In this section, we will consider lore about the Lady in Blue that imagines stories,
actions and abilities for her that vary from the standard bilocation/conversion narrative.
These accounts position the Lady in Blue in new locales; assign her particular
achievements; exploit her to explain historical events, natural conditions and social
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practices; and sometimes simply add new wrinkles to her story. As these stories envision
the Lady in Blues influence in the narrators own context, they are an indicator of how
she became embedded in but also transformed the collective imagination. Such stories
demonstrate an active engagement with the Lady in Blues narrative, a placing of its
protagonist in different contexts and to various ends. In this way, the lores narrators
claim the Lady in Blue as their own in much more specific ways than the first group
which abstracts the story from the written corpus.
Domino Perez There Was a Woman: La Llorona From Folklore to Popular
Culture is a smart, skillful analysis of the narrative of La Llorona, the famous wailing
woman of Texas lore. Perez examines the many and varied manifestations of La Llorona,
defining the versions of the La Llorona narrative by how they vary from the core legend
and considering what such variation signifies. As the Lady in Blue is not as widely
known as La Llorona, there are far fewer artifacts pertaining to her than there are for the
wailing woman; however, I have aimed in this section to follow Perez lead in
documenting and analyzing the artifacts I did encounter.
One of the most notable additive folkloric accounts is Adina De Zavalas, in
which the Lady in Blue lives under the Alamo in San Antonio, bestowing her gift to
generation after generation of Tejanas (we will see more of this legend in the next
section). De Zavala re-imagines the Lady in Blue in a radical way, one that perhaps
draws on a larger body of Texan folklore pertaining to the Alamo. Certainly, Hallenbeck
and Williams suggest that such a corpus of little stories of the Blue Lady, or the Lady in
Blue, are to found in the San Antonio valley of Texas (Hallenbeck and Williams 305)
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(though De Zavala would probably be chagrined to find that, according to Hallenbeck

and Williams, those who tell such stories are of part indian [sic] blood (Hallenbeck and
Williams 305)). Hallenbeck and Williams, further racializing their characterization of
such narratives, add that the secret tunnels under San Antonio are known by the
Mexicans of San Antonio, and ascribe other responsibilities to the De Zavalas
subterranean Lady in Blue, stating that she (in an interesting counterpoint to La Llorona)
protects and guides the citys children.
Hallenbeck and Williams contribute three more version of the narrative, which
they locate in Texas, New Mexico and Arizona. The Texan story, which the authors
claim is typical of the genre of stories about the Lady in Blue in Texas, is a treasure
narrative rewarding kindness to a stranger whose protagonist is a Mexican American
child named Ursula Valdz. In contrast to other folk accounts, this story is very specific
regarding the names of its characters and the dates during which the story occurred.
Ursulas father, Jos, gravely injured in a skirmish during the Comanche Wars, was
unable to support his family and could not travel to Mexico City to be treated for his
injuries. One day, while collecting flowers and playing with her playmates near the
Alamo, Ursula disappeared. Her mother feared that she had been kidnapped, and the
town searched for the little girl, finding her asleep in one of the rooms of the convent near
the Alamo.
The girl explained that she had been playing with the other children when a
woman dressed in blue caught her garments on some shrubs and fell. Ursula
disentangled the ladys dress and helped her stand. In repayment, the lady gave Ursula a
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small, heavy package and left. Ursula hid in the convent as part of the game she was
playing and fell asleep without opening the package. Once home, Ursula gave the packet
to her mother. Out of it fell an authentic booty: gold, diamonds and pearls. Ursulas
father was treated and, his masculinity reinstated, resumed supporting his family.
Ursulas act of kindness towards a stranger is rewarded by the restoration of her family
that so lately had been enveloped in despair (Hallenbeck and Williams 308). The Lady
in Blues test is exemplary, reinforcing moral behavior in very obvious way.
The New Mexican tale is written in a pidgin English one assumes is supposed to
suggest the authenticity of its narrator, a native chief from the southern part of the state.
The tale is fore grounded by generalities about the tribes experience of the Lady in Blue:
she brings blue flowers to the area, doesnt appear at night, and disappears if approached
by a member of the tribe (which the tribe avoids doing, for Why molest her who brings
only blessing with her? (Hallenbeck and Williams 309)). The story itself explains the
appearance of a natural spring of drinking water in the otherwise arid Jornada del muerto,
in New Mexicos southern desert.
A young Indian chief leaves on an expedition to the far southern mountains
only to be called back to the tribe by a messenger informing him that his wife had
become ill. The young man immediately leaves to aid his wife, traveling through the
desert, and become lost at night when clouds cover the start he had been following.
Desperately thirsty and close to death, the chief is saved when the Lady in Blue guides
him to the spring. He drinks until he is well, at which point the clouds clear and he finds
his way home. The storyteller concludes in his odd pidgin (which strangely uses Spanish
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although the speaker is a Native American): And the spring is there today, Seor; the
only water to drink that is to be found in the whole country of la Jornada del muerte
(Hallenbeck and Williams 310). This story serves two purposes: the first is to explain the
existence a spring of drinkable water in an unexpected location, and the second is to
again show how the Lady in Blue repays virtuous behavior: the young chief who
immediately attends to the needs of his family is saved from death and is rewarded with
the knowledge of the location of drinking water in a very valuable place.
The third Hallenbeck and Williams story is from Arizona, again involves a
Native American tribe (the Papagos) and occurred in the distant past: before the
grandfather of my grandmothers grandfather lived (Hallenbeck and Williams 311).
This story is only that mentions religion and missionization specifically, as the Lady in
Blue acts after the tribe has been informed about monotheism. The tribes chiefs
grandson fell ill, and despite their attempts the magic of the medicine men [was not] of
any avail (Hallenbeck and Williams 311). The tribe glumly gathered, when suddenly a
flash of white light blinded them and a young woman dressed in blue appeared to them.
She announces that there is one god above all other gods (presenting them with Christian
monotheism) and asked if anyone in the tribe was ill. The chief led her to the child and
his mother. The Lady in Blue began saying prayers to the god whereof she had spoken
(Hallenbeck and Williams 312) placing her hand on the childs head as she prayed for
the time it would take to smoke a small pipe (Hallenbeck and Williams 312).
The Lady in Blue did not stay and refused offers of food. Instead, she informed
the tribe that teachers would appear (Hallenbeck and Williams 313) who would instruct
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them about the God to whom she had prayed for the boy. The tribe is overcome by sleep
as the Lady in Blue departs. When they awake, they doubt that the woman was real, but
the boy is healthy and his mother confirms that the Lady visited and healed him. The
narrator concludes the story by affirming not only that the priests she predicted would
come did, but also that they instructed the tribe on how to live even as the white people
lived (Hallenbeck and Williams 313). The tribe and its chief are rewarded for
entertaining the possibility of pending Christianization and European colonization by the
boys healing. Hallenbeck and Williams also mention Kinos narrative of the lady who
was shot with arrows several times by the Pimas as she tried to convert them, but
distinguish between the two stories in regards to the their sources; while the Kino story
has no indigenous source according to Hallenbeck and Williams, apparently the account
of the ill native boy does.
At the end of the section on the Lady in Blue, Hallenbeck and Williams offer one
final teaser, referencing an article by Will Robinson, a journalist of New Mexico
(Hallenbeck and Williams 314). They comment that Robinson wrote that that Navajos
had anticipated a return of the Lady in Blue to their tribe in 1935 and 1936; the further
wonder if the tribe still awaited the arrival of the Lady in Blue and state they had not been
able to find the source for Robinsons statement. The article has by Robinson is still at
large, though as we shall see in Chapter 6, it appears that playwright and UNM professor
Julia Keleher based her 1936 play on the Lady in Blue at least partially on Robinsons
claims about New Mexicos native tribes (Keleher Lady in Blue script).

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Let us momentarily set aside the vexing sowing of the text with Spanish to
suggest local flavor and authenticity, the use of pidgin English when recounting the New
Mexican folk story, and Hallenbeck and Williams references to Comanches lurking
about in the hopes of snatching away a child. Still, their variations on the Lady in Blue
are notable for the agency they assign to the figure, for the values her actions seem to
reinforce or reward, and for the communities in which they place her. The authors
earnestly present these narratives as factual, and distinguish between those they
determine to be from reliable sources and those whose sources they cannot verify.
Hallenbeck, as is indicated in an 1945 article in New Mexico Magazine, appears to take
the physical bilocation element of the Lady in Blue narrative to heart, presenting several
arguments supporting her active role in the Southwest (such as the naming of Gran
Quivira).
Francis Abernathyss contribution to the Texas Folklore Societys collection
Legendary Ladies of Texas is the first entry in the book, whose introduction lauds Clara
Driscoll and the Daughters of the Republic of Texas [who] saved the Alamo (Abernathy
Legendary 5), apparently overlooking Adina De Zavala. Abernathy characterizes the
Lady in Blue as somewhere between the world of legend and myth (Abernathy
Legendary 9) casting her in the mold of the peaceful conquest colonial narrative,
bringer of a soft and generous Christianity to the tribes of the Southwest and East
Texas (Abernathy Legendary 9). Abernathy contributes two fresh folk elements to the
story (in addition to his own commentary), one concerning her role as a guardian of the
Texan settlers, and another sharing some elements with the La Llorona legend. In the
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first case, Abernathy states that she returned to east Texas in the 1840s, when the Sabine
River flooded, and the inhabitants of the regions were trapped in the lowlands near the
river. These inhabitants became ill with malaria (some versions say yellow fever) and
many died. But before all was lost, a mysterious lady in blue appeared to look after the
sick. She stayed and cheered and healed the sick until the plague abated (Abernathy
Legendary 13). She left unannounced and as unanticipated as she came, having succored
her Texans. Again, the narrative presents her as emerging unbidden to aid the people of
the area.
Abernathys second narrative echoes ghost stories frequently attributed to La
Llorona, and it lacks the element of aid present in the other accounts. Abernathy portrays
her [wandering] the Camino del Caballo, the old Smugglers Road that skirted the
customs and outposts at Nacogdoches (Abernathy Legendary 13). As she wanders, she
cries sadly (Abernathy Legendary 13), perhaps in mourning for the vanished Tejas
whom she came to save (Abernathy Legendary 13). As Abernathy presents the Lady in
Blue-cum- La Llorona, she too mourns the death of her metaphorical children, the
tribes she came to convert who no longer exist. She cries over a lost tribe and a lost
history. This is the only story I found where the Lady in Blue mourns rather than taking
action or inspiring positive action on the part of the people who inhabit the areas she
visited.
Alice Bullocks Legends of the Santa Fe Country contributes a narrative variation,
and posits a commemorative practice related to her. While conceding that Bullocks
collection in general is kitschy, voyeuristic and racially biased, the story she relates,
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about a young girl lost on the Texas plains, is nonetheless offers additional insight into
the folkloric variations on the Lady in Blue narrative. A woman dressed in a long blue
garment that the little girl described as resembling a nuns habit (including the veil
(Bullock 72)), took the little girl to an abandoned church and cared for her for three days.
The Lady in Blue had seen to the little girls needs, as she did not need food or water
once she was found. Although the actors in this story are similar to those in the
Hallenbeck and Williams' story, there is no moral to reinforce a behavior. The little girl
in not rewarded for her virtue; rather, the Lady in Blue is an agent of assistance in dire
circumstances.
Bullock alludes to/creates a relationship between a common turn-of the century
architectural practice and the Lady in Blue narrative. With the exception of the tradition
of wrapping the dead in blue cloth mentioned by Manzanet, Bullocks is one of the few
actions commemorating the Lady in Blue. Bullock comments that occasionally one will
hear that the Indian and Spanish custom of paining window facings and doors Taos
blue goes back to the Blue Lady (Bullock 72). Although Bullock states that it would be
difficult to positively ascribe this practice to the Lady in Blue, she nonetheless proposes
just that. In fact, in attempting to substantiate the stories she has heard, she asks a
plump, kindly Indian matron (Bullock 72) why she paints her doorway blue, and
presents her respondents taciturn response (Its pretty, she said, and turned back to
her (Bullock 72)) as at the very least a non-negation of the commemorative practice
Bullock proposed. Though Bullock leaves the interpretation of the episode open to her
readers, her inclusion of the episode clearly suggests that Bullock sees more the blue
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doors than just prettiness, assigning popular practice the meaning of the commemoration
of the Lady in Blue.
Julia Kelehers oral account from the Baughman Folklore collection at the
University New Mexicos Center for Southwest Research adds to Bullocks versions,
commenting that not only the frames of the windows, but also the cement floors of
Native American homes were painted that particular and peculiar shade of blue in her
honor (Keleher Lady in Blue). Keleher also comments on what sounds like a variation
on the Adina De Zavalas story, maintaining the element of gifting to a female, but
removing her from the exclusive purview of San Antonio, and removing much of the
agency De Zavala emphasized: this mystic endowed the power of prophecy upon the
favorite daughters of certain families. Though the two accounts share some elements,
prophecy is clearly a less-active characteristic than is the gift of seeing to the heart of
things and defending ones people.
Dee Strickland Johnsons Arizona Herstory, a collection of poetry based on
Arizona folktales, relates a detailed dated folktale in which the Lady in Blue protects both
the physical presence of Catholic Church in Arizona, as well as the Mexican citizenry,
from invading American forces. Although The Mysterious Lady in Blue itself will be
considered in the next chapter on contemporary renderings of the Lady in Blue, the story
the poem tells more properly pertains to this chapter. The poem and its footnotes assert
that an160-men strong American filibuster mission led by Henry Crabbe to Sonora in
1857 fought against the Mexican forces to assume control over the region. Then, the
Americans attempted to cannon-blast a Catholic church. The cannon fuse was lit half a
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dozen times (Johnson 182), and each time, a woman wearing blue appeared,
extinguishing the flame and preventing the churchs destruction. During the delay caused
by the Lady in Blues intervention, Mexican reinforcements arrived, killing all the
American troops except for sharpshooter Charlie Evans (who claimed to have given the
Mexicans soldiers a cache of gold the soldiers had buried prior to the mission).
Strickland cites James Griffiths introduction to Margaret Proctor Redondos Valley of
Iron for the story; it is on of few originating in Arizona. In this version, the Lady clearly
defends the Mexicans against the American forces (and is complicit in killing), and
upholds, symbolically at least, the Catholic institution.
The Lady in Blue demonstrates her sympathy towards the Native American
population of New Mexico in a story from the Baughman Collection. In this collection of
oral stories, publisher G.L. Campbell of Colorado related his knowledge regarding the
Lady in Blue: During the Pueblo Revolt [of 1686] she appeared, because she liked the
Indians better, and led them to a place of hiding. It is said that one of the places that she
led them was east of Bloomfield, N.M, in Governordor [sic] Canyon (Campbell). This
anecdote is changes the role of the Lady in Blue portrayed in many of the other stories; in
most of the other versions of the story, she rewards individual virtue and/or holds up the
presence of the Catholic Church. As in the Strickland Johnson story, however, in this
version the Lady in Blue favors one group over another; though in both cases, she favors
the conquered over the colonizing. In a similar vein, Father J.M. Holmans contribution
to Hispanic Legends of New Mexico emphasizes her continuing presence among the

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tribes she converted, noting that This Lady in Blue lived among [the tribes] at certain
times of the year (Holman 532).
Then, there are the Lady in Blues famous culinary abilities- a skill which there is
little evidence Sor Mara employed in her convent, but which was manifested during her
visits to the southwest. (As we will see in Chapter 6, this legacy carries into the TV
cooking shows of the 21st century.) In Bull Cook and Authentic Historical Recipes and
Practices, authors George and Berthe Herter feature Chile con Carne Mary of Agreda
in their section on meats. According to the Herters, the recipe was created by the first
missionary to Texas, New Mexico, Arizona and Southern California [] she taught this
recipe to the Indians in these areas and the recipe remains almost exactly the same in the
southwest today (Herter 52). Surprisingly, they categorize the recipe as Spanish, not at
all Mexican and [] not popular in Mexico (Herter 52); since one of the main
ingredients in chile con carne is chile, a New World food rarely used in Spanish cooking,
their characterization of the recipe is interesting. Clearly, the objective is to draw Spain
and the southwest into closer exchange (and Mexico somehow does not fit into this
equation), but this is done by emphasizing the importance of cumin and oregano (which
they suggest are native to Spain). After a narrative on Spanish history and cuisine, Sor
Maras recipe is presented, with specifications as to what meats were originally called
for: venison or antelope (instead of beef or mutton), and javelina (instead of pork). The
source of the original recipe remains undocumented, but not the fact that is it part of the
Lady in Blues folkloric legacy. Indeed the association between the nun and her famed
chile dish is not limited to the Americas: the Bull Cook version of Sor Maras chile con
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carne recipe was republished by Larry Torres in commemoration of the 400th birthday of
Mara de Agreda, a celebration hosted by her convent in Agreda, Spain (Torres). In
addition, a 2007 episode on chili on the Food Network television program Good Eats
(The Big Chili) reiterated Sor Maras inauguration of chile con carne; nutritionist Deb
Duchon comments in her conversation with chef Alton Brown that the nun was given the
recipe while in a trance.
Other additive folkloric allusions to the Lady in Blue are found in a variety of
sources, most of which mention instances in which she appeared in surprising places. As
noted above in the section on Jovita Gonzlez claimed the blue fences, crosses and
coffins used in Mexican cemeteries in the Texas in the name of commemoration of the
Lady in Blue. Like apparitions of the Elvis in the tortilla, the Lady in Blue emerges in
everyday contexts, such appearances contributing to the body of folklore about her. Jane
Eppingas Arizona Twilight Tales, which will also be considered briefly in Chapter 6,
comments that in Arizona her image has been seen in the gnarled roots of a mesquite
tree, in the rust of leaking water pipes, and in many other unlikely places (Eppinga 144).
An online article from the immigrant-amnesty website Humane Borders, promoting the
placement of fresh-water stations for migrants crossing the brutal Arizona desert,
mentions the Lady in Blue among the humanitarians: many are the stories and legends
(such as the legend of the Lady in Blue) of how water has saved lives in desert (Human
Borders Essays and Opinion Pieces). (Though it is possible this version references the
Hallenbeck and Williams story, the context seems to imply the setting is the Arizona
desert, rather than southern New Mexico). One of Lady in Blue accounts presents in
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Ghost Stories from the American Southwest claims that, as the Lady in Blue suffered
from illness in Spain, the teachers she would send the tribes would help the tribal
members who also suffered from illnesses (Young and Young 117). The Ghost Stories
version has the Franciscans believing that she was a visitor from the Other World
(Young and Young 117). Finally, in a New Mexico Magazine article by May Raizizun
(author Cleofas Jaramillo's sister), the author correlates the Lady in Blue to the geological
formation the Kneeling Nun near Silver City, New Mexico (Raizizun). Though these
examples only briefly mention the Lady I Blue, they clearly place in her in contexts and
activities different from those presented in the original narrative of mystical travel and
conversion.
Some folk versions seem to adhere more closely to the European, literary,
mystical legacy- more akin to Sor Mara the literary religious figure- than to Sor Maria
the missionary and succor. Mark B. Gens account from the Baughman collection,
correlates the Lady in Blues mystical trances with a Nun in France who had the
phenomenal ability to put herself into a deep trance (Gens) during which she could send
her personality and some semblance of her body (Gens) to the southwest. Where the
correlation between the Lady in Blue and the anonymous nun in Frances comes from is
not clear, but it references institutional Catholicism, rather than focusing on the
uniqueness of the local figure.
New Mexican Alabado
I mentioned the final folkloric artifact that contributes a new element to the
narrative at the beginning of this chapter: the New Mexican Penitente alabado dedicated
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to Madre Agueda de Jess. Alabados in New Mexico have traditionally been

composed, preserved and sung by members of the secular religious group popularly
known as the hermanos penitentes (the Confrada de Nuestro Padre Jess Nazareno).
Although most penitente groups prefer not to release their alabados to the public, a 1985
Liberal and Fine Arts Review article by Clark Colahan and Alfred Rodrguez presents the
alabado in its entirety and analyzes its lyrics.
The authors encountered this artifact in the alabado collection of Stanford
professor and New Mexican native Juan B. Rael, who had placed the song with whose
themes he determined were dedicated to the Virgin Mary. Upon reading this alabado, it
becomes clear why Rael so categorized the piece; the figure of Madre Agueda de Jess
becomes intertwined with that of the Virgin Mary. The Madre Agueda de Jess of the
first stanza becomes Mara, Madre de Jess in the second, and Eres Madre de Jess
in the third. The fifth stanza appears to incorporate a line from the Catholic prayer Hail
Mary though it begins by referencing Sor Mara: "Agueda de Jess eres/ el centro de tu
nobleza/ entre todas las mujeres, / bendita sea tu pureza. Colahan and Rodrguez
indicate that convergence of Sor Mara with the Virgin Mary might have occurred when
the alabado itself was composed (its composer having conflated the author of the MCD
with its subject matter) or, more likely, that an original alabado dedicated solely to Sor
Mara evolved over centuries of oral transmission (and lack of formal knowledge about
the nun and her writings) into the present-day alabado (Colahan and Rodrguez 7).
Though the alabado's ostensible subject is Madre Agueda de Jess as opposed
to Madre Agreda de Jess, other elements of the song support the assumption that Sor
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Mara de Agreda was its original focus, though years of oral production have pulled the
song in a Marian direction and led to the modification of her name. The element that
most clearly ties Sor Mara to the alabado is the repetition of the phrase mstica ciudad
de luz. The recurring association between Agueda and a term so closely resembling
the MCD would seem to reflect Sor Maras renown as a writer within New Mexican
folklore. The association Agueda-Virgin Mary-mstica ciudad is suggestive of an
acknowledgement with the alabado of the relationship among the three elements. Further
stressing this relationship, as Colahan and Rodrguez point out, the terms mstica suid,
princesa, and the repetition of nobleza, are expressions regarding the Virgin Mary
that are repeated throughout the MCD, but which are absent from other alabados
dedicated to the Virgin Mary. It must also be noted that the knowledge of the MCD that
that the alabado suggests has its limits: there is no reference to the Immaculate
Conception, to the theological content of the MCD. These elements indicate the close
intertextuality of Sor Mara and her writing in this folkloric account.
Though Colahan and Rodrguez examine the alabados lyrics quite closely,
seeking to determine which stanza could pertain solely to Sor Mara, their analysis does
not explore the remarkable, yet enigmatic eighth stanza: Los treinta-y-siete consejos/
que diste a Santa Teresa, / de moralidad inmensa, / bendita sea tu pureza. Given the
confusion between Sor Mara and the Virgin Mary throughout the alabado, the subject of
the verb diste is unclear; it could be either woman. As I am not familiar with Santa
Teresas writings, I do now know if the famed mystic writes that she received divine
advice. The potential relationship Agreda/Santa Teresa of Avila is anachronistic, Santa
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Teresa having died in 1582, well before Sor Maras birth. The association between the
two nuns is meaningful, as Santa Teresa was also a female Franciscan, her own
mysticism providing a basis for Sor Maras, and a short letter of Sor Maras having been
published by the nuns of Santa Teresas convent along with some of the nuns own
Avisos. Regardless of the precise nature of their relationship to Santa Teresa, the
continued specification of thirty-seven consejos is remarkable and, given the
intertextuality suggested earlier in the alabado by the reference to the mstica suid de
luz. presents an interesting avenue for further research. In addition, the alabados
twelfth stanza comments Agueda las profecas/ a ti Dios las endereza, / Madre pues las
cumpliras, an allusion again to prophecy and to the subjects actions regarding them.
As outlined in Chapter 3, Sor Maras writing was published in Mexico City and achieved
a wide circulation throughout northern New Spain. As much of the writing that
circulated was didactic in nature (Escala espiritual para subir a la perfeccin; Las
leyes de la esposa), examining both Sor Maras circulated publications and those
attributed to Santa Teresa would add depth to the study of this alabado's intertextuality in
the context of the Lady in Blue narrative.
Insofar as the alabados circulation is concerned, Colahan and Rodrguez
speculate that the Real alabado is just one artifact representative of a greater body of
folklore about the Lady in Blue and/or Sor Mara. Their hypothesis would seem to be
supported by the fact that the same alabado appears in other parts of the state. Although
the authors sought out other versions of the alabado (Colahan and Rodrguez 9), they
were unsuccessful in locating one, asserting that Juan Rael appears to have been the
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only collector to record the following folk hymn (Colahan and Rodrguez 4-5). In 1998,
when I began work on this project, I received a copy of an alabado dedicated to Madre
Agueda de Jess from a fellow student and hermano from Torren, New Mexico
(Perea). The lyrics of this alabado are identical to those of the Rael version; the alabado
thus does not offer any additional information that would help to disentangle Sor Mara
from the Virgin Mary or clarify how the composer regarded Sor Mara. It does suggest
that the alabado popularly survived in locations far from Arroyo Hondo; the folkloric
commemoration of Sor Mara was seems not have been limited to a single hermano
cofrada or geographic locale.
However, as this chapter examines the Lady in Blue narrative in folklore, and not
necessarily Sor Mara as a literary figure, how relevant is the alabado, as it makes no
explicit mention of bilocation or conversion of indigenous peoples? Its value lies in the
connections its continued usage suggests. As discussed in Chapter 3, Sor Maras vita,
including bilocation story, traveled alongside the MCD; thus knowledge of the MCD
such as was demonstrated in the alabado, implies at least exposure to the Lady in Blue
narrative. In addition, the alabado appears in a region where the Lady in Blue exists as a
folk figure, and indeed her primary identity is as the woman who bilocated to the region;
in the alabado her name links the legendary figure with the historical one. The alabados
evocation of the name Agreda could have reinforced extant ideas of the Lady in Blue
narrative in spite of the fact that its content does not deal explicitly with the narrative. I
thus find the alabado a pertinent example of how Sor Maras literary identity
transcended though folklore (as it is indeed evidence of the degree to which her writing
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was assimilated into common religious knowledge in the southwest) and how this song
complimented and emphasized the folkloric conceptualization of the nun as the
missionary Lady in Blue.
Folklore as Political Identity
Adina De Zavala, Jovita Gonzlez and Carlos Castaeda make for an interesting
triumvirate; all three are historians and folklorists of a sense, all three are invested in the
composition of Texass history during points of transition, and all three are Mexican
American, experiencing first-hand the social and racial tensions that formed the backdrop
for life in Texas during the late 19th- and first half of the 20th- century. Though they are
in many ways more dissimilar than alike, they share at least one other characteristic: they
include folkloric accounts of the Lady in Blue in their historical writing. Given the
historical moment at which they invoke her, choosing a colonizing figure such as the
Lady in Blue to represent or speak for the Mexican American community seems like an
odd choice. However, her adoption by and significance within the Mexican American
community spoke more compellingly than did her role as a colonizer.
For many Tejanos at the turn of the century and now, Catholicism is a vital
component of their identity, from the familial and community celebrations of church
sacraments, to the centrality of the Catholic Church in many communities, to their very
names. It seems very likely, therefore, that these three authors identified with Catholic
origin element of the narrative as part of their own geographical and spiritual identitywhich was of course related to their social and racial identity. In the context of an Anglo
Protestant presence in Texas, the contrastive assertion of a Catholic identity via the Lady
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in Blue might have re-affirmed Mexican American identity. In addition, the core Lady in
Blue narrative might have held appeal because of how it echoes these three writers own
experiences in Anglo-dominated social spheres. The historical Sor Mara acted within
the societal norms of her time while at the same time breaking with them to claim her
agency, much as these three authors did in their own environments. In a third sense,
Adina De Zavala and Jovita Gonzlez differ from Castaeda in that their
conceptualization of the Lady in Blue via folklore pertains to an even more specific
group- Mexican American women- and speaks to this groups political and historical
agency, using the Lady in Blue as a metric for action.
Whatever the reason for her appeal as a Mexican American folk figure, in the
cases of De Zavala and Gonzlez it is clear that she is evoked politically in a political
context. Thus the analytical question becomes not only the nature of the lore they present
about her, but how it is used and the extent to which the narrative functions in an active,
identity-defining way within the Mexican American community. The evocation of Lady
in Blue lore exemplifies the continued relevance and pull of her story in a latter-day,
identity-defining, political context.
Adina De Zavala
Adina De Zavalas folkloric narrative of the Lady in Blue is the most elaborate
and extensive that I have encountered. De Zavalas account asserts that tradition states
that the Lady in Blue lives underneath the Alamo, returning once a generation to
bequeath her gift of clear-sightedness to a native Texan woman of good character, for the
benefit of her (Mexican American) community. I will shortly discuss how De Zavala
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imagines the Lady in Blue in the authors own early- 20th century context, and what she
could signify vis--vis De Zavalas objectives in writing her History and Legends of the
Alamo and Other Missions (1917). By comparison, Jovita Gonzlezs folkloric account
in her article does not add as many new details to the narrative as does De Zavalas; she
simply states in her 1936 Southern Messenger article Catholic Heroines of Texas that
to this day, beautiful legends, stories and beliefs are still told about her, and every
Mexican cemetery in the state has its quota of blue crosses and blue fences around the
grove, and blue coffins are still in popular use (Gonzlez 2) Though her references to
folkloric practices are unique and would seem to reflect a communitarian recollection of
the Lady in Blue, for Gonzlez the folkloric tradition serves as a means of affirming the
long-standing and continuing recognition of her within the Tejano community. Thus
both De Zavala and Gonzalez cite not only the literary-folkloric tradition of the Lady in
Blue; they individually affirm particular folkloric practices and beliefs regarding her
presence in Texas. But under what conditions to these women recount their folkloric
accounts? And to what ends?
Anthropologist Richard Flores and literary critic John Gonzalez discuss De
Zavala and Gonzlez, respectively, and their roles in the creation of the counter histories
of the Mexican American community during the first half of 20th century, as the
standard Texan histories largely excluded the Mexican American community. The
attendant racial and social pressures extant during that period provide context for De
Zavala, Gonzalez and Castaedas writing generally, including their invocation of the
Lady in Blue in their works. How does each incorporate the Lady in Blue into their
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arguments in support of the Mexican American communitys presence in Texas? In De

Zavalas and Gonzlez cases, how is the active historical role of the female within the
Mexican American community made manifest through the recounting the Lady in Blue
narrative?
For Adina De Zavala, the legend of the Lady in Blue surfaces at a moment of
crisis within the Mexican American community, one in which De Zavala herself had been
actively engaged. As Flores masterfully comments, De Zavala fought for the
preservation of the history of her community, engaging in an epic battle against Clara
Driscoll and the Daughters of the Republic of Texas for control over the physical
structure of the Alamo, as well as over its narrative. De Zavalas book is an integral part
of this struggle; in it she presents both a historical summary of the events of the battle of
the Alamo and a suite of legends, including that of the Lady in Blue, which Flores states
allow us to understand the historical significance of the Alamo, not as a place with a
chronology, but as an event whose meaning is situated within the larger process of Texas
social life (Flores 82).
Richard Flores maintains that The narrative of the Lady in Blue and the other
legends De Zavala presents seek to fix the problem of socioeconomic displacement by
pointing to various forms of restoration and recalling the enchanted city of Tejas where
social and racial cleavage is unknown (Flores 83). And while it is true that the
underground city of Texas is idyllic- as Flores suggests, it is a kind of Utopia. The gift
that the Lady brings is almost more remarkable than the utopian social situation she
represents: What is the Gift? The gift of seeing to the heart of things! She sees with the
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clear-eyed vision of a Joan of Arc all that might vitally affect, for good or ill, the people
of her city and State whom she ardently loves with a strange devotion. All the children
are her children- all the people are to her friends, and brothers and sisters! (De Zavala
61) Further, the woman with the Lady in Blues gift is superior, pure and good, wellbred, intelligent, spiritual and patriotic (De Zavala 61). Her clear-sightedness both
benefits her own community and frustrates the designs of others who would abuse it, as
Tradition says she is always busy on the side of right, humanity, truth, justice, and
patriotism [] She is a mascot to those who help her on her work, and the Devils Own
Luck to those that hinder (De Zavala 61).
While the folkloric elements she contributes to the narrative are remarkable and
unique, De Zavala rather dwells on the effects the gift of the Lady in Blue could have on
her community via the woman endowed with them. It thus seems that De Zavala is
drawing upon the feminine agency of the San Antonian women gifted by the Lady in
Blue. The Lady in Blue is simply the source of the Gift; De Zavala is more interested in
what that gift (Tradition further says that she is always ready to help the rich, the poor,
the artist, the artisan, the writer, the children- the whole people of her beloved Texas
land (De Zavala 62)) can bring about in her San Antonian community through the
women who wields it. The focus is on the action engaged in by the female giftee (She
has the Gift and therefore can not choose but use it for San Antonio (De Zavala 62))
rather than on the legend itself. I find this interesting because it seems that De Zavala
sees the source for this female agency, for efficacious in a struggle that with very clear
racial boundaries, in the Lady in Blue. She draws from the folklore an example for her
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community- and perhaps more specifically for the female Texans- of what their succor
might look like- a woman. De Zavala states She is here now- the Woman with the Gift
for San Antonio, and Oh how we need her! She will help you and she will help me if we
find her! (De Zavala 61)
De Zavala finally rhetorically asks, Who is she? (De Zavala 61) leaving the
discernment of which woman will be the one to save her people to the reader. I would
offer that, considering De Zavalas resistive action in response the Daughters of the
Texas Revolution, as well as her familys long and prominent history in Texas (her
grandfather, Lorenzo De Zavala was the first vice-president of the Republic of Texas),
that perhaps the answer to her rhetorical question is: herself. Certainly, De Zavala
defended her communitys place in Texas history, fighting tooth and nail for Tejano
recognition and remembrance. Her book is in fact dedicated to The De Zavala
Daughters, Noble, Loyal, Unselfish, Patriotic Women in Whose Veins Course the Blood
of the Heroes, Statesmen, Patriots, Pioneers, and Founders of Texas (3). As a native San
Antonian woman, and one of the De Zavala sisters, it seems as though Adina De Zavala
appoints herself as the defender of her people, applying the Lady in Blues legacy as a
means of self-identification and call to political action. Read this way, De Zavalas
conclusion to the account suggests a mild warning to those who would not support her
activities in resistance to the DRT or who would frustrate her efforts: If you do not profit
by the Gift the fault is yours, not that of the Mysterious Woman in Blue, nor of the
Woman who holds the precious Gift as Almoner for San Antonio (De Zavala 62).
Indeed, in De Zavalas hands, the Lady in Blue, as Hallenbeck and Williams comment,
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is not a legendary character for she still lives (Hallenbeck and Williams 305-306).
Through De Zavalas politicized, community-focused, self-identification with the Lady in
Blue lore, she keeps the figure alive and possessed of a resistive agency to be transferred
to the Texan Mexican Americans most righteous female representative.
Jovita Gonzlez
The nature of Jovita Gonzlezs employ of the Lady in Blue legend is perhaps less
clear than is Adina De Zavalas. Jovita Gonzlez article appears in the context of an
exhibition for the Central Centennial celebration put on by the Diocese of Dallas as part
of a Catholic Exhibit. In the article, Gonzlez presents a hasty list of our more
outstanding heroines (Gonzlez 2) women who have made every sacrifice within their
power for the welfare of our people and the advancement of our state (Gonzlez 2).
Gonzalez frames her list of notable Texas heroines by affirming that women as great as
the state itself shaped its progress every step of the way, comparing the unflagging good
works of these women on behalf of their community to the eternal mercy of God: Never
in the existence of time has the Mercy of God been straightened, nor has the sacrifice of
woman ever been found wanting- so no wonder then that in this great empire state of the
Southwest, there are to be found in each stage of its progress and development,
outstanding examples of real greatness in our women (Gonzlez 2). Of the several
women Gonzalez highlights in her article, the first native Texan heroine she features is
the Woman in Blue, for though the historic past of our state is filled with wonders and
great events, [none is] more marvelous than our Woman in Blue and her supernatural
bilocations to Texas from her convent in Spain (Gonzlez 2) . Clearly, Jovita places a
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premium on the significance of the Lady in Blues actions in the context of Texas long
history, giving it precedence over all other wonders and great events.
Like Sor Juana Inez de la Cruz in her Carta a Sor Filotea de la Cruz, the very
inclusion of the Lady in Blue among the women Jovita Gonzlez considers worthy of
praise speaks to her renown and to the way Gonzlez perceives her actions and renown.
Like Sor Juana, Jovita Gonzlez employs the Lady in Blue as a main feature of her
argument for the agency of women- in this case, in the context of Texas history. Literary
critic John Gonzalez suggest that Jovita Gonzlezs article, part of the Mexican American
communitys response to the largely Anglo Texas Centennial celebrations, is
representative of her resistive feminine voice within the Mexican American community, a
voice arguing not only for the communitys importance in Texas history, but also for the
role of women as significant historical actors within that community. It would seem,
then, that Jovita Gonzlez constructs the Lady in Blue as one of these female figures of
agency, in fact emphasizing the range of her actions, as No part of our state seems to
have been neglected, for the Jumanos on the Concho River around present-day San
Angelo know her as well as the Tejas of East Texas (Gonzlez 3) as well as the fact that
she laid the ground work for the male Franciscan missionaries to follow her: Great then
was the wonder of the first missionary to find the Indians acquainted with the truths of
Our Holy Religion and ready for the Salvation of the Lord (Gonzlez 3). Though Jovita
Gonzlez generally recounts the core narrative of the Lady in Blue, her framing of it
illustrates how she wishes it to be read.

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Secondly, Jovita Gonzlez firmly claims the Lady in Blue as a heroine of Texas,
in spite of the fact that she was Spanish (as Gonzalez explicitly acknowledges) and her
presence in Texas (whether mystical or physical, as the narrative discusses) was achieved
via mystical travel. Since the project Gonzalez is working for is a Catholic one, perhaps
it is not surprising that she chooses the Lady in Blue as an example of heroism among
women in Texas- her conversions of the tribes of east Texas would certainly fall within
the purview of Catholic heroism and female agency. But what is remarkable is that
Gonzalez makes the argument that the Lady in Blue pertains not the to colonizing
Spanish, but to the Catholic (presumably Mexican American) community of Texas; she
claims the colonizing force in the name of the colonized Texans in the interest of
demonstrating female action in the history of Texas. Using folklore as the basis for
establishing the Lady in Blues continued commemoration and place of permanence in
Texas, Jovita contends that, at least in the context of her argument on behalf of the
women of Texas, the Lady in Blue belongs to that group of our own consecrated nuns
and devoted womenfolk [who] have made every sacrifice within their power for the
welfare of our people and the advancement of our state (Gonzlez 2). The Lady in Blue
is thus every bit the historical actor that any of the other women presented in Jovitas
article were, and every bit the actors any of the men, Tejano or Anglo, were.
Carlos Castaeda
I include Castaeda with Gonzlez and De Zavala in spite of the fact that his case
is complex, and perhaps he perhaps does not properly belong in this section. Castaeda
was a rigorous historian, and he probably did not consider himself a representative of
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Mexican American resistance. To be sure, his Our Catholic Heritage in Texas is the
most overtly Catholic of the three example I present in this section, as it documents the
history of the Catholic Church in Texas. If one considers both that Catholicism was a
major point of identification for the Mexican American community in Texas (the
heritage Castaeda describes, after all, is ours), as well as the socio-political context
of the time, it could be argued that his employ of Lady in Blue folklore in this historical
text is a non-neutral act. Judging from the Castaedas archive at the Center for
American History at The University of Texas at Austin, in which the portion of the
collection regarding Sor Mara includes a mystical travel treatise attributed to her
(Tratado del grado de la luz), it seems that Castaeda was very interested in her
mystical travel. For a 20th-century historian whose contemporaries (Webb, Hodge,
Lummis and many others) were writing Sor Mara out of their regional histories, that
Castaeda not only features her, but also adds the folkloric account about the Texas
bluebonnets is surprising and, I believe, can be considered resistive.
Castaedas contribution to the Marian magazine Age of Mary shows a
considerably more fanciful, less historical version of the Lady in Blue narrative. Between
the two sources, Castaeda manages to cover the range of tone of the types of articles
about her- at once a of resistive history and at the same time an awareness of her as a
significant folk figure in Texas history. His is the version that everyone cites as the
story about Sor Mara and the Texas bluebonnets: an Indian tradition has it that the last
time the Woman in Blue appeared to them, she blessed them and was then slowly wafted
away into the distant hills [] Next morning the plains and fields were covered with a
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carpet of strange flowers, all of a deep blue shade that reminded them of the mantel she
wore (Castaeda Woman 28-29). Castaeda does not reinterpret the narrative; his is a
dramatic rendering that conforms to the core elements. Castaeda, unlike Jovita
Gonzlez, does not appear to using the folklore as a means for validating the history, but
he does include it- an interesting choice for a historian.
In this chapter, we have seen some examples of the folklore about the Lady in
Blue, and have discussed the nature of that lore and how it was been applied in various
contexts. In the next and final chapter, we will examine how Lady in Blue has been
appropriated, re-imagined, and recast in the 20th and 21st centuries through a selection of
poetry, short story, novels, drama and art.

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Pero que raro misterio tiene la Venerable

Mara de Jess que an ahora, pasados los
siglos, se instala en esta realidad moderna de
vehculos motorizados y aparatos
electrnicos?
- Rima de Valbona, El legado de la
Venerable Mara de Jess de Agreda, 38

Chapter 6
We have now arrived at the last leg of the Lady in Blues 370-year journey, the
20th and 21st century. The works examined in this chapter demonstrate a shift in how the
narrative is used; in these examples, the Lady in Blues account is manipulated
consciously through a variety of literary and artistic genres to effects other than those
originally indicated by the narrative. Ed De Grazias short, illustrated pamphlet-book
The Blue Lady (1957) is our point of departure for the analysis of the Lady in Blue as she
is imagined in the (relatively) present day.
De Grazia, best known for his southwestern-themed paintings and drawings,
presents the reader with both literary and visual interpretations of the Lady in Blue
narrative. Subtitled A Desert Fantasy of Papago Land, the limited-run book, published
in conjunction with Arizona Highway magazine opens with a quixotic depiction of the
Arizona desert: The desert is spiritual, mysterious and religious. It is a dream within a
dream [] There is peace and quiet upon you in the desert (De Grazia 1,3).
Accompanied by De Grazias familiar impressionistic sketches and watercolors, it seems
he wishes to depict a folkloric, quaint, and yet somehow nebulous notion of the Arizona
desert and its indigenous inhabitants.
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De Grazia leads the reader into a story told by an old Papago (now Tohono
Oodham) chief to his tribe, gathered around the campfire, all the Indians lean[ing]
forward to hear his words (De Grazia). Into the grandfathers account, De Grazia seeds
elements of the 1630 Benavides Memorial, adding the detail that the Lady in Blue
brought with her a generalized happiness that the Tohono Oodham enjoyed. However,
when she visited the Yuma tribe, they shot her with arrows numerous times. The old man
concludes his story as the house in which he is seated becomes saturated with blue light;
suddenly, the old man lifted his arm to speak to the Blue Lady. Voices, faint voices,
could be heard. They were singing an ancient hymn to the cross (De Grazia). With that,
the old man disappears into the night.
Why does De Grazia select an old and relatively marginal folk story to portray in
this 1957 collectors work? What is he selecting from the Lady in Blue narrative to relay
to a contemporary audience? How does her narrative, consciously chosen, staged and
relocated in this text, function? In De Grazias case, it seems the artist uses the narrative
to distinguish between native tribes that were accepting of Christianity, and those who
rejected it; to assign the narrative an indigenous resonance and cultural identification; to
illustrate the deserts mysterious, eerie quality; and to cash in on a particular type of
cultural currency.
As this chapter will demonstrate, however, De Grazias handling of the narrative
is far from representative. The genres of works that treat the Lady in Blue narrative, how
the authors re-cast, re-imagine and re-tread the account, and even the artist and authors
themselves are wildly different. Now at the end of the Lady in Blues trajectory, I would
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invoke the critical rationale for treating the topic in this way, sated in the introduction.
Through the lens of Mexican American cultural studies, it has been possible to focus on
birth, development, and dissemination of the Lady in Blue narrative over a long period,
and using approaches appropriates to the materials and epochs examined. We now know
what the Lady in Blue narrative signified in the 17th through 19th centuries, how it was
deeply entangled with the popularity and dissemination of Sor Maras writing in New
Spain, how the Franciscan missionaries viewed her as a proto-missionary and missionary
authority, how the narrative became inscribed in the landscape via the histories and
artwork of the region, and, in the past chapter, how the narrative was both preserved and
added to in the folkloric tradition. With the passage of time, a narrative whose original
significance and content were rather narrow has become more diffuse and acquired new
meanings and nuances.
In the present day (from the early 20th-cenuty onward), as writers and artists do
intentionally imaginative work on the narrative, the results produced are necessarily quite
varied. What unites the diverse artifacts discussed in this chapter is fundamentally a
question of selectivity; they have couched, modified or re-conceptualized the narrative in
a way that highlights particular elements of it, that explores particular tensions or
relationships, or that makes the most of its regional cultural currency. As a result, the
artifacts here considered generally do not share a common interpretation or view of the
narrative; in fact, as in other thematic or narrative studies, they are presented together
because they share a desire to dialogue on the same topic. In some ways, the multiplicity

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of their expression originates from the variation of among the artists, and in another, from
the suggestiveness of the narrative itself.
This chapter is thus organized less rigidly than the previous five, though it does
move in a general progression from less radically innovative in its use of the narrative to
more. Genres are not segregated into separate categories; they fall into the analysis as
befits their use of the narrative. In addition, the contemporary period this chapter
discusses begins in 1932 with Julia Kelehers play; the works are arranged by the nature
of how they manipulate the Lady in Blue narrative, rather than following a chronological
arrangement. The first grouping of artifacts (Tey Diana Rebolledo and others, Jane
Eppinga, Dee Strickland Johnson) seeks to recast the Lady in Blue as a historical figure,
carving out a place for her a place in colonial regional history. Two Mexican American
writers, Luis Alberto Urrea and Ana Castillo, use the narrative to establish a regional feel
in their novels, while Amy Crdovas retablo suggests a local reverence for the narrative.
Julia Kelehers dramatic work takes this play with regionality a step further, as she fuses
a historical event concerning the Acoma and Laguna Pueblos with the Lady in Blue
narrative. William Jones Wallrichs childrens story imitates the structure of Lady in
Blue folklore, by using the narrative to reinforce positive social values.
Four works by Rima de Valbona, Bert Wall, Joseph Webber and Michele Larson,
and Francisco Goldman play in various ways with the ideas of transcendence and
transcendental movement inherent to the narrative. Francis Parkinson Keyes also
engages with mystical travel, but as a rationale for historical events- namely, Sor Maras
advisement of King Felipe IV. Four works by Eric Kimmel, Victoria Edwards Tester,
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Edward OBrien and Marilyn Westfall, take up the Lady in Blues role as a colonizer
and/or evangelizer, though each arrives at an exceedingly different conclusion. The
question of belief in the narrative and of verifiability is considered by S.E. Schlosser and,
to a much greater extent, Lisa Sandlin. Finally, novelist Javier Sierra asks us to bring the
Lady in Blue fully into the 21st century by stretching the limits of belief as the narrative
takes center stage in a conspiracy-theory novel. In the text that follows, each artifact is
set off separately by its creator and title, and is arranged in the order suggested above.
The Historical Lady in Blue
The first and perhaps most important re-casting of the Lady in Blue, a project to
which this dissertation contributes, is the historicization of the Lady in Blue. As
documented in Chapter 1, early 20th- and late 19th- century southwestern historians tended
to marginalize the narrative of the Lady in Blue, writing Sor Mara out of traditional
colonial-era histories by classifying her as a fraud or figment of the Franciscan friars
imagination. As demonstrated in Chapters 2 through 4, the Lady in Blues
representational presence during the 17th through 19th centuries in northern New Spain
was substantial, and the conscious exclusion of her from the dominant historical narrative
is reflective of dated interpretations of the function of women and of spiritual narratives
in the colonial context. Contemporary scholars of women in the colonial Spanish milieu,
Kathleen Meyers (Neither Saints Nor Sinners) and Ellen Gunnarsdottir (Mexican
Karismata), have included her in their works on other topics, where Sor Maras
influence is unmistakable. In keeping with their works, this dissertation has striven to
first establish and then characterize the nature and influence of the Lady in Blues
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narrative, preparing the story behind the narrative to be incorporated into contemporary
histories and cultural studies projects.
Other present-day, often feminist, historians and scholars have taken steps towards
reclaiming the Lady in Blue explicitly in the name of contemporary colonial southwest
history. Though most examples appropriate only the general narrative, leaving out the
specifics of how the narrative functioned in the 17th-19th centuries, their emphatic
assertion of Sor Maras impact is vital and long overdue. Tey Diana Rebolledos
Nuestras Mujeres (1992), for example, succinctly but cogently affirms the Lady in Blues
historical role in colonial New Mexico. To a lesser extent, so does the Hispano
Roundtable of New Mexicos recognition of her as Distinguished Hispana of New
Mexico, and even her brief mention in the Library of Congress American Memory
series, With Peace and Freedom Blest! Woman As Symbol in America, 1590-1800.
These texts do important work in recasting the Lady in Blue narrative by establishing that
it does belong in the historical context of Junpero Serra, Eusebio Kino, and Antonio
Mrgil de Jess. These texts and others imagine, and rightfully so, that the Lady in Blue
belongs in colonial (and contemporary) histories.
The adoption of Immaculate Conception theology by the Catholic Church in the
19th century spurred interest in promoting Sor Maras case to sainthood. 19th-century
Gallegan writer Emilia Pardo Bazn took up Sor Maras cause as one of Spains
founding female writers (Pardo Bazn); though criticized by her contemporaries for
championing the mystical writer, Pardo Bazn nonetheless re-imagined and recast her as

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one of Spains noteworthy Golden Age writers (as one observes the prologue she wrote
for Sor Maras Vida de la Virgen Mara).
Jane Eppinga: The Blue Nun (2000)
In her ghost story collection Arizona Twilight Tales, Jane Eppinga does not so
much select a particular facet of the Lady in Blue narrative to emphasize, as she does reimagine her in a broader, feminized historical context. By grouping the narrative in the
introduction with those of two other well-known female folk/religious figures, La
Llorona and La Virgen de Guadalupe, Eppinga is moving the Lady in Blue into dialogue
with more recognizable powerful feminine spirits (Eppinga xi), in her account The
Blue Nun. While leaving an un-problematized La Llorona weeping for her heinous
crime (xi), she categorizes the other two figures as pure goodness (Eppinga xi), a
conclusion while definitely open to debate from a post-colonial point of view,
nevertheless elevates the Lady in Blues historical profile. In addition, it locates her
narrative in a middle space within new feminized historical discourse, on a continuum
between an accepted religious account (Guadalupe) and a much more folkloric one (La
Llorona).
However, in spite of her extensive exposition of Sor Maras biography and to
contextualization of the Lady in Blue, it must be noted that Eppinga rather confusingly
refers to Sor Mara as a barely literate young girl (Eppinga 139) and a simple country
girl (Eppinga 143)- odd statements given that Eppinga later details the nuns
composition of the MCD and her extensive correspondence with Felipe IV. In spite of
this minor inconsistency, Eppingas account depicts a ghost with a real human history
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that the author co-locates with other iconic figures of female history in the American
southwest. Although she approaches Sor Mara from the vantage point of fable (laced
with biographical history), Eppingas account achieves an end similar to that of other
present-day historians and feminist critics who seek to restore or locate the Lady in Blue
in regional, literary and colonial histories.
Dee Strickland Johnson: The Mysterious Lady in Blue (2003)
Dee Strickland Johnsons The Mysterious Lady in Blue, from her collection of
poems on Arizonas history and legends (Arizona Herstory), is an example of literaturecum-history. As she notes in the collections introductions, unlike most poetry books, it
includes copious footnotes (Johnson 10). Strickland Johnson presents her readers with a
text that they may read for its historical information or for the form by which is tells that
history; she encourages the reader, however, to keep their eye on the history: If [] you
read to learn, I implore you to read the poem straight through once and then go back a
second time, in order to explore the subject further by referring to the footnotes
(Johnson 11). Strickland Johnsons is an approach uniquely suited to the Lady in Blues
narrative, which, like Eppingas text, locates the legendary figure in a contemporary
historical (in this case, literary/historical) context. However, Strickland Johnson does not
place her in a feminized historical context; herstory is not presented in contrast to
history, it simply reflects the fact that Strickland Johnson conceives of Arizona in the
feminine and thus, its her story! (Johnson 10).
Attributing the legend to Mexican country (Johnson 170), Strickland Johnson
adds very little to the narrative itself in the poem, thought she emphasizes the
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transgression that the Lady in Blue committed by traveling mystically: Reincarnation?

Out of body affair? / The church would have frowned in the face/ Of such an idea! Twas
evil! Occult! (Johnson 180-181); Had some strange nun really wandered among/ The
Indians? Could it be abuse/ Of Gods holy vows? No nuns in New Spain!/ The church in
Old Spain had confirmed! (Johnson 181). As was noted in Chapter 5, Strickland
Johnson includes the story of the frustrated American filibuster mission to Sonora in the
Lady in Blues history. In the context of the book as a whole, the inclusion of this
folkloric account adds another element of agency to the Lady in Blue as a contemporary
historical figure. Although Strickland Johnson uses the genre of poetry instead of prose,
she accomplishes what the subsequent examples intend: to claim the Lady in Blues
narrative in a contemporary history.
Luis Alberto Urrea: The Devils Highway (2004)
In The Devils Highway, journalist and novelist Luis Alberto Urrea presents the
reader with a fictionalized version of the tragic migration of 22 illegal Mexican
immigrants across the Arizona-Sonora desert. Subtitled A True Story, and dedicated to
the dead and [] those who rescue the living, the novel is a discerning work, focused
on the real and appalling outcomes of a human traffic across the US-Mexico border.
Urrea begins the narrative in media res, portraying the state of the men who survived
most of the terrible trip along the Devils Highway: they were burned nearly black, their
lips huge and cracking, what paltry drool still available to them spuming from their
mouths in a salty foam as they walked (Urrea 3). Urrea graphically describes their
struggle to hold on to life in the harsh environment- an environment they suffer because
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they cannot enter legally, and there are few or no life-saving measures in place for them
along the way.
Before narrating how the mens torturous journey began, Urrea develops the
Devils Highway as one of the storys protagonists, establishing the character and context
of a place that has set out to illuminate one notion: bad medicine (Urrea 5). For Urrea,
the place is steeped in death, suffering and darkness: those who worship desert gods
know them to favor retribution over the tender dove of forgiveness. In Desolation, doves
are at the bottom of the food chain (Urrea 5). The mythology Urrea creates for the
Devils Highway is brutal and hostile, from its landscape (the plants are noxious and
spiked, the wildlife creeps through the nights, poisonous and alien (Urrea 6)), to its
human history (As Melchior [Daz] died [] on his stinking cot, he burned and howled.
Flies settled in his entrails) (Urrea 10)), to its legends (the dreaded Chupacabras []
has been seen attacking animals, lurking in outhouses, and even jumping in bedroom
windows to munch on sleeping children (Urrea 6)). Though she is mentioned but
briefly, the Lady in Blue contributes to the unwelcoming environment Urrea composes
for his story.
Urrea references what seems to be the Kino/Manje account of the encounter
between the Lady in Blue and the Pima (Oodham), saying that it was written down in
1699 (Urrea 11). Though the tribes inhabiting the Devils Highway thought the were
free of the Spanish after Melchior Diaz death, they were continuously bothered by
meddlesome white women who flew above their heads, and a white woman who came
bearing a cross. Urrea offers, as did Kino and Manje, that the warriors did the only
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practical thing they could: they filled her with arrows (Urrea 11), noting that this seemed
to have little effect on her as They said she said she refused to die. Kept on flying
(Urrea 11). Urrea also divides the Lady in Blue story somewhat, claiming that the 1699
account referred to a Blessed Virgin UFO (Urrea 11), but that fifty years later a
female prophet came out of the desert. She was known as La Mujer Azul. (Urrea 11).
The native tribes, now thoroughly annoyed at these European Catholic disturbances, shot
her with arrows; Urrea comments this time, she died (Urrea 11). Finally, when the
Jesuits arrived in the region to effect conversions, the tribes killed the friars, because
they made the People as unhappy as the mysterious spirit-woman (Urrea 11).
Urreas inclusion of the Lady in Blue is not especially distinguished nor involved,
and he does not cast her in a significant role. But what does he interpret out of her
narrative? What did he find in her that was meaningful enough to incorporate her?
Finally, how does he recast her in his novel, about a contemporary, completely unrelated
topic? I think that the Lady in Blue serves several ends. First, like everything else the
comes in contact with the Devils Highway, she is touched by death; although the she is
not killed the first time shes shot with arrows, the second round removes her from that
environment. Second, she represents transgression- she is not supposed to be there, and
the tribes find her presence distressing; she is treading (or floating) where she is not
wanted and her symbols are found to be offensive. Third, she is coded as European, or at
least non-indigenous; since she is not a part of the desert, the desert feels free to get rid of
her. In all these ways, Urrea casts the Lady in Blue as one of the casualties of the Devils
Highway-proof of its dark deathiness. On the other hand, in the regional, environmental
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context of the novel, her inclusion is important because, although Urrea does not dwell on
the detail of bilocation, nuns, and conversions (though these elements are suggested), the
Lady in Blue narrative carries with it sufficient resonance that she is part of the backdrop
Urrea portrays. He does not omit her when personifying the Devils Highway, making
the most of her regional resonance in demonstrating the bad medicine that defines the
region.
Ana Castillo: So Far From God (1993)
Ana Castillos novel So Far From God, a fictionalization of the Hispanic people
and culture of New Mexico, features the Lady in Blue in a brief, but significant role.
Pulled form the folk tradition and relocated as an active agent in the present day, the
Lady in Blue acts on two different interpretive levels. The novel, set in the farming
community of Tom, New Mexico, concerns four sisters (Esperanza, Caridad, Fe, La
Loca) and their mother (Sofia). In the course of the novel, three of the sisters die or
disappear, leaving the highly idiosyncratic La Loca at home with her mother. As the
novel draws to a close, and in spite of the fact that she never leaves the family house and
has never had a boyfriend, it is revealed that La Loca has contracted AIDS. Though the
family physician Dr. Tolentino attempts to cure her, eventually Loca begs him to stop his
treatments. As she prepares to die, she is visited by an unexpected guest, a individual
who does not smell human, who is certainly a nun, and who must be related to Francisco
el Penitente (Castillo 244): the Lady in Blue started coming to visit her, walked right
into Loca's little room when no one was around one day (Castillo 244). During her
visits, Loca and the Lady in Blue play lotera (Loca beat the nun two out of three
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(Castillo 245)), the nun listening to and soothing Loca: the Lady in Blue did not seem
interested in talking about nobody besides La Loca and just making her feel better when
she couldn't get out of bed no more (Castillo 244). While there is no mention of
bilocation directly, the Lady in Blue sings Loca a final song as she holds her, a song
called a fade that she says is from Portugal. As Loca listens to the Lady in Blues song,
and comforted by the nuns embrace, she drifts off.
As we know from the title of the previous chapter, La Loca Santa Returns to the
World via Albuquerque Before Her Transcendental Departure (Castillo 238), Loca does
not actually die. As was the case when she was three, when her epileptic seizure was
mistaken for was mistaken for death, Loca experienced a transcendental departure
rather than and actual death. On the level of plot and character, the Lady in Blue is the
mechanism for a true deus ex machina ending (all thats missing are the strings pulling
the two characters off stage). In the books last chapter, Sofia forms an organization for
mothers of saints; the implication of her doing so is that Loca, in transcendent departure
as in life, was a saint. Who better, then, then to lead her on her journey than a ubiquitous
mythico-spiritual figure known for her unusual mode of travel? La Loca the character is
too non-conformist to die (even the unusual ectoplasmic death of one of her sisters); the
Lady in Blue helps her transition with grace and love.
But why the Lady in Blue? Why does Castillo choose her over other bilocating
saints, or female saints, or saints with an affinity for animals, or even just a spiritual or
mystical folk figure? What is Castillo striving for in setting the Lady in Blue to the task?
Castillo aligns Loca with the Lady in Blue in the chapter previous to her disappearance;
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putting on her sister Esperanzas blue bathrobe to go out on Good Friday, Loca
comments Its blue. Blue is good. And this was no nave remark coming from a young
woman who knew, among other things she was never given credit for knowing, that in
her land, blue was a sacred color and, therefore, very appropriate for the occasion
(Castillo 241). Here, Castillo prepares the reader for the following chapter; we know that
the Lady in Blue is positive, and that, in some way, she is known in Locas part of the
world. Though Castillo seemingly scrambles the origin of the Lady in Blue (it appears
that she is from Portugal), her inclusion in the chapter and paralleling with Loca serve the
second purpose of providing a nuevomexicano valence to the work as a whole. Castillo
aims to present a New Mexico that rings true culturally, and tries to accomplish this by
including elements such as Francisco el Penitente, the national labs, and nuevomexicano
religious culture. Her use, then of the Lady in Blue assumes her renown as a folk figure
in New Mexico; in fact, one could go so far as to say that Castillos ingratiating use of
her in a contemporary setting is a strong indicator of the Lady In Blues cultural
pervasiveness in New Mexico. By affixing her most nuevomexicana of characters to the
Lady in Blue, Castillo resolves the characters conclusion in way that allows Castillo to
use employ nuevomexicano cultural currency. But, like everything else nuevomexicano
in the novel, she is not quite characteristic.
Amy Crdova: Retablo (n/d)
Amy Crdovas retablo is a contemporary re-imagining of Sor Mara via a
devotional folk art genre. Crdova, a writer and illustrator of New Mexico-themed
childrens books (Juan the Bear and the Acequia of Life/La acequia de Juan del Oso,
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What Can You Do With a Rebozo, The First Tortilla, The Santeros Miracle), co-owner
of Enger-Crdova Fine Art in Taos, New Mexico, and santera, deliberately, though
fancifully, interprets the devotional 17th-century images presenting the Lady in Blue in
this piece. In the 18th-century European and Mexican printings of the Tanto, she is
upright, located superior to the indigenous people, with a quill in one hand, and a cross in
the other, representing her dual role as a writer and evangelizer. In Crdovas rendering,
the figure is still positioned superior to the indigenous tribes, but she is horizontal,
extended above the indigenous people beneath her, on whose faces a range of emotions
are registered- none of which appear to be the stereotypical/iconic ferociousness and/or
terror illustrated in the earlier versions. The feather she holds in her hand almost suggests
flying (as in the wing of a bird) rather than a quill for writing, as neither it nor the cross is
extended heavenward. A rainbow stretches behind Sor Mara, her smiling face in
contrast to the colonial-era hagiographic illustrations.
The significance of the piece as regards the Lady in Blue narrative is twofold. On
one level, as a folk artist, Crdovas work is popularly recognized and consumed. As an
entry into the corpus of that work, Sor Maras retablo constitutes the visual art that that
is perceived and purchased as local, whether as viewed as true devotional art, or depart
from Catholic practices. In this sense, Crdovas creation applies the Lady in Blue as a
marker for locality that is inherent in the folk nature of her production; it could indeed
be reflective of the Chapter 5 legend in which Sor Mara hides away indigenous tribes
from the Spanish near Bloomfield. Cordova self-consciously uses a local figure,
presented in a non-threatening way, through a local art form, securing the Lady in Blues
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place and relevance in the contemporary southwest. In addition, in portraying Sor Mara
as the Lady in Blue, and not as an author, Crdova centers attention on her as a local
figure because she is portrayed as pertaining to the local landscape, rather than to Spain
and the literary tradition.
In the second sense, Crdova selected a devotional art from to illustrate the Lady in
Blue, who, particularly in that manifestation, is not a saint, though she has been granted
the title Venerable. Certainly, retablos and other genres of folk religious art feature
individuals who are not saints in the Catholic Church; the image of Blessed Kateri
Tekawitha included in the reredo behind the altar at the St. Francis Cathedral Basilica in
Santa Fe is an example. However, by incorporating the image of Sor Mara into a
devotional art form, the genre itself suggests the interpretation of her as a missionary
proto-saint or simply as a religious figure in a contemporary Catholic context. Crdovas
selection of a devotional art form could lead her audience to read the figure depicted in a
hagiographic manner.
Julia Keleher: Lady in Blue (1932)
The script for University of New Mexico drama professor Julia Kelehers play
Lady in Blue was kindly provided by Kelehers nephew, William Keleher. Though the
playbill and cast list were catalogued in the UNM Fine Arts Department Collection at the
Center for Southwest Research, and since the play was performed, May 17, 1932 at the
University of New Mexicos Rodey Theater (Keleher Lady in Blue program), attending
the show was clearly out of the question! The seems to have been part of a series of
local interest topic plays (short works based on New Mexico folk traditions or
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histories) that continued into 1934; though it predates those works, as we shall see, the
play seems in keeping with the spirit of the series. In fact, as her commentary on the
playbill suggests, the work echoes Kelehers folkloric account of the Lady in Blue we
saw in Chapter 5 merging a variation of it with the historical purloining of a Spanish
painting from the Acoma tribe by the Laguna tribe. According to Keleher, the painting
was given to Acoma by the King of Spain in 1629, stolen by Laguna around 1807, and
returned to Acoma by order of the District Court of New Mexico in 1857 (Keleher
Lady in Blue program). Through Kelehers fusing of the two histories, and her situating
of the compound history among New Mexicos tribes, she envisions a new context for the
Lady in Blue and projects a prominence for her within the Native American community
in a historical-folkloric manner non-native to either narrative.
The work opens in the home of a tribal elder from the prosperous Acoma Pueblo,
Lorenzo. Lorenzo and his beloved, devoted daughter Anita discuss her upcoming
marriage to Pablo, another Acoman, as she sits at her loom, weaving a cloth of black,
grey, red and blue thread, asking her father to tell her a story she can weave into the
fabric. Lorenzo, preoccupied with some general misgivings about the future, finally
decides to tell her a story themed on the blue thread, that of the Lady in Blue. Lorenzo
recounts the bilocation narrative, and then adds a variation on the Lady in Blues gift: the
Lady chooses one woman every generation, who must be good of heart, who will be
able to see into the future: The gift that she gives is of the mind. Of being able to read
what is happening in the hearts of men, of being able to tell of future happenings
(Keleher Lady in Blue script 5). Lorenzo notes that no woman at Acoma has ever been
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chosen by the Lady in Blue; later, Lorenzo confirms that Laguna Pueblo had received the
gift, but dismisses the suggestion that she lives in an enchanted underground castle as a
story for the children to believe (Keleher Lady in Blue script 8).
While Anita mulls over her fathers story, a knock at the door hails the arrival of
four representatives from the downtrodden Laguna Pueblo. The men describe their
pueblos misfortune to Lorenzo, comparing it to the prosperity and happiness at Acoma.
The Lagunans have come to ask for the object to which they attribute Acomas wellbeing and their own sad state: a paining of Saint Joseph given to the pueblo by the king of
Spain. The Lagunans were the first tribe that receive the Lady in Blues gift, as one of
the grandmothers foresaw the Pueblo Revolt of 1680; Lorenzo fairly tries to determine
which of the two tribes will keep the miraculous painting by drawing straws; although
Acoma wins, a Lagunan has meanwhile snuck of and stolen the painting. Tom toms
beat in the background as the Acomans prepare to fight the Lagunans for the painting.
Anita, preparing to join the rest of Acoma, is suddenly confronted by the Lady in Blue,
looking steadily at [Anita] with great concentration and power (Keleher Lady in Blue
script 17). The Lady in Blue asks Anita about the future of her pueblo, their relationship
with Laguna and the picture; through Anitas answers, it becomes apparent that she has
received the Lady in Blues gift. Like a Cassandra, she predicts the painting will note
return to Acoma for fifty years and when it does return, it will not be as a result of force
of arms; turning to the Lady in Blue as the percussive noise increases, Anita begs her to
help convince her tribe not to enter into battle with Laguna.

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Kelehers set, costumes and dialogue are marked as regional, Native American
and Native American: Anitas hair is black [] banged above her eyes, the side locks
cut square, even with the mouth. Her back hair is wound around a red cord (Keleher
Lady in Blue script 1), her clothes and her fathers are suggestive (concha belt, moccasins
with no stockings, strands of silver beads), and she is seated a loom, weaving, as the
play opens. The characters speech is problematic, projecting a stereotypical Native
American quality. Notably, in depicting the transmission of the Lady in Blue narrative
by the Acomans and Lagunans (Is it not of wonderment that this woman wrote books
telling of our customs, our beliefs and our language as if she had lived among us, or
known us for a long time? (Keleher Lady in Blue script 4)), Keleher adds to her
contemporary rendition an implicit confirmation by and pertinence to the two pueblos,
neither of which figured into the historical narratives of the Lady in Blue. In addition, by
maintaining the folkloric element of a female recipient of the Lady in Blues gift, and
combing this textually with the historically verifiable incident of the portraits loss and
recuperation, Keleher both subtly presents a Lady in Blue whose gift is demonstrably
effective, and an indigenous woman far wiser than any of the men surrounding her.
Through the Lady in Blue, Anitas becomes, in a sly move for female agency, the only
character capable of averting disaster for both tribes; whether she does so is left open as
the works close.
William Jones Wallrich: The Blue Lady (1949)
William Jones Wallrichs childrens book The Strange Little Man in the Chili-Red
Pants features a number of stories that Wallrich adapted from northern Rio Grande
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folktales. Wallrich makes clear that he derived the original ideas for his stories from the
oral folk tradition of the region, attributing the accounts to individuals he puzzlingly calls
el cuento, or the storyteller. Rather than simply recounting Lady in Blue narrative in a
format suitable for children, Wallrich instead innovates on the subjects, with no attempt
[] made towards strict accuracy in the following of established patterns or to recount
the most traditional versions (Wallrich Introduction). The Lady In Blue is thus an
explicit link between the folk tradition and contemporary literary production (albeit with
a bizarre illustration of the Lady in Blue as a somewhat sexualized, certainly not nun-like
young seorita). In composing a new version of the Lady In Blue narrative, Wallrich
follows some of the folk conventions we observed in the lore presented in Chapter 5,
namely the reinforcement of moral or positive behaviors. As the book is intended for a
young audience, and as the storys protagonists are both boys, Wallrichs invented story
serves the specific purpose of illustrating and supporting several cultural values via the
rewards bestowed by the Lady in Blue for children.
The story revolves around a little boy from the mountains of New Mexico named
Miguel who goes by the name Mike. Mike visits the local village for a feast day, where
sees an impressive store owned by Don Pablo, a man adored by all the village members.
When Mike asks his grandmother how Don Pablo became so beloved, his grandmother
replies that when Don Pablo was a boy, Pablito met the Lady in Blue while driving his
fathers goats to water. She was disguised as an old woman carrying a load of sticks, and
while Pablitos brother Juan ran ahead, Pablito stopped to offer to help the woman with
her burden.
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Suddenly, she changed from an old woman into the beautiful, young Lady in
Blue, who offered him three wishes to reward him for his goodness. Pablos first two
wishes benefited his community (shoes so that everyone in the village could go to school
even when there was snow) and his sister (a mechanism to help her walk with a bad leg).
The Lady in Blue affirmed that both were good wishes. Pablito leaves his last wish up to
the gracious Blue Lady who silently disappears as the boys attention is distracted by a
puppy barking in the distance. When Mike asks what wish the Blue Lady gave to
Pablito, his grandmother replies that nobody knew, but that Don Pablo has prospered,
and is loved by all. A truly good and happy man (Wallrich 11). Mike considers what
his grandmother has told him about the Lady in Blue and Don Pablo, but he cannot
decide if the storeowner is great because of the encounter; he simply knows he wants to
be like Don Pablo. The next day, Mike offers to help his neighbor Mrs. Garcia, even
though he knew her and knew that she couldnt be the Lady in Blue (Wallrich 12),
demonstrating that Mike, like Don Pablo, chooses to do good for others, even though he
knows it will not benefit him in the same way.
As in the Hallenbeck and Williams accounts, there is no mention of the bilocation
narrative; the only indication that Wallrichs Lady in Blue is the Lady in Blue are the
geographical origins of the oral story and the references to the folk tradition: about her
feet flowers of blue sprang up (Wallrich 8); Everyone knew that she lived in a beautiful
castle deep in the earth and that at times she came up to the surface to visit the earth
people. And when she did so, she would grant wishes (Wallrich 7). Wallrich reinforces
the folk traditions prevalence and persistence via Mikes familiarity with the narrative
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(He had heard of the Blue Lady, but then, who hadnt? (Wallrich 7)), and with the rules
governing her actions. Wallrich then connects the gifts bestowed by the Lady in Blue
with particular values and the conduct supporting them: Pablito is rewarded both for
helping a person in need, and for wisely and generously thinking to benefit others (his
community and family) even when he could ask for and receive anything. He is rewarded
for goodness with lifelong goodness. Underpinning the immediate rewards for good
behavior is the most valued outcome of all: being happy, well-off, wise and beloved in
ones old age, a gift of which the Lady in Blue deems Pablito worthy. Wallrichs
elucidation of Mikes decision, to help an old woman out in spite of the fact that he
knows he will not receive the benefits that Don Pedro did, makes explicit the didactic
success of the fable within the text. One imagines that Wallrich intends his young
readership to learn as much from the story, and to act as Mike did.
Rima de Valbona: El Legado de la Venerable Sor Mara de Agreda (1988)
Costa Rican author Rima de Valbona contributes an structurally interesting entry
to the contemporary Sor Mara corpus. Her Spanish-language, semi-historical short story
El legado de la Venerable Mara de Jess de Agreda plays not only with the idea of
bilocation in the present-day (by presenting a syncretic relationship between the storys
protagonist and the bilocative experiences of Sor Mara), but also with bilocation as a
structural element in the story (as she stages the storys various narrative voices). As
literary critic Lee Daniels comments, the question of the legado, and who or what is
inherited, is central to meaning Valbona intends to transmit, and to how she translates the
Lady in Blue narrative.
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The account begins with the first-person voice of the first narrator, an anonymous
female university professor conducting research at the Biblioteca Nacional Mexico City
on a colonial-era topic in anticipation of a conference she is to attend. While perusing the
citys Mercado one Sunday, she encounters a copy of the 1670 printing of the MCD; the
professor had already once been diverted from her research by the nun, when she found
the account of her canonization tucked in among the archives she was researching.
Almost immediately, Valbona switches the narrative voice, to another first person
narrator, a nun, we gather, who lives in Sor Maras convent during her lifetime,
observing Sor Maras writing and her travel to convert the Moqui (Hopi): La veo en
uno de los momentos de arrobo, suspendida en el aire, transfigurada y tan ligera de peso,
que la brisa de maana mece su leve cuerpo con el mismo vaivn de las hojas de lirio que
bordean el jardn del claustro (Valbona 34). The story seamlessly alternates between the
professor, attempting in the present day to complete her research yet driven to distraction
by her involvement with Sor Maras writings, and the 17th-century Agredan nun, who
observes Sor Maras correspondence with Felipe IV, and hears the abbess plea to seek
out who might teach and baptize the tribes she visits.
The professor, enredada en una confusa telaraa entre el ayer barroco y el hoy de
la electrnica (168), decides she must leave Sor Mara aside or risk losing her career;
yet, when immersed in her research at the Biblioteca Nacional, she finds a (real)
historical tract composed by Franciscan Fray Carlos Delgado (1746), claiming that Sor
Mara continued to visit the Moqui during his lifetime, asserting that nuestra apreciada
misionera nos est ayudando a cultivar la Via del Seor (Valbona 42). Throwing all
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her weeks of research into the trash, the professor requests a map of Mexico from the
librarian, exclaiming: Qu bueno liberarme as de la tirana acadmica! (Valbona 43).
As the story closes, Valbona changes the narrative voice a third and final time, to a
dispassionate third person, who observes from the outside as the past and present
converge. The professor, described by the narrative voice as impeccable [] de gesto
intellectual (Valbona 43) throws herself at the librarian, pleading Vuestra Ilustrsima,
os ruego dejarme ir al Moqui [] Me lo manda la Venerable Mara de Jess en su
lecho de muerte me leg esta misin y por lo mismo no puedo dejar de cumplirla.
Mandadme a Moqui, por el amor de Dios! (Valbona 43). The convergence between the
18th century and past is complete; as the 3rd-person narrator informs us of the librarians
consternation and the professor/nuns continued pleas to be sent to the Moqui, cueste lo
que cueste (Valbona 44)
Lee Daniels, who presented me with Valbonas work and with his own criticism
of it, reads the story as a manifestation of two different types of legado, based on two
definitions of the word. In the first sense, that of an inheritance transmitted to ones
successors, Daniels sees the text itself (the MCD) as the object which is passed along
(170), the point of connection between the 17th and 20th centuries (167). It is as if Sor
Mara has left the book for the unnamed professor to find as the nuns bequest to her.
Daniels also reads legado in a second sense- that of an ambassador sent by a Church
official and charged with a particular mission. The professor, as a legado, thus acts as
the emissary of Sor Mara, the person dispatched to complete the nuns objectives. In
Daniels projection of a possible ending for the story, he suggests that Sor Mara reaches
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back across centuries through her text to choose the professor mientras est loca
(Daniels 171) to continue her incomplete missionary work. While this hypothesis is
certainly supported by the third person narrative voice which views the professors
conversion into a17th-century missionary nun objectively, I offer that Valbona is playing
an even more subtle game with the reader through the professors assumption of the role
of Sor Maras protg.
I propose a third way Valbona might imagine Sor Maras legado, in the sense
that a legado may also be a legacy that is more abstract and literary than it is
physical. The legacy the professor inherits and enacts is that of bilocation or
bitemporality, expressed via the structure of the story itself. Because both the 17thcentury Agredan nun and the present-day professor are expressed in the first person
voice, it would seem that Valbona is playing with reality in a manner reminiscent of Julio
Cortzars, running one narrative yo into the other, blurring the lines between past and
present, between the real and the imagined, to reproduce the sense of bilocation:
Mientras recorro la calle Bolvar de vuelta al hotel, experimento la ms intensa
enajenacin, como si estas peregrinas calles del Mxico dieciochesco fueran de tiempos
muy lejanos, todo un mundo desconocido por m racionalmente, pero que me es muy
familiar en el mbito de mi yo profundo. En aquel instante las otras monjas se
cuchichearon a mi lado (Valbona 39). Both voices are genuine to their environments
and yet it is clear, thorough the eyes of the present-day observer, that they are one and the
same. It could be that, instead of the professor losing her mind, the legado the modernday academic inherits from Sor Mara is not only her text and her role as Sor Maras
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emissary, but also the nuns ability to be in two places at once, an effect Valbona creates
via the structure of the narrative and the presentation of space.
Valbona thus plays with legado on several levels: literally, as the contemporary
professor inherits the book; metaphorically, as she assumes Sor Maras evangelical
mission to the Moqui; and structurally, by how she wields the various narrative voices
and situations in the story to create a sense of bilocation. Valbona reads Sor Mara as the
multifaceted historical figure that she is, but she saves her most structural argument for
the Lady in Blue, as the author cleverly uses the storys structure to creates a sense for
how her contemporary colonial historian, is both clearly in the present, even as she
simultaneously belongs to the past.
Bert Wall The Blue Nun (2001)
Bert Walls The Devils Backbone II is the authors second collection of stories
of the supernatural told by old-timers (Wall vii), many of which pertain to or are
narrated as relating to his ranch in the Devils Backbone, a range in the Texas Hill
Country between Blanco and Wimberly. Rather than recounting a straight rendering of
the Lady in Blue narrative, which would be more in keeping with other ghost story
collections featured in the previous chapter, Walls short story presents an innovative
narrative that focuses on the Lady in Blues feminine, Catholic elements in an unexpected
context.
The Blue Nun is set on Walls ranch, in August; the workmen exhausted from
heat and exertion, the ranchs staff, including its youthful cook Ventura (coded for as
Mexican by virtue of her dark eyes and flowing black hair (Wall 88)) rests during the
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heat of the day. Later in the evening, Ventura, who as a youth was an excellent student
with leanings towards the religious life, approaches Walls office reluctantly. While Wall
lingers on the cooks hesitance, Ventura nevertheless is compelled to tell her employer
and his wife about what had occurred to her as the rest of the ranch napped. Falling into
a deep sleep, Ventura experienced a convergence of herself with the mystical movement
of the Lady in Blue in the colonial period, though the ranch cook was unaware of the
legend she embodied: I left my body and was floating high above myself [] I was
dressed in a sky-blue habit; I was definitely a Catholic nun [] I saw Indians, tribes of
Indians, all over Texas, east, west, all over, and then all seemed to know me, or at least
the nun in the blue robes (Wall 89). Shortly after describing her experience to the
spellbound narrator and his wife, Ventura leaves the ranch, choosing to follow her
religious calling (Wall 89) and become a Catholic sister as a result of her extraordinary
dream. Later, upon researching some of Texas stories under Spanish rule and learning
of the Lady in Blue, the narrator speculates on Venturas experience, wondering: Did
Ventura see the old spirit? Did the old spirit call her to the sisterhood? (Wall 90). The
narrator abruptly concludes with the hope that the Catholic Church will dress Sister
Ventura in the blue robes of the woman who so deeply influenced her decision to enter
the sisterhood.
As in Rima de Valbonas story, Walls Ventura slips into the mystically-traveling
role of the Lady in Blue seamlessly, though she does so without prior knowledge of the
Lady in Blue narrative, and through the permissive mechanism of sleep or reverie.
Ventura essentially becomes the Lady in Blue, seeing herself in the characteristically282

named blue robes (though it is interesting that the color is sky-blue, and not the darker
blue of the Conceptionist habit). However instead of an assertion of the freedom of
movement or liberty of agency that other associative versions offer, Venturas conflation
with the Lady in Blue, particularly as emphasized by the narrators final exhortation,
leads her closer to the Catholic Church. Rather than carefully trespassing the lines of
patriarchal authority, Venturas experience confirms her faith, solidifies her resolve, and
leads her into the distinctly feminine religious life rather than around it. The narrator also
develops the Spanish-Texan facet of the Lady in Blue, and assigns it authority when he
states that it took the church [sic] several decades to recognize this story as having a
factual basis of some kind (Wall 90). Walls rendering of the Lady in Blue narrative is
thus coded as Spanish, feminine, factual and significantly supernatural; her particularly
emphasized characteristic in the story is her ability to inspire a positive response to the
call to institutional participation in the Catholic Church on the part of another woman.
This conflation is further emphasized by title of the story and its peculiar ending, as both
leave the reader wondering, Which is the Blue Nun?
Joseph Webber and Michele Larson: Sor Mara (1980s)
Though I have been unable to locate a complete recording of the dance opera Sor
Mara, written by Joseph Webber and choreographed by Michele Larson, the
productions program and publicity imagine a Lady in Blue whose mystical travel acts as
a metaphor for Sor Maras relationship with God, and who develops an active
engagement with that spirituality. In Sor Maras case, the form of the representation is
quite unusual; the topic perhaps lends itself to the distinctive genre. While other
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contemporary renderings of the Lady in Blue narrative are mostly textual, Webber and
Larsons work is a chamber opera/ dance-theater work (Webber and Larson Sor Mara
Advertisement, KiMo) featuring only two characters, Sor Mara and her biographer Fray
Joseph Ximnez Samaniego, and a chamber orchestra. Though the textual origins of the
work are evident (the programs introduction discusses Sor Maras vita at length), and
the work portrays two individuals who have only a textual relationship to one another, the
theme is expressed via artistic movement, set/atmosphere, and music. Accompanied by a
chamber orchestra, the production intends to portray a blend of emotions of the heart
and aspirations of the soul in the portrayal of Maria in her mystical states as human being
undergoing transformational experience (Webber and Larson Sor Mara Advertisement,
KiMo). Without the script/libretto or a recording of the music and/or the production, it is
difficult to say with accuracy what was conveyed in the performances. However, judging
from the photographs featured on the posters for the performance, and the tone
observable in the short clips of the work (taken from the website dedicated to the 400th
anniversary of Sor Maras birth), it appears that the creators intended to project a spare,
modernist/interpretive tone onto the topic.
Though Webber and Larson emphasize in the program that the subject of the
work is a religious person, the work itself is not a religious piece (Webber and Larson
Sor Mara Program). They do not comment of the veracity of her trance, though they
affirm: it is evident from her own and her biographers writing that she experienced
transcendental states, and wrote about them. (Webber and Larson Sor Mara Program).
Webber and Larson wish to portray Sor Mara in her trances, ecstasies and mystical
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states, as a human being undergoing transformational experience (Webber and Larson

Sor Mara Program), stating that she was describing very real, personal experiences
however the external reality might appear to an objective observer (Webber and Larson
Sor Mara Program). Though the bilocations are categorized as astral projections
(Webber and Larson Sor Mara Advertisement, KiMo) (and her inspired writing as
trance-writing (Webber and Larson Sor Mara Advertisement, KiMo), the idea behind
the portrayal of mystical travel cleaves to traditional, rather than New Age, spiritual
themes. In the works third movement, New Mexico, the Lady in Blues bilocation is
explicitly developed: the choreographer [Michele Larson] uses this story of Maras
travels and preaching in the New World as a metaphor for Maras struggles with her
darker self and her attempts to convert her soul to the will of God (Webber and Larson
Sor Mara Program). In the last two movements, Sor Mara expresses through dance and
music her conformation with Gods will and rejection of sins, her dance now ecstatic,
rather than trance-like as in the first scenes.
It is worth mentioning, in closing, that the Sor Mara as a performance piece
appears to have enjoyed a reasonable regional popularity. At least two sets of three-day
runs, one at the KiMo Theater in Albuquerque and another at Northern New Mexico
Community College, occurred one year. Notes on the poster for the NNMCC
performance indicate that is was preceded a year before by an earlier production (Webber
and Larson Sor Mara Advertisement, Northern). While it is certainly true that such
interpretive dance performances attract a specific audience, it is as apparent that the work
was sufficiently appealing to both justify a second run, and to increase the number of
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venues. Though dance as an artistic medium does not share the same breadth of audience
that the oral folkloric tradition does, Sor Mara reached a contemporary audience that
would have been unlikely to seek out contemporary textual renderings of the narrative,
and additionally, envision the narrative through a modern spiritual lens.
Francisco Goldman: The Divine Husband (2004)
Guatemalan-American writer Francisco Goldman is known primarily as an author
of historical fiction novels set in Latin America. His 2004 novel The Divine Husband
begins in 19th-century revolutionary Cuba, having as its implicit protagonist none other
than author and revolutionary leader Jos Mart. The action of the novel, however,
surrounds a girl named Mara de las Nieves Moran, servant and companion to Paquita
Aparicio, who would later marry the countrys dictator and be forced to flee the country
after his death. At the beginning of the story, the two girls are sent to a convent school to
be educated, though as her friend is pursued ever more intensely by the dictator, Mara de
las Nieves becomes a novice nun in the convent (which is summarily closed by El
Anticristo) in an effort to prevent the union. While observing the nuns strict rules,
Mara de las Nieves is introduced Sor Maras vita: Nothing she had ever read before
had so impressed or stimulated her, or awoken such concentrated yearning (Goldman
41). Mara de la Nieves mentally compares herself to Sor Mara, noting that she began
her mystical travels at about the same age that Mara de las Nieves was. Although the
novel is far from focused on Sor Mara de Agreda, the fact that the young girl perceives
several provocative parallels between her own life and that of mystically bilocating
Spanish nun (Goldman 42) is echoed throughout the novel. And, the question of this
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Sor Mara-like bilocation is invoked in answering the books central question: is the
unknown father of Mara de la Nieves child Jos Mart?
Goldman weaves both Sor Mara the spiritual author, and the mystical traveler
into the plot of the novel, as Mara de las Nieves is completely absorbed by the book as a
novice (particularly by the idea of bilocation) and evokes the nuns writing throughout
her peripatetic life (in following Paquita to New York, her travels lead her far from
Cuba). The reader discovers that the book had been a favorite among the nuns of the
convent for generations (Our predecessors must have loved it very much (Goldman
44)); a miserable Mara de las Nieves gives herself over entirely to the book, losing
herself in the methodically narrated adventures and inner dialogues inspired by the
mystical travels of the Spanish nun (Goldman 46). The novice becomes so absorbed
that she herself begins to imagine herself traveling as well, trying to lose herself in
meticulously guided day and night dreams of mystical bilocation (Goldman 46) in order
to visit the family and friends she missed. The Spanish nuns counsel comforts Mara de
las Nieves during her novitiate, and she learns that the travel is a reward of sorts for
spiritual forbearance: Mara de las Nieves knew now that such flights and visions were
won only through the most heroic discipline, suffering and selflessness, and by the
twinned powers of reason and faith (49). When she finally finishes the nuns vita, Mara
de la Nieves relinquishes the book only regretfully: Goodbye beautiful, beloved book,
goodbye, I love you (Goldman 54).
Mara de la Nieves carries Sor Maras lessons throughout her life, wishing
variously that she could mystically travel through the convents walls (Goldman 60) to
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talk to Paquita, comparing unexpected her escape from urban poverty a mystical escape
as wondrous as any shed read about in Sor Mara de Agreda (Goldman 91), and
eventually recalling, upon receiving a postcard of Caon de Chelle, the nuns travel to the
area, recalling the book read in the distant past of her life in the convent. Mara de la
Nieves longed-for bilocation is ironically realized near the novels end, when the
paternity of her second child is explored. Though the narrator believes that Charles
Lpez father was Jos Mart, Mara de las Nieves first child, Mathilde, comments that
instead her mother trilocated to three different men, including Mart, herself corporally
manifesting with all three (Goldman 432). The narrator comments that such a ludicrous
story must have been concocted to disguise Marts paternity, but the Mathildes
conviction and the lingering theme of bilocation persist; did Mart leave behind a another
son as a result of a former Cuban nuns tri-location? Goldman, of course, cheekily
suggests the possibility and returns to the sidelong meditation on Mart, the divine
husband. Goldman thus casts the Lady in Blue narrative, Mara de las Nieves old
favorite (Goldman 146), as a leitmotif for escape and for the miraculous throughout the
novel, allowing it to periodically edge into the protagonists thoughts, parallel the books
action, or even produce an extra branch on Jos Marts family tree.
Frances Parkinson Keyes: I, The King (1966)
Frances Parkinson Keyes I, The King is an historical fiction novel based on the
life of Spains 17th-cenuty monarch, Felipe IV. Sor Maras role conforms with her
historical relationship with Felipe IV as his spiritual and personal advisor for 23 years via
written correspondence. As in Felipe IVs actual life, Sor Mara does not appear until the
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last third of the book, after the king has dismissed his vlido (political advisor) the Duke
of Olivares. The action of this last section is punctuated by translated excerpts from Sor
Maras letters to the king, in which Sor Maras responds to and advises on the kings
numerous executive and personal crises. Keyes plays on these excerpts to give an
immediate sense of perspective to the events of the kings life; because she is on the
outside looking in, and because Felipe IV often followed her advice (even in military and
political question), these passages (as the actual letters themselves) provide remarkable
insight into his reign (and, of course, to her influence). But for this interaction to have
existed, Keyes must explain how Sor Mara became the Kings consigliore, how his
confidence was won to such an extent that until death snapped the spiritual link that
joined them, the heart of Philip was bared in all its sorrow, its weakness, to Sor Mara
alone (Keyes 212).
The meeting and interaction between the two figures is presented in dialogue, Sor
Mara at first reluctant to advise the king because of her limited experience with worldly
affairs, and because she had never left Agreda in a traditional sense. Then, Sor Mara
explains to Felipe IV that she had traveled all over the world, including to the New
World, but had done so spiritually rather than physically, In what is likely a reference to
the Orbes Celestiales attributes to her, Sor Mara describes the people, languages,
geography and customs she observed in various worldwide locales. After much prayer
and pleading, Sor Mara was sent to the Indian villages of the New World, which she
portrays in great detail for the king. Felipe IV listens, spellbound, asking the occasional
question, as Sor Mara relates the conversions she effected, and the people she found
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there. As she concludes her narration, Felipe IV gazes at her habit and murmurs: The
lady in blue, of course, was you, Sor Mara (Keyes 227). After a brief moment of
silence, the king looks up at her with a thoughtful smile (Keyes 228). Dismissing the
nuns misgivings about whether he would believe her experience of mystical travel, the
king states that he believes her absolutely. Further, he wonders why a woman who has
been so favored of the Almighty that He has send her on theses mystical missions, and
who has been so far successful in them [] should doubt that she can give solace and
support of one lonely man in his extremity? (Keyes 228). Though Sor Mara avers that
she cannot be so favored by God since her travels to the New World have ceased, Felipe
IV assures her that her abilities (your intelligence, your judgment, your executive
abilities and your integrity, not to mention your piety (Keyes 229)) that were manifested
via the mystical travel have simply been channeled elsewhere, and that he in fact seeks
her counsel because, and not in spite, of the travel.
Keyes thus uses the Lady in Blue narrative as fundamental to the historical Felipe
IVs rationale in choosing Sor Mara as his advisor. The Lady in Blue narrative, far from
discrediting Sor Mara, increases her appeal to the king and broadens, in his eyes, both
her sphere of knowledge and her efficacy. In so constructing the interaction between
monarch and abbess, Keyes demonstrates the attitudes of the period and place, tells us
more about Felipe IV by illustrating his rationale and perspective on the bilocation and its
significance. The Sor Mara Keyes presents is thus bolstered rather than hobbled by the
Lady in Blue, and additionally fits with the portrait of the sympathetic but flawed king
Keyes portrays.
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Eric Kimmel, Illustrations by Susan Guevara:

The Lady in the Blue Cloak (2006)
Eric Kimmels childrens book, with illustrations by Susan Guevara, offers a
series of modernized legends concerning the Texas missions that intend to present a
mission enterprise consisting of peaceful cultural assimilation. The Lady in the Blue
Cloak: Legends From the Texas Missions acknowledges in the introduction that the
mission enterprise was traumatic for the native tribes, (becoming farmers and Christians
required a total break with their past (Kimmel vii)) and that contemporary criticism
interprets the missions with a justifiably critical eye (the padres are often condemned as
agents of imperialism (Kimmel vii), Kimmel nonetheless chooses to interprets the friars
action as representative of their earnestness they sincerely believed they were doing
Gods work, saving lives as well as souls (Kimmel vii). Kimmel concludes in the
introduction that the conflict between the European padres and the indigenous tribes was
justified, as it ultimately led to the growth of a new culture- one that combined elements
of both European and American civilizations [sic] (Kimmel vii). It is in this vein,
through the genres of childrens fiction, that Kimmel casts the Lady in Blue narrative.
Though generally conforming to the narrative as a whole, both the text of The Lady in
the Blue Cloak and its illustration emphasize that not only did the Lady in Blue bring
European religion to Texas tribes, but she that she also portended the arrival of its
agriculture and livestock, and thus the tribes cultural Europeanization.
This effect is prefigured in the illustration that prefaces the story. In it, the Lady
in Blue bows down on one knee, holding a miniaturized version of a mission in one arm,
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another arm reaching heavenward. An angel wearing blue flies above her, native peoples
wearing European-style clothing happily greet her, and several domesticated European
animals (sheep, chicken, horse) cluster at her knees in the foreground. It is this last detail
that sets this story apart, particularly in light of Kimmels introduction. Reading the
story, the meaning of the animals in regards to the Lady in Blue narrative becomes clear.
The account is based on the encounter between Fray Damin Massanet and the
Texas tribes. The Tejas, after requesting blue fabric to bury their dead, assert that they
area ready to convert to Catholicism, as God is our friend. God and the Lady in Blue
will protect us (Kimmel 3). Then, Kimmel adds the significant detail that is reflected in
the illustration and alluded to in the introduction, as the Tejas chief continues: the Lady
also promised you would bring us new plants, new animals. Everything she said has
come true. We will never be hungry and cold (Kimmel 3). The Lady in Blue is thus a
harbinger and advocate not only for religious conversion, but also for the adoption of
agricultural and living practices via the introduction of livestock cultivation. Though
Kimmel scrambles other historical details in the story, it is clear that he wishes to
emphasize the Lady in Blue as an agent for the overall Europeanization of the Tejas
tribes, exerting a colonizing influence that extends beyond the purview of conversion.
Victoria Edwards Tester: The Blue Lady, 1635 (2002)
Victoria Testers poem The Blue Lady, 1635 employs the Lady in Blues firsperson voice to compellingly assert claim not only to her participation in the bilocation
experience, but also to the Lady in Blues authority over New Mexicos missions and
northern frontier politics. The poem, from Testers collection Miracles of Sainted Earth,
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hints at the idea of a peaceful conquest, casting the Lady in Blue in the role of a
peacemaker who, by virtue of her lack of force, is the voice of spiritual efficaciousness,
love and syncretic wisdom. Tester thus affirms and augments the Lady in Blues agency,
envisioning a Lady in Blue unhesitating in addressing male missionaries, hopeful in her
prayer for peace, and unabashed in telling the missionaries what their goals show be and
how they should carry them out. Testers Sor Mara does, however, present an
oversimplified interpretation of the indigenous tribes, the people as brown as Our Lords
sparrows (Tester 108).
The poem opens with a tone that is part confessional and part testimonial: I, Sister
Mara de Jesus de Agreda/ made five hundred blessed journeys to New Spain (Tester
108). In contrast to the diffident tone Sor Mara usually used when discussing the
bilocative travels, reluctantly submitting to male authority or averring that something
happened, Tester has Sor Maras own lay direct claim to her travels. It seems this voice
is speaking in the present, in Spain, as it refuses to comment on my three-hundred-yearold/ body that refuses to corrupt in this glass coffin (Tester 109) and states that the
mystical travel occurred at this very table [in her convent] (Tester 108). The
apostrophe Sor Mara uses is directed at the New Mexican friars in general, and Fray
Benavides in particular: I saw you, Fray Alonso, baptizing the pueblos of Piro (Tester
108); I turned the Indians towards you desert fathers (Tester 109). In reference to the
political divisions between secular and religious leadership that divided 17th and 18th
century New Mexico, Sor Mara rebukes the friars: I have prayed for harmony between
the governors and you friars (Tester 109). She herself found her travels a duty sweet as
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the fold of a doves wing (Tester 108) and was sent without a horse, / without the
swords of Toledo (Tester 108), in contrast to the masculine means of conquest. Sor
Mara asserts her authority over the missionary enterprise in general, doing so by praying
that the friars, soldiers and tribal members emulate her actions (which it seems we are to
read as representative of a peaceful conquest): I have prayed for swords and arrows to
return to water (Tester 109). In a final (somewhat confusing) admonition of peace and
religious cooperation if not syncretism, Sor Mara advises the mission friars Spanish and
Indian must be one prayer, the two wings of the same Inca dove (Tester 109). In her
poem, Tester draws on the Lady in Blue bilocation narrative to give (female) control to
Sor Mara over the travel, to assert authority over what other (male) missionaries did/do,
and to declare what shape Indo-Hispano relationships should take.
Edward OBrien: Mural, St. Katharines Indian School (1960s)
Stretching across the wall of what used to be the dining room of the now-closed
St. Katharines Indian School in Santa Fe, New Mexico, a remarkable mural depicts the
conversion to Catholicism of the indigenous American tribes. This mural was discussed
briefly in the introduction to Chapter 4, in reference to the Lady in Blues symbolic role
relative to Fray Junpero Serra and Eusebio Kino in the conversion of indigenous tribes in
the northern frontier regions of 17th and 18th century New Spain; the two friars gaze
through the Lady in Blue as they look to the Virgin of Guadalupe. In this chapter, I will
consider OBriens stated conceptualization of the mural and its overall composition, as
well as the interpretive lore that emerged form the student community, children from
Laguna Pueblo who boarded at the school, about it. (Many thanks to Mariano Chvez,
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Samia Adelo, and Martin Varela for their help locating, accessing and photographing the
mural, to Shannon Murray for allowing me onto the property and speaking to me at
length about the mural, and to Carol Vogel for sharing her memories of her uncle with
me.)
This mural is one of three OBrien completed as part of his Our Lady of the
Americas series; the other two are at a monastery in Pecos, New Mexico, and at the Sikh
ashram in Abiquiu, New Mexico. All three murals feature the Virgin of Guadalupe as
their focal point, though the size and scope of each mural varies. According to OBriens
notes on the mural (OBrien Story), kindly provided by his niece Carol Vogel (Vogel),
the artist conceptualized the mural as an attempt to re-echo her [Virgin of Guadalupe]
words through ten significant events on the South and North American continents and to
portray her role in drawing to God this race so close to her heart (OBrien Story 1).
OBrien places five events pertaining to the Catholic conversion of South America on the
left as one faces the mural, and five pertaining to the North America on the right. The
right-hand side features: Sor Mara de Agreda, friars Serra and Kino, Kateri Tekawitha,
and Katharine Drexel, founder of the Sisters of the Sacred Heart, and her assistant Mother
Mercedes. A horizontal band of Pueblo ceremonial masks extends above the North
American side of the mural, reflecting the great spirit collectively reverenced, which
becomes in the churches below it the Holy Spirit sent by Christ to abide with His church
forever (OBrien Story 3).
The depiction of the Lady in Blue in the mural is fascinating and striking, forming
a triangle directly to the right of the Virgin of Guadalupe. Wearing a blue habit, she is
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presented in profile, eyes opened, superimposed over herself, facing forward with her
eyes shut. With her eyes closed, she is meditative, almost tranquil, while her double is
actively gazing towards something. The stone-walled architecture in the background
indicates that she is in Europe, while the upper part leg of the triangle, connected to the
superimposed image of the nun by a map detail of Baja California and the image of
waves, depicts the Lady in Blue in the desert southwest, mesas in the background. The
triangles upper leg depicts a detail of the Lady in Blues open blue eye and a woman
stepping out into the dessert from the nuns temple, arms outstretched to the native
population in front of her. The one open blue eye is completely alert, absorbedly gazing
at the viewer; the pupil is small, and the tone of the image projects intensity, a focus on
the person who is looking at it. The almost-transparent woman emerging from the
temple-area of the nuns habit is overlaid by an equally transparent cubist cross,
superimposed over her body. A yellow aura radiates from her to the rather indistinct
grouping of Native Americans in front of her, half standing, half kneeling. The rendering
of the bilocation is impactful, though it is most notable for the collocation of the narrative
in the context of the overall conversion of the Americans via the Patroness of the
Americas.
However, according to the caretaker of St. Katharines grounds, Shannon Murray,
who herself attended St. Katharines as a child, the Lady in Blue featured in the painting
took an entirely different meaning for the Lagunan children living on the schools
premises (Murray). In Murrays oral account, the Lady in Blue of the mural is conflated
with a the nun the Laguna students called Blue Eyes; Blue Eyes used to appear to the
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Laguna children sent to the nuns of the Sacred Heart who ran the school. To the children,
the nuns were very cold, distant and strict; but Blue Eyes used to appear to the children
and comfort them. Shannon suggested that her name arose from the fact that the
reference set her apart from the Laguna children (though blue eyes do appear in the tribe)
and from the nuns as well, as she did not bear the title Sister. According to Shannon,
those who remained at the pueblo teased children who attended St. Katharines; they
were asked if they had seen Blue eyes while they were there.
The origin of the association between Blue Eyes and the image of the Lady in
Blue is based on the color blue: the blue of Sor Maras habit in Spain become the blue
her one open blue eye, facing the dining room. The nun with the blue eyes is the
connection between the double nun in Spain and the nun preaching to the Indians.
Whether the narrative of Blue Eyes arose as result of the mural, or whether OBrien
was aware of it, incorporating it into the design of the mural, is unclear. What is clear is
that the Lady in Blue is both featured and (re-) re-imagined in a painting conveying as its
theme the conversion of indigenous American peoples to Christianity- in a 20th century
school whose mission was the education and conversion of Native Americans. As
OBrien himself stated in his notes on the mural, this is a conversation piece, a
background asserting and emphasizing in all ways its main theme- Our Ladys love for
the Indian, making whoever dines in this room aware of her special love for this race to
whom she gave her image (OBrien Story 1). In its context within the school, OBriens
piece advances a message of didactic evangelization specific to its audience, with the

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Virgin of Guadalupe as its focal point, in which the Lady in Blue plays a specifically
articulated and communally recast role.
Marilyn Westfall:
The Blue Lady and From the Diary of Cacnumaie (1998)
The collection Quartet in Blue by Marilyn Westfall, a four-part dramatized
spiritual history of California from 1776 to 1998 (Westfall 2), features two entries that
impart a critical post-colonial historical view of the Lady in Blue narrative. This segment
of Westfalls overall project seeks to read Californias mission history through the lens of
dramatized historical fiction. Westfall is one of the few contemporary writers who does
not cast Sor Maras missionary actions, nor her mystical travel, in a positive light.
Although she creates a Sor Mara that is a sympathetic, if somewhat terrified, individual
in the first story, Blue Lady, Westfalls depiction of the colonization of California by
the Franciscan friars in The Blue Lady and From the Diary of Cacnumaie
underscores the violence and ambivalence of the enterprise. A student of California
history familiar with current literary, historical and feminist criticism, Westfall does not
shirk from illustrating the brutality suffered by the California tribes, the inconsistency of
the vocation of the friars who attended to conversions and directed the missions, and the
tension embodied in the Lady in Blue/Sor Mara, both in her own socio-historical context
and as a representational figure among 18th-century California tribes.
In the introduction to Quartet in Blue, Westfall hones in on this last point,
commenting that her interpretation of the Lady in Blue narrative views it at least partially
as an exoneration of the aggressive actions of the Franciscan friars (and Spanish military)
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against indigenous Californians during and after the mission period: In The Blue Lady,
this supernatural frame [of the narrative of the Lady in Blue] refocuses California history
on the divine precepts employed by the Franciscans to justify their intrusion into native
domains (Westfall 10). Westfalls Sor Mara/Lady in Blue is a key to interpreting
California (Westfall 11), as she functions as a source for sublimation on the part of the
Franciscan friars (Westfall 11), though, as we will see below, she cannot control to any
significant degree her future effect, either on the tribes or on the Franciscans themselves,
as her encounters with California mission friars Junpero Serra and Francisco Palu
demonstrate.
The Blue Lady is a fantastical story unworldly in tone that explores in detail the
mechanics of bilocation, Sor Maras views regarding her mission to the Americas, the
ultimate ends of such travel, and the nature of her legacy among native Californians.
Westfall imaginatively captures the idea of mystical travel; in the storys first pages, Sor
Mara, weakened from bouts of travel illness, suddenly alights accompanied by angels
who speak to her in tongues (she was granted the Apostles legacy (Westfall 16), the
gift of tongues). The reader sees the mystical travel from the points of view of the other
nuns, the California tribes, the Franciscan friars and the angels themselves. When Sor
Mara is speaking in tongues to the various native tribes, Westfall projects her
compassion for the people to whom she speaks: Qu triste! Her breast ached with pity.
It was terrible to observe the torments they suffered when confronting Gods will
(Westfall 17). Sor Maras mind wanders to her experiences writing the MCD,
particularly her communication with the divine, as she continues speaking to the tribes,
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evangelizing even as she is martyred. As she continues her exhausting journey towards
California, her ambivalence about her actions and about the perception of the native
populations by the Spanish surface: In secret she worried equally for these pagans lives
[] She remembered Oviedos comment that gunpowder used to kill pagans was the
burning of incense to the Lord (Westfall 20-21). Exhausted by her travel, Sor Mara
does not wish to continue preaching in California, but she is stopped by a stern force
that pulls her back to California, under the threat of punishment by Michael the
archangel.
Sor Mara opens her eyes after confessing her guilt for losing hope, and is
addressed by a figure intended to offer her hope and a vision of the future fruits of her
efforts- Fray Francisco Palu, in an inversion of inspirer/inspired. He informs her that
her divinely sanctioned journeys to the New World aroused conversos by the hundreds
[] (26) and that the indios revere your story [] in their legends, your mantle []
filled you with supernatural powers (Westfall 26). Palu relates how the tribes want to
be like the Lady in Blue, and how she inspired him to join Propaganda Fide. Sor Mara
wants to take heart in the successful future missions occasioned by her travel occasioned,
but is led to tears when she notices an old native woman, beaten and with a gash on her
head, inside the San Francisco mission. Though Palu assures her that the friars
following guidelines for loving treatment of the natives, Sor Mara cant help but feel that
the mission endeavor is somehow amiss. Palu, begging for forgiveness, then confesses
that the soldiers have been abusing the indigenous population, and Sor Mara sees her
work unfolded in a different way: bitter harvest, and she was to blame! Her message
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had borne only a plague! (Westfall 31). The scene fades to Sor Maras encounter with
an infirm, but jubilant Fray Junpero Serra, calling out for the bells to be rung loudly at
Mission San Antonio. He reads to her the part of the Tanto that inspired him to join the
mission church, and Sor Mara, unbelieving that the document is hers, starts to turn away,
praying for the sickly priest. Serra calls her back, reminding her to remain fixed on the
Virgin and not lose hope, when she receives another vision of the image of the Virgin of
Guadalupe and the native womens veneration of it, which is conflated with her when an
old woman (perhaps Agueda) addresses it as Ycaiut or La Dama Azul (Westfall 40).
Sor Mara recalls the woman beaten by the Spanish as she hears the strained
enunciation, awkward pauses and flat trills (Westfall 40) of the native children singing
hymns, as Serra exhorts her to take faith in how she has inspired such conversions, as
only from pain are children born (Westfall 43). She takes leave of the scene, floating
away to be awakened in Spain by the arrival of Fray Alonso to her convent. As she
departs, her mantle falls, left behind for her followers in California and serving as a
transition into the next story, From the Diary of Cacnumaie.
Thus, in The Lady in Blue Westfall envisions Sor Mara as mission muse, but
one who sees her own role in uncertain terms. Though the text weaves in Sor Maras
authorship of Marys spiritual autobiography, and although the appearance of Serra and
Palu is intended to offer a her sense of purpose for her travels, the ultimate message of
her travels is not wholly positive. Its not so much the conversion to Catholicism itself
that is the source of contradiction; its more the means by which it is accomplished.
Indeed, the Lady in Blue is a beloved, venerated, enduring (and possibly conflated) mark
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of hope among the tribes she visits. She herself, independent of what devotion to her
results in, is positive- compassionate, suffering, and in conformation with what she is sent
to do. However, though Sor Mara herself is not the person who inflicts harm on the
native population, she both leads the tribes to being hurt by the Spanish and them to
accept it. As the the padre de las mamas, she wonders if she is the reason they are
abused and taken advantage of. Westfalls recasting of the Lady in Blue in this story thus
maintains the essential integrity of the Lady in Blue and her relationship with the groups
she visited, but critically questions how others drew on that narrative and used it to
deleterious ends.
Westfall continues with the development of the California missions in the
pseudo-autobiography of a California mestiza From the Diary of Cacnumaie. Here,
Westfall plays with authorial authority and the genre of memoir, as she presents a first
person account of what happened to the native Californian tribes at the hands of the
Spanish friars. Though Westfall construct complex social, ethnic, religious and gender
dynamics into the narrative (which she very much wants the reader to see, as her
introduction indicates) I will focus my analysis narrowly on how the Lady in Blues
legacy functions in this account, trying to decipher how Westfall wishes her to be read.
Introduced by a lengthy forward that offers a critical contextualization (historical,
feminist, literary) for the diary, the reader is led to approach the story as if it were a
true account. Told from the point of view of a 100-year-old mestiza woman partially
raised at a Catholic mission during the late 18th-early 19th century, she is the last recipient
of the Lady in Blues cloak, which she received from her mother. Her mother
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encountered the cloak, bearing an image of Mara de Agreda, as a girl, when a trader to
her village inadvertently proved that it possessed the power to cure people (he was shot
with arrows) and provided the recipient with the ability to understand and speak many
languages. As a result of the unique abilities the cloak afforded her, Cacnumaies mother
was raised outside of her village as a shaman, exercising her curing abilities, until she
was raped by a Spanish soldier, became pregnant with the narrator, and was relocated to
the Mission Dolores (Mission San Francisco) labor camp (monjero). The conditions at
the camp were squalid, oppressive and depressing, and Cacnumaies mother, with the
help of the blue mantle, tried to heal as many people as possible. However, as her mentor
the shaman had noted, the blue cloth can only work its effect if the recipient of its aid
believes in it.
Cacnumaie received a section of the blue fabric form her mother, from who she
was taken when she fell ill, and was subsequently cared for by a novice native nun,
Teresa, who cleans, mends and embroiders the blue mantel with gold thread. Being so
near the priests, Cacnumaie is exposed to the sadistic, syphilitic kind, and the crazily
faithful kind (Father Landaeta); she is paraded out to mass wearing her blue cloth so that
the indigenous people in attendance can see her and identify with the mass and with
Catholicism via the symbol of the Lady in Blue. When Cacnumaie is reunited with her
mother, it is so that both of them, acting as interpreters, can translate the theological
lessons and liturgy into the many different languages of the California people so that they
might be converted. We find at the end of the piece, which Cacnumaie is writing under
the patronage of a california ranch owner, that Cacnumaie received the rest of mantle
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when her mother was killed by the Spanish for her escape from Mission Dolores.
Cacnumaie uses what seems like the last of the mantles powers (the last ragged
fragment of the long blue cloth (Westfall 155)) to cure her aged and ill benefactress
before disappearing from the ranch. Although the ostensible purpose of her composing
the memoir was to leave a record of the abuse that occurred at the mission, the Anglo
journalist rejected it for being too fantastical, and also not in conformation with the idea
of the peaceful California mission set forth in Ramona.
In Diary, Westfall more fully develops the idea of the Lady in Blue as the
protectress of the native Californians, though that role is still an ambivalent one.
Although the mantle bestows great and important gifts to the bearer, the gifts do not last
forever- perhaps because belief in the cloths efficacy also does not last forever. The
missions and conversion of the tribes are presented as almost wholly negative, yet the
native Californians belief in the mantle is what is used to lead them into and develop
faith in, the Catholic tradition. The mantle is used to both undo the Spanishs abuse
(healing people who were hurt by them, including Cacnumaies mother) and to promote
their ends (using the gift of tongues to recruit or fully convert native neophytes). Though
the cloak was used for the healing of tribal members before Cacnumaies mother was
captured, her tribe did not understand her ability to heal; she was thus ostracized by her
tribe (as indicated by her lack of facial tattooing), indicating that they did not quite
understand how she was enacting the Lady in Blues legacy. Finally as Cacnumaies
mother and then Cacnumaie participate in the tradition of, share the gifts of, and embody
the Lady in Blue via her mantle, it is clear that legacy is not at least clearly defined as
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good and evil, though in the end, Cacnumaie and her mother both act in redeeming waysleaving the mantel behind as they do so.
In these two stories, Westfall uses the Lady in Blues legacy at the center of a
mission narrative that is much more ambiguous than late 19th-century romances and the
late-modern desire to see the west would permit. A 2002 talk Westfall presented at the
First Unitarian Universalist Church in Lubbock, Texas alludes to the themes manifested
in the two stories, the focus being on the convergence nationalism and religion in a figure
such as the Lady in Blue, asking Would anyone in 21st century America use the rather
innocent perspective of a religious woman to marry nationalism to religion? Westfall
examines and employs the Lady in Blue narrative to criticize the actual violence enacted
against native populations in California by the Spanish church (and military), but more
particularly to criticize the rationale and justification by which the friars felt they had the
right and obligation to act in such a way. Through the Lady in Blue, Westfall criticizes
the action of the Spanish Catholic mission in California, suggesting that, even though the
figure herself was innocent of ill intent, and even if she was beloved by the indigenous
population, this fact did not pardon or erase her part in the missions.
S.E. Schlosser: The Lady in Blue (2004)
S.E. Schlossers The Lady in Blue, an entry in her book of southwestern US
folklore and ghost stories for children, uses the dynamic between and mother and child to
assert the authenticity of the Lady in Blue narrative, and to locate it in the present day.
Although narrated from the first person point of view of a child named Sammy, the bulk
of the story consists of a straightforward recounting of the Lady in Blue narrative by his
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mother. The premise for the legends narration is that Sammy has brought his mother
fresh blue flowers for her birthday. The mother exclaims over her sons thoughtful
gesture, and asks if he ran into the Blue Lady while collecting them. Sammy replies that
he had wanted to buy the flowers at the florists, but didnt have enough money. A lady
dressed in blue observes Sammys disappointment at not being able to complete his
selfless gesture, and kindly directs him, in Spanish, to where he might pick some flowers
for his mother. She then vanishes. When Sammy relates this meeting to his mother, she
exclaims that he must have met the Lady in Blue, for she would stop and help a little
boy trying to do something special for his mama (Schlosser 170). At Sammys
questioning, his mother launches into the Lady in Blue narrative, highlighting the
questioning of her mystical travels and the fact that she left blue flowers wherever she
steeped. The mother concludes the story by commenting that although perhaps Sammy
did not meet with the actual Lady in Blue, the woman who helped him certainly acted in
the same gracious manner as Mara Coronel de Agreda (Schlosser 173).
This artifacts most notable element, aside from its similarity to flower-centric
narratives pertaining to the Virgin of Guadalupe, is the fact that the narrator, with whom
we identify through the first person narrative voice, is a child. As a result, when his
mother directs the narrative and her interpretation of it to us, her authoritative retelling of
the story has the effect of affirming the present-day truth of the narrative. In addition, the
mother reads the Lady in Blue for Sammy and for us as a present-day affirmation of the
positive values of selflessness and consideration that Sammy displays. Echoing the
Hallenbeck and Williams folktales, Sammy is aided in and rewarded for his desire to do
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good for others by the Lady in Blue. Schlosser adds another layer to the narratives
context in the story as Sammy and his mother seem to be coded for as Spanish bilingual
and/or Hispanic (Sammy because he understands the Lady in Blue when she speaks to
him in Spanish, and his mother for her ejaculation of Dios mo! (italics Schlossers)), a
choice which localizes the present-day context of the conceptually if not geographically,
and offers another echo to the Virgin of Guadalupe. In keeping with the context of the
mothers contemporary rendering of the narrative, Sammy expresses surprise when he
realizes that, as a woman, the Lady in Blues presence in the American was transgressive.
Though the use of a child as a first-person voice may seem like a contrived narrative tool,
it is nonetheless effective in affirming the Lady in Blue in a contemporary context, and in
assigning to her the distinction of reinforcing behavioral values. Schlossers
contemporary recasting of the Lady in Blue narrative thus shares much with the folk tales
or the colonial accounts that perceived the nun in a similar way.
Lisa Sandlin Saint of Bilocation (2004)
Lisa Sandlins Saint of Bilocation, from her collection In the River Province,
tells the Lady in Blue narrative from the colonial-era point of view of a fictionalized Fray
Alonso de Benavides. In recasting the narrative, Sandlin plays with ideas of the limits
and consequences of faith, the rational or rationalizeable, and the center versus the
periphery. Hers may be the only contemporary rendition to deal explicitly with the
narrative itself (rather than reinterpreting or commenting on Sor Maras experiences), as
it focuses on the significance and weightiness of the narrative in its time. Sandlin writes

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a story about what is needed to secure belief, and about acknowledging the tenuousness
and variability of such belief.
The story takes place over the course of Fray Antonios visit to Sor Mara in her
convent at Agreda; based upon Fray Alonsos trip to Spain in 1630 to present the 1630
Memorial, all characters except Sor Mara have names that are similar to the historical
figures on which they are based. Fray Antonio is sent to Sor Maras convent to
interview her and the members of her convent and community regarding her claims to
have bilocated to New Mexico and converted thousands of tribal members to
Catholicism. Prior to his arrival in Spain, Fray Antonio meets with the Jesuit secretary to
the Mexican archbishop; during their encounter, the secretary emphasized the importance
of mathematics in establishing both what is beautiful and what is truthful, establishing
the parameters by which objective reality is determined (Sandlin 130). Fray Antonios
response, in which he is unable to couch his experience as a missionary as a
mathematical, limited or quantifiable truth, sets the stage for the account's principal
quandary: knowing that others might take ones faith as an opportunity to challenge,
should one, faithful and yet reluctant, stake himself anyways?
The narrative voice is mostly in third person, relating the thoughts of Fray
Antonio, and in the first person voice of Baptista, a mischievous, waiflike novice nun at
the convent who is particularly close to Sor Mara, and who both witnesses and
experiences transcendent spiritual union similar to the abbess. Baptist first appears
spying on Fray Antonio as he sits in the convents courtyard; the face the terrified friar
observed was plain as a painted angels, yet dreadful as a demons in its wicked
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mobility (Sandlin 132). The hesitant Fray Antonio, sent to report on the validity of Sor
Maras claims (The archbishop has charged me with this task, that the infant Church of
the New World not be damaged by a fraud or by an insane woman (Sandlin 136)),
comes face-to face with the near-demonic, mocking figure that believes unquestioningly
in Sor Maras mystical travels. Baptista, author of a journal recording Sor Maras
travels, plans to abandon the religious life to which her impoverished brothers have
subjected her; she confides in Sor Mara that she will travel to Seville and live a life as an
anonymous merchant. The stage is thus set, with tension between the European,
skeptical, compartmentalized (and, it is suggested, masculine) and the New World,
believing, limitless (and feminine).
A sympathetic Fray Antonio, accompanied by his loyal and faith-filled man-atarms Juan, conducts interviews to determine if Sor Mara truly did travel to New Mexico.
Baptista and Juan, in the meantime, carry on a secret, semi-anonymous nighttime liaison,
during which the novice seduces the soldier and tells him of her involvement with and
belief in Sor Mara. Wrestling with his duty to be objective, Fray Antonio literally
weighs Sor Maras testimony, and that of the nuns and the citizens of Agreda, using
small pieces of paper and a scale to determine whether doubt or belief provides the more
substantial collection of evidence. Fray Antonio is acutely aware that, if he opines in
favor of the miracle, he opens Sor Mara to certain scrutiny by the Inquisition: If no one
authenticated her claims, what happened to her then? The proofs of her innocence-or
guilt- could be prolonged, terrible and bloody (Sandlin 145). However, although both
her original testimony was not compelling and much of the testimony in her favor is
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indistinct, Fray Alonso, impressed with Sor Maras impassiveness and conviction and
deeply moved by his own feelings of spiritual limitlessness and joy among the Jumanos
in New Mexico, cannot dismiss the case. Fray Antonio readies himself to leave the
convent (Baptista, disguised by the enamored Juan, in tow), with a document for Sor
Mara to sign stating that Fray Antonio does not find sufficient evidence confirming her
mystical travels. As they leave, Sor Mara gazes at Fray Antonio and speaks to him the
words he whispered to himself at the Jumano conversion (God, live in me and I lie in
You [] You have in this world no humbler servant (Sandlin 159)); as the only person
who heard Fray Antonio was Juan (and Fray Antonio asks the perplexed soldier if he had
revealed the words to Sor Maria), Fray Antonio is finally convinced of the expansive
truth of Sor Maras claims, regardless of the Inquisitorial difficulties it might mean for
both of them. In a twist that varies from the historical narrative, Sandlin places Fray
Antonio back in New Mexico many years after the incident, after Sor Mara has
successfully passed the Inquisitions questions, the old priest corresponding with the stillvital nun. He finally asks her to describe what bilocation really is like: she responds with
an answer that reaffirms the limitlessness both of the travel and of faith, including the
leanings towards syncretic faith experienced by Fray Antonio, itself: One world like
without boundaries inside, the other, Fray Antonio (Sandlin 164).
In conclusion, Sandlins rendering of the Lady in Blue narrative examines the
issue of the tenuousness nature and risk involved in asserting belief in the implausible;
the bilocation narrative lies at the crux of such a question. Sandlins depiction of the
characters highlight the acceptance that the friar eventually concedes to the experience:
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Sor Mara (distant, intense, yet with a hidden warmth and credibility), Fray Antonio
(conflicted in the clash between mathematical, rational, limited European reason, and his
own strangely transcendent and indefinable experiences in the missionary field), Juans
stolid belief, and Baptistas ecstatic emulation of Sor Mara. As Fray Antonio, leaving
the convent, wraps himself in Sor Maras cloak, the significance The Saint of
Bilocation becomes apparent: that 1) it is through the trail of faith overcoming doubt and
fear that one is determined a saint, and that 2) she acts the patroness of those who, like
Fray Antonio y Baptista, experience the type of spiritual ubiquity to which she laid claim.
In this story, the Lady in Blue narrative is less about feminine agency and/or
colonization, and more about belief, and about the River Province, part of the New
World [] a place without bounds. Earth and heavens folding into one (Sandlin 131)
where bilocation is part of the warp and weft of the fabric of the place.
Javier Sierra: La dama azul (2005); The Lady in Blue (2007)
Javier Sierras La dama azul (2002; translated and published in 2007 as The Lady
in Blue) is by far the most elaborate re-imagining of the Lady in Blue narrative among the
contemporary pieces. Elaborately researched, as a research-request letter from Sierra
archived at the Palace of the Governors attests, the novel is in the conspiracy-theory style
of The DaVinci Code. Subtitled El vaticano nunca cont toda la verdad (The Vatican
never told the whole truth), the novel interlaces four different plotlines that are united by
the bilocation narrative of the Lady in Blue. The bilocation narrative lies squarely at the
center of a novel concerned with thoroughly contemporary issues: the acquisition of
technology, and its application and intentional concealment from the public through
311

powerful hierarchical organizations. Sierra uses the Lady in Blue narrative as a means of
exploring dynamics of control and secrecy, transitioning a 17th century account
seamlessly into the 21st century.
The four plotlines involve: the 1630 bilocation to the Jumano tribes of New
Mexico, and Sor Maras confusion as to the nature of her travel; the development of a
cadre of astral spies by the United States government; four priests who conduct secret
research on a technology called Chronovision that records sounds and pictures at points
in the past; and a journalist who specializes in investigating supernatural and unexplained
phenomena. Through the novel, we discover that bilocation is an old technology, based
on mastering certain types of energetic vibrations, that the travel functions on a mystical
plane, that a certain caste of half-angel/half humans were imbued with this ability, and
that it had been controlled and manipulated over the centuries. A modern-day Mara
Coronel, capable of this type of travel, speaks to the priest-scientists near the novels
close and is presented as a member of a rebel group (the Ordo Sanctae Imaginis) who
frustrate the Churchs exploitation of bilocation as a means of duping the native
populations. As the cadre of spirit-travelers failed in their original attempt to expose the
conspiracy by calling one of the priest-scientists to publish on it, the Spanish journalist is
mysteriously called to the task. The text closes with a meta-literary reference to the novel
itself: Why dont we simply invite this journalist to write the novel you propose? []
He could even title is something like The Lady in Blue (Sierra 322).
Sierra leads the reader through a maze of schemes that entangle the spiritual, the
political and the implausible, but maintaining the Lady in Blue narrative as the lynchpin
312

for the entire plot. Sierras underlying message questions authority, known facts, and the
motivations that underlie powerful forces, and the books conclusion imagines a
subversion of those hierarchies. The Lady in Blues appendix provides summaries of the
historical materials Sierra used in composing the novel, adding that it is intended for
those readers who have already intuited that The Lady in Blue is more than a work of
fiction (329). Sierra bring the Lady in Blue into the 21st century in a startlingly current
way, creating a story around her that has the stylings of an X-Files episode.

313

Loca was not sure if she was a present nun

or a past nun or maybe hasta una future
subjunctive nun.
- Ana Castillo, So Far From God, 244

Conclusion
After covering 370 years and two continents, we have arrived as the end of the
Lady in Blues travels- at least for the time being. As Ana Castillos La Loca intimates,
this project may be the first step hasta una future subjunctive nun. By employing a
Mexican American cultural studies framework to the Lady in Blue/La monja azul/Sor
Mara narrative, this dissertation has presented a unique interpretation of the founding,
acceptance, dissemination, development, and innovation of the account of a bilocating
literary missionary Spanish nun. Like many of the contemporary authors who have
written about the Lady in Blue, I suppose that the Lady in Blues story, with its
complexity and curious contradictions, simply captivated me. In this project, I have
tracked her route as she made her way through almost four centuries of history, seeking
to uncover how her narrative moved and what it signified for particular groups of people.
In the context of this investigation, the folkloric accounts can been seen as evidence of
the narratives deep roots in the American Southwest and northern Mexico, an indicator
of the Lady in Blues entrance into the collective history of the region. More recently,
some contemporary writers and artists have capitalized on the narratives regional
currency (and, in doing so, affirmed this currency), while others have developed select
elements of the narrative that highlight its peculiar dynamic.

314

Though I derived my critical approach from Mexican American cultural studies

scholars Amrico Paredes, Jos Limn, Richard Flores, and Domino Perez, my usage of
their methodology has perhaps differed slightly from what I had originally envisioned.
Like Paredes in With His Pistol in His Hand, I have sought to identify not only the
history behind Sor Mara/La monja azul/The Lady in Blue, I have attempted to
ascertain how she has been popularly recognized (in folklore and in contemporary texts)
and by whom. As Jos Limn in Dancing with the Devil, I have endeavored to cleave
close to a particular concept, the narrative of the Lady in Blue, as Ive encountered her in
a variety of artifacts, uncovering an individual whose manifestations were much more
nuanced than I anticipated. In approximating Richard Flores approach in Remembering
the Alamo, I have sought to find where the Lady in Blue narrative has been retold,
focusing on how it is understood and what it is intended to convey to its audience. As in
the case of the story of the Battle of the Alamo, often the impact produced by the Lady in
Blues re-telling is its most quantifiable characteristic, rather than the content of what is
related. Finally, in emulation of Domino Perez critical organizational approach in There
Was a Woman, I have established the foundational narrative of the Lady in Blue, and then
comparatively analyzed subsequent renderings of it, from the 17th century onwards. I do
view the Mexican American community sharing in the Lady in Blues legacy,
determining, to a great extent, its continuation and contemporary renaissance.
Over this dissertations six chapters, I have sought to unravel the Lady in Blues
legacy from its establishment to its most recent manifestations. In each of these chapters,
I sought to apply critical techniques that seemed appropriate to both the materials time
315

period, and to the nature of the material itself. In Chapter 1, I explored how the Lady in
Blue narrative fit into its socio-historical context, setting the stage for her emergence, and
for her acceptance during her lifetime, answering the fundamental question of why she
fell within acceptable limits for that time and place. Chapter 2 ascertains which
documents established the foundational narrative, with particular attention paid to the
chronology of these documents, who was writing them and for what purposes. Sor
Maras literary legacy, and her biography, are the focus of Chapter 3, specifically the
reading and dissemination of her writing in colonial Northern New Spain, and the
intertwining of the Lady in Blue legacy (via her vita) with Sor Maras renown as a
writer. Chapter 4s objective was to detail how Sor Mara was viewed and
commemorated during the 17th through 19th centuries in the same region, concentrating
on the Franciscan friars of Propaganda Fide and her continued evocation as a protomissionary figure in that context. The folklore recounting, developing and adding to the
Lady in Blue narrative is the focus of Chapter 5, which also aims to explain the folkloric
nature of an oral tradition based on written documents. Finally, Chapter 6 examines the
Lady in Blues numerous contemporary appearances, evaluating each artifact as it both
derives and varies from the foundational narrative.
Through the course of researching this project, as her narrative has evolved in a
way I could not have anticipated at the beginning of this project, additional research leads
have presented themselves. In Chapter 4, as I began to consider how Sor Mara was
inscribed into the history of Northern Mexico, additional sources emerged that supported
my hypothesis regarding the nature of Sor Maras influence over the missionaries in the
316

region. The archives of the College of Propaganda Fide in Quertaro, held in Celaya,
Mexico, hold numerous documents referencing Sor Mara, as do Spain and Mexicos
national libraries, and several other archival sources. Unsurprisingly, perhaps, given the
continuous nature of this project, a colonial-era source confirming my hypothesis
surfaced in Rima de Valbonas short story, an echo of the colonial resounding in the 20th
century. These prospects for future investigation offer a promising next step in the
development of this project.
Though the Lady in Blue is characterized, to an extent, by the marginality of her
narrative over the centuries (in that it seems to have been less prominent than the Virgin
of Guadalupe, La Llorona, and other similar cultural figures), she is no less remarkable
nor worthy of critical examination for it. The present study of her narrative contributes to
the field of Mexican American cultural studies by illustrating her significant role within
it, as much for the representative meaning she both brings to bear on and reflects in the
Mexican American community, as for her intimate relevance to and continued
commemoration within it. Within Colonial Latin American literary studies, this
dissertation offers an analysis of a one womans role in the dual projects of colonization
and conversion, participating on several levels in the missionization of northern New
Spain (albeit in a highly mediated manner and via exceptional means). I hope that
through this dissertation, in which the Lady in Blue/Sor Mara has been tugged out from
the dank footnotes of colonial history, her proper place in the history the Southwest and
Northern Mexico has begun to come to light. I greatly look forward to continuing to
research the narrative of the Lady in Blue in the future, elaborating the ideas presented in
317

this dissertation, and graining a greater understanding of how this enduring figure acted
and survived into the 21st century, across an ocean, and over hundreds of years.
Thank you.

318

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VITA

Anna Mara Nogar attended Los Alamos High School in Los Alamos, New Mexico. In
1995, she entered the University of New Mexico, from which she graduated summa cum
laude with a Bachelors degree of Science in biochemistry and Spanish. Anna competed
on the UNM womens swimming team during her undergraduate tenure, later working
for the Los Alamos National Laboratory and the New Mexico State Legislature. Anna
began her studies at The University of Texas at Austin in 2001 in the Department of
Spanish and Portuguese, and the Center for Mexican American Studies.

Permanent Address: 155 Bryce Avenue, Los Alamos, NM 87544

This dissertation was typed by the author.

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