HISTORY OF SAN MIGUEL: The original, the template, and the copy

The San Miguel Arcangel Parroquia—the emblematic pink church—is the landmark that defines San Miguel de Allende. In 1880 it evolved from a simple double-tower structure into the beauty we have today. It took ten years to add the current façade to the exterior that had not only faded over the course of two hundred years, but had started to crumble with only one of the towers standing at the beginning of the nineteenth century. The job of improving the façade was given to a man who was not an architect, but a simple stonemason. His name was Zeferino Gutierrez, born in San Miguel in 1840, whose claim to fame was his excellence in masonry, and a couple of churches he had worked on. He had added artistic details and new frontages to those churches, pleasing those who commissioned him. This humble stonemason was given the task of improving the Parroquia and he set about to do just that.

Since Zeferino Gutierrez had no training as an architect, he did not create drawings of the proposed work. Nor did he create a comprehensive plan for the task he was to undertake. Instead, he turned to postcards for inspiration. Photography was invented in 1822, and the first postcards appeared in Austria-Hungary in 1869. By the late 1870s they were circulating everywhere and were a popular way to see the world in pictures.

According to common lore Zeferino saw a postcard of the cathedral of Cologne in Germany and decided to use it as a model for the new façade in San Miguel. Over the next ten years, he and his workers fashioned the front using cantera—quarried volcanic rock—in tones of brown and pink.

It is said that Zeferino would come every morning and sketch a drawing on the ground of the specific portion that was to be worked on that day. And each day his workers followed those directions, moving upwards and upwards, until the façade was finished in 1890. Plastered over an existing baroque structure was a mélange of gothic and neo-gothic architectural styles, glistening like jewels in the sun.

Traveling through Germany this spring, I decided to make a special detour to Cologne to see firsthand the cathedral that supposedly inspired the Parroquia of San Miguel de Allende. It was quite an interesting experience.

When you step out of the main train station in Cologne, the cathedral looms like a mountain before you; as if standing at the foot of Mount Everest. It truly is grand in stature both on the outside as well as inside—the spires of the cathedral reach 157 meters, while the Parroquia is only a fraction of that height at 45 meters—almost a fourth in size of the German cathedral. Inside, the arches seem to reach upwards forever. One could imagine the entire Parroquia fitting inside the cathedral of Cologne, stacked within like a strange version of matryoshka churches! In spite of the difference in size, there are obvious parallels between the cathedral and our parish church, validating the notion that this was indeed the model that Zeferino Gutierrez used. The steep spires, with one dominant one in the middle are similar to those of the Parroquia, and so are the numerous saints in relief on the façades in both churches. However, the saints depicted are not the same ones; each church has the saints who are part of their particular culture. The patron saint of the cathedral of Cologne is Saint Peter, therefore he figures most prominently there, and furthermore because of its connection to St. Peter’s Basilica in Rome, it became known as the St. Peter’s Basilica of the north. The Parroquia of San Miguel, as its name implies, took Saint Michael (San Miguel) as its patron, and he is shown in many spots in the church, both inside and out.

The differences between the two churches are stark. First of all the size. The cathedral is obviously much larger than our church—which, by the way, is not a cathedral but simply a parish church, a parroquia in Spanish. The cathedral has the largest façade of any church in the world. Its construction, begun in 1248, continued over four hundred years until being completed in 1880. It turns out that 1880 was the same year when the refurbishing of the Parroquia’s façade began, making the dates of completion of one and beginning of the other concurrent. What is most apparent is the difference in color between the two. The cathedral of Cologne has a much longer history and its façade clearly shows it. It is very dark because of the buildup of soot from coal heating systems, factory chimneys and steam locomotives. Aside from that, there is a layer of bacteria, algae, and moss which make it look darker still. But even in its original color, which one can see in several areas where restoration work has been done, it did not have a dash of color. The original walls were made of a light colored sandstone. One could imagine the structure in its original color appearing quite stunning against a blue sky, showing up over long distances. But the color of our Parroquia—the light and browns, the ochres, and the various shades of pink create a dynamic and colorful palette that sparkles in the sun like a bouquet of flowers.

However, there is something within the interior of the cathedral that is truly magnificent—the intricate mosaic flooring. That feature is definitely far beyond what is found in the Parroquia, The detail shown below is a part of this intricate pattern created with myriad pieces of ceramics. It truly is stunning.

Seeing the cathedral of Cologne in person, being able to imagine our Parroquia standing next to it, was truly a special experience. First of all, the stories we’ve been told for so long about which church the San Miguel Parroquia was modeled after becomes quite plausible after seeing the cathedral. That’s a purely objective observation; most people would agree with that because the similarities in the architectural styles are obvious. One could imagine Zeferino Gutierrez looking at the postcard long ago and hoping to reproduce the grandeur of the church depicted. The other observation is more subjective.

Although the interior of the cathedral, especially the mosaic work on the floor was most impressive, I was not dazzled by the exterior. Despite its grand scale, the cathedral of Cologne did not strike me as a beauty; it seemed grim and lifeless. In that respect, the magnificent colors of our Parroquia, glowing in the sun, or shimmering at night when lit up, far surpass it in loveliness and give out an aura of joy. And if I am called out for being biased, so be it. The Parroquia of San Miguel seems almost unreal, like a structure plucked out of a book of fairy tales!