[etext transcriber's note: The editor’s spelling of
Spanish words and names has not been corrected.]
READINGS
FROM
MODERN MEXICAN AUTHORS
BY
FREDERICK STARR
CHICAGO
THE OPEN COURT PUBLISHING COMPANY
LONDON: KEGAN PAUL, TRENCH, TRÜBNER & CO., LTD.
1904
Copyrighted, 1904
BY
FREDERICK STARR
CHICAGO
THIS LITTLE BOOK IS DEDICATED
TO
SEÑOR DON VICTORIANO AGÜEROS,
AUTHOR OF _Escritores Mexicanos Contemporaneos_,
EDITOR OF _El Tiempo_,
PUBLISHER OF _La Biblioteca de Autores Mexicanos_,
FAITHFUL FRIEND, VALUED HELPER.
CONTENTS.
Eduardo Noriega 1
Antonio García Cubas 15
Joaquín García Icazbalceta 26
Agustin Rivera 43
Alfredo Chavero 59
Julio Zárate 77
José María Vigil 87
Primo Feliciano Velásquez 94
Juan F. Molina Solis 106
Luis Gonzales Obregón 118
Francisco Sosa 132
Julio Guerrero 150
Alejandro Villaseñor y Villaseñor 168
Rafael Ángel de la Peña 181
Ignacio Montes de Oca y Obregón 189
Ignacio M. Altamirano 204
Victoriano Agüeros 216
Manuel Gustavo Antonio Revilla 228
José Peon y Contreras 243
José María Roa Bárcena 259
Justo Sierra 275
Victoriano Salado Álbarez 288
Ireneo Paz 301
José López-Portillo y Rojas 313
Manuel Sánches Mármol 334
Porfirio Parra 358
Emilio Rabasa 373
Rafael Delgado 392
Federico Gamboa 405
PREFACE.
When I began visiting Mexico, in 1894, my knowledge of Mexican authors
was limited to those who had written upon its archæology and
ethnography. Even the names of its purely literary writers were unknown
to me. My first acquaintance with these came from reading some of the
writings of Icazbalceta, a critical historian of whom any nation might
well be proud, and a man of literary ability. I then sought the books of
other Mexican authors and have been accustomed, when in Mexico, to read
only those, in such hours of leisure as travel and work have left me.
This reading has led me to prepare this little book, in the hope that it
may introduce, to some of my countrymen, the literary men of the
neighboring Republic.
I call the book Readings from _Modern_ Mexican Authors; I might almost
have said _Living_ Mexican Authors, for my intention has been to include
only such. I have, for personal reasons, made two exceptions--including
Icazbalceta and Altamirano. This I have done because I owe much to their
writings and because both were living, when I first visited Mexico.
Mexican authors write, to a notable degree, for periodical publications.
Many Mexican newspapers devote space to literary matter and many
extensive works in fiction, in history, in social science and political
economy have appeared as brief chapters in newspapers and have never
been reprinted. Mexico is remarkably fond, also, of literary journals,
most of which have a brief existence. Many of the writings of famous
Mexican writers exist only in one or other of these forms of fugitive
publication, and are almost inaccessible. The tendency to republish in
book form grows, however, and Señor Agüeros is doing an excellent work,
with his _Biblioteca de Autores Mexicanos_ (Library of Mexican Authors),
now carried to more than fifty volumes, in which the collected works of
good authors, past and present, are being printed.
Of course, many authors have been omitted from my list, some of whom may
have well deserved inclusion; I have omitted none for personal reasons.
Specialists, unless they have written literary works outside of their
especial field of study, have been intentionally omitted. Men like
Nicolás Leon, Herréra, Orvañanos, Belmar, Batres, could not be left out
in a history of Mexican literature, but their writings do not lend
themselves to translation of brief passages to represent the literary
spirit of the country.
It has not been easy to devise a definite plan of arrangement for my
selections, but the matter is roughly grouped in the following
order--Geography, History, Biography, Public Questions, Literature,
Drama, Narrative, Fiction. One demand, made of all the material, is that
it shall show Mexico, Mexican life, Mexican thought. Every selection is
Mexican in topic and in color; together the selections form a series of
Mexican pictures painted by Mexican hands.
I hesitate at my final remark, because it will sound like a lame excuse
for failure. It is not such. In these translations I have not aimed at a
finished English form. I have, intentionally, made them extremely
literal; I have sometimes selected an uncouth English word if it exactly
translates the author, have frequently followed the Mexican form and
order of words, and have even allowed my punctuation to be affected by
the original. To the English critic the result will be unpleasing, but
to those who wish to know Mexico and Mexican thought, it will be a gain.
And it is for these that my little book is written.
* * * * *
The sections dealing with Icazbalceta, López-Portillo, Altamirano,
Agüeros, Roa Bárcena, Obregón and Chavero, were originally published in
_Unity_. Part of the matter relative to Guerrero, has been printed in
the _American Journal of Sociology_.
READINGS FROM MODERN MEXICAN AUTHORS.
EDUARDO NORIEGA.
[Illustration]
Eduardo Noriega was born in the city of Mexico on October 4, 1853. He
came of a notable family of Liberals, his father being General Domingo
Noriega, and his brother Carlos, being, at the time of his death,
adjutant-colonel to President Juarez. Eduardo was educated in the
_Escuela Nacional Preparatoria_ (National Preparatory School), where he
spent five years and received his bachelor’s degree. Since that time he
has dedicated himself to literary work and to teaching.
He has written both prose and poetry. Besides two volumes of verse, he
has printed a number of monologues--among them _Primeros nubes_ (First
clouds), _El mejor Diamante_ (The better diamond) and _La hija de la
caridad_ (The daughter of charity). He has translated dramatic writings
and has himself written two plays. From the age of forty years he has
confined his teaching and writing to scientific subjects. He holds the
chair of History and Geography in the _Escuela de Comercio y
Administracion_ (School of Commerce and Administration). He is author of
a _Geografía general_ (General geography), which has gone through two
editions, of a capital _Geografía de Mexico_, and of a handy _Atlas de
Mexico miniatura_ (Miniature atlas of Mexico) which is in its third
edition.
Eduardo Noriega is a directing member of the _Sociedad Mexicana de
Geografía y Estadistica_ (Mexican Society of Geography and Statistics)
and many valuable papers read by him before that body are printed in its
Bulletin.
Our selections are taken from his _Geografía de Mexico_. A school
text-book of geography is hardly a promising place in which to seek
examples of literary value, but in his descriptions Noriega often shows
facility in expression and felicity in statement.
CLIMATIC ZONES OF MEXICO.
The climatic contrasts occasioned by the mountainous relief, are sharply
produced only in the middle portion of the Republic, that is to say, in
the central _mesa_ and upon the slopes of the _cordillera_. The section
from one coast to the other, from Vera Cruz to Acapulco, for example, is
the line best situated for observing well-marked climatic changes.
The low zone of the seaboard contains, at once, the marshes and the
barren sands of the coast, the well-watered open plains, and the lower
slopes, where the luxuriant branchings of a thousand differing trees
mingle and crowd, closely bound together by festoons of trailing and
pendent vines, forming lovely masses of verdure, sprinkled through with
fruits of many and brilliant colors, which stand out conspicuously from
the magnificent, chlorophyll-laden foliage, and above all of which tower
the graceful forms of palm trees. To such a charming tropical
combination is given the name--_tierra caliente_ (hot land).
Within this range, where the temperature passes 23° C., there are places
which must be included among the hottest on the globe; such, for
example, is the port of La Paz, in Lower California. The high
temperature of this region, gave to it the name, derived from the words
_calida fornax_, which signify _hot oven_.
Above the two seaboard zones, one sloping toward the Gulf, the other
toward the Pacific, rises the _tierra templada_ (temperate land), at an
altitude of from 1000 m. to 2000 m., but higher in the south than in the
north. This region corresponds to the southwest of Europe, not so much
in climate--for it has no winter--as in mean temperature, productivity
and salubrity.
Lastly, the central tableland, the part of the territory where the
maguey is cultivated with notable profit and every class of cereals is
produced, constitutes the _tierra fria_ (cold land). It is the most
populous part of the Republic.
In the high valleys, as those of Toluca and Mexico, the descent of the
mercurial column often shows considerable falls of temperature; in
winter the column reaches 8° or 10° below 0 C. and frosts are frequent.
In general, however, the winters are mild. The mean temperature is from
13° to 14° C.
In many places exceptional conditions have brought the vegetable areas
into abrupt juxtaposition; thus, while upon the summit of some ridge,
only plants of European character may live and flourish, in the plains
surrounding it are seen palms and bananas. From the summit of the great
volcanoes, the three superposed zones may be clearly seen, at once.
The rapid communication, which today happily exists, presents to the
traveler the marvelous opportunity of passing, in a few hours, through
the three distinct regions of which we speak, which in other parts of
the globe are separated by thousands of kilometres.
In some places these zones remain clearly distinguished from one
another, but this is exceptional, since commonly they crowd upon each
other, mingling one with another by imperceptible transitions. It is
common to mention some certain place as belonging to one and the other
zone, because the line of separation for both runs irregularly in
mountainous regions. A zone of reciprocal penetration has been formed,
on account of the multiple phenomena of temperature, of winds and of
plant groupings. So, too, cañons and slopes are met with, which, by
their vegetation, may be considered foci of _tierra caliente_, included
within the fully developed _tierra templada_.
POPOCATEPETL.
The valley of Mexico lies, then, surrounded by various chains, which
are: to the north the Sierra de Pitos and its branches, of which one is
the Sierra de Guadalupe; to the east the Sierra de Zinguilacan, which
ends in an extensive ridge, channeled by deep furrows, which connect the
Sierra mentioned with the Sierra Nevada. By means of mountains and
ridges forming the Sierra de Xuchitepec, to the southeast of the valley,
the Sierra Nevada is connected with that of Ajusco, which is connected
to the southwest with that of Las Cruces, which, extending to the
northwest, forms the Cordillera de Monte Alto, which is connected, as
already stated, with the western arm of the Sierra de los Pitos.
In all these chains there are heights of importance such as; in the
Sierra Nevada, Popocatepetl, lovely volcano, and Ixtaccihuatl, merely a
snow-cap.... Popocatepetl--smoking mountain--is the highest mountain in
Mexican territory and measures 5452 m. above sea-level. The ascent of
this colossus is full of discomforts, but when these have been endured,
the result is surprising.
The most suitable road for the ascent is the one which goes from
Amecameca to the ranch of Tlamacas, which is situated at 3897 m.
altitude and almost at the limit of tree growth; the trees there met
with are stunted; the day temperature is 8°, and at night 0 C., in
summer. In winter these temperatures are more extreme.
Until one thousand metres beyond the ranch some firs are seen, which are
the last; to these follows a soil covered with a dark sand, very fine
and slippery, over which the horses can scarcely make their way. Here
and there upon this sandy zone are tufts of dry grass. These gradually
disappear, until, finally, there remains no sign of vegetation. A little
later snow begins, at a place called La Cruz, to which a great wooden
cross, reared upon a heap of rocks, gives name. At this point, the line
of perpetual snow is found, at 4300 m., little more or less, above
sea-level.
From here the ascent is made on foot, and ever over the snow. The trail
zigzags, because the slope is 24° or 25°, becoming more abrupt, until
reaching 30° and 34°, at times. The walking is, naturally, very
difficult.
When some hundred metres have been traversed, great difficulty in
breathing begins to be experienced, the lungs feel oppressed, and every
step, every movement of the body, causes great fatigue and compels the
stopping to take breath. Feeble constitutions cannot endure the
weariness and illness which are experienced. The reflection of the sun
upon the snow is intense, for which reason the wearing of dark glasses
is necessary. The face should also be veiled, to prevent the vertigo,
which the white sheet surrounding the traveler produces toward the
middle of the journey; when the day is fine and the atmosphere clear,
the panorama is incomparably beautiful. The city of Puebla is clearly
seen, and, at a greater distance the peak of Orizaba and the Cofre of
Perote. There may also be seen, with all clearness, the summit of
Ixtaccihuatl, totally without a crater. After some four hours of travel,
the end of the journey, the summit of the volcano is reached; the last
steps are particularly difficult, because the slope is now 40° and the
rarity of the air is greater; progress is difficult.
From the point where the crater is reached it is not easy to take full
cognizance of its depth, though the general form may be appreciated.
This is elliptical; the major diameter measures some fifty metres more
than the other. A crest of rock, of varying elevation, forms the edge,
which makes it very irregular; it is very narrow; a simple step leads
from the outer, to the inner, slope. This edge presents two heights--one
is the _Espinazo del Diablo_ (Devil’s Backbone), the other is the _Pico
Mayor_ (Greater peak), which is, as its name indicates, the highest
point of the volcano, being 150 m. higher than the Espinazo. The _Pico
Mayor_ is almost inaccessible, but its summit may, with difficulty, be
reached.
The major diameter of the crater corresponds to the two summits named,
has some 850 m. length, and its direction is from south 20° west to
north 20° east. The transverse diameter may be estimated at 750 m.,
which would give the crater a circumference of 2,500 m. In descending
from the border, the crater presents three distinct parts; a slope of
65°, a vertical wall seventy metres in height, and another slope, which
extends to the bottom. In total, the mean depth of this imposing abyss
will reach 250 m. to 300 m.
At the place, where the vertical wall begins and the first slope ends,
there has been set up a sort of a windlass, below which an enormous
beam slopes downward toward the abyss; by this beam, and lowered by a
cord, the workmen who extract sulphur descend.
In the bottom of the crater are four fumaroles, whence vapors escape,
which in issuing produce slight hissing sounds. Abundant deposits of
sulphur exist near these. Besides the fumaroles mentioned, there are
seven points at the borders of the crater, where gases escape, though in
less abundance; six of these points lie to the east of the major
diameter, and the seventh on the opposite side. All are inaccessible.
The interior of the crater is formed by sheets, which form a regular
wall with vertical sides. In some places these layers are profoundly
shattered and there various species of rocks, of notably different
natures are seen; first, below, are sheets of trachyte, very compact and
rich in crystals of striated feldspar and partly decomposed amphibole;
above these more or less regular trachytic layers are beds of
well-characterized basalt--also very compact and rich in peridote;
lastly, above these layers are porous scoriæ, of dark purple color,
which indicates the presence of a considerable quantity of iron oxide.
These scoriæ must have originated from the fusion of the porphyritic
rocks.
Every little while, at the summit, rage violent storms of snow, which
falls in thick sheets; at such times the atmospheric clouds do not
permit objects to be seen at a metre’s distance and the temperature
falls to 20° and 22° below 0 C.
The exploitation of the sulphur is insignificant since only some
forty-eight or fifty tons are taken out, in a year; this sulphur is
distilled at the ranch of Tlamacas; it is sold in Mexico and Puebla at
the same price as that of Sicily--that of Popocatepetl being superior in
quality. The snow, too, on the side of Ozumba, is exploited, but this
exploitation is on the smallest scale.
Various expeditions have been organized for the ascent of Popocatepetl,
some scientific in nature, others for amusement. The first was made in
1519 by Diego de Ordaz, one of the soldiers of Cortes; others followed.
In our own day, such expeditions are frequent and their results happily
verify each other.
Ixtaccihuatl,--“white woman”--connected to Popocatepetl by a ridge of
graceful outline, rises to 5,288 m. altitude above sea-level. Down the
slopes of this mountain, several torrents, derived from the melting
snows, pour and form cascades and falls up to forty-five metres in
height. These same slopes, covered by a sheet of astonishingly rich and
luxuriant vegetation are gashed by deep crevices, in which are enormous
masses of porphyritic and basaltic rocks. Conifers form dense forests up
to 3,000 m. altitude; from there the vigor of arborescent vegetation
diminishes and at 4,000 m. it completely ceases; from that point on
there are only stretches of brambles, which completely disappear at
about 4,200 m.; then follow the sands, and, lastly, the perpetual snows,
which begin at 4,300 m.
The crest, which is very grand and beautiful, resembles in the
arrangement of its rock masses, the form of a woman’s body, stretched at
length upon its back, and covered by a white winding sheet. From this,
the name of white woman,--_izta_, white; _cihuatl_, woman--with which
this lovely mountain was baptized by the dreamy imagination of the
Aztecs.
THE CAVERN OF CACAHUAMILPA.
In the limestone mountains of Cacahuamilpa, thirty kilometres north from
Tasco, in a ravine, lies the village of the same name, near which is
situated the famous cavern, one of the most beautiful in the world,
commonly designated by the name of the _gruta de Cacahuamilpa_ (grotto
of Cacahuamilpa).... Dominating the eminence formed in the cordillera
running eastward and which has already been mentioned, is perceived the
great mouth of the cavern, with the green festoons of foliage which
adorn it and some stalactitic formations which seem to announce the
marvels of the interior. Access to this entrance is gained by a short
and narrow path.
The mouth measures five metres in its greatest height and thirty-six
metres from side to side; after it has been traversed, there begins a
plane sloping toward the interior; the soil is sandy; shortly one
arrives at the first gallery, which is lighted by the sunlight.
This gallery is very large; its walls are formed of enormous masses of
tilted rocks, which look as if about to fall; the spacious and lofty
vault is furrowed by broad and deep crevices and from it hang many
stalactites in the form of columns, or colossal pear-shaped masses of
marble. Crossing the broad space of this gallery, a second is reached,
where the darkness is dense and appalling, the torches scarcely dispel
the gloom, and the spirit is oppressed.
In the first gallery the most notable concretions are “the enchanted
goat” and “the columns.” The former has lost much of its resemblance, as
the head of the goat has fallen, but the second is wonderfully
beautiful, because of its astonishing originality; its form is that of a
column adorned with a capital, in the form of a tuft of plumes, which
supports the base of a natural arch.
The third gallery, called “the pulpit” on account of the shape of its
principal concretion is no less beautiful, grand, and imposing, than the
preceding. Here the darkness is absolute.
Beyond this third gallery there are twelve more, very imperfectly known;
they are called--the cauliflower, the shell, the candelabrum, the
gothic tower, the palm tree, the pineapple, the labyrinth, the
fountain, and the organ-pipes. The rest have no special names. All of
these galleries are marvelously beautiful; all are extensive and have
lofty vaultings.
The total extent of the cavern is unknown; though the guides assert that
it ends in the gallery of the organ-pipes, there are indications that
the statement is false. These indications are: the air, which, even at
such profound depths, is perfectly respirable; the lack of exploration;
the superstitious fears of the guides to go further; and, some
traditions, which declare that new galleries exist and have been
explored by persons, who report a rushing torrent producing a terrible
noise, for which reason no one cares to penetrate further. But, although
the extent of the cavern is unknown and the gallery of the organ-pipes
may not be the last, we ought not to believe the reports, which give the
cavern immense extension. For example, some say that the galleries and
ramifications extend to the mountains of Tasco, and there is one
tradition, which affirms that the cavern prolongs itself, through the
interior of the mountains which limit the Valley of Mexico on the south,
until it unites with the cavern of Teutli, near Milpa Alta.
This tradition, although improbable, is curious; it states that some
families hid their treasure in the cave which occurs in the mountain of
Teutli; this has a very narrow entrance at first, but after some twelve
or fifteen metres broadens, forming a most beautiful cavern; this cavern
has a series of chambers, of greater or lesser size, which finally
communicate with the cave of Cacahuamilpa, more than one hundred
kilometres distant.
The tradition cited adds that but few persons have dared to penetrate
the cave of Teutli, and on but one occasion, a herd of sheep having
entered it, some peons followed to collect and bring them out--a thing
they could not do because the animals penetrated far into the cave;
those who went in pursuit of them returned after two days of journeying
through these rough passages.
In conclusion, it only remains to state, that the existence of the
cavern of Cacahuamilpa remained unknown to everyone, until the year
1833. Before that year, not even the Indians had entered it, because
they believed that the stalagmite in the form of a goat was a bad
spirit, that guarded the mysteries, which the cavern enclosed; but a
criminal who took refuge in it and was there during the period of his
pursuit, after which he returned to his home, astonished the inhabitants
of Tetecala by his fantastic reports; they made the first exploration
and announced their expedition, describing the wonderful cavern. Since
then, until now, expeditions have not lacked; unhappily, none of them
has been scientific.
ANTONIO GARCÍA CUBAS.
[Illustration]
Antonio García Cubas was born July 24, 1832, in the City of Mexico. He
began study looking toward engineering in the year 1845, although not
actually taking the degree of engineer until 1865. His technical studies
were pursued in the _Colegio de San Gregorio_, the _Minería_ (School of
Mines), and the _Academia de San Carlos_. His studies were repeatedly
interrupted by appointments of importance and by public commissions.
Thus, in 1853 he published a general map of the Mexican Republic. Since
that date he has done much geographical and engineering work of
importance. In 1865, he served on the Scientific Commission of Pachuca.
In 1866 he did the leveling for the Mexican Railway to Tulancingo. He
published his first Atlas in 1857; in 1863, his _Carta general_ (General
map), in 1876 his _Carta administrativa_ (Administrative map), in 1878,
his _Carta orohydrographica_ (Orographic-hydrographic map), still
perhaps the best maps of Mexico, of their kind. In 1882, his great
_Atlas, geografico, estadistico, y pintoresco de la Republica Mexicana_
(Geographical, Statistical, and Picturesque Atlas of the Mexican
Republic) was published. In addition to these and other equally
important scientific works, Señor García Cubas has written various
school books in geography, history, etc. Our selections are taken from a
little volume, _Escritos diversos_ (Miscellaneous Writings).
The work of Señor García Cubas has received wide and well-deserved
recognition. He is a member of the Geographical Societies of Paris,
Lisbon, Madrid and Rome; he has received scores of medals and diplomas;
he holds the Cross of the Legion of Honor. In his own country he is a
member of all the scientific societies but has naturally been most
interested in the _Sociedad Mexicana de Geografía y Estadstica_ (The
Mexican Society of Geography and Statistics). He has ever been active
in movements for public advancement and among many results of his
interest we may mention the Conservatory of Music.
THE INDIANS OF MEXICO.
The statistical data, imperfect though they have been, have given force
and value to the opinion, which for me is a fact, that the indigenous
race becomes debilitated and decreases in proportion as the white race
becomes strong and advances. This fact is in complete accord with the
laws of nature; the disadvantage of the indigenous race consists, for
its decrease, in its customs and in the hygienic conditions of its mode
of life. A miserable hut serves as a habitation for a numerous family
and in it, the inmates actually packed together, cannot but breathe a
polluted air; food is scanty and innutritious, while the daily
occupations are heavy and hard. Sad indeed is the sight of these unhappy
indigenes who without distinction of sex and age are encountered in our
city streets and who, exhausted under the weight of enormous burdens,
return to their villages with the miserable pittance gained from their
trading.
If we consider the Indian from the time of his birth, or even from
before his birth, we see his life to be but a series of miseries and
abjections. The Indian women, even at the time of travail, do not cease
from their wearisome tasks and, without thought for the being who stirs
within them, occupy themselves in grinding maize and making tortillas,
labors which cannot but prove hurtful to the act of giving birth. While
the period of suckling has not passed, the child is fed with tortillas
and fruits and other foods unsuited to its digestive powers, causing by
such imprudence diarrhœas and other diseases, which carry the
children to the grave or, as they grow, leaves them infirm and feeble.
Smallpox, in consequence of the neglect of the parents and their
indifference to vaccination, causes frightful ravages--the disease being
most pernicious in the indigenous race.
Such statistics as I possess of the movement of population in the pueblo
of Ixtacalco, while they indicate that the Civil Registry has not yet
extended its dominion to that pueblo, corroborate the opinion that the
decrease of the race is mainly due to infant mortality.
In 1868 there were born 165
There died 190
---
Loss 25
In this mortality there were one hundred and forty children. In the year
1869, although the data show an augmentation of fifty-nine persons in
the population, the infant deaths number sixty-five, to thirty-four of
adults.
One fact ought to particularly call our attention because it proves that
the degradation of the race is not in its constitution but in the
customs of its members. The Indian women of the villages near the
Capital, hiring themselves out as nurses in private homes, rear
healthful and robust children, because in their new employment they
improve their condition, by enforced cleanliness, by good food, and by
the total change in their hygienic conditions. But this very
circumstance is a serious misfortune for the race, the women impelled by
the desire to gain better wages, abandoning their own children to the
mercenary cares of other women, as if the lack of a mother’s love and
care could be made good!
Another of the reasons which, in my opinion, cause the degeneration of
the indigenous race, is that marriage takes place unwisely and
prematurely. According to medical opinion, the nubile age of woman in
our country is eighteen years, in the hot lands fourteen; between
medical theory and actual practice there is an enormous difference. As
regards the Indians, frequently union occurs between a woman scarcely
arrived at the term of her development and a man of forty years or more,
entirely developed and robust; as a consequence, the woman becomes
debilitated and infirm and her children are weak and degenerate.
If to these causes, which operate so powerfully toward the decrease of
the indigenous race, is added the sensible diminution it has suffered in
our civil wars,--since the indigenous race supplies far the larger part
of the army--the truth of my assertion seems fully corroborated.
THE SEASONS IN THE VALLEY OF MEXICO.
Few must be the places in the world which, from the picturesque and
poetical point of view, surpass in beauty the Valley of Mexico. The
varied phenomena, which the seasons of the year there present,
powerfully contribute to this.
Some European savants assert that the seasons of the year are, in the
intertropical regions, reduced to two, the dry and rainy seasons. In our
country this assertion is without foundation. The truth is, that, in
those regions, weather variations less sharply determine seasonal
changes than in the temperate zones; but, in the Valley of Mexico
seasonal changes really take place as shown by the beautiful fresh
mornings of its Spring, prodigal in exquisite and varied flowers; the
hot days of its rainy Summer, rich in delicious fruits; the warm
afternoons of Autumn with its wondrously beautiful drifting clouds, and
the cold nights of Winter, with its clear and starry sky.
As the last hours of night shorten in the lovely season of Spring, the
deep darkness which envelopes the earth’s surface dissipates little by
little and objects become visible as the delicate light of dawn
gradually invades the east. The sun’s rays, propagating themselves with
a constant undulatory movement, cause successive reflections and
refractions, in the atmosphere and clouds, scattering the light in every
direction and permitting the distinguishing of objects not yet directly
illuminated by that body. If this light, known by the name of diffused
or scattered light, did not exist, the shadow cast by a cloud, or by any
object whatever, would produce the darkness of night, and--there being
no twilight--the sun would appear on the horizon suddenly and in full
splendor.
The sweet trills of the goldfinch, the warbling of other birds, the
harmonious sound of bells, which announce in the towns the hour of dawn,
and the laborer, who betakes himself to the field, with his oxen, to
begin his daily labors, mark the moments in which the splendid rays of
the sun, which precede the rising of the luminary, diffuse themselves
through the transparent fluid of the atmosphere. Before the sun mounts
above the horizon the eastern heavens are successively colored with the
brilliant tints of red, orange, yellow, green, and purple; the limit of
the white light of dawn, extending in the form of an arch through space,
rapidly advances toward the zenith, while, at the same time, the upper
heavens about that point, gradually acquire the most intense hue of
azure.
The crest of the eastern cordillera sharpens and defines itself against
a background of rose and gold; the majestic snow caps of Popocatepetl
and Iztaccihuatl, which rise as two colossi in order to display the
beauties of the sunrise, feebly illuminated on their western flanks by
the diffused light, appear as if made of Bohemian crystal. At times a
dense column of smoke, rendered visible by the whiteness of dawn, issues
from the crater of Popocatepetl, demonstrating the constant activity of
this volcano, which retains evidences of tremendous activity.
When the sun, rising above the horizon, pursues its upward march, it
presents a beautiful spectacle, difficult of description. Its disc, red
and apparently increased in size, on account of atmospheric refraction,
presents itself surrounded by a luminous aureole, and gradually
diminishes in diameter as it mounts higher. The antecrepuscular curve
submerged in the horizon, the west acquires the same succession of tints
and the upper part of the sky is colored with a brilliant, most vivid
blue.
From that moment the surroundings of the Capital city are most charming.
Chapultepec, with its many and limpid springs, its picturesque rock
mass, its poetic palace and its dense grove of ancient cypresses, from
the branches of which depend masses of gray moss--the honored locks of
their hoary age; Tacubaya with its palaces, its parks, and gardens;
Mixcoac with its pleasing environs and its lanes of fruit trees; San
Angel, Coyoacan, and Tlalpam, with their clear brooks, their gardens,
their fields, and their pretty glades, covered with plants, trees, and
interlacing climbers.
In all these places one enjoys the intoxicating freshness of the
morning, the attractiveness of the fields, the breathing of the fresh
air loaded with the perfume of flowers. There swarms of butterflies,
with gleaming and brilliant wings, display their beauties and
humming-birds, those precious winged gems which, endowed with an
extraordinary flight, cleave the air like an exhalation, or, sucking
honey from some flower, suspended in space, incessantly beat their wings
and expose the green and pearly lustre of their plumage to the
reflections of the sun.
South of the capital, the soil differs from that of the places
mentioned. There the camelia, the lily, the Bengal-rose, and the other
exquisite flowers of careful cultivation are not met; but there, in the
_chinampas_, those artificial islands which have converted swamps into
lovely gardens, grow the luxuriant poppy, the purple pink, the elegant
dahlia, the perfumed violet, and the fragrant rose of Castile.
The canal which unites the lakes of Texcoco and Xochimilco in the days
of Spring is to be seen covered with canoes loaded with flowers and
vegetables bound for the city markets; and everyone, who has
participated in the Lenten festivities of the Viga, will ever remember,
with delight, the animation that constantly reigns in that place, where
the common people finds its greatest joy. It may be said that there is
the place of the festival of Spring and flowers.
* * * * *
Summer, in the Valley, as the other seasons of the year, has its
especial attractiveness.
The atmospheric strata being unequally expanded by the fierce heat from
the earth’s surface, the order or arrangement of the layers in contact
with the soil is, so to say, inverted. It is well known that the lower
layers of air have the greater density, from the fact that the upper
layers weigh down upon them; from the earth’s surface upward there is a
gradual decrease in density until the last, the lightest and most
subtle, which is called ether. This general law being interfered with by
the expansion of the lower layers, refraction of the light rays,--or the
deviation which they suffer in passing from one medium into another of
differing density--takes place in a manner contrary to that when the
atmospheric layers are normally superposed, and the mirage[1] is
produced, an optical illusion, which causes us to see objects, below the
horizon or in the air, inverted.
In the dry and level stretches in the north of the Valley, one
frequently sees the thick vapor stretch itself out over the surface of
the ground, and upon it, inverted, are portrayed the mountains with all
their irregularities and details, as if reproduced in a limpid mirror of
waters.
The mirage is yet more interesting, more wonderful, in the Lake of
Texcoco, though the phenomenon is there less frequent. On clear days,
from the shore, one sees the full extent of the lake and the
tranquillity of its water. Miserable, frail canoes, the form of which
has not varied since the days of the conquest, are seen crossing the
lake, loaded with grains and vegetables for the Mexican markets. The
unsteady and narrow _chalupas_ of the fishermen and flower-dealers
rapidly cleave the watery surface and only the creaking of the oars, or
the notes of the monotonous songs of the boatmen break the silence of
the solitude.
When the temperature of the water of the lake is less than that of the
air with which it is in contact, those little crafts suddenly disappear
from the surface of the water and are seen, inverted, floating in the
air, coursing to the stroke of the oars, through a shifting sea of
clouds.
JOAQUÍN GARCÍA ICAZBALCETA.
[Illustration]
No name better deserves to be first mentioned in the list of modern
Mexican writers than that of Joaquín García Icazbalceta. He was born in
the City of Mexico Aug. 25, 1825. His father was a Spaniard, his mother
a Mexican. On account of the disorders connected with the Revolution,
his parents left Mexico, going first to the United States and later to
Spain, where they remained until 1836. In that year they returned to
Mexico. The boy showed early earnestness in study and was well
instructed by private tutors. He was acquainted with and encouraged by
the great historian, Lucas Alaman, who no doubt had much to do with his
decision, about 1846, to devote himself to historical study.
The list of his works is a long one. He translated Prescott’s _Conquest
of Peru_ into Spanish and enriched it with valuable notes. To the well
known _Diccionario Universal de Historia y Geografía_ (Universal
Dictionary of History and Geography) he contributed the biographical
sketches of many personages of the sixteenth century. In 1858 he began
publishing the _Coleccion de Documentos para la Historia de México_
(Collection of Documents for the History of Mexico), two volumes of
ancient, and for the most part unknown, matter of the highest value.
This was continued by the publication in 1870 of Mendieta’s _Historia
Ecclesiastica Indiana_ (Ecclesiastical History of the Indians). Still
later in 1886-1892 these volumes were followed by four similar volumes
under the name _Nueva Coleccion de Documentos para la Historia de
México_ (New Collection of Documents for the History of Mexico). These
papers were all original works, many of them from the sixteenth century,
of the greatest importance and interest, and most, if not all, of them
would have been lost or never known but for Icazbalceta’s care. In
publishing this matter our author always added notes and explanations,
characterized by lucidity, interest, and learning. Two important works
were published in 1875 and 1877--_México en 1554_ (Mexico in 1554) and
_Coloquios espirituales y sacramentales y Poesias sagradas_ (Spiritual
and Sacramental Colloquies and Sacred Poems). The former was a reprint
of three interesting dialogues in Latin by Francisco Cervantes Salazar;
the book is most rare; Icazbalceta printed the original Latin text with
a Spanish translation and added his usual valuable notes. The other
book, chiefly composed of religious dramas for popular representation,
was by Fernan Gonzales de Eslava, who was by no means a mean poet. In
reprinting this curious sixteenth century book Icazbalceta practically
traced the whole history of the religious play in Mexico of the past. No
Mexican bibliographer has done more important work than Icazbalceta. Two
works in this line need special mention. His _Apuntes para un Catalogo
de Escritores en lenguas indigenas de America_ (Notes for a Catalogue of
Writers in the Native Languages of America) is not only interesting in
itself, but has been the necessary foundation for everything since
written regarding Mexican languages. As for his _Bibliografía Mexicana
del siglo xvi._ (Mexican Bibliography of the Sixteenth Century), it is a
wonderful work, representing forty years of labor. “It is a systematic
catalogue of books printed in Mexico in the years between 1539 and
1600, with biographies of authors and various illustrations, facsimiles
of ancient title pages, extracts from rare books, bibliographic notes,
etc., etc.” It is far more--it is really a restoration of the life of
that wonderful age in American letters. In biography our author is
eminently happy; he usually loves and reverences his subject. In 1881 he
published his _Don Fray Juan de Zumárraga, Primer Obispo y Arzobispo de
México_ (Friar Juan de Zumarraga, first bishop and archbishop of
Mexico). It is a magnificent example of such work. Another subject
of his love was Alegre, and besides a biography of him he
wrote--1889--_Opusculos ineditos Latinos y Castellanos de Francisco
Javier Alegre_ (The Unpublished Works, Latin and Spanish, of Francisco
Javier Alegre). Icazbalceta’s last great work was _Diccionario de
Provincialismos Mexicanos_ (Dictionary of Mexican Provincialisms). This
was passing through the press at the time of his death, November 26,
1894.
Many of Icazbalceta’s choicest writings were monographs of no great
length prepared for reading before the Mexican Academy or other
organizations of which he was a member. These always show the same
careful gathering of facts, the same just criticism, and the same
literary character as his greater works. Our selections--all but
one--are from such a discourse read before the academy in June and July,
1882, entitled, _El instruccion publica en México durante el siglo
xvi._ (Public Instruction in Mexico during the Sixteenth Century). The
other is from a paper--_Los Medicos de México en el siglo xvi._ (The
Physicians of Mexico in the Sixteenth Century). These passages will no
doubt surprise many readers, who have been pleased to believe that
Spain’s policy was to hold its conquered territories in deep ignorance.
THE EARLY MISSIONARIES.
When the first Spanish missionaries arrived, they faced that great mass
of uncivilized folk, which it was necessary to convert and civilize in a
single day. Today there exist an enormous number of establishments and
private teachers for educating youth in classes, graded with relation to
ages; there were then twelve men for millions of children and adults,
who begged, in concert, for light, and light which it was impossible to
deny them, because it was not merely a matter of human culture, which
most important as it is, did not then occupy the first place; but of
opening the eyes to blind heathen and of making them take the straight
road for attaining the salvation of their souls. The matter then seemed
serious; it was really still more so, because the new teachers had never
heard the language of their pupils. But what may not devotion
accomplish? Those venerable men quickly mastered the unknown language
and then others and others as they met them; they understood, or rather
they divined, the peculiar character of the population, and at once
converted, instructed, and protected it. The first missionaries and
those who followed after them, were certainly no common men; almost all
were educated; many like Fathers Tecto, Gaona, Focher, Vera Cruz, and
others had shone in professorships and prelacies; they were of noble
birth, and three of them, Fathers Gante, Witte, and Daciano, felt royal
blood coursing through their veins. All renounced the advantages
promised by a brilliant career; all forgot their hard gained learning to
devote themselves to the primary instruction of the poor and unprotected
Indians. What inflated doctor, what betitled professor today would
accept a primary school in an obscure village?
The Franciscans went everywhere rearing temples to the true God, and
with them schools for children. They gave to their principal convents a
special plan; the church set from east to west and the school, with its
dormitories and chapel at right angles to it, stretching to the north.
The square of buildings was completed by the ample court, which served
for teaching the Christian doctrine to adults, in the morning before
work, and also for the sons of the _macehuales_ or plebeians who came to
receive religious instruction; the school building was reserved for the
sons of nobles and lords; although this distinction was not rigidly
observed.
At first the friars found great difficulty in gathering together boys to
fill these schools, because the Indians were not yet capable of
understanding the importance of the new discipline and refused to give
their boys to the monasteries. They had to appeal to the government that
it should compel the lords and principal men to send their sons to the
schools; first experiment in compulsory education. Many of the lords,
not caring to give up their children, but not daring to disobey, adopted
the expedient of sending, in place of their own sons, and as if they
were these, other boys, sons of their servants or vassals. But in time,
perceiving the advantage these plebeian boys, by education, were gaining
over their masters, they sent their sons to the monasteries, and even
insisted on their being admitted. The boys dwelt in the lodgings built
for the purpose in connection with the schools, some so spacious as to
suffice for eight hundred or a thousand. The friars devoted themselves
by preference to the children, as being--from their youth--more docile
and apt to learn, and found in them most useful helpers. Soon they
employed them as teachers. The adults brought from their wards by their
leaders, came to the patios and remained there during the hours set for
instruction, after which they were free for their ordinary occupations.
Divided into groups, one of the best instructed boys taught to each
group the lesson learned from the missionary.
PEDRO DE GANTE’S WORK.
Although you know the fact well, gentlemen, you would not forgive me
should I omit mentioning the work which the noted lay brother, Pedro de
Gante, blood relative of the Emperor Charles V., did in the direction of
instructing the Indians. He was not the founder of the College of San
Juan de Letran, as is generally stated, but of the great school of San
Francisco, in Mexico, which he directed during a half century. This was
constructed, as was customary, behind the convent church, extending
toward the north, and contiguous to the famous chapel of San José de
Belem de Naturales--the first church of Mexico, the old cathedral
included. There our lay brother brought together fully a thousand boys,
to whom he imparted religious and civil instruction. Later he added the
study of Latin, of music, and of singing, by which means he did a great
service to the clergy, because from there went forth musicians and
singers for all the churches. Not satisfied with this achievement, he
brought together also adults, with whom he established an industrial
school. He provided the churches with painted or sculptured figures;
with embroidered ornaments, sometimes with designs interspersed of the
feather work, in which the Indians were so distinguished; with crosses,
with candlestick standards, and many other objects necessary for church
service, no less than with workmen for the construction of the churches
themselves, for he had in that school painters, sculptors, engravers,
stonecutters, carpenters, embroiderers, tailors, shoemakers, and other
trades workers. He attended to all and was master of all. The gigantic
efforts of that immortal lay brother cause genuine admiration--who
without other resources than his indomitable energy, born of his warm
charity, reared from the foundations and sustained for so many years a
magnificent church, a hospital and a great establishment, which was at
once a primary school, a college of higher instruction and religious
teaching, an academy of the fine arts, and a trades school, in fine a
center of civilization.
INSTRUCTION BY HIEROGLYPHS.
Industrial schools, compulsory education, these seem to us usually
modern ideas; but these old teachers knew something of object teaching,
of adapting methods to varying conditions. Thus:
They completed the instruction by the use of signs, and it may be
imagined that the result was little or nothing. Desirous of hastening
the instruction and realizing that what enters by the eye engraves
itself more easily upon the mind, they devised the idea of painting the
mysteries of religion upon a canvas. Friar Jacob de Tastera, a
Frenchman, was the first, it seems, who tested this method. He did not
know the language, but he showed the Indians the chart and caused one
of the brighter among them, who knew something of Spanish, to explain
the meaning of the figures to the others. The other friars followed his
example and the system continued in use much time. They were also
accustomed to hang the necessary charts upon the wall, and the
missionary, as he made the doctrinal explanations, indicated with a
pointer the corresponding chart. The Indians accustomed to painting
hieroglyphs adopted them for writing catechisms and prayerbooks for
their own use, but varying the old form and interspersing here and there
words written with European letters, from which there resulted a new
species of mixed writing, of which curious examples are preserved, some
of which are in my possession. They made use of the same method of
jotting down a record of their sins that they might not forget them at
the time of going to the confessional. The use of the pictures was so
pleasing to the Indians that it lasted all that century and a part of
the following. In 1575 Archbishop Moya de Contreras substituted with
announcements in pictures, papal bulls which failed to come from Spain;
and the well known French writer, Friar Juan Bautista, caused figures to
be engraved--after the seventeenth century had begun--for use in
teaching the Indians of that time the doctrine.
THE UNIVERSITY OF MEXICO.
The famous University of Mexico was opened in 1553, almost seventy years
before the pilgrims landed at Plymouth Rock. Literary contests of a
public character were not infrequent:
The doors of the university opened, there entered by them a great number
of youth, who waited with impatience the moment of commencing or
prosecuting their studies. So Cervantes Salazar testifies in the
description which he wrote of the institution, the year following its
establishment. Soon the literary exercises began and notable was the
ardor with which the students engaged in scholastic disputations, to
which, as Cervantes says, night alone put an end. The learned men who
were already in Mexico hastened to connect themselves with the
university, among them Archbishop Montufar. Nothing was omitted to add
to the luster of the new school, since there were given to it the
privileges of the University of Salamanca and the title Royal and
Pontifical. From it sallied many alumni as teachers, or to occupy high
positions in church and state. It was really, as its founders had
planned, a source of supply (nursery) of educated men, which in large
measure obviated the necessity of bringing such from Europe, and there
were even some who _there_ brilliantly displayed the education which
they had received in the schools of Mexico.
A LITERARY FESTIVAL.
In the year 1578, on the occasion of the arrival at Mexico of a great
quantity of sacred relics, presented by Pope Gregory XIII. to the
Jesuits, it was decided to celebrate a brilliant festival. Upon the
announcement of this, many distinguished persons and a multitude of
others betook themselves to Mexico. An official proclamation, given
forth beforehand with much ceremony, announced a program of seven
literary controversies. The procession with the sacred relics sallied
from the cathedral, and on the way to the Church of the Jesuits, where
they were to be deposited, there were reared five magnificent triumphal
arches ‘at least fifty feet high.’ Besides these more important ones,
the Indians constructed more than fifty, made of boughs and flowers
according to their custom. All the doors and windows of the houses were
adorned with rich tapestries, Flemish stuffs embroidered with gold and
silk. In the arches, as at the corners, and in the little ornamental
shrines which decorated the line of march, there were displayed placards
and shields with inscriptions, sentences, and poetical verses in Latin,
Spanish, and even in Greek and Hebrew. At each arch the procession
paused to see and hear dances, sports, music, and poems. During the
space of eight days, in the afternoons, upon platforms erected for the
purpose, the students of the different schools in turn represented
religious plays. One of these was the tragedy of the persecution of the
church under Diocletian and the prosperity which followed, with the
reign of Constantine. This drama, which still exists in printed form,
was undoubtedly a work of the Jesuit professors. Delighted with its
rendition the populace demanded its repetition, which took place the
following Sunday.
INDIAN LANGUAGES.
An immense field is opened before my view, in the linguistic and
historic works, which we owe to the sixteenth century. On their arrival
the missionaries found themselves face to face with a language entirely
unknown to the inhabitants of the Old World; and as they progressed with
their apostolic labors they discovered with pain that this land, where
the curse of Babel seems to have fallen with especial weight, was full
of different languages, of all forms and structures, some polished,
others barbarous, for which they had neither interpreters, nor teachers,
nor books, and for the most part not even a people of culture who spoke
them. That difficulty in itself would suffice to discourage the most
intrepid mind; but there did not in the world exist anything which could
quench the fire of charity with which the missionaries were aglow. They
undertook the contest with the hundred-headed monster and vanquished
him. Today the study of a group of languages, or even of one tongue,
raises the fame of the philologist to the clouds, although he usually
finds the way pathed out for him by previous labors; but the
missionaries learned, or rather divined all, from the first beginnings;
a single man at times attacked five or six of these languages without
analogy, without a common filiation, without known alphabet, with
nothing that might facilitate the task. Today such investigations are
made, for the most part, in the tranquillity and shelter of the study;
then, in the fields, the groves, upon the roads, under the open sky, in
the midst of fatigues of the mission journey, of hunger, of lack of
clothing, of sleeplessness.
The missionaries did not undertake such heavy tasks to attain fame; they
did not compare the languages, nor treat them in a scientific way; they
tried to reduce them all to the plan of Latin; but they went straight to
the practical end of making themselves comprehensible to the natives,
and laid firm foundations, upon which might be reared a magnificent
structure. The linguistic section of our literature is one of those
which most highly honor it, and this, although we know but a portion of
it. Countless are the writings which have remained unpublished, either
for lack of patronage to supply the cost of printing or because they
were translations of sacred texts which it was not permitted to place in
vulgar hands. Father Olmos is a notable example of the sad fate which
befell many of these writers. It is believed that he knew various
Chichimecan dialects, because he was a long time among them, and it is
certain that he wrote without counting other books, grammars, and
vocabularies of the Aztec, Huastec, and Totonac languages. Of such great
works only his Aztec grammar has survived, which, after circulating
during more than three centuries through public and private libraries,
has finally been saved, thanks to the beautiful edition of it which was
published, not in Mexico, but in Paris in 1875. In a history of Mexican
literature, notices and analysis of the books on the native
languages--today so much esteemed and studied in foreign lands--claim a
place of honor.
FRANCISCO HERNANDEZ.
That same year, about the month of September, the famous Dr. Francisco
Hernandez, court physician of Philip II., arrived in Mexico. He was a
native of Toledo and was born about 1517 or 1518. Nothing is known of
his life previous to his journey to New Spain, whither he came by royal
commission, to write the natural history of the country, with reference
to medicine. He consumed seven years in the discharge of his commission,
making continual journeys, meeting obstacles and suffering diseases
which brought him to the edge of the grave. It has been generally said
that Philip II. supplied the expenses of this expedition with regal
munificence and that it cost him 20,000 ducats; but documents published
in our days, clearly show that Hernandez was given but a modest salary,
although we do not know exactly the amount, with no assistance whatever
for his extraordinary expenses, not even for those occasioned by his
frequent journeys. Nor was he supplied the assistance usual in such
cases, and he had no other helper than his own son. In spite of all this
he was never discouraged in that great enterprise. In order to devote
himself entirely to it, he refused to practice medicine in Mexico,
‘throwing away the opportunity of gaining more than 20,000 pesos by the
practice of the healing art, and much more by occupations pursued in
this country, on account of employing myself in the service of your
majesty and in the consummation of the work’--as he himself says in a
letter to the king. Not content with describing and making drawings of
the plants and animals of New Spain he caused the efficacy of the
medicines to be practically tested in the hospitals, and availing
himself of his title of _protomedico_, convoked the practitioners then
in the city and urged them to make similar tests and to communicate the
results to him. Finally he carried to Spain, 1577, seventeen volumes of
text and illustrations, in which was the natural history; and an
additional volume containing various writings upon the customs and
antiquities of the Indians. Copies of all were left in Mexico, which
have disappeared. He wrote the work in Latin; he translated a part of it
into Spanish, and the Indians, under his direction, commenced a
translation into Aztec.
Arrived in Spain, Hernandez suffered the severest blow possible for an
author--instead of his great work being put promptly to press, as he had
expected, it was buried in the shelves of the library of the Escorial;
to be sure with all honor, for the volumes were ‘beautifully bound in
blue leather and gilded and supplied with silver clasps and corners,
heavy and excellently worked.’ However, this magnificent dress did not
serve to protect the work, which finally perished, almost a century
later, in the great conflagration of the Escorial, which took place the
7th and 8th of June, 1671, nothing being saved except a few drawings,
just enough to augment our appreciation of the loss. Dr. Hernandez
survived his return little more than nine years, since he died February
28, 1587.
AGUSTIN RIVERA.
[Illustration]
Agustin Rivera was born at Lagos (Jalisco) on February 28, 1824. For a
time he studied at the famous _Colegio de San Nicolas_, at Morelia, and,
later, at the _Seminario_ in Guadalajara. In 1848 he was licensed to
practice law and in the same year took holy orders. He taught for some
time at Guadalajara, and was, for nine years, the attorney of the
Ecclesiastical Curia. He finally removed to Lagos, the city of his
birth, where he still lives, and where his writings have been
published. In 1867, he made a journey to Europe, visiting England,
France, Italy, and Russia. His writings have been many, varied, and
extensive; the complete list of his books and pamphlets, includes
ninety-four titles. Among the best known and most widely mentioned are
his _Compendio de la Historia antigua de Mexico_ (Compend of the Ancient
History of Mexico), _Principios criticos sobre el vireinato de la Nueva
España_ (Critical Observations upon the Vice-Royalty of New Spain), and
_La Filosofía en Nueva España_ (Philosophy in New Spain). Two pamphlets,
_Viaje á las Ruinas de Chicomoztoc_ (Journey to the Ruins of
Chicomoztoc) and _Viaje á las Ruinas del Fuerte del Sombrero_ (Journey
to the Ruins of the Fort of Sombrero), have been widely read and are
often mentioned.
Our author is vigorous and clear in thought and expression. Extremely
liberal in his views, much of his writing has been polemic. In argument
he is shrewd and incisive; in criticism, candid but unsparing. His
_Principios criticos_ is a scathing arraignment of the government of New
Spain under the viceroys. His _Filosofía_ is a part of the same
discussion. It forms a large octavo volume. It begins with presenting
two Latin documents of the eighteenth century, programs of public
_actos_, given at the _Seminario_ and the _Colegio de Santo Tomás_ in
Guadalajara. These serve as the basis for a severe criticism of the
philosophical thought and teaching in Spain and New Spain during the
vice-regal period. Testimonies are cited from many authors and Rivera’s
comments upon and inferences from these are strong and original. In the
course of the book he summarizes the scientific work really done--and
there was some--in Mexico during the seventeenth and eighteenth
centuries. He sums up his argument in eleven corollaries. Our selections
are taken from the _Filosofía en Nueva España_ and from a curious
dialogue regarding the teaching of Indian languages.
On February 28, 1902, after many years of absence, Agustin Rivera was in
Guadalajara; his completion of seventy-eight years of life was there
celebrated by a large circle of his friends, old students, admirers, and
readers, most brilliantly. In October, 1901, a proposition, that the
national government should pension the faithful and fearless old man,
was unanimously carried by the one hundred and twenty-five votes in the
House of Deputies in the City of Mexico. It is pleasant to see these
acts of public recognition of the value of a long life usefully spent.
BACKWARDNESS OF MEXICO IN VICEROYAL TIMES.
My lack of pecuniary resources does not allow me to give greater bulk to
this book by translating Document I. from Latin into Spanish; but those
who know the Latin language and philosophy will observe that in the
Department of Physics in the College of Santo Tomás in Guadalajara were
taught _the first cause_, _the properties of secondary causes_,
supernatural operations, the sacrament of the Lord’s Supper,
eternity--everything, in fact, save physics. Neither the word _heat_,
nor the word _light_, is met with once in the program. The program
cited, further accentuates ignorance of modern logic and modern
metaphysics. Such was the teaching of philosophy by the Jesuits in the
schools of New Spain, until the end of their instruction and existence
in this country, since the public _acto_, in the College of Santo Tomás,
took place in 1764, and three years later they were expelled (June 25,
1767). History proves that the Jesuits were at the front in teaching in
the colleges of New Spain, and if _they_ taught such things, what could
those teach who were in the rear?
Lucas Alaman, Adolfo Llanos, Niceto de Zamacois, Ignacio Aguilar y
Marocho, and other writers, open partisans of the colonial government
(few indeed in this nineteenth century) to such documents as form the
matter of this Dissertation reply: “It was the logic, the metaphysics
and the physics of that epoch.” The statement is false and one might say
that the writers mentioned were ignorant of history, or that, knowing
it, they made sport of the credulity and good faith of their readers,
were it not that the intelligence and honesty of the four writers--and
of others--is well established, and did not logic teach us that there
are other sources of error in judgment besides ignorance and bad faith;
that a great source of errors is _preoccupation_, as that of Alaman and
Aguilar Marocho--for all that concerns the monarchy and viceroyalty; and
a great source of errors is _passion_, vehement and uncontrolled, as the
love of country which sways Zamacois, Llanos, and other Spanish
writers.... The statement is false, I repeat, and, in consequence, the
conclusion is nul: _nulla solutio_. I shall prove it.
The discovery of the New World, the origin of the Americans and their
magnificent ruins and antiquities, scattered over the whole country; the
Aztec civilization, grand in a material way; their human sacrifices,
which in fundamental meaning involved a great genesiac thought and in
application were a horrible fanaticism; the Conquest of Mexico, in which
present themselves:--Hernan Cortes, the first warrior of modern times,
though with indelible stains; Pedro de Alvarado, Gonzalo de Sandoval,
Cristobal de Olid, and Diego de Ordaz, with their feats of heroism and
their crimes; Cuauhtemotzin, Xicotencatl, Cacamotzin, and the other
Indian warriors with their immortal patriotism; the interesting figure
of Marina; Bartolomé de Olmedo, Pedro de Gante, Bartolomé de las Casas,
Juan de Zumárraga, Toribio de Motolinia, Bernardino de Sahagun, and the
other missionaries surrounded by an aureole of light which brings
posterity to its knees; all the conjunct of the Conquest, as the finest
subject for an epic poem; “the Laws of the Indies,” the _encomiendas_,
the Inquisition; Antonio Mendoza, the venerable Palafox, Fray Payo
Enriquez de Rivera, the Duke of Linares, Revilla Gigedo the second, and
other excellent viceroys; the fecund events of 1808; the Revolution of
the Independence, the first and second empires, and many other events in
the history of Mexico during its five epochs, have already been treated
and ventilated in many books, pamphlets and journals--some sufficiently,
others overmuch. Poetry in New Spain has been magnificently treated by
my respected friend, the learned Francisco Pimentel, in Volume I. of his
_Historia de la Literatura y de las Ciencias en Mexico_. But _Philosophy
in New Spain_ is a subject that has not been specifically treated by
only one. This work has, perhaps, no other merit than novelty, which
would be worth nothing without truth, supported by good testimonies. As
regards Spain I shall take my testimonies from no foreign authors--lest
the bourbonist writers might reject them as disaffected and prejudiced,
and so shield themselves--but from Spanish writers; with the exception
of one and another Mexican, accepted by all Spaniards as trustworthy,
such as Alzate and Beristain.... And among Spaniards I will refrain from
citing Emilio Castelar and others of the extreme left.
DISTRIBUTION OF OFFICES IN NEW SPAIN.
With regard to the public offices in New Spain, of consequence for the
honor connected with them, or because of the fat salary, Señor Zamacois
says:
“It has been said, in regard to official positions, that the Mexicans
filled only the less important; in this, another error has been
committed. The monarchs of Castille considered those born in the
American colonies as Spaniards, and made _no distinction_ between them
and Peninsulars; all had equal rights and, therefore, in making an
appointment, there was no question whether the person named came from
the provinces of America or those of the Peninsula.... The offices and
appointments were conferred in equal numbers on the sons of America and
Peninsulars.”
By way of digression, I may present a few penstrokes, but they will be
sufficient for any intelligent man. Padre Mariana, high authority in
history, states this maxim: _History takes no sides until shown a clean
record_. Señor Zamacois shows no clean record for his assertions. I will
present mine. There were sixty-two Viceroys of Mexico, and of these
fifty-nine were Spaniards of the Peninsula and three were creoles--Luiz
de Velasco, native of the City of Mexico, Juan de Acuña, native of Lima,
and Revilla Gigedo the second, native of Havana; in consequence, only
one was Mexican. There were thirty-three Bishops of Guadalajara and of
these twenty-six were Spanish Peninsulars and seven were creoles; these
were ...; that is to say, only five were Mexicans. I confess my
ignorance; I do not understand Señor Zamacois’s arithmetic--the equality
between 26 and 7. There were thirty-four Bishops of Michoacan, and of
these there were thirty Spanish Peninsulars and four creoles; these were
...; that is to say, only two were Mexicans. Thirty equals four? Please,
Señor Zamacois. There were thirty-one Archbishops of Mexico, of whom
twenty-nine were Spanish Peninsulars and two creoles; these were ...;
that is to say, only one was Mexican. Twenty-nine Spaniards and two
creoles are equal.
* * * * *
Adolfo Llanos, in treating this matter, goes (as is his custom farther
than Zamacois, saying that the ecclesiastical offices of importance were
obtained by the creoles, not equally with the Spaniards, but
preponderantly over them.) He says:
“Americans were preferred by the Spanish Kings over Europeans, in the
assignment of high ecclesiastical dignities.”
Let us leave Llanos and the other blind defenders of the vice-regal
government.
SCIENCE VERSUS SCHOLASTICISM.
Modern philosophers, notable in European lands (outside of Spain) were
numbered by hundreds, and the young Gamarra did nought but glean in so
abundant a field. Galileo and Harvey! What brilliant and suitable
examples men of great talent furnish! Harvey, in his study, with a frog
in his hand. As parallels and comparisons are most useful in
understanding a subject, as a recognized rule of law says that placing
two opposing views face to face both are more clearly known, I venture
to add--after Gamarra’s fashion--a parallel between Harvey and Domingo
Soto. _A frog!_ here I have a thing apparently vile and despicable; the
Epistles of Saint Paul, here I have a thing infinitely sublime. A film
to which the intestines of a frog are attached; what thing meaner? The
science of theology; what thing so grand? To soil one’s hands with the
blood and secretions of an animal; occupation, to all appearance, vile;
to take the pen for explaining the Holy Scriptures; occupation, sacred
and sublime. And yet, Domingo Soto with his scholastic commentaries on
the Epistle of Saint Paul to the Romans was of no use to humanity; and
Harvey, presenting himself in the great theater of the scientific world,
with a frog in his hand, discovering the circulation of the blood,
rendered an immense service to mankind. Domingo Soto was a Catholic, and
one of the Fathers of the Council of Trent, and Harvey was a
Protestant--and yet, without doubt, the Catholic Church does not esteem
the commentaries of its son Soto, and, in the Vatican’s council, has
sounded the praises of the discovery of the Protestant Harvey.
PHILOSOPHY IN NEW SPAIN.
COROLLARIES.
1. Studies never flourished under the Colonial regime.
2. Spain in the seventeenth century and in the first and second thirds
of the eighteenth century was poor and backward in philosophy, and New
Spain during the same period was in the same predicament.
3. That New Spain was backward in philosophy at that time because such
was the philosophy of the epoch, is false.
4. The ideas and impulse in the modern philosophical sciences, which New
Spain received during the last years of the eighteenth and the early
years of the nineteenth century, did not come mainly from Spain, but
from the other principal nations of Europe.
5. It follows, from Spain and New Spain having been backward in
philosophy, that they were also backward in theology, jurisprudence,
medicine, and in all the sciences, because philosophy is the basis of
all.
6. The expression, “Spain taught us what she herself knew,” is not a
good excuse or exoneration.
7. The scholastic philosophy is useful; the pseudo-scholastic is
prejudicial.
8. The history of the viceroyal government is most useful.
9. This dissertation is a new book.
10. “Not as a spider, nor as an ant, but as a bee.”
11. The union between Spaniards and Mexicans is very useful; but history
cannot be silenced by the claim that it is a social union.
DIALOGUE BETWEEN AGUSTIN RIVERA AND FLORENCITO LEVILON.
“How are you, sir?”
“How are you, Florencito? When did you arrive?”
“Yesterday.”
“I am greatly pleased that you have called to see me. What have you
studied this year?”
“The Aztec language; here is the invitation to my public examination.
The program was as fine as usual, since my teacher, Señor Don Agustin de
la Rosa, spoke splendidly, as every year, of the philosophy and richness
of the Aztec tongue.”
“Thank you. And how many students were there in the subject?”
“This year we were so many, last year there were so many, the year
before so many, and the same, more or less, so I have heard, in years
gone by.”
“What a pity! They are few, almost nothing in comparison with the
necessity that exists in our Republic for men who study the native
tongues. But these few, at least, attend the exercises every school
day?”
“No, sir; far from it! Some attend, and others not, just as they
please.”
“And, the days they do attend, they study the Aztec grammar and hear it
explained?”
“No, sir; by no means. Many days the teacher and we occupy ourselves in
the _Levilon_.”
“And what is that?”
“_Levilon, levilon, ton, ton._”
“I understand you, even less.”
“It is a sort of a marsellaise against cleanness and neatness of person
and dress; that is to say, against politeness.”[2]
“But, man, in a college for the instruction of youth--however, let us
return to our subject. In the three years you have studied Aztec, have
you learned to speak it?”
“No, sir; by no means.”
“Then, what have you learned?”
“The philosophy and richness of the Aztec tongue.”
“But you must have studied the four divisions of Aztec grammar--analogy,
syntax, prosody, and orthography--and by this complete study arrived at
an understanding of the philosophy and richness of the language.”
“No, sir.”
“But have you not had a public examination?”
“Yes, sir; but those who were publicly examined in past years, have as
little, made a complete study of the grammar, but have also learned the
philosophy and richness of the Mexican tongue.”
“Come! let us see. How many years has the chair of the Aztec language
been established in the Seminario at Guadalajara?”
“About thirty.”
“And during about thirty years has some priest gone forth from the
institution to preach to the Indians in their native language?”
“Why, no sir! During the thirty years what has been, and is, learned is
the philosophy and richness of the Aztec language. You must have seen
the precious little work, by my professor, upon the beauty and richness
of the Aztec language, elegantly bound, which was sent to the Paris
Exposition.”
“But man--Florencito,” (rising, pacing, and puffing at my cigar)
“really, all this and nothing are much the same. These programs, in
which one speaks eloquently of the beauty and richness of the Aztec
language are no more than pretty theories. This book upon the richness
and beauty of the Aztec language, with all its elegant binding, is but a
pretty theory. _The practical! The practical!_ Let me give you my
opinion in the matter briefly, and in four propositions: _First_, the
ecclesiastical government and the civil government have the obligation
and the mission of civilizing the Indians; _second_, for this, in each
bishopric and in each State there ought to be chairs of the Indian
languages spoken in the territory--for example, in the Seminary and in
one of the State Colleges of Mexico, there ought to be a chair of the
Aztec language; in the Seminary and State College of Queretaro, there
ought to be a chair of Otomi; in the Seminary and in the State College
of Morelia, there ought to be chairs of Tarascan and Matlazinca; in the
Seminary and in the State College of Guadalajara, there ought to be a
chair of the Cora language; in the Seminary and State College of San
Luis Potosi, there ought to be a chair of the Huastec; in the Seminary
and the State College of Puebla, there ought to be a chair of Aztec; in
the Seminary and the State College of Jalapa there ought to be a chair
of Totonaco; in the Seminary and in the State College of Oaxaca there
ought to be chairs of the different indigenous languages spoken in the
territory--chiefly the Mixtec and Zapotec, etc.; _third_, it ought to
be, that from the seminaries there shall go forth priests to be _curas_
in the Indian towns of the bishopric, who shall preach to the Indians
and catechize them in their own language; _fourth_, it ought to be, that
from the State Colleges, primary teachers shall go forth to teach the
elementary branches to the Indians of the State, in their own idiom--and
shall go forth _jefes politicos_, who shall be able to treat with the
Indians, talking to them in their own languages.”
“Sir, these things appear to me impossible.”
“Yes, I know that there can be given but two answers to my proposition
and my arguments. The first is the ‘_non possumus_,’ ‘we cannot.’[3] One
can preach in cathedrals and other magnificent temples, to an elegant
gathering, afterward print the sermon and distribute copies liberally to
select society; but to subject one’s self to the task of learning an
indigenous tongue, and to go to preach to the Indians--_that_, one
cannot do. One can be a _jefe politico_ in a city, where comforts
abound, and draw a fat salary; but the abnegation and patriotism of
exercising the administrative power in an Indian town--a despicable
thing! Sad reply. Unhappy Mexican nation during the colonial epoch! and,
unhappy Mexican nation, still, in 1891, because you yet preserve
many--even very many--remnants of the colonial education, and this is
the _principal_ hindrance to your progress and well-being. We Mexicans,
because of the education which we received from the Spanish, are much
given to scholastic disputes, to beautiful discourses, pretty poems,
enthusiastic toasts, quixotic proclamations, projects, laws, decrees,
programs of scientific education, plans of public amelioration, in
Andalusian style and well-rounded periods; but, as for the
practical--the Spanish sloth, the Spanish fanaticism for the _statu
quo_, the Indian idleness and cowardice, do but little. In theories we
have the boldness of Don Quixote, and in practice we have the
pusillanimity, the inability to conquer obstacles, and the phlegm of
Sancho Panza.”
“My teacher, Don Agustin,” said Florencito, “has told us that Padre
Sahagun and many other missionaries of the sixteenth century dedicated
themselves to the study of the native tongues because they found them
highly philosophical and adapted to express even metaphysical ideas.”
“That is true,” I replied, “but the Padre Sahagun and the other
missionary philologists of the sixteenth century dedicated themselves to
the study of the Indian languages of the country, not to detain
themselves ... (in) the philosophy and richness of the Aztec language,
without moving a peg to go and teach some Indian; but in order that they
might use them as means for the _practical_--to wit, to preach, to
catechize, and to teach the Indians the civilizing truths of
Christianity.”
ALFREDO CHAVERO.
[Illustration]
Few men are better known throughout Mexico today than Alfredo Chavero.
As a lawyer, a politician, a man of affairs and a writer, he has been
eminently successful. He was born in the City of Mexico, February 1,
1841. He studied law, and began the practice of the profession at the
age of twenty years. In 1862 he was elected Deputy to Congress. A
Liberal in politics, he was associated with Juarez throughout the period
of the French intervention. After the downfall of the Empire in 1867, he
entered journalism and began his career in letters. During the
administration of Lerdo de Tejada he was in Europe, but when that
government fell, he returned to Mexico and was appointed to the second
position in the department of foreign affairs. He has occupied other
important government positions, among them that of City Treasurer and
Governor of the Federal District and has for many years been a member of
the House of Deputies, of which he has at times been the presiding
officer.
Señor Chavero is, probably, the foremost living Mexican authority upon
the antiquities of that country. He is also an eminent historian. In
both archæology and history he has written important works. At the
quadricentennial celebration of the discovery of America, he was the
chief member of a commission, which among other things published a great
work--_Antigüedades Mexicanas_--which was largely devoted to facsimile
reproduction of ancient Mexican picture manuscripts, before unpublished;
the accompanying explanatory text was written by Chavero himself. Among
other archæological works he has written _Los dioses astronomicos de los
antiguos Mexicanos_ (the Astronomical Gods of the Ancient Mexicans)--and
studies upon the _stone of the sun_, and the _stone of hunger_. He has
lately published the _Wheel of Years_, and _Hieroglyphic Paintings_. He
was the author of the first volume of the great work _México á traves de
los Siglos_, (Mexico, Through the Centuries), a history of Mexico in
five large quarto volumes. Each of these volumes dealt with a distinct
epoch of Mexican history and was written by a specialist. Chavero’s
volume treated Prehistoric Mexico in a masterly fashion. In biography
Chavero’s lives of _Sahagun_, _Siguenza_, and _Boturini_ deal with
Spanish-Mexicans, his _Itzcoatl_ and _Montezuma_ with natives. He has
edited, with scholarly annotation, the works of _Ixtlilxochitl_ and
Muñoz Camargo’s _Historia de Tlaxcala_.
But Alfredo Chavero has also written in the field of dramatic
literature, some of his plays having been well received. _Xochitl_,
_Quetzalcoatl_ and _Los Amores de Alarcon_ (The Loves of Alarcon) are
among the best known. In _Xochitl_ and _Quetzalcoatl_, the romantic
events of the days of the Conquest and the life of the Indians, furnish
his material. In all his writing, Chavero is simple, direct, and strong;
his style is graceful and his treatment interesting.
Our quotations are drawn from _México á traves de los Siglos_ and
_Xochitl_.
THE CHRONICLERS.
Still, among the first writers of the colonial epoch we shall encounter
some authentic material regarding the ancient Indians. Some chroniclers
based their narratives upon hieroglyphs, which they did not limit
themselves to interpreting, but which also served them as a foundation
for more extended records; contemporaries of the Conquest, they had
heard from the conquered themselves, their traditional history. Others,
without availing themselves of the assistance of the paintings, simply
recorded the traditions in their works--and we must remember that, on
account of the inadequacy of their hieroglyphic writing, the Mexicans
were ever accustomed to carry the glorious deeds of their race in
memory, which they taught their children, in song and story, that they
might not be forgotten. Without doubt, the first works of the
chroniclers suffered from the natural vagueness which is felt in
expressing new ideas. They are not, and could not be, complete treatises
because each wrote merely what he himself could gather. The most
important personages of the vanquished people dead, in fighting for
their country, few remained who knew the secrets of their history, and
the greater number of these did not lend themselves to their revelation.
The chroniclers, themselves, concealed something of what they learned,
especially if it related to the gods and the religious calendar, for
fear of reawakening the barely dormant idolatry. Also from the very
first, the desire to harmonize the beliefs of the Indians, and their
traditions, with the Biblical narrative, was, in part, responsible for
the confusion in their writings; a desire very natural in that epoch,
and which must be taken into account in reading the chronicles, in
order to get rid of false judgments born from it. But whatever may be
their defects, it cannot be denied that they constitute a most precious
material, in which, seeking discreetly and logically, abundant historic
treasures are encountered. We present, therefore, some discussion of the
principal chroniclers and their relative importance and examine
impartially the works of our historians.
THE SURRENDER OF CUAUHTEMOC.
At dawn Sandoval proceeded, with the brigantines to take possession of
the lakelet; Alavardo was to advance from the market, and Cortes sallied
from his camp, with the three iron cannon, certain that their balls
would compel the besieged to surrender and would do them less damage
than the fury of the allies. In his march he met many men almost dead,
weakened women, and emaciated children, on their way to the Spanish
camp. Some miserable beings, in order to escape from their last hold,
had thrown themselves into the canals, or had fallen into them, pushed
from behind by others, and were drowned. Cortes issued orders that no
harm should be done them, but the allies robbed them and killed more
than fifteen thousand persons. The priests and warriors, thin with
hunger and worn with labor, armed with their weapons and bearing their
standards, passively awaited the attack, on top of the temple, on house
roofs, or standing in their canoes. Cortes ascended also to the roof of
a house near the lake, that he might oversee the operations. He again
offered peace to those who were in the canoes, and insisted that some
one should go to speak with Cuauhtemoc. Two _principales_ agreed to go
and, after a long time the _Cihuacoatl_ returned with them to say that
his king did not care to speak of peace. Some five hours having passed
in these transactions, Cortes commanded to open fire with the cannons.
It was three in the afternoon, when Cuauhtemoc’s shell-horn was heard
for the last time; the Mexicans on the east and south precipitated
themselves upon their opponents and the canoes attacked the brigantines.
Cuauhtemoc, when it was no longer in human power to resist, preferred
flight to surrender, and in order to succeed, distracted the attention
of his opponents. While these, battling and routing the Mexicans,
penetrated into their last refuge from the south and east, and while
Sandoval was destroying the fleet of canoes, Cuauhtemoc, with
Tecuichpoch and the chief dignitaries, sallied in canoes from
Tlacochcalco--gained the western canal, whence, by great labor, he
reached the lake. He directed himself toward the opposite shore, to seek
refuge in Cuauhtlalpan.
But Garcia Holguin saw the canoes of the fugitives and setting the sails
of his brigantine, gave chase; already he had them within range and the
gunners were in the prow, ready to shoot, when Cuauhtemoc rose and
said--‘Do not shoot; I am the king of Mexico; take me and lead me to
Malintzin, but let no one harm the queen.’ With Cuauhtemoc were ..., the
only dignitaries, high-priests, and _principales_, who had survived. All
were transferred to the brigantine.... Cortes, as we have said, was upon
the roof of a house in the quarter of Amaxac, a house belonging to a
_principal_, named Aztacoatzin. He caused it to be decorated with rich
mantles and brightly colored mattings, for the reception of the imperial
captive. By his side were Marina and Aguilar, Pedro de Alavardo and
Cristobal de Olid. The prisoners arrived led by Sandoval and Holguin.
Cortes rose and, with the noble respect of a conqueror for the
unfortunate hero, embraced Cuauhtemoc tenderly. Tears came to the eyes
of the captive and, placing his hand upon the hilt of the conqueror’s
poignard, said to him the following words with which at once succumbed a
king, his race, his native land, and his gods--‘Malintzin, after having
done what I could in defense of my city and my nation, I come, perforce
and a prisoner, before thy person and thy power; take, now, this dagger
and kill me.’
* * * * *
_Xochitl_ is a fair example of Chavero’s dramas. It comprises three acts
and is in verse. There are but five actors--Cortes, Marina (his Indian
interpreter and mistress), Xochitl (a beautiful Indian girl, supposed to
be Marina’s sister), Bernal Diaz del Castillo (faithful soldier of
Cortes and best chronicler of the Conquest), and Gonzalo Alaminos
(brought, though a mere youth, from Spain, by Cortes, as a page).
Xochitl is, really, an Aztec maiden who, when the Spaniards first
appeared, was serving in the temple; Gonzalo, wounded, was brought a
prisoner to the temple, where he is nursed by Xochitl, between whom and
himself ardent love arises. After the capture of the city, they are
separated and Xochitl is sent, as a slave to Tabasco, a present to
Marina’s unknown sister. Marina summons her sister to Mexico; she starts
but dies upon the journey and Xochitl, substituted for her, reaches the
city and is taken at once into Cortes’ house, by her supposed sister.
Cortes, having tired of Marina, falls in love with Xochitl; his
affection is not reciprocated. Marina, knowing that the love of Cortes
has cooled, though she does not know the new object of his love,
remorseful for her treachery to her own people and smarting under the
contempt of Indian and Spaniard both, is ever complaining and querulous.
Xochitl, terrified at Cortes’ love, consults Bernal and makes known the
facts to Gonzalo. They plan to flee and set an hour for meeting. Cortes,
anxious to rid himself of Marina, determines to send her to Orizaba, to
wed Jaramillo; sending for Gonzalo he orders him to accompany her and
arranges the departure at the very time set for elopement, by the
lovers. The moment is one of public tumult. Gonzalo keeps his
appointment but, at the critical moment, Xochitl’s courage fails. Marina
appears and Gonzalo abruptly leaves; he is shot in the tumult. Meantime
the two women converse; Xochitl narrates the story of her life, her
substitution for Marina’s sister, her love for Gonzalo and Cortes’ love
for her. They separate in anger. Cortes entering, announces Gonzalo’s
death, and mourns him, confessing him to be his natural son. Xochitl, in
her agony, tells Cortes of the love there had been between Gonzalo and
herself; Marina, appearing at this moment, hands the unhappy girl the
weapon with which she kills herself. As she dies, she reveals her
complete identity, she is the last survivor of the royal house, the
sister of Cuauhtemoc. Cortes overwhelmed by grief for Gonzalo, loss of
Xochitl, and weariness of Marina, sends the latter at once to Orizaba,
in Bernal’s care.
PASSAGES FROM XOCHITL.
Bernal and Gonzalo, meeting, discuss the recent conquest of Nueva
Galicia by the infamous Nuño de Guzman.
Gonzalo. “If to lay waste fields and towns,
If to assassinate war captives,
If to violate pledged faith,
Is to be Christian, I admit
That Don Nuño de Guzman
Is of Christians, the very type.
The Tlaxcallans complain,
Who have been our faithful allies,
That, like beasts of burden,
He has led them over
Hard roads, not fighting--
As they were led to expect--
But, bearing on their shoulders
Great, heavy burdens;
And that those, who, from fatigue,
Bernal, could go no further,
Were instanter thrown to the dogs,
Or left, without assistance,
In the forests. Their shoulders
Covered with wounds, I have seen;
Upon frightful chafed spots,
The memory of which appals me,
They carried our provisions;
Meantime, Don Nuño, tranquil,
Sought renown in war,
Or enriched himself,
By plundering defenseless villages.
Imagine, friend Bernal,
If he mistreats our allies,
What he would do to enemies.”
* * * * *
Xochitl confers with Bernal as to what she ought to do:
Bernal. “But, tell me. Before today
Has Cortes told you of his love?
Xochitl. Until today, I have not seen him at my feet.
His consuming passion,
Through his betraying glance
I have, for some time, realized.
For this reason, Bernal, I avoid
Finding myself alone with him.
Bernal. You ought to flee.
Xochitl. I fear to find myself
Alone in the great world.
Bernal. But, when the hawk
Sees a lonely dove,
He seizes it, within his talons;
When the volcano bursts forth
It destroys in its terrific energy
The palm, which grows at its base.
When the wave is lashed to fury,
The bark sinks in the sea;
And, at the blast of adversity,
Happiness vanishes.
(Pause.)
Xochitl. Do you think Cortes ever----?
Bernal. If he loves thee, good God----!
Xochitl. Then, both of us must leave.
Bernal. You will leave, with Gonzalo?
Do you know to what you expose yourself?
Do you know that, Hernando Cortes,
If he sees himself mocked, is
Than the panther fiercer,
And that his rage would
Dash you to pieces at his feet?
Xochitl. And what signifies life to _me_?
Bernal. But Gonzalo, also, he----
Xochitl. Hold! for God’s sake, do not speak
That murderous word.
Departure makes me tremble,
And I tremble if I remain;
Bernal! everything causes me terror;
My uncertainty is frightful----
To remain is impossible----
Without Gonzalo, go, I cannot.”
(She departs.)
* * * * *
Cortes communicates his plans for Marina--first to Gonzalo, then to
Marina, herself.
(Pause.)
Cortes. “We are likely to have an uprising,
And I do not wish you to be
Involved in it; how good it is to die
In actual battle
And not fighting the vile rabble.
For this reason you are, with Marina,
To leave for Orizaba
At dawn.
Gonzalo. (Aside). And _she_ will remain here, without me!
Cortes. I expect you at dawn, Gonzalo,
A passport, for leaving the city,
With a veiled lady,
I shall give you.
Gonzalo. Veiled?
Cortes. So
Will the passport read: I do not wish
Them to know who it is. You ought
To leave at dawn. Go
To rest yourself.
Gonzalo. May happy
Dreams be yours. (Aside.) At dawn!
Xochitl ... soon I’ll return for thee.”
* * * * *
Cortes. “To counteract the plotting
Of so many enemies, I go to Spain.
In thinking of your happiness----
Marina. You think of _my_ happiness, Don Hernando?
Cortes. --Considering that your nobility
Deserves a name, a grandeur,
Worthy of you, Marina,----
Marina. I know not what vile treason my soul divines.
Cortes. --Wealth, and state,
And a husband--Don Juan de Jaramillo----
Marina. Cease! Hernando, cease!
Cortes. You leave, tomorrow, for Orizaba.
Marina. And, thus, you abandon me?
And thus you crown my loyalty and love?
Oh monster! Impious father!
And thy son, Cortes? My son?
No, the very panther
Does not abandon its little ones: that beast,
More human heart
Has, than the grand Christian conqueror.
Cortes. We must needs separate.
And no power, you know it well,
Can bend my fixed purpose.”
* * * * *
In 1882, General Riva Palacio, author and statesman, published a little
book _Los Ceros_ (The Zeros), under the _nom-de-plume_ of Cero. It was a
good natured criticism of contemporary authors, written in a satirical
vein. We will close with some quotations from it regarding Chavero.
“Well, then, let us study Chavero upon his two weak sides, that is to
say upon his strong sides, because, it is a curious thing, that we
always say--‘this is my forte,’ when we are speaking of some _penchant_,
while common opinion at once translates, ‘this is his weakness’;
strength is the impregnable side, but we call the more vulnerable, the
strong side.
“Archæology and the drama! Does it seem to you the title of a comedy?
But no, dear sir, these are the passions of our friend, Alfredo
Chavero.
“True, archæologists and dramatists are lacking in this land so full of
antiques and comicalities; but theatrical management is difficult and
the way is sown--worse than with thorns--almost with bayonets.
“Alfredo has produced good dramas, but nobly dominated by the patriotic
spirit, he has wished to place upon the boards, such personages as the
Queen Xochitl, and Meconetzin, and with these personages no one gains a
reputation here in Mexico.... Our society, our nation, has no love for
its traditions. Perhaps those writers are to blame for this, who ever
seek for the actors in their story, personages of the middle ages, who
love and fight in fantastic castles on the banks of the Rhine, or ladies
and knights of the times of Orgaz and Villamediana; those novelists, who
disdain the slightest reference in their works, to the banquets, dress,
and customs of our own society; who long to give aristocratic flavor to
their novels, by picturing Parisian scenes in Mexico and sketching
social classes, which they have seen through the pages of Arrsenne
Houssaye, Emile Zola, Henri Bourger, or Paison de Terrail; and our
poets, who ever speak of nightingales and larks, gazelles and jacinths,
without ever venturing to give place, in their doleful ditties, to the
_cuitlacoche_, nor the _zentzontl_, nor the _cocomitl_, nor the
_yoloxochitl_.”
“As the Arabs have their Hegira, the Christians their era, and the
Russians their calendar without the Gregorian correction, so
Chaverito[4] has his personal era and chronology. The eolithic or
neolithic ages signify nought to him, nor the jurassic nor the
cretaceous periods; he counts and divides his periods in a manner
peculiar to himself and comprehensible to us, the ignoramuses in
geology, archæology, and palæontology.
“Thus, for example, treating of archæology he says: ‘in Manuel Payno’s
boyhood’--when he refers to preadamite man; of men like Guillermo
Prieto, he says ‘they are of the geological horizon of Guillermo Valle’;
soldiers, like Corona, he calls ‘volcanic formations’; the customs’
house receipts he names ‘marine sediments’; ‘the stone age,’ in his
nomenclature, signifies the time before he was elected Deputy;--when he
says ‘before the creation,’ it is understood that he refers to days when
he had not yet been Governor of the Federal District; and if he says
‘after Christ,’ he must be supposed to speak of an epoch posterior to
his connection with the State Department; and it is claimed, that he is
so skilled in understanding hieroglyphs, that he has deciphered the
whole history of Xochimilco, in the pittings left by small-pox, on the
face of a son of that pueblo.”
* * * * *
“Suppose, dear reader, you encounter one of those stones, so often found
in excavating in Mexico, a fragment on which are to be seen, coarsely
cut, some engravings, or horrible reliefs, or shapeless figures--have it
washed, and present it to Chavero.
“Alfredo will wrinkle his forehead, take a pinch of snuff, join his
hands behind him, and displaying so much of his paunch as possible, will
spit out for your benefit, a veritable discourse:
“‘The passage which this stone represents is well known; it figures in
an episode in the great war between the Atepocates,[5] warlike
population of southern Anahuac, and the Escuimiles, their rivals, in
which the latter were finally conquered. The person standing is
Chilpocle XI, of the dynasty of the Chacualoles, who, by the death of
his father Chichicuilote III, inherited the throne, being in his
infancy, and his mother, the famous Queen Apipisca II, the Semiramis of
Tepachichilco, was regent during his youth. The person kneeling is
Chayote V, unfortunate monarch of the vanquished, who owed the loss of
his kingdom to the treachery of his councillor, Chincual, who is behind
him. The two persons near the victor are his son, who was afterward the
celebrated conqueror Cacahuatl II, and his councillor, the illustrious
historian and philosopher Guajalote, nicknamed Chicuase, for the reason
that he had six fingers on his left hand, and who was the chronicler of
the revolt and destruction of the tribes of the Mestlapiques. The
two-pointed star-symbols, which are seen above, are the arms of the
founder of the dynasty, Chahiustl the Great, and this stone was
sculptured during the golden age of the arts of the Atepotecas, when,
among their sculptors figured the noted Ajoloth, among their painters
the most famous Tlacuil, and among their architects the celebrated
Huasontl.’”
JULIO ZÁRATE.
[Illustration]
Julio Zárate was born April 12, 1844, at Jalapa, in the State of Vera
Cruz, where he received his education. Since he was twenty-three years
of age he has been continuously in public life. In 1867 he was elected
to the Chamber of Deputies, of which he remained a member for
twenty-five years, being, at times, president, vice-president, or
secretary of the body. In 1879 and 1880 he was the Assistant Secretary
of Foreign Affairs for the Republic, in 1884 to 1886 Secretary of State
of the State of Vera Cruz, and from 1896 to the present time he has been
a Justice of the Supreme Court of Mexico.
Through all this long period of active public service, he has found time
for literary work. From 1870 to 1875 was an editor of _El Siglo XIX_
(The Nineteenth Century), in its time one of the most important journals
of the Mexican capital. He wrote the third volume of the great work on
national history--_México á traves de los Siglos_ (Mexico Through the
Centuries), treating of the War of Independence. For twenty years past,
from 1883, he has been Professor of General History in the National
Normal School. He has written two text-books, one a compend of general
history, the other of the history of Mexico. He has also been a
contributor to various literary journals. While in the Chamber of
Deputies he was known for his oratorical ability and his speeches were
often notable for form and thought. He is a member of many learned
societies at home and abroad--a _miembro de numero_ of the _Sociedad
Mexicana de Geografía y Estadistica_ (Mexican Society of Geography and
Statistics).
Our selections are from _México á traves de los Siglos_.
THE DEATH OF HIDALGO
Supporting himself on the opinion of the Assessor Bracho, the Commandant
General, Don Nicolás Salcedo had already, since the 26th, ordered the
execution. After the degradation (from the priestly office) had been
concluded, the sentence of death and confiscation of his goods was made
known to Hidalgo on the same day--the 29th--and he was told to select a
confessor to impart to him the last religious consolations. The
illustrious promulgator of independence selected Friar José Mariá Rojas,
who had been notary of the ecclesiastical process instituted by the
Bishop of Durango. In his prison, which was the room under the tower of
the chapel of the Royal Hospital, he received kind and compassionate
treatment from his two guards, Ortega and Guaspe (a Spaniard), alcaldes
of that prison, to whom he showed his gratitude in two ten-line poems
written by himself with a piece of coal upon the wall, the evening of
his death.
The 30th of July, the last day of his life, dawned and in his last hours
he showed the greatest calmness. “He noticed,” says Bustamente, “that at
breakfast they had given him less milk than usual, and asked for more,
saying that it ought not to be _less_, just because it was _last_.... At
the moment of marching to the place of execution, he remembered that he
had left some sweets under his pillow; he returned for them and divided
them among the soldiers, who were to shoot him.” At seven in the morning
he was taken to a place behind the hospital, where the sentence was
executed; he did not die at the first discharge, but after falling to
the ground received numerous bullets. His body found sepulchre in the
Chapel of San Antonio of the Convent of San Francisco, and his head and
those of Allende, Aldama and Jiménez were carried to Guanajuato and
placed in cages of iron at each one of the corners of the Alhondiga[6]
of Granaditas, where they remained until 1821, when they were taken to
the Ermita de San Sebastian. On the door of the Alhondiga, by order of
the Intendant, Fernando Pérez Marañón, the following inscription was
placed:
“The heads of Miguel Hidalgo, Ignacio Allende, Juan Aldama, and Mariano
Jiménez, notorious deceivers and leaders of the revolution; they sacked
and stole the treasures of God’s worship and of the royal treasury; they
shed, with the greatest atrocity, the blood of faithful priests and just
magistrates; and, they were the cause of all the disasters, misfortunes,
and calamities which we here experience and which afflict, and are
deplored by, all the inhabitants of this, so integral, part of the
Spanish nation.
“Placed here by order of the Señor Brigadier, Felix María Calleja del
Rey, illustrious conqueror of Aculco, Guanajuato and Calderon, and
Restorer of the Peace in this America. Guanajuato, 14 of October,
1811.”
But, the hour of reparation, though tardy, arrived; one of the first
acts of the independent and liberated nation was to consecrate the
memory of its martyrs and to reward the efforts of its loyal sons, and
on the thirteenth anniversary of the glorious _Grito de Dolores_ (The
Cry of Dolores, i. e., the motto of independence) the heads of Hidalgo,
Allende, Aldama, and Jiménez, slowly become fleshless in the cages of
Granaditas, and their other remains buried in the humble cemetery of
Chihuahua, were received with solemn pomp at the Capital city and a
grateful people bore them to rest forever in the magnificent sepulchre,
before destined for the Spanish viceroys; the names of those heroes and
of other eminent leaders, were inscribed in letters of gold in the Hall
of Congress, and those of all will remain in indestructible characters
in Mexican hearts.
GENERAL NICOLÁS BRAVO.
Still fresh the laurels just gained in San Agustin, the valiant youth
proceeded to the province which had been assigned to him as the seat of
his campaign, and early in September advanced with three thousand men to
Medellin, after attacking a Royalist convoy at the Puente del Rey and
taking ninety prisoners of the troops that guarded it. There Bravo was
to cover himself with an immortal glory, without counterpart in history.
His father, General Leonardo Bravo, since the month of May prisoner of
the Royalists, had been condemned to death in Mexico--and to the same
fate were destined José María Piedras and Luciano Pérez, apprehended at
the same time, after the sally from Cuautla. The viceroy had suspended
the execution of the sentence, in the hope that the prisoner might
influence his sons, Nicolás and his brothers, to desert the files of the
Independents and to ask for pardon, under which condition he offered him
his life. But the youthful leader, although authorized by Morelos to
save his father by accepting the pardon offered by the viceroyal
government, believed he ought not to trust in the pledges given, since
he remembered that some time before, the brothers Orduñas were victims
of the Royalist Colonel José Antonio Andrade, who had promised them
pardon but, when he had them in his power, commanded their execution.
Morelos then wrote to the viceroy, Vanegas, offering the surrender of
eight hundred prisoners, mostly Spanish, as the price of Leonardo
Bravo’s life. The viceroyal government, in turn, refused this
proposition and on September 13, 1812, General Bravo and his fellow
prisoners, Piedras and Pérez, suffered, in Mexico, the penalty of the
garrote, the former displaying, in his last moments, that calm and
valor, of which he had given so many proofs in battle. In communicating
this sad news to Nicolás Bravo, Morelos ordered him to put all the
Spanish prisoners he held--some three hundred in number--to the knife.
Let us hear the hero himself narrate his noble action, with the
simplicity of one of Plutarch’s characters:
“In effect, he said to me in the proposition made to me in Cuernavaca,
that the Viceroy Vanegas offered me amnesty and the life of my father,
if I would yield myself.... When Morelos was in Tehuacan he appointed me
General-in-chief of the forces, which were operating in the province of
Vera Cruz.... I commenced to fight him (Labaqui) and, after an action
lasting forty-eight hours, gained a complete victory, making two hundred
prisoners, whom I sent under escort to the province of Vera Cruz, and
returned with all my wounded to Tehuacan to give account of the action
of arms confided to me. In the interview which I had with Morelos, he
told me that he was about to send a communication to the viceroy,
Vanegas, offering him, for my father’s life, eight hundred Spanish
prisoners, and that he would inform me of the result. I immediately
returned to the Province of Vera Cruz, where, five days after leaving
Tehuacan, I had another favorable action near Puente Nacional, attacking
a convoy, which was proceeding to Jalapa with supplies; I took ninety
prisoners and betook myself to Medellin, where I established my
headquarters and from where I threatened the city of Vera Cruz, with
the three thousand men who were under my command. After a few days
Morelos notified me that the proposition which he had made to the
viceroy had not been accepted and that he (the viceroy) had, on the
contrary, commanded that my father be put to the garrote and that he was
already dead; he commanded me at the same time to order that all the
Spanish prisoners in my power be put to the knife, and informed me that
he had ordered the same to be done with the four hundred, who were in
Zacatula and other points; I received this notice at four in the
afternoon and it moved me so much that I commanded the nearly three
hundred that I had at Medellin to prepare for death and ordered the
chaplain (a monk named Sotomayor) to aid them; but during the night, not
being able to sleep, I reflected, that the reprisals I was about to
practice would greatly diminish the credit of the cause which I
defended, and that by adopting a conduct contrary to the viceroy’s I
would secure better results, an idea which pleased me far more than my
first resolution; then there presented itself the difficulty of
palliating my disobedience to the order I had received, if I carried my
resolve into effect; with these thoughts, I occupied myself the whole
night until four o’clock in the morning, when I resolved to pardon them
in a public manner, which should produce the desired effects in favor of
the cause of independence; with this end in view, I withheld my
decision until eight in the morning, when I ordered my troops to draw up
in the form usual in cases of execution; the prisoners were brought out
and placed in the centre, where I informed them that the viceroy,
Vanegas, had exposed them to death that day, in not having accepted the
proposition made in their favor for the life of my father, whom he had
given to the garrote in the Capital; that I, not caring to parallel such
conduct, had determined, not only to spare their lives for the moment,
but to give them entire freedom to go where they pleased. To this,
filled with joy they replied, that no one desired to leave, that all
remained at the service of my division, which they did, with the
exception of five merchants of Vera Cruz, who on account of business
interests were given passports for that city; among these was a Senor
Madariaga who, afterward, in union with his companions, sent me, in
appreciation, the gift of sufficient cloth to make clothing for a full
battalion.”
Never, in past times nor in modern ages, could history record in its
pages so noble an action; and never has human magnanimity expressed its
lofty deeds with more sublime simplicity than that of the Mexican hero
in the document, which we have just copied. In the midst of that war of
extermination, Bravo displays the noble sentiment of forgiveness as a
supreme protest of humanity whose laws were being disregarded and
trampled under foot; he condemns the barbarous system of reprisals; he
teaches the conquerors, who immolated without exception so many
prisoners as fell into their hands, to respect the life of the
conquered; in contrast to Venegas, Calleja, Cruz (Alaman’s hero),
Trujillo, Llano, Porlier, Castillo Bustamente, and so many others,
stained with Mexican blood and thirsting for vengeance, he presents the
spotless figure of the patriot giving life and liberty to the prisoners
in his power; and, he does this when he knows that his noble father,
after a prolonged captivity, has succumbed under a punishment reserved
for thieves and assassins; and he forgives, when his feared and
respected leader orders him to punish. He restrains his great grief and
in the reflections to which he yields himself, on the receipt of that
order, he does not think of the blood of his father, yet warm; he thinks
only of his country’s interests, _he believes that the reprisals which
he is ordered to practice will greatly diminish the credit of the cause
of independence and that, by observing a conduct contrary to that of the
viceroy, he would secure better results_; he encounters but the one
difficulty _that he cannot palliate his responsibility in disobeying the
order which he has received_; and, after meditating all night, he
resolves to pardon the prisoners _in a public manner, in order that the
pardon may secure all the good results desirable in favor of the cause
of independence_. Bravo, on that day, conquered, for his country, titles
of universal respect and rehabilitated human dignity in that period of
unbridled cruelty.
JOSÉ MARÍA VIGIL.
[Illustration]
José María Vigil was born October 11, 1829, at Guadalajara. Early left
an orphan, during the period of his education he was in straitened
circumstances. He attended the seminario in Guadalajara and studied law
in the university of that city, but failed to secure his degree, on
account of his Liberal views. He began literary work in 1849, and in
1851 his drama, _Dolores ó una pasion_ (Dolores, or a passion), was well
received at the _Teatro Principal_, at Guadalajara. In 1857 he
published a collection of his poems, under the title _Realidades y
Quimeras_ (Realities and Chimeras). In 1866 he published two volumes of
verse and drama--_Flores de Anahuac_ (Flowers of Anahuac). These
writings were varied in style, and included original compositions and
translations from Latin, French, English, Portuguese, Italian, and
German. Through this period, Vigil also edited literary periodicals--_La
Aurora Poetica_ (The Poetic Dawn), and _La Mariposa_ (The Butterfly).
Señor Vigil’s political career began in 1855, when Comonfort occupied
the Plaza of Guadalajara. With other youths, Vigil then began the
publication of _La Revolucion_ (The Revolution), in which were expounded
the ideas of the later Constitution of the Reform. From then, on through
the period of the Intervention, he led an active public life, writing
and editing, and in other ways of fearlessly working for democratic
principles. On December 31, 1863, he retired as the French entered
Guadalajara, and sought a refuge in San Francisco, California, where he
edited _El Nuevo Mundo_ (The New World), devoted to the cause he loved.
In 1865 poverty compelled him to return to Guadalajara. There he might
have received desirable public appointments, had he been willing to
receive aught from the Imperial government. He conducted an opposition
and patriotic publication, which was more than once suppressed.
Since the Restoration, Vigil has filled many and important public posts.
Passing to the City of Mexico, about 1870, he has been, repeatedly, a
member of the House of Deputies, always standing for radical democratic
ideas. He has done much journalistic work; has pronounced discourses,
served in judicial capacities, has edited important works, and has
served many years as an educator. He founded _La Biblioteca Mexicana_
(The Mexican Library) in which appear the important works of Las Casas,
and Tezozomoc, and the Codice Ramirez. He has been Professor of Logic in
the _Escuela Nacional Preparatoria_. For many years past, and at
present, he is the Librarian of the National Library of Mexico. He is a
member of all the important literary and scientific societies, among
them the _Sociedad Mexicana de Geografia y Estadistica_ and the _Liceo
Hidalgo_. When, in 1881, the Mexican Academy increased its membership to
fifteen, by the addition of one new chair, Señor Vigil was the unanimous
choice of the academicians. He is now the secretary of that
organization.
Señor Vigil is the author of volume five of the great historical work,
_México á traves de los Siglos_ (Mexico through the Centuries), treating
of the period of _La Reforma_ (The Reform). Our selection is taken from
this work.
THE DEATH OF MAXIMILIAN.
Meantime the trial of the prisoners followed its course in Queretaro
and, on the 13th, at eight in the morning, the council of war met in the
theatre of Iturbide, under the presidency of Lieutenant-Colonel Platón
Sánchez, the judges being Commandant-Captain José Vicente Ramirez,
Commandant-Captain Emilio Lojero, Captain Ignacio Jurado, Captain Juan
Rueda y Auza, Captain José Verástegui and Captain Lucas Villagrán.
Maximilian excused himself from attendance on account of illness; the
whole of the defense was read and, at eight o’clock at night, the
council adjourned to meet again the next day. On the 14th, at
half-past-twelve the trial ended after the prosecutor had presented the
rebuttal, in which death was demanded, and the defenders had replied. It
was easy to guess what the sentence would be and the associate
defenders, who were in San Luis Potosí, hastened to direct to the
President a second statement begging the pardon, a petition which was
repeated on the 16th, on learning that the sentence had been confirmed
by the General-in-Chief. The following reply of the President,
communicated through the Minister of War, took the last hope from the
defenders: “Having examined this appeal for pardon and the others of a
similar kind which have been presented to him with all the care which
the gravity of the case demands, the President of the Republic has
decided that he cannot accede to them, since the gravest considerations
of justice and the necessity of safeguarding the peace of the nation
oppose themselves to this act of clemency.” At the same time the
Minister sent a telegram to General Escobedo, in which he told him that
it had been decided that the execution should not take place until the
morning of the 19th, in order that the sentenced might have time for the
arrangement of their affairs. General Miramon’s wife arrived at San
Luis, in these moments, to see if she could save the life of her
husband; but Juarez refused to see her, saying to the lawyers of the
defense: “Spare me this painful interview, which, considering the
irrevocable nature of the decision, would but cause the lady much
suffering.” Finally, when Señores Riva Palacios and Martinez de la Torre
were parting from the President of the Republic, he said to them: “In
fulfilling your duty as defenders, you have suffered much by the
inflexibility of the government. Today you cannot understand the
necessity of this nor the justice which supports it. The appreciation of
this is reserved to the future. The law and the sentence are, at this
time, inexorable, because the public welfare demands it. It also may
counsel us to the least bloodshed, and this will be the greatest
pleasure of my life.”
The legal resources exhausted, the plan of escape, devised by the
Princess Salm-Salm, in collusion with the Ministers of Austria,
Belgium, and Italy and the French Consul, frustrated; the prisoners
waited, with resignation, until the terrible moment should arrive in
which the sentence was to be executed. The last letters and dispositions
written by Maximilian and Miramon show that their natural valor did not
abandon them in those supreme moments. Mejia wrote nothing; but in the
mental depression in which the disease from which he was suffering
submerged him, he maintained that tranquil stoicism, which marked his
temperament.
On the 19th, at six in the morning, a division of four thousand men
under command of General Jesús Diaz de León formed at the foot of the
Cerro de las Campanas, on the northeast slope. Maximilian, Miramon, and
Mejia arrived at about a quarter past seven, brought in carriages, and
each one accompanied by a priest. Maximilian descended first and said
courteously to his companions in misfortune: “Let us go, gentlemen,” and
the three directed themselves with firm step to the place of execution,
where they gave each other a farewell embrace. Maximilian then advanced
and distributed twenty-peso gold pieces among the soldiers, who were to
shoot him, and then, raising his voice, said: “I am about to die for a
just cause, the liberty and independence of Mexico. May my blood seal
the unhappiness of my new country. Viva Mexico!” Miramon read the
following in a loud voice: “Mexicans! in the council of war, my
defenders attempted to save my life; here, soon to lose it, and about to
appear before God, I protest against the stigma of traitor which they
have tried to put upon me to palliate my sacrifice. I die innocent of
that crime, and I forgive its authors, hoping that God may pardon me and
that my compatriots will remove so foul a stigma from my sons, doing me
justice. Viva Mexico!” Placing himself on the spot indicated,
Maximilian, who had asked that his face might not be disfigured,
separated his beard with his hands, to one side and the other, exposing
his chest; Miramon said, “here,” indicating his heart and raising his
head; and Mejia, who had given the soldiers charged with his execution
an ounce of gold to divide between them, said never a word but merely
laid by the crucifix, which he held in his hand, on seeing that they
were aiming at him. The signal to fire was given and a discharge put an
end to the bloody drama of the Empire in Mexico, which was so fatal for
its authors and for its partisans.
PRIMO FELICIANO VELÁSQUEZ.
[Illustration]
Primo Feliciano Velásquez was born at Santa María del Rio in the state
of San Luis Potosí, June 6, 1860. Before he was nine years of age, on
account of promise shown in the school-room, he was taken in hand by the
village priest, who taught him Latin and later secured for him
admittance to the _Seminario Conciliar_ at the capital city of San Luis
Potosí. He was a diligent student and completed his study of law on
October 23, 1880. Although his legal career opened auspiciously, he
preferred to devote himself to journalism. In 1883 he founded, at San
Luis Potosí, a publication intended to promote the celebration of the
Iturbide centennial, through which he established a standing among the
eminent literary men of Mexico. In 1885, in company with several others,
he established _El Estandarte_ (The Standard), a periodical bitterly
opposed to the State Government, which caused him many vexations and
penalties. Velásquez has made a special study of local history and
archæology. His _Descubrimiento y Conquista de San Luis Potosí_
(Discovery and Conquest of San Luis Potosí), received recognition from
the Royal Spanish Academy. His _Instruccion pública en San Luis Potosí
durante la Dominación española_ (Public Instruction in San Luis Potosí
during the Spanish Domination) was published in the memoirs of the
Mexican Academy, of which he has been a correspondent since 1886. His
_Coleccion de Documentos para la historia de San Luis Potosí_
(Collection of documents for the History of San Luis Potosí) in four
volumes, was published between 1897 and 1899. Senor Velásquez has during
recent years returned to the practice of law.
THE TLAXCALAN SETTLEMENTS.
In this year of 1589, in which peace was arranged, Santa María del Rio
was founded by Guachichiles and Otomis on lands of the Hacienda of
Villela and at a place called San Diego de Atotonilco. Of the villages
of our State, this one and Tierra Nueva count among their founders
individuals of Otomi stock. The other colonies established were formed
with Indians brought from Tlaxcala, either because that city was
populous, or because of its relative culture, or--what is more
probable--because of its unshakeable loyalty to the Spaniards. It is
asserted that four hundred families set out from the ancient republic
for these parts, by order of the Viceroy, Don Luis de Velasco II (1591),
and with the aid of Friar Jerónimo Mendieta. Friars Ignacio de Cardenas
and Jeronimo de Zárate brought them and distributed them in
Tlaxcalilla--on the outskirts of this city of San Luis, close by the
congregation of Santiago, which was of Guachichiles--in San Miguel,
Mexquitic, Venado, San Andrés, Colotlan, and Saltillo. It can easily be
believed that these colonists would not readily consent to abandon their
soil and come to such a distance to serve as a protection against
barbarians and as a guarantee of their obedience. Far from it; they
stipulated that they should enjoy the same privileges as if they were
noble-born Castillians; that they should go on horse and bear arms; and
that their towns, in which no Spaniards were to live, should measure
three leagues on each side.
ANDRES DE OLMOS.
God, who holds aloft with his right hand a torch to light the way of his
creatures and to fructify, in the very field of death, the germs of
life; behind the bearded divinities with dress of steel and armed with
thunderbolts; from the region of light, the east, that they might anoint
with the oil of charity, the victims of greed, and resuscitate for
Heaven those dead for the world, sent the friars, shorn and shaven,
unshod, clad in sackcloth, with no shield but their faith, with no
weapon but the Gospel. Among these was that notable man, who wandered
through the whole Huasteca, while the Guachichiles still obstinately
fought their fierce battles; so wise was he that, besides his
miracle-play of _The Last Judgment_ and Conversations, Sermons, and
Tractates, all written in Aztec, he left grammars and vocabularies of
that language and of the Totonaco and Huastec, as well as many other
books for the instruction and admiration of missionaries, philologists
and historians; so poor, that, when he died, there was nought but a
rosary, some beads, a _disciplina_[7] and a _cilicio_,[8] left to his
hosts in token of gratitude; so temperate, that he did not in the least
seek those things which the appetite naturally desires, nor took
pleasure in them, but ate whatever was placed before him, although bad
in savor and smell; so strong that, after bearing a heavy weight of
years, going on foot through wastes and wilds, in a trying climate,
without any kind of comfort,--not only did he not choose to accept the
rest and shelter which his brethren urged upon him, when they saw him
old, asthmatic, insect-bitten to the degree that he looked like a leper,
but, glorying in his natural strong constitution, again betook himself
to the mountains where the warlike Chichimecs had their strongholds, to
preach to them for the last time, in the name of the Crucified, a gospel
of obedience and peace.
Already you know, gentlemen, that I speak of the friar, Andres de Olmos,
companion of the venerable Zumárraga.
MARTYRS TO THE FAITH.
In the New, as in the Old World, in the deserts as in the cities, in the
mountains as in the plains, the Gospel,--light and truth, refreshment,
hope and delight at once,--has to subjugate all peoples, to soften the
fierce and uncultured and to reduce to peace, order, and progress,
whatever may be the language in which it be announced. By divine
arrangement the doorposts must be marked with blood, with blood of
innocent victims, gentle and pure, that the avenging angel may pass by
and not wet his sword with the blood of the first-born. Thus, in the
northeast, four leagues from Zacatecas, a little after the year 1556,
kneeling and with the crucifix in his hand, Friar Juan de Tapia yielded
his blood to the sharp arrows of the Guachichiles; thus, Friar Juan
Cerrato shed his blood at the hands of the pagans, to whom he came from
Jalisco, that he might raise them from their rude condition and bring
them to a knowledge of their Creator and to the bosom of the Holy
Catholic Church; thus, the friars, Francisco Doncel and Pedro de Burgos
inundated with their red life-fluid the deep gorge of Chamacuero, where,
fierce as tigers, the Chichimecs hurled themselves upon them.
Father Doncel was returning from Patzcuaro with Friar Pedro, carrying a
crucifix which he had ordered made for the Villa of San Felipe, of the
convent of which he was guardian. Looking to the security of the image,
they came accompanied by soldiers; but, as these fled at the moment of
attack by the Indians, they left the holy monks abandoned and helpless.
As was his duty in such a crisis, Father Doncel knelt and, raising the
crucifix aloft, lifted up his voice in prayer. Devoted to their sublime
mission, both the friars suffered death from the furious rage of the
savages, which, not content with blood and with stripping off the
garments to deck itself in them, and to run races thus garbed, uttering
beast cries, sawed off the heads, tore off the skull caps, and wore
them, to make display of its triumph. That image of Jesus is still
venerated in San Felipe, under the name of the _Señor de la Conquista_;
and that gorge in which these monks perished is still called the _Arroyo
de los Martires_ (Gorge of the Martyrs).
Near by, at four leagues distance from Colotlan, is the spot where Friar
Luis de Villalobos sealed by a glorious death, in 1582, the doctrine
which he taught the heathen; not far distant is where Friar Andrés de la
Puebla was cruelly beaten, in 1586, and the skin was torn off his head,
from the eyebrows upward, while he was denouncing idolatry and intoning
the divine praises. Ours, is that land of Charcas, where also suffered
martyrdom, the friar, Juan del Rio, brother of the general of that name,
who made the final campaign against the Chichimecs. One day in 1586,
when the Spaniards had sallied from the town, a body of Indians attacked
it and stole the cattle. The only two soldiers, whom they had left on
guard, started in pursuit; shortly after, the friar followed them on
horse, believing the robbers would respect his presence. When he arrived
where they were he saw that one soldier was dead and that the other was
in imminent peril. He besought his enemies to calm themselves and hear
him, and did not cease to speak even when a rain of arrows fell upon
him, striking him in every part of the body. Reason enough was there for
the astonishment of the assassins, for the arrows, though many and well
directed, made no impression--he held himself well on his horse and
continued speaking. The Indians then aimed at his head and, with three
or four shots, brought him to the ground. What think you was the cause
of his apparent invulnerability? To find out, the barbarians, running up
to examine the body, despoiled it of clothing and found an immense
_cilicio_, an iron network supplied with iron points inside, which
constantly tore the flesh of the penitent friar.
DIEGO ORDOÑEZ.
What do you admire in the great navigator, whose fortunate discovery two
hemispheres are now preparing to celebrate? His wisdom? his valor? his
boldness? While he possessed all these in heroic grade, it is surely not
these which, in him, captivate us, but his faith, his marvelous faith,
which sustained him erect and firm in the midst of innumerable
obstacles, betrayed by treachery, mocked and harassed by adverse
fortune, and he held it against machinations and dangers, until he
planted it securely in the land of his dreams. Well, of this same faith,
which caused the inspired mariner to triumph over enemies and obstacles
and the mysterious dangers of the sea, there are also found examples in
these, our regions, which ought not to be held unworthy of esteem
because they are buried in the humble chronicles of a Province; for
even thus, in solitude, a diamond gleams more brightly. When the
immortal Genoese entered the service of Spain, there had just (1483)
taken the Franciscan habit in Salamanca, a youth of such precocity that,
at thirteen years, he had already graduated in philosophy. At sixteen,
dedicated to the study of theology, he made such progress in this
science and in Greek and Hebrew, that, with no little credit to his
order, he occupied--through many years--the professorship in his
convent, where, as is well known, Columbus found a more friendly
reception than among the proud professors of the famous university. From
Guatemala, whither the learned teacher went in 1539 to occupy himself
with the instruction of the wild Indians, he passed to Mexico, called to
serve as _Consultor_ to the Holy Office. The snows of a hundred winters
already whitened his head, but as the volcanoes which display a snowy
crown to conceal the forge where are smithed their glowing thunderbolts,
so the venerable centennarian priest. He scarcely tarried at the
vice-regal court; like a flaming arrow he went to Michoacan, Zacatecas,
and Durango, whose inhabitants enjoyed the last ministrations of the
philosopher, theologian, humanist, and eminent preacher, whose name was
Diego Ordoñez, and who, at one hundred and seventeen years of age,
seated in a chair because he could not stand, died in Sombrerete,
preaching to the Indians--he who had been the pride of the convent at
Salamanca and the venerated oracle of theologians and inquisitors.
ANTONIO DE ROA.
Two methods were employed by him, or rather one only, in converting so
untamed and rude a people. No one is ignorant, that in New Spain the
worship of the Holy Cross has ever been general. Be the mountain
beautiful or barren, lofty or low, the natives were accustomed to rear a
cross upon it. Where roads forked they set it up, and also in the
streets and plazas, that they might venerate it at every step and bow
before it. With greater reason, therefore, believed Father Roa, ought
the sacred emblem to be multiplied upon the rugged mountain trails,
which, at first glance, had so much discouraged him.
But, not consenting to erect it in spots, where, before, the Indians had
adored their idols, he taught them to honor it with great love and
unheard-of penances. When he went forth from his convent, he had them
throw about his neck a halter, dragged by two Indians; thus, with quick
step, downcast eyes, in tears, with ardent groaning, he went, meditating
on the passion of the Redeemer, until he reached the spot where stood a
cross. Scarcely knelt before it, the Indians, who accompanied him and
knew his orders, buffeted him, spat upon him, and cruelly beat him. This
was repeated as many times as there were crosses on the way--and there
were many.
When it is stated that this practice was constant and but the beginning
of each day, one begins to have an idea of the examples, which he set to
the new followers of Christ. One is stupefied to read that, arrived at
the village he preached and administered the sacraments, then waited
until night to make a general flagellation, which, finished, he sallied
from the church, naked from the waist up and barefoot, with a halter
around his neck, in order to walk around the churchyard, which was
strewn with glowing brands. One can hardly believe that his strength
allowed him to preach, on returning into the church, a sermon upon the
torments of hell and, further, that after all this he endured the
torture of boiling water, which his rough followers threw over his
lacerated body.
Still the idea of the sufferings, which he added to those, today, as
then, inseparable from a region so wild and remote, is not complete
until we know that, in Lent, he was accustomed, thrice weekly, to bathe
the Hermita of Molango with his blood. In his oratory he had painted the
Prayer in the Garden; and there, after his long prayers, the Indians
came to beat him, while they overwhelmed him with insults. They stripped
him from the waist up and violently tore away the coarse and rasping
cloth which was bound closely to his flesh; they threw a halter about
his neck and, in this guise, dragged him to a second oratory where was
painted a Magdalene anointing the Lord’s feet. Placing him there before
an Indian who, seated in his tribunal, represented Divine Justice, they
accused him of being a wicked man, an ingrate, proud, perverter, and
false. He replied nothing on the matter to the questions of the judge,
but, after a little time, confessed his sins, ingratitude, and faults,
in a loud voice. He replied as little to a new accusation, made against
him with false witnesses, of the truth of which the judge declared
himself convinced, and ordered that they should beat him naked, which
they did, thoroughly, until the blood ran down upon the ground from his
raw and quivering body. Afterward they kindled splinters of fat pine,
with the sizzling resin of which they scorched him from the shoulders to
the soles of his feet, and lastly they laid upon him a heavy cross,
which he bore in a procession around the enclosure over a bed of glowing
coals.
JUAN F. MOLINA SOLIS.
[Illustration]
Juan F. Molina Solis, representative of one of the oldest and most
respected families of Yucatan, was born June 11, 1850, in the village of
Hecelchacan. His father was Juan F. Molina Esquivel, his mother Cecilia
Solis de Molina. In 1857, the family removed to Merida, where the boy’s
education was carried on. He received the degree of Master of Arts from
the _Seminario conciliar de San Ildefonso_, after which he studied law,
graduating in 1874. He has ever occupied a prominent position in Merida
as a successful lawyer, as teacher in the Seminario, as professor in the
Law School, as journalist, and as author. In literature he has largely
confined himself to history--especially the history of Yucatan. His
_Historia del Descubrimiento y Conquista de Yucatan con una reseña de la
Historia antiqua de esta Peninsula_ (History of the Discovery and
Conquest of Yucatan with a Summary of the Ancient History of this
Peninsula) is a standard authority. It is admirably written and is
marked by a sober criticism and constant reference to original sources.
Besides this, the largest and most important work that he has written,
we may mention a collection of polemical historical articles and of
miscellaneous editorials presented under the general title _El Primer
Obispado de la Nacion Mejicana_ (The First Bishopric of the Mexican
Nation) and an interesting historical sketch, _El Conde de Peñalva_ (The
Count of Peñalva). In his editorials Señor Molina often discusses
matters of transcendant importance to the nation. While extremely
conservative, and hence often in the opposition, his writings on such
themes are thoughtful, candid, just, and patriotic. Among such articles
are some treating of Representative Government, The Election of Deputies
and Senators to the Federal Congress, The Commercial Treaty Between
Mexico and the United States, etc. The passage presented here, in
translation, is a chapter from _El Conde de Peñalva_.
THE HORRORS OF 1648 IN YUCATAN.
The Count could not arrive at a more unfortunate moment nor amid
conditions sadder than those among which fate decreed his coming to
these shores. The situation of the Peninsula could not be more sorrowful
or calamitous. An epidemic disease, whether cholera, or yellow fever, or
the black plague, is uncertain, was just ceasing to devastate the
community, and the misfortunes and ruin which it caused had not yet
ended. That pest began in the year 1648, year unlucky for Yucatan. After
the season of northers in February of that year, a drought set in, so
rigorous as to sterilize the soil and to produce intense heat, which was
increased by burning over the fields in preparation for the year’s
sowing. This drought, these heats, the Peninsula suffers ordinarily, but
for a short time only, from the month of March until the rains fall in
May--and, it even happens often that, before the rains, showers refresh
the air and moisten and fertilize the earth. The year 1648 was not,
however, such; the heats, initiated in the month of February, augmented,
more and more, until they reached the extreme degree which human nature
can endure; the inhabitants of the country anxiously begged for rain to
diminish the heat, in which they were burning; but heaven, deaf to their
clamors, refused to open its stores, and time passed without a single
drop of rain coming to refresh the thirsty earth. Sometimes, the rains
delay until the end of June, but what was seen in 1648 has never been
since repeated; June passed, July passed, August began, and the land was
as dry as a fleshless skeleton, exposed to the quivering rays of a
dog-days’ sun. The dust, fine and penetrating, was constantly raised in
clouds, from March on, at the blast of the southeast wind, and shut out
from view the barren fields which, when visible offered to the eye
nothing but leafless trees and ground overgrown with briars and brambles
without greenness. Nor was the afternoon breeze any relief from the
extraordinary heat and drought, because that little current of air,
blowing so softly and agreeably on summer afternoons, at that time came
impregnated with an odor strong and pestiferous as if the whole
Peninsula had been encircled by filthy and stinking cesspools. And this
was because that period of drought coincided with an extraordinary
infection of the fishes of the sea, which died in infinite numbers, and
their bodies, tossed up by the sea onto the shores, formed gigantic
heaps of putrefaction, which poisoned the air. How great must have been
the number of those dead fish, since it is stated that the vessels that
were navigating near our coasts were checked in their courses and
journeyed slowly, as if they were running in the belt of calms or
through spaces filled with drifting ice! In vain our police force, then
in embryo, sent out daily, from all the towns near the coast, files of
Indians led by a Spaniard, for the purpose of burning the dead fish. The
very stench of the burning came to be unbearable, so that finally the
expedient was abandoned, as harmful.
Suffering under these tribulations, the people intensified their
affliction, by dire forebodings, which existed more in their imagination
than in reality. As always happens, in time of social calamity, aged
persons spoke of similar times, in remote epochs, which had preceded
horrible disasters. The air appearing thick and heavy, they imagined
that the sun did not shine as it was accustomed to do, but was as if
eclipsed; and, in fine, the inner sadness of minds was reflected in
external things, conspiring to exalt the fancy with dread of vague
misfortunes, of coming and fatal ills.
And the fear became reality, since in the month of June a terrible and
contagious disease made its frightful appearance in Campeche. Whether it
was the Levantine plague, which a little before had ravaged Europe and
was brought by some vessel to the port, whether it was occasioned by the
putrefaction of the dead fishes, whether it was the cholera which
visited us for the first time, or whether it was the yellow fever
scourging with an iron hand, we cannot say. It is enough to know that it
was a terrible disease, which converted Yucatan into an immense
cemetery. Sometimes, without any warning, it showed itself in intense
pains in the bones, accompanied by excessive fever and delirium; at
other times with the fever was united vomiting of putrid blood; now it
presented the diarrhœa of the cholera patient; now the putrid
dysentery of pernicious fever. Some died in eight or ten hours; others
lasted through three, four, or even seven days. Men more than women, and
the youth, lively and vigorous, more than the feeble and infirm, were
the field preferred by the epidemic. No one escaped its deleterious
influence, and the Spaniard and Indian, the negro, the mulatto, and the
mestizo all paid their tribute to the contagion, which showed no respect
in its depredations. In its course, it sometimes skipped populations;
and while it swooped pitilessly down upon some obscure and distant
village, it neglected some town close by and exposed to its attack.
Sometimes it seemed to spare the Indians, only to return later and make
a clean sweep of them.
There were great sadness and horror in Merida when notice was brought of
the rapid, frequent, and painful deaths, which were taking place in
Campeche, and which suggested the existence of the plague; the more so
as an effort was made to minimize the reports of conditions. The pest,
the sombre and frightful pest, which brings death as a daily thought to
the minds of all; and not sweet and peaceful death, but the most
distressing of all, death in solitude and abandonment! The stupor,
caused by the news, did not prevent some measures of sanitation to
prevent the invasion of the contagion, the principal of which was
isolation. The city completely separated itself, closed the highways,
set numerous guards in the roads, and all the inhabitants turned their
eyes to God, imploring pity; the temples were thronged and deeds of
mercy were more frequent and general.
Nothing, however, sufficed to stay the advance of the disease; in turn,
it attacked Merida, leaping over all the populations in the line of
progress, and appearing in the city at the end of July. At first it
attacked but few, here and there a person; although the number stricken
did not cause a panic, the promptness with which they died struck
terror. This, however, was but the beginning of the affliction; because,
afterward, in the first days of August the disease increased above
measure, and by the middle of the month almost all the inhabitants of
the city were stretched upon the bed of pain by the contagion. Whole
families were stricken and died in isolation, with no one to care for
them or even to call a nurse, a physician, or a priest to give some aid.
In the sad and deserted streets were only to be seen, passing like
fugitive spectres, the secular clergy, the Jesuits, and the Franciscans
in their long gowns, rapidly crossing from house to house to administer
consolation to those dying who had the happiness to receive them;
because, not infrequently, when the priests crossed the threshold of
the house of death, they only encountered sepulchral stillness and
corpses; at other times it happened that the priest, who bore the
_viaticum_, was himself suddenly stricken with the disease and was
obliged to lay himself down to die in the first doorway, while another
priest came to take the holy elements from his hands, to continue the
sacred task of abnegation and sacrifice. In the cathedral, in Santa
Lucia, in San Cristobal, in Santiago, in San Sebastian, in Santa
Catalina, the corpses were buried in the burying grounds near the
churches; but so great was the crowd of the dead that the town
government commanded new cemeteries to be opened and blessed in the
fields; and, in order not to increase the panic, it ordered that the
bodies should be carried to all these cemeteries at dawn, where a priest
received them and repeated a prayer over them, and they were thrown into
the common trench. That was a mournful spectacle, which those fields of
death presented at that hour, with long files of corpses, badly clad or
wrapped in serapes or in henequin mattings, laid out on boards, or
stretchers.
The Governor, Don Esteban de Ascárraga did not escape the pest; he died
August 8 and was buried quietly, not to augment the consternation of the
city. A Franciscan friar, José de Orosco, mounted, hale and hearty, the
pulpit in the church of San Francisco, to preach the sermon, and
descended ill, and died. The regidors, in the town government, died; of
eight Jesuits, who lived in the Colleges of San Javier and San Pedro,
six sacrificed their lives on the altar of charity, succoring the
sufferers day and night; twenty Franciscans perished in the same labors;
clergy, seculars, canonigos, pensioners, royal employes, in short, the
principal and choicest of the city went down to the tomb in the month of
August, 1648.
Public consternation had reached its height; the city was completely
overwhelmed. Without physicians, without adequate supplies of medicines,
with no hospital except that of Nuestra Señora del Rosario, later known
by the name San Juan de Dios, from the fact that it was in other times
served by the mendicant friars; sustained with difficulty, without
sanitary police, without hygienic arrangements, with the deaths
increasing, the public spirit crushed. It was then, when deprived of
every human succor, the inhabitants of Merida redoubled their appeals to
heaven, and, recalling the great devotion of the Province to the Most
Holy Virgin Mary, resolved to make a pilgrimage to the Sanctuary of
Izamal and to bring the sacred image, there venerated, in public
procession in order to attribute to it special worship during nine
consecutive days. The Licenciate, Don Juan de Aguileta, Vice-Governor,
was appointed by the city to represent it and bring the sacred image to
Merida. In so great faith and mortal terror were all the people that the
Licenciate Aguileta, himself ill with the pest, did not hesitate a
moment to receive the commission, and without discussion started for
Izamal. Whether for the faith with which he undertook the journey, the
change of temperature, or some other reason, the fact is that the
licenciate was cured before he reached Izamal. As soon as the Indians
learned the object of his journey, they tenaciously opposed the removal
of the sacred statue, fearing that it would not be returned to its
traditional sanctuary. The persuasions, threats, and exhortations of the
authorities availed nothing, nor did those of the friars themselves; the
Indians distrusted all, and did not willingly lend themselves to permit
the departure of the sacred image until the Provincial of the
Franciscans agreed to remain in Izamal, as a hostage, until the
venerated figure should be restored to its temple. And so seriously did
the Indians take his proposal that they placed guards upon all the roads
out from the town to prevent his escape.
These measures having been taken by the Indians, the holy image started
from Izamal for Merida. It was not a procession; it was a grand popular
festival; it was a triumphal march, with an enormous accompaniment of
people, who poured forth from their homes, to see pass by on the
highway, the statue of the venerated Patroness of Yucatan, whose aid was
besought. Those who know the faith, the ardor, the effusion of soul with
which the humble and common people devote themselves to religious
practices, can imagine the enthusiasm, bordering on delirium, with which
the inhabitants of the surrounding towns flocked together, anxious to
render their homage of love to the Virgin Mary. Long and closely packed
files of devotees, with lighted torches, formed the accompaniment, which
stretched, as a broad, blazing strip, through the dry and arid wastes
bordering the road. All on foot, all praying, all filled with remorse,
and penitent, they arrived at the outskirts of Merida, where a numerous
and select concourse awaited the procession. The Regidors, the
Canonigos, the principal ladies, had gone, barefoot in sign of
penitence, and, when the procession passed through the streets of the
city, from the Cruz de la Villa to the Plaza Mayor, the sick had
themselves brought to the doors and windows of their houses, to implore
health. After a brief rest at the Cathedral, the procession went to the
Church of San Francisco, where for nine days constantly the most solemn
worship[9] was attributed to the Most Holy Virgin.
The nine days having passed, on the 23d of August, 1648, the Alcalde
Governor, Don Juan de Salazar y Montejo, returned the sacred image to
the Sanctuary of Izamal, with the same splendor, pomp, and
accompaniment. The pest mitigated, in fact, in Merida at the end of
August, and had almost disappeared before the middle of September,
although merely changing the scene of its ravages.
As happens always, the gathering of people, the numerous concourse of
inhabitants from other towns, scattered the seed of the contagion, which
spread its devastation throughout the whole country. The first to be
attacked were the Indians of Izamal, who, faithful and devoted, did not
abandon the sacred image for a moment on its journey from its natal city
to Merida. From Izamal the pest extended slowly to the east and south.
The great procession took place in August, and already in September the
District of Izamal was smitten; in October the epidemic had propagated
itself to Ticul, Chapab, Bolonchen, Mani, Bolonchenticul; in December it
had spread throughout the whole coast, and, thus, spreading from town to
town, it fiercely struck its claws into the whole Peninsula during two
long and weary years.
LUIS GONZALES OBREGÓN.
[Illustration]
Luis Gonzales Obregón, one of the best known of living Mexican writers,
was born in Guanajuato, August 25, 1865. After studying under private
teachers at his home, he went to Mexico, where he completed his
preparatory studies in the _Seminario_ and in the _Colegio de San
Ildefonso_. Ill health interfered with his further education, but he had
already developed a strong affection for literary, and particularly for
historical, pursuits, which has motived his whole life work. He is a
devoted student of the national history of his country and particularly
delights in the investigation of obscure and curious incidents. So far
as a feeble physical constitution has allowed, he has given himself up
to such researches and to writing. In 1889 he published a useful little
volume, entitled _Novelistas Mexicanos en el Siglo XIX_ (Mexican
Novelists in the Nineteenth Century). In an introductory section he
briefly characterizes the Mexican novel; he then presents a complete
list of the novelists of the century, to the time of his writing, with
the names of their novels and a few discriminating words regarding their
place in the national literature. Our author’s best known work is
certainly _México Viejo_ (Old Mexico), of which a “first series” was
printed in 1891 and a “second series” in 1895. These have recently been
republished, in a single volume, in Paris. The work consists of essays,
each dealing with some special event in Mexican history, or sketching
the life of some eminent person, or depicting some old custom or popular
practice. Usually they contain information derived from unpublished
manuscripts or rare and ancient works. Among the many other writings of
our author, two biographical sketches demand particular mention, on
account of the interest and prominence of the men who form the subjects.
These are _Don José Joaquín Fernandez de Lizardi_ famous as a writer,
early in the last century, under the _nom-de-plume_ of _El Pensador
Mexicano_ (the Mexican thinker), and _Vida y Obras de Don José Fernando
Ramirez_ (Life and Works of José Fernando Ramirez), the eminent literary
man, historian, and statesman. The selections, which we here present,
are from _México Viejo_. They do not as satisfactorily represent Señor
Obregón’s style as longer passages would, as he is at his best when he
narrates some ancient legend or describes some popular festival.
CHANGES IN MEXICO.
For some years past Mexico has been undergoing a slow, but evident,
transformation. Everywhere the modern spirit modifies what is old.
Customs, types, dress, monuments, and buildings are completely losing
the long-fixed physiognomy of the colonial days.
The customs of our ancestors, half Spanish, half indigenous, are
disappearing, replaced by a mixture of European practices, and now, in
the same house, one prays in the old fashion, clothes one’s self after
the French style, and eats after the Italian manner; one mounts his
horse or enters his coach _a la_ English, and conducts his business _a
la_ Yankee, in order to lose no time.
The fountains, those ancient fountains of the colonial epoch, have been
replaced by hydrants and troughs at every corner, and the traditional
type of the _aguador_ (water-carrier) is eclipsed and forced to betake
himself to those sections where the deep shadows of the electric lights
fall, and where the precious fluid does not flow of itself, except when
it pleases heaven to inundate the streets and alleys.
The _china_[10] has died, to live only in the beautiful romances of the
popular Fidel; the _chiera_[11] yields her gay and picturesque _puesto_
of refreshing waters, to the experienced _señorita_, who in high-heeled
shoes and tightly-laced bodice serves us iced drink in vessels of fine
crystal; the _sereno_,[12] with his shining, varnished hat, his ladder
on his shoulder and his lantern in his right hand, withdraws shame-faced
before the _gendarme_,[13] and thus with other types, whom the curious
investigator now encounters only in the pictures of forgotten books.
Who now remembers the habits of the humble friars, who once traveled
through the streets amid the respectful salutations of the faithful?
The coaches slung on straps, the gigs, the omnibuses--are all passing
away, all are forgotten in the noisy whirl of English and American
carriages and the confusion of the _tranvias_,[14] which rapidly slip
over their steel rails.
Mexico changes, principally, in its material part. The old houses fall
daily, façades change, the ancient wooden roofs give way to iron
sheeting.
The streets are being lengthened, their names are expressed in
cabalistic signs, and their historic and traditional associations are
relegated to the verses of our poets.
The city, born amid the rubbish of the heroic Tenochtitlan, the capital
city of the viceroyalty of New Spain, which had on every corner a chapel
or temple--or, at least, a picture of a saint--pious evidences of the
religion of the populace, now rejuvenates itself, appropriating those
old buildings, consecrated to some special purpose, to some use far
different, since the epoch of the Reform.
What was then a church is now a library; what was a convent, a barrack;
what was a customs house, a departmental office; a corridor becomes a
gallery; a _patio_, a warehouse; a refectory, a stable.
Before the special physiognomy of those times completely disappears,
before the crowbar demolishes the last façades, before the scaffolding
is raised against the bulging wall, before--finally--we hear the song or
whistle of the indifferent stonecutter, as he mercilessly chisels the
stone which will completely change the aspect of those things upon which
our forebears gazed, we propose to conjure up the incidents, the times,
and customs which have gone that future generations need not vainly
excavate among forgotten ruins.
LUISA MARTINEZ.
The war of independence in Mexico had, also, its martyr heroines. The
insurgents never executed a woman of the royalists; but that party
stained its arms with the blood of the fair sex.
* * * * *
There was another heroine of humble origin whom we ought not to omit,
because she, also, was a martyr of the independence. She was named Luisa
Martínez, wife of Steven García Martínez (nicknamed ‘the reveler’), who
kept a little shop in the pueblo of Erongaricuaro, about the years 1815
and 1816. In that pueblo all were _chaquetas_, that is to say, partisans
of the royalists. She, however, was devoted to the other flag. She
courageously aided the insurgent warriors, she gave them timely
information, victuals, resources, and communicated to them messages from
their superior officers, with whom she kept in constant touch. One day
her messenger, bearing letters directed to the insurgent leader, Tomás
Pacheco, was surprised by Pedro Celestino Negrete. Luisa Martínez fled;
but, pursued, captured, and tried, she was compelled to pay two thousand
pesos and to promise to communicate no farther with the patriots, in
order to regain her liberty. But she was not warned by her experience.
Thrice again was she pursued, imprisoned, and fined, until, at last, she
could not pay the sum, four thousand pesos, which Negrete demanded, and
was shot by his order in the year 1817, in a corner of the cemetery of
the parish church at Erongaricuaro.
Just before her execution, turning to Negrete, she said to him:
“Why such persistent persecution of me? I have the right to do what I
can to help my country, because I am a Mexican. I do not believe that I
have committed any crime, but simply have fulfilled my duty.”
Negrete remained inflexible, and Luisa Martínez _fell, pierced by
royalist bullets_.
SOR JUANA INEZ DE LA CRUZ.
If there is one literary glory among us, universally recognized and
applauded, it is Sister Juana Inez de la Cruz, most virtuous nun,
inspired poet, and pre-eminently admirable for her prodigious learning.
Sister Juana was a privileged being; her beauty captivated all hearts;
her intellect astonished her contemporaries.
The life of that surprising woman is almost a fairy tale.
She was born near the slopes of those giants, Popocatepetl and
Iztaccihuatl, in a country place called San Miguel Nepantla, in a humble
inn known by the name of _la celda_, at eleven o’clock in the night of
Thursday, November 12, 1651. At three years of age she had coaxed the
teacher of her sister to teach her to read; she was not yet seven, when
she had written verses and addresses to the Santisimo Sacramento, in
order to win a book which had been offered as a prize; she came to
Mexico, where she devoured the few books which her grandfather owned; in
twenty lessons with her teacher, Martin de Olivas, she learned the Latin
language; she begged her mother to dress her as a man, that she might
study at the University; later, young and beautiful, as lady-in-waiting
of Doña Leonora María de Carreto, then the vice-reina of New Spain,
Juana de Asbaje charmed the gallants with her witcheries and astounded
the learned with her knowledge.
One time, the Viceroy Antonio Sebastián de Toledo, Marquis of Mancera,
desired to convince himself whether the learning of that lady was real
or apparent. He collected at his palace all the notable men, reputed
learned, in the city. What with theologians, philosophers,
mathematicians, historians, poets, humanitarians, ‘and not a few of
those whom in sport we call _tertulios_’[15] (says Padre Calleja), forty
were present. Juana de Asbaje appeared before that severe tribunal for
examination. She astounded all by her responses. The viceroy himself,
years later, admiringly recounted the impressions of that day to Padre
Calleja, and added ‘As a royal galleon would defend itself against a few
fishing-smacks which might assail it, so did Juana Inez easily
disentangle herself from the questions, arguments, and objections which
they all, each in his own way, put to her.’
But she did not long shine in worldly life; mysterious
reasons--disappointments or impossible affections, or, more likely, the
repeated entreaties of her confessor--decided her to enter a convent.
She first chose that of San José, of the order of the bare-foot
Carmelites, today Santa Teresa de Antigua; but the rigors of that order
so enfeebled her that she abandoned the novitiate at the end of three
months, by order of physicians. Soon, however, she entered another
nunnery, that of San Gerónimo, never again to depart. There she publicly
made her vows, on the 24th of February, 1669. Pedro Velásquez de la
Cadena, a wealthy man of distinguished family, endowed her and her
confessor, Padre Antonio Nuñez de Mirando, bore the expenses of the
occasion, and was so delighted with her profession that he himself
lighted the evening candles and invited the leading representatives of
the civil and ecclesiastical governments, the religious notables, and
the nobility of Mexico to be present.
Time passed. Sister Juana, in the silence of her cell, without a sign
of pride, with spirit ever thirsting for knowledge, studied incessantly,
and with modesty received the praises, which from all parts were
bestowed upon her; but, suddenly, a religious fervor, offspring of her
faith and the counsels of her spiritual director (who urged her to
abandon all dealings with the world) drove her to dispose of her books;
she divided the sum realized among the needy; she left her lyre to
gather dust, flung her pen far from her, and, grasping her _disciplina_,
scourged herself; she weakened herself by fasts, opened her veins,
signed new vows with her own blood, until, finally, a pestilence, which
had invaded the convent, stretched her upon her couch, after she had
exercised her Christian charity in ministering to her sisters. She never
rose again. Science, in vain, eagerly attempted to help her. Vain were
also the clamors for her health which the convent bells clanged forth.
Tranquil as a saint, she received her last communion on earth and calmly
closed her eyes to open them in heaven.
Sister Juana died aged forty-three years, five months, five days, and
five hours, at four in the morning of April 17, 1695.
The funeral was imposing. The Canon Francisco Aguilar conducted the
ceremony. The most notable men, the most distinguished ladies, and the
government officials were in attendance. ‘The populace,’ says one
biographer, ‘crowded about the doors of the church of San Gerónimo. All
mourned that loss for letters. Poets sung her praises and Carlos de
Sigüenza y Gongora pronounced the eulogy.’
THE INQUISITION.
Thus was installed, November 4, 1571, the tribunal of the Inquisition in
the very loyal and very noble City of Mexico.
From that day terror began among its good inhabitants! Woe to heretics,
blasphemers, and Jews! Woe to sharpers, witches and sorcerers!
Fear swept over all, and that frightful secrecy with which the tribunal
surrounded itself contributed greatly to increase the terror; that
mystery with which it proceeded; that impressive pomp which it displayed
in its public sentences--which in time were the favorite diversion of
the mob and even of the middle and comfortable class.
No one lived at ease; unknown and secret denunciation threatened
everyone; unfortunate was he who gave ground for the least suspicion and
unhappy was he who merely failed to wear a rosary.
It is necessary to transport one’s self to those times, to read what
history records of that dread tribunal, in order to picture, adequately,
to one’s self the terror which must have overwhelmed those who appeared
before the Holy Office in the old Cathedral of Mexico.
With time respect diminished, and that which before caused terror now
aroused derision.
Some of the sentences were ridiculous--mere travesties. For instance,
that celebrated in Santo Domingo on December 7, 1664, and in which
conjugal infelicities between the viceroy, Mancera, and his lady
secretly had their influence. Guido says: “There were ten condemned and
among them one who, according to his sentence, was taken to the patio of
the convent and stripped; two Indians smeared him with honey and covered
him with feathers; there he was left exposed four hours.”
Such spectacles must have caused at first indignation, then contempt.
No less insulting than such punishments were the penitential garments of
those condemned by the Holy Office, called _san-benitos_. These were a
kind of scapulary of linen or other cloth, yellow or flesh-red in color.
There were three kinds, known respectively by the names _samarra_,
_fuego revolto_ and _san-benito_--the latter being also a name common to
all.
The _samarra_ was worn by the _relajados_, or those handed over to the
secular arm to be garroted or burned alive. It bore, painted upon it,
dragons, devils, and flames, amid which the criminal was represented as
burning.
The garment known as _fuego revolto_ was that of those who had abjured,
and for this reason the flames were painted upside down, as if to
signify that the wearers had escaped from death in the fiery embrace.
Finally, the _san-benito_, which ordinary prisoners wore, was a
flesh-colored sack bearing a Saint Andrew’s cross.
The kind of mitre which the condemned wore upon the head was called
_coroza_, and was a cap of paper, more than a _vara_ high, ending in a
point like a fool’s-cap, with flames, snakes or demons painted on it,
according to the category of the criminal.
The condemned carried also rosaries, and yellow or green candles; those
of the “reconciled” were lighted, those of the impenitent extinguished;
when they were “blasphemers” they were gagged.
In time these insulting insignia were looked upon with indifference as
any other dress, and gave occasion, in Mexico, to a curious story. It
chanced that once a “reconciled” was walking through the streets wearing
his _san-benito_; some Indians seeing him noticed that the dress was new
and one thought it was the Spanish devotional dress for Lent; returning
to his house he made some excellent _san-benitos_, well painted; he
brought them to the city and offered them for sale to Spaniards, saying,
in the Indian language, _Sic cohuas nequi a san-benito?_ which means, Do
you wish to buy a _san-benito_? The thing so amused everyone that the
story even went to Spain, and in Mexico there is still a saying, “_ti
que quis benito_.”
The common people ended by losing all fear of such scarecrows, and
defied the Inquisition in this way:
Un Santo Cristo
dos Candeleros
Y tres majaderos.[16]
A merited jest for that which knew not how to respect worthy and valiant
heroes, such as Hidalgo and Morelos.
FRANCISCO SOSA.
[Illustration]
Francisco Sosa was born in Campeche, April 2, 1848. When he was still a
child his parents removed to Merida, where the boy received his
education. His first poetical effort appeared in a local paper, when the
writer was but fourteen years of age. At that time, he was editor--in
union with Ovidio and Octavio Zorilla--of the paper, _La Esperanza_
(Hope), in which it appeared. Four years later his _Manual de Biografía
Yucateca_ (Manual of Yucatecan Biography) was published, showing his
early devotion to the field in which he has chiefly figured, that of
biography. With Ramón Aldana, he founded _La Revista de Merida_ (The
Merida Review), which is still published and is, unquestionably, the
most influential paper in Yucatan. In 1868, when but twenty years old,
he went, for the first time to the City of Mexico, where most of his
life since has been spent. He had, however, already been a prisoner, for
political reasons, in the famous and dreadful fortress of San Juan de
Ulúa, at Vera Cruz. He became promptly associated with the literary men
of Mexico and collaborated with them, upon a number of important
periodical publications, literary and political. In 1873 he was
associated with Gen. Riva Palacios in the editorship of _El Radical_
(The Radical). Later as editor of the _Federalista_ (Federalist), he
gave to that paper a notable literary reputation and contributed to it,
both prose and verse. He was one of the editors of _El Bien Publico_
(The Public Good), a paper aimed to combat the administration of
President Lerdo de Tejada; while thus connected, he went to Guanajuato
to join the standard of Iglesias, returning, at the downfall of Lerdo de
Tejada, to the City of Mexico. Since that time, he has edited various
periodicals, including _El Siglo XIX_ (The Nineteenth Century), _El
Nacional_ (The National), and _La Libertad_ (Liberty).
Señor Sosa’s books have been mainly in the line of biography. Besides
the volume on Yucatecans already mentioned, he has published _Don
Wenceslao Alpuche, Biografías de Mexicanos Distinguidos_ (Biographies of
Distinguished Mexicans), _El Episcopado Mexicano_ (The Mexican
Episcopacy), _Efemérides Historicas y Biograficas_ (Historical and
Biographical Ephemerids), _Los Contemporaneos_ (The Contemporaries),
_Las Estatuas de la Reforma_ (The Statues of “the Reforma”) and
_Conquistadores Antiguos y Modernos_ (Ancient and Modern Conquerors). He
has also written an appreciative work upon South-American
writers--_Escritores y poetas Sud-Americanos_. Among his works in other
fields are a volume of stories--_Doce Leyendas_ (Twelve Stories), and a
book of sonnets, _Recuerdos_ (Recollections).
In his poetry Sosa is vigorous, chaste, and strong. In prose he is
direct and simple, but careful in language.
Señor Sosa has ever been interested in every cause tending toward the
advancement of Mexico and has actively participated in the organization
and conduct of literary and learned societies. It is to his efforts that
the interesting series of statues, that border the Paseo de la Reforma,
is due.
Our selections are taken from his _Estatuas de la Reforma_ and
_Biografías de Mexicanos Distinguidos_.
THE STATUES OF THE REFORMA.
In 1887 Sosa published an article in _El Partido Liberal_ (The Liberal
Party), which has produced a happy result. From it, we quote:
The inauguration of the magnificent monument with which the Federal
Government has honored the memory of the illustrious Cuauhtemoc and that
of the principal chieftains of the defense of the native land in 1521,
has shown, not only that Mexico does not forget her heroes, but, also,
that among her sons are artists capable of producing works creditable to
any cultured nation.
This affirmation is not born from our enthusiasm for all that redounds
to the glory of our native land. Foreign writers have not hesitated to
say that the monument of Cuauhtemoc may be considered the finest in
America, in its essentially American architecture and in being a work
exclusively realized by Mexican artists.
It is well known that, in decreeing, in 1877, the erection of
Guatematzin’s monument, the government also decreed that in the
following glorietas should be erected others to the heroes of the
Independence and of the Reform; and, no one doubts that, the government
persevering in its plan of embellishing the finest _paseo_ in our
metropolis, this _paseo_ will come to be a most beautiful spot,
consequently most visited by both citizens and foreigners. We believe
that, to the laudable efforts of the Federal Government, those of the
Governors of the federative states should be united. We shall state, in
what way.
In the great Paseo de la Reforma, there already exist pedestals,
destined to support statues and other works of art, appropriate to a
place of resort, where daily gather the most distinguished members of
society; until the present, there has been no announcement regarding the
statues and art works for which these pedestals are intended.
It is plain that, however great may be the willingness of the Federal
Government, it will need to employ large sums and many years, in
carrying out, unaided, the whole work of adornment, demanded by a
_paseo_ of the magnitude of that of the Reforma, since they must be in
consonance with the artistic value of the monuments already erected and
those in contemplation. What would be of slow and expensive realization
for the Federal treasury, would be easy, prompt, and convenient, if each
of the Mexican States should favor our plan.
However poor any one of the smallest fractions, into which the Republic
is divided, may be, it is certain that it could, at no sacrifice at all,
pay the cost of two life-size statues--such as these pedestals could
support; and, however meagre may be the annals of some of these
fractions, no one of them can have failed to produce two personages,
worthy of being honored with a monument, which, recalling his deeds,
perpetuates them.
* * * * *
... the three conditions, which ought to be demanded in accepting the
sculptures:
1. That the honor should be decreed only to the notable dead.
2. That all the statues should be of life-size and of marble or bronze.
3. That the plans or models should be approved by a special jury, named
by a cabinet officer, in order that only true works of art, worthy of
figuring in a _paseo_ in which exist monuments of the importance of
those of Columbus and Cuauhtemoc, may be accepted.
Sosa’s suggestion was well received and, up to the present, something
like forty statues have been erected, forming a notable gallery in which
the nation and the states may well take pride. The states have taken
their turns and one, each year, presents two statues, on the anniversary
of National Independence--September 16. On the whole the statues have
met the three requirements and not only form a Mexican house of fame,
but an artistic adornment to a beautiful driveway.
MALINTZIN.
According to the testimony of judicious investigators, this celebrated
Indian woman was born in the pueblo of Painala, in the Mexican province
of Coatzacoalco (Vera Cruz). Her father had been a feudatory of the
crown of Mexico and lord of many pueblos. Her mother, left a widow,
contracted marriage with another noble, by whom she had a son, and “it
seems,” says an esteemed biographer, “that the love felt by the couple,
for this fruit of their union, inspired them with the infamous plan of
feigning the death of the first born, that all the inheritance might
pass to the son, availing themselves of a stratagem to remove
suspicion.” A daughter of one of their slaves had died at that very
time, and they made mourning as if the dead were their own daughter,
secretly disposing of _her_ to some merchants of Xicalanco, a town
located on the border of Tabasco. Those of Xicalanco gave, or sold, her
to their neighbors, the Tabasqueños, among whom Malintzin was, when on
March 12, 1519, the Spanish armada, under orders of Herñan Cortes,
arrived at the river of Tabasco, to which he gave the name Grijalva. It
is well known that the Tabasqueños, at first, attempted to fight against
the Spaniards in defense of their territory, but--before the unusual
valor, before the fire-arms, before the battle horses of the
Conqueror--a violent reaction took place, the combats ceased, and a
peace, which could not last, was pretended.
Among the gifts with which the Tabasqueños desired to demonstrate their
submission, were twenty women, of whom one was notable for her
extraordinary beauty. Malintzin, the girl who had been cruelly thrust
out from the parental home, was this woman. They baptized her under the
name of Marina, which the Aztecs pronounced Malintzin. “When the
Conqueror received her as a gift from the lords of Tabasco, in company
with the other women, he distributed to each captain his woman, giving
Malintzin to the Cavalier Alonso Hernández Portocarrero, who was cousin
of the Count of Medellin.” So says the biographer to whom we have
referred.
Continuing this imperfect narrative, we may say that Malintzin was
useful to the conquerors from their arrival at Vera Cruz, since she knew
the Aztec language,--although we cannot explain how she could, in a few
days, learn the Spanish to discharge the rôle of interpreter so
perfectly as historians declare. However that may be, this Indian woman
appears as one of the most notable characters in the epic poem of the
Conquest. To detail her doings in this biography, would be to reproduce
the whole history of the Conquest of Mexico, and good books abound for
furnishing the data, which anyone may especially desire. We limit
ourselves to giving a few further notices regarding Malintzin and to
saying some words in her defense.
As has been said Hernández Portocarrero was the fortunate Spaniard to
whose lot the beautiful Indian maiden of Painala fell. In spite of
this, the chroniclers of the expedition state that Cortes had a son by
Marina and there is no doubt that he maintained love relations with her
until 1523. In that year, he married her definitely to Juan de
Jaramillo, who, in spite of his noble rank, had no embarrassment in
uniting himself to the woman whom Cortes abandoned.
He, passing to Coatzacoalco, called together the lords of the province,
and among them Marina’s mother and step-father, who immediately
recognized her and plainly showed their fear that the young woman would
avenge herself for the infamous act which had brought her into the
position in which she found herself. Far from it; Marina gave them
splendid gifts and treated her injurers well--not without making some
parade of her bearing a son to Cortes. In this expedition, took place
the infamous execution of Cuauhtemoczin and Marina figures as aiding him
to a pious death.
The Conquest ended, nothing more is heard of Marina until 1550, when she
still lived and complained to the viceroy, Antonio de Mendoza, that the
Indians of Jilantongo did not pay the tribute nor yield the service, to
which they were obligated.
The year and place of her death are not known. There is nothing more to
state save that the son of Cortes by Marina was named Martin and that he
figures badly in Mexican history.
The estimable writer, José Olmedo y Lama, in the biography of Marina,
with which he opens the second volume of the interesting work “_Hombres
ilustres Mexicanos_,” biography which we have had at hand in making
these jottings, says these cruel words: “Malintzin almost always appears
repugnant, and we believe that, only by lending to her fantastic and
imaginary attributes, that is to say, by falsifying history, can she be
made great.” It is strange, indeed, that one, who held such an opinion,
should have cared to introduce the name of the _repugnant_ Indian woman
into a gallery of _ilustres_, not merely _celebres_, personages. Señor
Olmedo reproaches Marina for her treason to her country, serving as
interpreter to the Conquerors; he reproaches her, because, married with
Hernández Portocarrero, she had amours, and even a son, with Cortes; he
blames her, because she did not prevent the execution of Cuauhtemoc and
because she boasted to her mother of having been the first Mexican woman
to bear a son to the Conqueror, and because she betrayed the conspiracy,
plotted by her people, for the destruction of the Spaniards. These
faults, which we would not pretend to excuse today in a heroine, have,
if not an excuse, at least some just defense, in transferring ourselves
to the sixteenth century and in consideration of the peculiar
circumstances of the woman.
What sentiments had her parents aroused in her, by repudiating her and
selling her to merchants? What idea of fidelity, considering the
customs of her country, could she have in finding herself in the arms of
a man, to whom she had fallen by lot, like any object in a raffle, and
what respect could a man inspire, who servilely lent himself to any
arrangement rather than to cross his captain? Had she not seen that the
Tabasqueños, in place of dying, battling in hand-to-hand combat for
their native land, had made rich gifts to the Spaniards, even presenting
them with women, of whom she was one? Ought we to demand from her
greater ardor and patriotism than from the warriors? As for her not
having prevented the execution of Cuauhtomoc, employing, for that end,
her ascendency over Cortes, it must be remembered that Malintzin, as a
shrewd woman, could not conceal from herself, that in her wild lover,
other passions than love dominated, and, therefore, every plea would be
vain.
But, above all, Señor Olmedo, in hurling the darts of his censure upon
the Indian woman, should remember that all those faults, which we today
count as such, committed by her, are explained by saying, supported by
the testimony of historians, that Malintzin loved Cortes blindly, from
her first meeting him. Señor Olmedo is intelligent enough to know that
love is the most enthralling of human passions. Malintzin loved the
great Conqueror. What wonder, then, that for him she should forget her
other duties? But, however that may be, the beautiful interpreter of
the Spaniards holds a most prominent place in the history of Mexico.
FRANCISCO EDUARDO TRES GUERRAS.
The illustrious architect Tres Guerras has left us, in the Carmen of
Celaya, a work which is the monument of his fame and the proof that he
was the most skilled architect that Mexico has yet produced.
Francisco Eduardo Tres Guerras was born in Celaya, May 13, 1745, and at
fifteen years united great proficiency in drawing, to his early studies;
soon after, he devoted himself to the fascinating art of painting,
having received lessons, in Mexico, from the most accredited artists;
but, he found no stimulus, since those paintings in which he gave full
play to his natural tendencies and which were most conformed to the
demands of art, were the least admired, while those trifles which he
dashed off in order to secure resources for his daily needs were highly
admired. Disgusted with these bitter disappointments, he desired to take
the habit of a monk and had even made some steps in that direction, but
the love of art rekindled itself in his heart with redoubled force, and
he desisted from his intention. He then began to turn the pages of
Vignola and dedicated himself to the study of architecture under
intelligent masters.
The Carmelites entrusted to him the work of the church of Celaya and
the good taste and elegance of proportion, united with solidity, caused
its fame to be spread through the Republic and the monks were well
pleased. During the construction of this temple, some ill-disposed
persons tried to instigate the monks to deprive him of the direction of
the work; among these were the architects Zápari, García, Ortiz, and
Paz; but, to the constancy and persistency of these friars, we owe the
conclusion of a work, which does honor to the Republic.
Tres Guerras has left many notable works in many cities of the interior
of the Republic, such as the Theatre at San Luis Potosí, the Bridge at
Celaya, and others, and in them all are noticed a perfect taste and
observance of the rules of art.
He was Sindico, Regidor, and Alcalde of Celaya and was nominated a
member of the provincial deputation of Guanajuato, when the Spanish
Constitution was re-established in 1820. He died of cholera the third of
August, 1833. Tres Guerras was not only an artist and a painter, but
also a poet. His aptitude was great for all and he revealed genius in
whatever he undertook. His love of national liberty was such that his
demonstrations of delight on the consummation of independence were
deemed delirious.... In closing, we will narrate an anecdote relative to
the death of Tres Guerras:
The terrible epidemic of cholera was making frightful ravages in our
land. In the presence of the peril, the celebrated architect arranged
all his affairs and, on August 2, sallied precipitately from his house
to seek a confessor. A friend met him in the street and said:
“Where are you going in such haste, my friend?”
“Well asked”--calmly answered Tres Guerras--“Death pursues poor mortals
with dreadful fury! As for me, but little time remains for me in this
world.”
“But!” replied the friend, “you are still robust, healthy, and well.
Tell me--where did you get such an idea?”
“My friend, I have no time to talk with you. Adieu.”
Tres Guerras departed, leaving the inquirer with the question on his
lips. The following day, the octogenarian artist died. Fortunately his
works survive and they perpetuate his memory.
COLONEL GREGORIO MÉNDEZ.
Born in Comalcalco and left an orphan at sixteen years of age, he
succeeded, by activity and honorable dealing, in gaining a capital, if
not large, at all events sufficient to render him comfortable. In 1859
he founded, at his own expense, a night school and, in the following
year, another of music. Thus, doing good and devoted to his business,
he lived beloved in his village, without dreams of political ambition or
military fame, when General Arévalo took possession of San Juan Bautista
and unfurled the banner of the Intervention. The Governor, Victorio
Dueñas, offered no resistance and on the thirtieth of June, 1863, was
routed. The first step of the Conqueror, Arévalo, was to condemn to
exile those citizens who were reputed liberals, among them Gregorio
Méndez; but he, in place of bowing to the orders of the usurper,
organized a revolutionary movement, which broke out at Comalcalco, on
October 8th. In Jalpa, Méndez seized some muskets; at the same time
another patriot, Andres Sánchez Magallanes, rose in arms in Cárdenas.
The republican revolution thus initiated, the commandant, Vidaña, was
designated to act as Chief of Brigade, and Colonel Pedro Méndez as
Governor; but, as the latter was captured at the capital and Vidaña was
wounded, the military leadership fell upon the subject of our study,
with no arrangement made for the civil government.
Thus the war of the Restoration began in Tabasco. In a few days the
forces of Méndez joined those of Sánchez Magallanes, and the two leaders
undertook the campaign with ardor, seconded by a population, unsurpassed
in patriotic spirit; most brilliant deeds of war followed one another
from then on until the final triumph of the Republic; examples of valor
and abnegation were multiplied; patriotism inspired the noblest
actions, forever placing the name of the State of Tabasco in the
foremost line.
To follow Colonel Méndez in each and all of the events which took place
in that memorable epoch; to relate his personal deeds and those of his
brave companions, would be to transfer here the extended and detailed
report rendered by him to the Minister of War, the seventeenth of
October, 1867--report which is a veritable history of the republican
Restoration in Tabasco, which had a happy issue, the twenty-seventh of
February, 1864, with the capture of San Juan Bautista....
This was not, indeed, the full extent of the fatigues of those patriots,
since they maintained themselves in arms and fortified their towns to
prevent fresh assaults, since in all parts--Vera Cruz, Campeche,
Yucatan, Chiapas--combats were still taking place, and Colonel Méndez
did not limit himself to securing the re-establishment of the republican
regime in Tabasco, but placed the resources under his control at the
service of the neighboring States and, in general, at that of the cause
defended by him with such admirable vigor.
And, it must not be thought that the work of Colonel Méndez, in those
difficult circumstances, was confined to fulfilling his duties as
military chief. Far from it; all the branches of civil administration
were carefully arranged, thanks to the fact that he was ever warmly
seconded in his noble efforts by all classes of the community, who
never refused their adhesion or their resources--because he was not only
respected for his patriotism, but admired for the stainless honor, which
characterized him. If he numbered among his soldiery, those capable of
using arms, and among them many who afterward figured in loftier posts
than he himself, he also numbered in his civil helpers the most
intelligent Tabasqueños, among them Manuel Sánchez Mármol, who
contributed (equally with any) to the Restoration, by his intelligence
and wisdom, discharging the secretaryship of the government of Méndez
and other arduous duties, with the ardor natural to youth and with the
heartfelt affection which he felt for the valiant leader, in whom he saw
his democratic ideals embodied. From the lips of Colonel Méndez himself
we have repeatedly heard, that to Señor Sánchez Mármol he owed, in that
trying epoch, services he could never forget and which influenced, in a
decisive way, in the triumph of the Republican cause, and in the public
administration. ‘If, of these services,’ Colonel Méndez has said to us,
‘full mention is not made in my report to the Minister of War in 1867,
it is because this report was edited by Señor Sánchez Mármol, and he did
not care to make his own panegyric, although the document was not to
bear his name.’
On the sixth of June, 1867, when, as he himself says in the
before-mentioned report, order and public repose were solidly
re-established he had the satisfaction of resigning the government into
the hands of Felipe J. Serra, named as his successor by the General
Headquarters of the Army of the East.
JULIO GUERRERO.
[Illustration]
Julio Guerrero was born on April 18, 1862, a day notable in Mexican
history, in the City of Mexico. His parents were José María Guerrero and
Luisa Groso, both natives of Durango. His father, a lawyer of eminence,
was for fifteen years a Judge of the Supreme Court; a pronounced Liberal
in politics, he was a friend and trusted adviser of Benito Juarez. The
young Julio was sent to Rhodes’s English Boarding School, then to the
_Escuela Preparatoria_ (National Preparatory School). He, later, studied
in the _Escuela de Jurisprudencia_, receiving his title of Licenciado by
acclamation, on October 4, 1889. In that same year, he was one of the
founders of the _Revista de Jurisprudencia y Legislacion_ (Review of
Jurisprudence and Legislation), upon which he is still a collaborator
and to which he has contributed many articles. His most important
literary work is _El Genesis del Crimen en Mexico_ (The Genesis of crime
in Mexico). The title of the book scarcely accords with its content. It
is really an analysis of the Mexican society and character. Rarely does
any student see, so clearly as does Guerrero, the actual condition of
his own society; still more rarely does one so clearly state it. In some
of his conclusions and views Guerrero differs profoundly from us, but we
are forced to admire his sincerity and earnestness. His book met a
notable reception. Under the presidency of Porfirio Parra, a group of
the leading members of the scientific societies of Mexico, devoted ten
consecutive meetings to its consideration and discussion, the author
himself being present. During the recent political agitation by the
partisans of Limantour and Reyes, Guerrero established and edited a
monthly journal, _La Republica_. It was ardently liberal and democratic
in spirit and dealt vigorously with live questions. It was suppressed by
the government, after fourteen issues. Guerrero has not abandoned his
propaganda and will shortly establish another journal for the
propagation of his ideas. He has much matter ready for printing. Of
this, undoubtedly the most important is his _Reformas projectadas_
(Proposed reforms), in which the question of the Presidential succession
is discussed. Guerrero is a good thinker, intense in his convictions,
vigorous in their expression. Our selections are from the _Genesis del
crimen_. Guerrero’s style is not always beyond reproach and his
punctuation is absolutely his own. In translation, we have followed both
with care.
THE MEXICAN ATMOSPHERE.
As a psychical phenomenon, natural to so pure an atmosphere, there have
developed in Mexico those faculties, which require perfect eyesight.
Mexican photographs have attracted notice in New York, and Mora
conducts, in competition with the best photographers of that metropolis,
a profitable business, being quite in vogue with the American
aristocracy. The photographic views of the central plateau are
distinguished by the sharpness of their outlines, shadows and details
and are exported to Europe and the United States, constituting, in those
regions, of less clear vision, an irrefutable proof of the perfection of
our landscapes transferred to their canvases by Velasco and other
painters of scenery; when he desired to exhibit his paintings of the
Valley, in the exposition of 1889, he found opposition on the part of
Meissonier, who believed it impossible that there should be such sharp
and vivid detail and coloring in a real landscape. Proofs of a different
order, and entirely practical, of the sharpness of outline, are given by
our professional hunters, who with a miserable musket, sally from their
pueblos in the morning in search of game and invariably return with two
animals. In the battalions, good shots form seventy-five per cent of the
troop, with certainty of aim at five hundred to a thousand metres
distance. The wild Indians of Coahuila, Chihuahua, and Nuevo Leon, shoot
their arrows at a five-cent piece thrown into the air; and boys on the
streets and in the villages strike the bulls-eye with their sling-stones
at a distance only limited by their strength. In billiards and bowling,
in the suburbs, with badly rounded balls and illy-leveled tables, they
make shots as brilliant as if both balls and tables were all they should
be.
The arts of drawing have developed as rapidly as the political and
economical conditions permitted; and in all America, Mexico has been the
only country which has produced a school, so numerous, distinguished,
and original have been her painters. Their works have almost been
exhausted, by exportation to Europe as paintings of Spanish artists of
the great Seventeenth Century, but students still come, from the
republics to the south, sent to here study the masterpieces which we
still retain, since the number of the national painters, of whom some
work of merit remains, rises to one hundred and sixty-one. The art they
practised was catholic and aristocratic, religious subjects and
portraits; consequently it decayed with the colonial regime and fell
with the decline of power of the clergy; but, in the lack of demand for
such art, the national æsthetic spirit took refuge in popular modeling
in clay, rags, or wax, and produced in the figurines of Guadalajara and
Puebla an artistic school, only inferior in product and spontaneity to
that of Tanagra in ancient Greece.
In the feather-mosaics of Michoacan, in its lacquer rivaling those of
China; in the carving on the walking-sticks of Apizaco, atavic
manifestation of the ancient Mexican wood-carving which found beautiful
expression in the choir-stalls and benches of the churches; in the
floral decorations of the Indians of Mixcoac and Coyoacan; in the
sculptures of the façades of houses--which are at times caryatids
worked, without a single false blow from the chisel, after the blocks
have been set in the wall; in the gold and silver filagree, and even in
the mural paintings of the pulquerias or in the realistic illustrations
of the newspapers, there is revealed the artistic talent, though
frequently without technique, of a nation, living in a medium propitious
to vision; and in which the line, the shadow, and the tints, are seen
without blur or dimmed by haze, since there are, on the average, one
hundred and five absolutely clear days in the year and among clouded
days, those with mists are rare; and when these _do_ occur they last but
an hour or two in wintry mornings.
GOVERNMENTAL DIFFICULTIES.
This social phenomenon was aggravated by the distribution of _villas_
within the territory of each of the provinces, later converted into
states; since in many cases it happened that the _villas_ were so much
the nearer to their respective capitals, as these were nearer to the
capital of the republic; and _vice-versa_, the _villas_ were distant
from their capitals in proportion as these were distant from the
national centre; both consequences of the political division established
by Galvez; since, as he based it upon the unequal distribution of
population, the more remote provinces must have a more extended
territory and more widely separated settlements; thus, the density of
population decreased, from the centre outward, in every direction. And
as the social development in a province, converted later into an
autonomous state, depended on the frequency and importance of the
relations between the capitals and their respective districts; it
resulted that the culture influence of the capital, weakened by its
remoteness from a state, was still further weakened in the _villas_, by
the great distances which separated them from their governmental
centres. And this phenomenon was repeated in a third degree, in the
interior of each political subdivision, in the operation of social and
political influence of any _villa_ upon the lesser settlements
subordinated to it.
Ah well, as all the cities of the independent colony were at different
distances from the capital, they were at different stages of national
development; consequently all had different and often conflicting
interests, necessities and aspirations. The political program,
philosophical ideas, literature, ideals and models of art, social
usages, moral principles, interpretations of law, cut of dress, and even
the vocabulary and phrases of polite society, which--as useless, ugly,
harmful, absurd, or disagreeable--had been banished from the capital
were found in the provincial cities; and those, which were there
proscribed, had taken refuge in the _villas_ and secondary towns. In
matter of government the same thing was repeated and those acts by which
it displays itself--military equipment, judicial decision, tax levying,
seizure of contraband, pursuit of bandits and savages, organization of
authority, conspiracies, masonry, political intrigues,--in fact, every
political phenomenon which, depended upon or originated in the capital,
was repeated in the states, with an imperfectness, so much the greater
as the distance separating them from it was greater; and, as the
conduct of government depended upon this phenomenon, it at last resulted
that the co-ordination and harmony between the states and the centre
depended on the time necessary for the communication of official orders.
Accord between those who constituted the governing classes of all the
cities, villas, and subordinate populations, was, consequently, not only
difficult, but was often impossible, and, sometimes, useless. Thus, the
country was geographically constructed and populated for an inevitable
anarchy; an area within which every union of states, provinces, cities,
religions, races, or political parties, had to be theoretical and
unstable.
The most important corroboration of this law was the separation of
Texas, political phenomenon, which, thanks to it, has an explanation
actually mathematical. In fact, the settlers, who recognized San Antonio
as their centre, did not amount to forty thousand inhabitants scattered
over an area larger than that of the French Republic, and depended
politically upon the State of Coahuila, of which the capital is
Saltillo. The distance which separated, by the cart-roads of that time,
these two points, was eight hundred and sixty-eight kilometres, which
they traversed in sixteen days in the dry season and in thirty-two days
in the period of rains, and the distance from Mexico to Saltillo was
nine hundred and forty-seven kilometres--or say, twenty days in the dry
and forty days in the wet season. If instead of considering the local
capitals, we consider the frontiers of the provinces, distances double
and difficulties increase.
ATAVISMS.
This phenomenon, moreover, is but the anthropological expression of a
more general biological law, in virtue of which human races, in order to
adapt themselves to the medium in which they are developed, assume a
uniform physical type and character, which persists, or repeats itself
anatomically and psychically through the ages, in spite of the external
forms of their civilization; in the same way as do other animals, and
plants. Thus, for example, since the days of Trajan the bullocks of the
Danube have had enormous and diverging horns; in China the cattle are
hump-backed, despite cross-breeding with other strains; and, although
the first offspring from crossing may be like the foreign parent, in the
fifth or sixth generation there appears in the _creole_ calf the hump of
the original and native form. Among the ancient _castas_ of the
vice-reinal society the _negro_ was seen to reappear in families of
white, or even of red parentage, provided there had been blacks in the
ancestry. In the waters of the Nile, the lotus yet floats its blue
corolla, which the architects of Memphis copied in the capitals of their
temples; and the Fellah of Pharaonic days reappears in families crossed
with the Macedonians of the Ptolemies; and, in the first centuries of
the Arab domination, in spite of the torrents of foreign blood
introduced by polygamy. Even today the type reasserts itself in the
native regiments of the English army at Cairo--bronzed, titanic,
full-chested, a living model, which is copied in the colossi of Isamboul
and which is the ethnic brother type of the Rameses and Amenhotep.
In the central tableland of Mexico, arid, hot, and luminous, where the
atmosphere keeps the nerves at high tension; where thoughts are clouded
by the abuse of tobacco, of alcohol and of coffee; by the irritation of
an eternal and fruitless battle for life; and, until lately, by the
frightful impossibility, almost age-long, of forming a plexus of social
solidarity; character, in the greater part of society has degenerated
and the ferocious tendencies of the Aztecs have reappeared. After ten
generations, there has returned, to beat within the breasts of some of
our compatriots, the barbaric soul of the worshipers of Huitzilopochtl,
of those of _the sacred springtimes_ who went, to the lugubrious sounds
of the _teponastl_ to make razzias of prisoners in Tlaxcala and
Huejotzinco, to open their breasts with obsidian knives, to tear out the
heart and eat it in the holocaust of their gods. Three centuries of
masses and of barracks have been too little for the complete evolution
of character among the people; and if, on the Silesian plain, the
Sarmatian of Attila yet appears, so too in our political struggle there
has re-appeared, with the indomitable warrior of Ahuitzotl, the
sanguinary priest of Huitzilopochtl.
There is, in fact, nothing in our independent history, more lugubrious;
even the most illustrious leaders have stained their glory by the
shedding, needlessly, of blood. The burning of villages and executions
_en masse_ present themselves at the turning of every page like the
funeral refrain of an infernal poem; and, if it be true, that there are
not lacking some superior souls--as Don Nicolás Bravo, who set at
liberty three hundred Spanish prisoners, although he knew the Spanish
leader had just shot his father--many other leaders, of that and later
epochs, systematically executed all who fell into their hands. The
system was converted into a custom and gave such an impress of barbarity
to our political struggles as is not to be found even in negro Africa;
since there war prisoners are held as captives, whose ransom is the
motive of war; slavery redeems them from death.
In Mexico, on the contrary, frequently no account is made of prisoners
but only of the killed and wounded; and the latter were shot or knifed
in spite of the severity of their wounds. Hidalgo himself not only
ordered that those taken in battle should be killed without fail; but in
Guadalajara and Valladolid commanded the seizure of suspects and caused
them to be stabbed at night, in remote places, that they might not, by
their cries, cause a disturbance. In this way six hundred innocent
persons perished; and he advised the leader, Hermosillo, to do the same
in El Rosario and Cosalá. Morelos, after the battles of Chilapa, Izucar,
Oaxaca, etc., shot all his prisoners without mercy; and Osorio did the
same in the valley of Mexico, García in Bajio, and all the other
insurgent leaders, though usually in the way of reprisal.
In the first insurrection, military ferocity developed to a degree only
seen in Asiatic and African wars, without the least regard for humanity
and with systematic neglect of the rights of nations. The prisoners
surrendered with Sarda in Soto la Marina, for example, were taken to San
Juan de Ulúa, on foot, in pairs, shackled together, and in the fortress,
were entombed in humid, dark, pestilential, dungeons, hot from the
tropical sun of the coast lands. This constant corporal subjection, led
to mutual hatreds among the unhappy beings, since the natural
necessities of the two members of a couple were rarely simultaneous; and
in order to satisfy thirst or any other need it was necessary to beg
permission of one’s companion; which led to constant bickerings between
them and occasioned sport for the jailors. Orrantia personally struck
General Mina, when he was taken prisoner, with the flat of his sword. To
hasten the surrender of the Fort of Sombrero, the same leader left one
hundred corpses, of those who had fallen in the fruitless assaults,
unburied, with the object of causing pestilence. The infirm and wounded
of Los Remedios were burned in the building which served them as
hospital, and those who attempted to escape were driven back at the
point of the bayonet. Liñan forced two hundred prisoners to demolish the
embankments of the fortress of their own party; and then tied them to
tree trunks in the forest that they might be shot for target practice.
Ordoñez in Jilotepec shot one hundred and twenty-three prisoners,
including wounded and children, by thirties, at the edge of a ditch, in
the Cerro del Calvario; first causing the wounded to be carried thither
on the shoulders of the uninjured.
UNCERTAINTY AND GAMING.
This atmosphere, pure and luminous, full of slumberous breezes in the
shade and of debilitating heat in the sunshine, capricious and
treacherous, not only has an influence upon the physiology, pathology,
and life of the Mexicans, but it gives to much of their labor an
unstable character. In fact, as permanent rivers are few in those great
plains, and as those which exist are due to rain, the sowings of the
rainy season, which are the more important, and their fruition, where
there are no rivers, demand rains. But since, on the other hand,
deforestation, carried on since the vice-reinal days, has been
destructive, not only are lacking forests and groups of trees, which,
as thermal centres uniformly distributed over the higher plateau, might
give shelter to the sowings against the chill of night and early
morning, or which, in the guise of fences of foliage, might intercept
the cold blasts of northers; but also, through their lack, rains have
become rare and irregular, there being regions where they have failed
for six, seven, and eight consecutive years; as happened in the
Mezquital of the state of Hidalgo, the Llano district of Chihuahua, and
the north of the state of Nuevo Leon in the years 1887 to 1895. In 1892
and 1893 the drought was general and desolated a great part of the
Central Plateau.
When the season of rains arrives, the fields are transformed in a single
week, and where was a barren and arid horizon, there extends itself a
mantle of tender verdure with corn-fields and springing wheat, which
from day to day develop, open their spikes to the sun, and seem to cast
back to it its last rays, as golden oceans, ruffled by the evening
breeze. The laborers busy themselves in guarding them; but an
unseasonable hailstorm destroys them, or a blast, sudden and nocturnal,
from the north freezes them in the very months of August and September;
that is to say, when surrounded by summer haze, or under a cloud
sprinkled with twinkling stars, the laborers believe their crops secure
and slumber, lulled by the most pleasing anticipations. When they wake
the corn is lost; in twenty-four hours they pass from wealth to misery;
the herd perishes; field labor stops; the laborers go forth to rob on
the highways, to swell the ranks of the insurgents, or to beg on the
street, according to the character of the government. Before the days of
the railroads, droughts were the cause of local insurrections, which
today are impossible, because grain may be transported from one district
to another--or even to the whole country from a foreign land, as
happened in 1894, when $30,000,000 worth of American maize was imported.
However, the evil is not easily remediable, and a general drought, or a
series of local dry seasons, might, as Búlnes indicates, mortally wound
our nascent nationality. Agriculture then, thanks to the droughts of the
fields on the one hand, but to the abrupt atmospheric changes on the
other, escapes calculation and prevision; and there are converted into
an enterprise as insecure as mining, labors which have ever constituted
the principal honest means of livelihood for Mexicans.
* * * * *
In fine, and ever due, wholly or in part, to the atmosphere, the Mexican
of the Central Plateau--and so much the less as the altitude of the
region where he lives is greater--has never been able to count upon the
future, either for his life, or for his health, or for his fields, or
for his mines, or for his daily bread; and the apparent lack of
uniformity in the phenomena of nature, experienced through generations,
has developed in him finally a standard of judgment, composed of simple
coexistences, which, in turn, has forged the fixed belief that all in
nature is uncertain and capricious. As a logical consequence, there has
arisen an unconquerable tendency toward the only manner in his power for
reproducing in the same unpredictable form the contingencies of fortune
and misfortune of life, so far at least as concerns wealth and
misery--that is, to gaming; and thus may be explained the extent of this
vice in Mexico.
MEXICO’S LOWEST CLASS.
A, (_a_). Unfortunate men and women who have no normal or certain means
of subsistence; they live in the streets and sleep in public
sleeping-places, crouched in the _portales_, in the shelters of
doorways, amid the rubbish of buildings in construction, in some _meson_
if they can pay for the space three or four centavos a night, or stowed
away in the house of some _compadre_ or friend. They are beggars,
gutter-snipes, paper-sellers, grease-buyers, rag-pickers, scrub-women,
etc. With difficulty they earned twenty or thirty centavos daily; now
they may receive more, but the general rise in prices leaves them in the
same condition of misery. They are covered with rags, they scratch
themselves constantly, in their tangled hair they carry the dust and
mud of every quarter of the city. They never bathe themselves save when
the rain drenches them, and their bare feet are cracked and calloused,
and assume the color of the ground. In general, they do not attain to an
old age, but to a precocious decrepitude, worn out by syphilis, misery,
and drink.
The men and women of this class have completely lost modesty; their
language is that of the drinking-house; they live in sexual promiscuity,
get drunk daily, frequent the lowest _pulquerias_ of the meanest
quarters; they quarrel and are the chief causes of disorders; they form
the ancient class of Mexican _leperos_; from their bosom the ranks of
petty thieves and pickpockets are recruited, and they are the
industrious plotters of important crimes. They are insensible to moral
suffering, and physical suffering pains them but little, and pleasures
give them little joy. Venereal disease and abortion render the women of
the group refractory to motherhood; paternity is impossible on account
of the promiscuity in which they live; these two natural springs of
altruism destroyed, they are indifferent to humane sentiments and
egoistic in the animal fashion.
Everywhere they may be seen, the repulsive feature of our streets. In
speaking they reveal a dwarfed intelligence, as sadly ruined by their
life as is their body. Their ideas are rudimentary notions derived from
the common talk of the streets, comments on public events--the escape
of one criminal, the sentence of another, the deportation of their
companions, the capture of some “crook.” They are godless, with feeble
superstition regarding the saints depicted on their scapulars or the
medal of the rosary, which they wear beneath their filthy shirt. Their
number is enormous; they constitute the dregs of the laboring classes,
and their presence betrays the vortices of vice, where the outcasts of
civilization are dragged down.
ALEJANDRO VILLASEÑOR Y VILLASEÑOR.
[Illustration]
This well-known journalist was born in Mexico, July 15, 1864. His
education was gained in the _Colegio de la Sociedad Católica_ (School of
the Catholic Society), the _Escuela Nacional Preparatoria_ (the National
Preparatory School), and the _Escuela Nacional de Jurisprudencia_
(National School of Jurisprudence). He received the title of Advocate,
July 7, 1887. While still a student, in 1885 and 1886, he assisted upon
the staff of the _Boletin de la Juventud Católica_ (Catholic Youths
Bulletin). In March, 1889, he became associated with the editorial
management of _El Tiempo_ (The Time), with which he still continues. He
has also written many articles for other leading periodicals. In
October, 1895, he founded _La Tribuna_ (The Tribune), which was not a
financial success. An article in this was the cause of his imprisonment
in the famous city prison of Belem.
Señor Villaseñor y Villaseñor is a member of various learned and
literary societies and has participated, as a delegate, in several
important congresses. Among the latter is the First Catholic Congress
held in the city of Puebla, in February, 1903.
Señor Villaseñor y Villaseñor is an industrious writer. His
contributions to _El Tiempo_ alone number more than seven thousand. Of
books, he has written _Asunto Poirier_ (The Poirier Incident), _La
cuestion de Belice_ (The Belize Question), _Guillermo; memorias de un
estudiante_ (William: recollections of a student), _Estudios historicos_
(Historical Studies), _Gobernantes de México_ (Governors of Mexico),
_Los Condes de Santiago_ (The Counts of Santiago), _Reclamaciones á
México por los fondos de California_ (The California Funds Claims
Against Mexico). This last is of high importance, being an exhaustive
discussion of this international question--the first to be submitted to
The Hague tribunal for settlement. It is particularly in questions of
public policy, in history, and in biography, that our author is at his
happiest. Our selections are taken from _Estudios historicos_.
ANTÓN LIZARDO.
We have intentionally been brief in expressing our opinion regarding the
attack at Antón Lizardo and have been full in the presentation of
documentary evidence; in this manner remembering that these documents
proceed from unimpeachable sources, a clear and full realization will
result, that what took place at Antón Lizardo was not so simple a matter
as the liberal party desires to make it appear.
In instigating foreign warships to seize vessels in Mexican waters, the
government of Juarez permitted the national independence, sovereignty,
and dignity to be outraged by the soldiers, officers, and warships of
the United States; it betrayed its country, permitting an assault
against its sovereignty and humiliated the nation by invoking foreign
mercenaries to assist it and to treat Mexicans with profound contempt,
and to shed Mexican blood, since those wounded on board the Miramon were
compatriots; and those same strangers still preserve among their
trophies taken from Mexico, the flags of that vessel.
We believe that, after the publication of this study, no one will
venture to deny, as recently was done, that the Juarists took part in
the Antón Lizardo incident; that Turner’s intervention completely
thwarted the plans of Miramon, as a work written by a well-known liberal
confesses, and gave great courage to the Juarists; no one will again
venture to say that Marin was a pirate and that the commander of the
Saratoga did right; this assault was not merely a partisan measure, as
those who are ignorant of historical facts or filled with bad faith
pretend to believe, seeing in it an insignificant event without serious
consequences.
It was not at Silao or Calpulálpam that the conservative party was
defeated, but at Antón Lizardo; nor was it the soldiers of Gonzales
Ortega and Zaragoza who routed them, but the marines under orders of
Turner.
The Juarist party, beaten at all points by Miramon, Castillo, Márquez,
Negrete, Robles, Chacon, etc., at the beginning of the year 1860 held no
population of importance, and its directory was confined to the plaza of
Vera Cruz with the immediately adjacent region, and it was recognized by
the United States alone. On account of the MacLane-Ocampo Treaty, which
was then awaiting ratification by the United States Senate and with
which we shall occupy ourselves in the following pages, public opinion
had declared itself, in the most uniform manner throughout the whole
country, against the liberal doctrines, which only produced as their
bitter fruit the loss of our territory and almost that of our
independence.
In order to end at once these parricidal tendencies and to bring to a
conclusion the bloody civil war, which was destroying the nation, there
was only necessary the effort, which the conservative government was
making, to conduct the siege of Vera Cruz by land and sea. Under
circumstances so serious for the constitutionalist party, the assault by
Turner and the protection given by President Buchanan, gave new life to
this party, and a series of disasters like that at Silao or of
defections like that of the cavalry at Calpulálpam, opened to it the
gates of the capital; but did not give it the final triumph, since the
strife still continued.
And, looking a little deeper, it is seen that the events of Antón
Lizardo had graver consequences than might be imagined; they brought on
the European intervention. They emphasized the ideas expressed by
Buchanan in his message to Congress of December 4, 1859, and the
unconcealed tendencies of the democrats in the direction of a North
American intervention were no longer mere theories, but began to
translate themselves into facts. Antón Lizardo and the MacLane Treaty
made Europe and the conservative lovers of their country see that
Mexican independence was threatened and it was then that it was thought
that a radical remedy would save the imperilled nation, and certain
combinations, already forgotten, were recalled.
The triumph of the party of demagoguery and the errors which it
committed precipitated events and brought on the European intervention,
which, when studied with care as to its causes, is clearly demonstrated
to be due to the liberal party.
The name of Antón Lizardo will remain, indelible on the pages of our
history, a stain of dishonor for that party, which nothing and no one
can ever remove.
THE POLICY OF THE UNITED STATES.
The United States have adopted a special policy with reference to
Mexican affairs, a policy which may, in time, produce results unhappy
for us.
During the time of the Three Years War, the democratic party, which
brought so many misfortunes upon that country and America, was in power
in the North American Union. After restless and ambitious presidents,
like Jackson, Monroe, and Van Buren, who, if they had found their nation
more powerful, would have embroiled it in long and bloody wars of
conquest, came Polk, who brought the war with Mexico to an end and
snatched from us more than one-half our territory; in vain honorable
men, like Henry Clay, Daniel Webster, and others, opposed that
iniquitous war which has been justly condemned by notable men in our
sister nation.
Already owners of the “Far West” and of a great part of the coast of the
great ocean, rich by the discovery of gold deposits in California,
inflated with pride on account of the great extension already gained by
their country, believing themselves the absolute arbiters of the
destinies of the Americas, and viewing with disdain the old nations of
Europe, to which they owe everything, from their population to their
freedom, they seriously thought of putting into practice the theory of
“manifest destiny” and of making the starry banner float from the
Niagara and the Saint Lawrence to Panama.
The Mexican enterprise, which had resulted so favorably for them, was
the school in which were educated many of the adventurers, who afterward
gave themselves to filibustering, and the example which many others, who
through more than a decade disturbed Latin-American countries, set
before themselves for imitation. The government in Washington, which
observed this tendency with singular pleasure, while publicly
reprobating, in secret nourished and aided it.
During Polk’s administration, the government itself had given an
exhibition of the ends which it pursued, proposing to Spain to purchase
the Island of Cuba at the price of one hundred million dollars, a
proposition which that nation did not choose to entertain. This was but
the prelude to the aggressive policy which the people of the United
States adopted in their relations with other nations, even attempting to
mix themselves in European affairs.
The revolution of Hungary and the efforts of Louis Kossuth met an echo
in the United States, and matters were carried even to the point of
proposing to aid the Hungarian agitator and his partisans to liberate
that country from Austrian domination; it was necessary for Francis
Joseph’s government to assume a vigorous attitude and for the nations of
Europe to show dissatisfaction before these plans were abandoned, and
Kossuth, instead of aid, received only a refuge in the United States.
The island of Cuba was, and yet is, too valuable a prize to escape the
eyes of the rapacious Yankees; underhandedly they aided Narciso López to
organize his expedition, and it was only when everything was practically
arranged, that, for the sake of appearances, President Taylor issued a
proclamation, on the 11th of August, 1850, forbidding the fitting out of
expeditions to agitate that island and certain Mexican provinces.
Notwithstanding this proclamation, López kept on and completed his
preparations and openly sailed from New Orleans, by daylight; defeated,
after the attack of Cárdenas, he found a secure refuge for himself, his
partisans, and his rich booty, on American soil, and it was only after
his second attempt that he fell into the hands of the Spanish
authorities.
Gen. Quitman, one of the generals of the Mexican War, was accused of
having taken part in an expedition; although the fact was notorious and
the accused was arrested on February 3, 1851, the jury discharged him.
Fillmore’s administration demanded the Island of Lobos from Peru; the
annexation of the Hawaiian Archipelago was vigorously agitated; with
Mexico the voided Garay Concession was disputed and no concealment was
made of the intention to secure possession of a right of way across the
Isthmus of Tehuantepec, and as little concealment was made relative to
the desire of right of way in Nicaragua and Honduras at points where
inter-oceanic communication was believed to be easy; it was left to the
Governor of Texas, Lane, to gain possession of the Mesilla Valley and to
qualify as aggressive the conduct of General Santa Anna and of the
Governor of Chihuahua, because they protested against such an invasion
and made military preparations; Edward Everett, Secretary of State,
refused to take part in the convention to which France and Great Britain
invited the United States, to guarantee to Spain the control of the
Island of Cuba and to prevent the island from passing to the power of
any other nation; the notes of these nations relative to the convention
were insolently answered; their conquests in the present century were
enumerated, and the advantages which the acquisition of Cuba had to the
United States, it being asserted without concealment “that it was
essential for her own security.” When, at Ostende, the plenipotentiaries
of the United States, accredited to the governments of Spain, France,
and England, were treating of the purchase of the Antillean island, for
the sum of twenty million dollars, the leaders of these
plenipotentiaries, Mr. Soule, was profoundly irritated because
negotiations in the matter were not actively undertaken.
So much in regard to the direct participation taken by the American
government in these movements, tending solely to augment the territory
and the power of the Yankees on sea and land; as regards the expeditions
and agitations undertaken by private parties with the indirect support
of that government, the list is as long as it is instructive.
Apart from the attempts of Narciso López and other filibusters against
Cuba, Rousset Boulbon, although working on his own account, drew all his
supplies for the invasion of Sonora from the United States; Crab came
into that same district with the hope of conquering it and annexing it,
if he had not been opportunely routed by Gabilondo in Caborca; Zerman
had an identical purpose in reaching California; Walker proclaimed the
Republic of Lower California, placing upon the flag of that newest
nation a single star, which, if his adventure had proved successful,
would have come to be one more star in the North American flag; routed
by General Blanco, he went to Central America, where his presence gave
rise to a bloody war and innumerable disturbances.
We should never end if we were to enumerate, one by one, all the schemes
which the brains beyond the Rio Grande engender for enlarging their
territory and dismembering that of the American republics.
Mexico was compelled to spend great sums in combatting the filibusters
who appeared and in shooting or severely punishing them; Spain was
obliged to send numerous troops to Cuba and to constantly invoke the
moral support of European cabinets; an energetic response had to be
given to the proposition to buy Savannah harbor and a round denial to
the claims for the island of St. Thomas and others belonging to Denmark
and Holland; England was forced to establish long-drawn negotiations,
resulting in the Clayton-Bulwer Treaty, which in part assured the
independence of Central America; necessarily this unchecked appetite for
lands and islands exhibited by the United States caused alarm and
apprehension throughout Europe. Finally, it was necessary that the great
Secessionist War should came, through which this nation expiated a part
of its great crimes, a war which brought it to the verge of ruin, but
which taught it, in time, to check itself upon the perilous descent,
upon which Polk, Taylor, Fillmore, Pierce, and others had started
it--men who, without having the qualities of great statesmen,
contributed, by their policy and their counsels, to bring about this
great crisis to which their unbounded ambition and the cancer infecting
their institutions bore them.
It would seem that those men proceeded with the most refined malice, if
they were not blind, when we consider that they said with the greatest
calmness, as James Buchanan, in mounting to the Capitol on March 4,
1857, that the great territorial increase which the United States had
achieved since its independence was due to pacific and legal measures;
now by purchase, now voluntary--as with Texas in 1836--adding: “Our past
history prohibits the acquiring of territory in the future, unless the
acquisition is sanctioned by the laws of justice and of honor.”
This is equivalent to justifying the conduct of Jackson in Florida, that
of Fremont in California, of Austin in Texas, of Gaines in the Sabine
district, the continued spoliations of the Indian tribes in the valleys
of the Ohio and Mississippi and to the west of the Alleghanies, the
scandalous invasion of California in 1842, the no less scandalous war
against Mexico, and so many, many deeds which, to the shame of the
United States, are recorded in her history.
Thus, as in the preceding chapter, we briefly made known the situation
of Mexico in 1859, in this one we have sketched in bold outlines, the
neighboring nation, in its tendencies and aspirations, in order that our
readers may the better appreciate the bearings of the events which we
are about to narrate in the following chapters.
RAFAEL ÁNGEL DE LA PEÑA.
[Illustration]
Rafael Ángel de la Peña was born in the City of Mexico, December 23,
1837. His early education was conducted by an older brother and his
father. In 1852 he entered the _Seminario conciliar_, where he pursued
the regular studies, including laws, making a brilliant record. From
1858 on, he devoted great attention to the exact sciences, particularly
to the mathematics. For three years he taught Latin in the _Colegio de
San Juan de Letran_; in 1862, he was Professor of Logic in the _Escuela
Nacional Preparatoria_ (National Preparatory School), and was later
Professor of Spanish Grammar, and, for many years past, Professor of
Mathematics in the same institution. He is an excellent teacher, leaving
a permanent impression upon students.
The writings of Rafael Angel de la Peña are didactic, thoughtful, and
chiefly in the fields of language and philosophy. “His diction is chaste
and correct; his style careful, pure, and polished; his form elegant,
terse, and limpid.” Some of his addresses have attracted notable
attention and are in print. Many of his most important studies were
submitted to the Mexican Academy and are contained in its _Memorias_
(memoirs). Rafael Ángel de la Peña was elected to membership in the
Academy in 1875 and, since 1883, has been its Permanent Secretary. He is
a correspondent of the Royal Spanish Academy and contributed upward of
four hundred articles to the twelfth edition of its famous Dictionary.
He is a member of the _Sociedad Humboldt_, the _Liceo Hidalgo_, the
_Sociedad de Historia Natural_, and other Mexican societies, and an
honorary member of the _Sociedad Mexicana de Geografía y Estadistica_.
Outside of his important contributions to the Academy and to the
Dictionary, his most valuable work is _Gramática teórica y práctica de
la Lengua castellana_ (Theoretical and Practical Grammar of the Spanish
Language), published in 1898, which has called forth high praise from
the most competent judges in Spain and in South America.
THE MEXICAN ACADEMY.
The Mexican Academy has thought well to begin the third volume of its
memoirs with a brief summary of its literary labors and of the most
notable events which have befallen it since the year 1880.
Perhaps someone may think such a sketch needless, since--the Academy
living almost completely isolated, without holding public meetings or
participating in those promoted by other literary or scientific
societies, printing its productions very slowly, and avoiding publicity
so far as it may,--it may be assumed that no one remembers it, or, if
knowing that it exists, has an interest in how it discharges the aims
for which it was established.
But, if such considerations inclined it to preserve silence regarding
its internal life, it has nevertheless felt that it should make a report
to the Royal Spanish Academy, as to how it has endeavored to respond to
the high honor which that body extended to it, in inviting it to
participate in the formation of the last Dictionary. It believed, as
well, that it was under obligation to supply notice of its doings to its
few devoted friends, who, far from relegating it to oblivion, do not
lose sight of it, but stimulate and nourish it by the favor with which
they receive its publications.
Already, in an earlier sketch, it has been stated that the Academy has,
by preference, from the days of its establishment, dedicated itself to
the discussion of the additions and emendations which should be made to
the Dictionary of the language. It persevered in this laborious task
until the month of August, 1884, when it remitted to the Royal Academy
the nineteenth and final list of items for the Dictionary. The
definitions proposed by this Academy were twelve hundred and eighty-five
in number; of these, six hundred and fifty-two were accepted by the
Spanish Academy, some with slight modification, and six hundred and
thirty-three were not admitted, the greater part of these being our
provincialisms.
It is necessary to admit that the harvest gathered is not large; but,
though so scanty, it gave occasion to mature studies, and long
discussions, of all of which there remains no other vestige than the
brief notice recorded in the proceedings of the meetings.
It can be readily understood that, as the Dictionary invades the domains
of the sciences and of philosophy, of the arts and industries, we were
forced often to discuss topics so heterogeneous that the only points
they had in common were the initial letters of their names. Thus, from
the word _Prostesis_, we passed to study the word _Positivismo_,
considered as the name of a school of philosophy. The mere exposition of
this system and its definition occupied long and serious sessions.
Equally long and exhaustive were the discussions of the definitions of
one and another science, as that of Biology and that of Astronomy, or
those fixing the acceptations of technical scientific and philosophic
terms. Such discussions were often interrupted by dissertations and
discourses upon points of Literature, Philology, and the History of our
Literature. Some of these productions have been printed in two preceding
volumes of the Memoirs.
The Academy has also undertaken to discover and bring together materials
for forming the history of the national literature and an example of
this activity is the article entitled _Francisco Terrazas and other
poets of the Sixteenth Century_. Señor Don Francisco Pimentel, member
_de numero_ of this corporation has taken the lead in this and has,
unaided, written that history and has begun to print it.
With the publication of the last Dictionary of the language, by the
Royal Spanish Academy, the Mexican Academy considered the lexicographic
work, which had been entrusted to it, as completed; not so with that
which it had undertaken for forming a _Diccionario de Provincialismos_
(Dictionary of Provincialisms), which should contain, in addition to
those current throughout the Republic, those which have been limited to
a certain State or to a district of whatever extent and importance. In
order not to delay the publication of this Lexicon, it was decided, as
soon as items were secured under each letter of the alphabet, to give
the list at once to the press; then to make as many more, with new
alphabets, as might be necessary.
The Venezuelan Academy, Correspondent of the Royal Spanish Academy,
notified us promptly of its inauguration on the 26th and 27th of July,
1883, the Director being His Excellency, Señor General Don Antonio
Guzmán Blanco, then President of that Republic. The Mexican Academy was
delighted with such agreeable news and gave a cordial welcome to the
Venezuelan. Later that learned body proposed the establishment between
the two Academies of an exchange of national printed works and
manuscripts of value for literary merit. The Mexican Academy consented
with pleasure and later sent such parts of its _Memorias_ as were not
exhausted to that of Venezuela, and also to those of Ecuador and
Colombia.
The Spanish Academy has given ours constant tokens of esteem and
kindness, now, by accepting our additions and emendations to the
Dictionary; now, in sending its diplomas of foreign correspondents to
those individuals, whom the Mexican Academy recommended; and, again, by
naming members for newly-established seats or by filling the chairs left
vacant by the death of some Academicians.
Unhappily, there has hardly been a year which has not been mournfully
marked by the loss of one or more members of this body....
Being desirous of knowing those provincialisms of each State which
combine the conditions necessary for inclusion in the _Diccionario_,
which it is forming, the Academy has considered it necessary to name as
Academic Correspondents persons resident outside of the Capital, who are
notable for their love of the Castilian tongue and for the knowledge of
it which they possess. In this capacity, the following gentlemen belong
to it: Señor Melesio Vázquez, Archdeacon of the Church of Tulancingo,
Señor José María Oliver y Casares, residing in Campeche, and Señor
Audormaro Molina, who resides in Merida.
In truth, the Mexican Academy has been able to do but little in behalf
of our language and literature, but it can present in excuse the
complete lack of all those means without which it is impossible to
achieve the ends for which it was established.
The indispensable funds are lacking to the body and the time necessary
for long and serious studies is lacking to the members. Those who
compose it do not live entirely by literary pursuits; some give their
chief attention to their professional occupations, others to the
direction of affairs--personal or other--others, finally, to the
discharge of high offices in State or Church.
Academies are, usually, liberally subsidized by their governments; they
count upon their own sources of support, and those who compose them are
suitably remunerated. The Mexican Academy lacks everything; there only
remains to it the will to do what its scanty resources permit. Neither
the poverty in which it lives, nor the little time at its disposition of
its members and correspondents for carrying out the labors already
begun, discourages it. Constant in its purposes, it will continue its
labors, slow, it is true, but never interrupted; it will continue, by
preference, to collect materials for the _Diccionario de
Provincialismos_, and in a day, perhaps not very distant, will thus make
known how the Castilian language is spoken in Mexico.
IGNACIO MONTES DE OCA Y OBREGÓN.
[Illustration]
Ignacio Montes de Oca y Obregón was born at Guanajuato, June 26, 1840,
his father being Demetrio Montes de Oca, a well-known lawyer, and his
mother being Mara de la Luz Obregón. When at the age of twelve years he
was sent to England to study, returning to Mexico and entering the
_Seminario conciliar_ in 1856. He later went to Rome, where he received
the degree of Doctor in Theology, in 1862. In 1863, he was Presbitero
at the Basilica of San Juan de Letran in Mexico, and in 1865 became
Doctor in Laws. For a time, he served as parish priest at Ipswich,
England, but was soon appointed to a similar position in his native
city. He was Chaplain of Honor to Maximilian and Pius IX appointed him
his Secret Chancellor. Having raised Tamaulipas from a _vicariato
apostólico_ into a diocese, Pius IX appointed Señor Montes de Oca y
Obregón its first Bishop, in 1871. Without availing himself of the
permitted delay of one hundred days, the new-appointed prelate at once
took charge of his exceptionally hard field. He was indefatigable in the
discharge of his duties, making two pastoral journeys over his whole
diocese, establishing a _Seminario_ and founding a cathedral at the
episcopal city, and restoring and enlarging churches throughout his
domain. After this remarkable career in Tamaulipas, he was made Bishop
of San Luis Potosí, where he has continued to display exceptional energy
and wisdom.
Bishop Montes de Oca y Obregón writes both poetry and prose. In poetry
he has published _Poetas bucolicos Griegos_ (Greek Bucolic Poets),
_Ocios poeticos_ (Poetic Loiterings) and _Odas de Pindaro_ (Pindar’s
Odes). Of all three, editions have been printed both in Madrid and
Mexico. His translations from the Greek poets are close and beautiful.
In prose, he has published six volumes of _Obras pastorales y oraciones_
(Pastoral Works and Orations) and a volume of _Oraciones funebres_
(Funeral Orations). Señor Montes de Oca y Obregón especially shines in
oratory. Of him Portilla says: “As a sacred orator, he possesses those
endowments of spirit essential to oratory--most brilliant talent, vast
and agreeable erudition, exquisite literary taste,--and to these
spiritual endowments he joins in happy combination the physical
qualities which serve for their realization--a fine presence, a noble
bearing, a musical quality of voice--all that, in fine, which
constitutes the irresistible enchantment of eloquence. All these
qualities shine, in never-witnessed brilliancy, in his famous funeral
oration on the Literary Dead, magnificent novelty which will make an
epoch in the annals of sacred oratory in Mexico.”
Bishop Montes de Oca y Obregón is a member of the famous Arcadian
Academy of Rome, bearing in it the name Ipandro Acaico. He was a member
of Maximilian’s _Academia de Ciencias y Literatura_ (Academy of Sciences
and Literature). He is a Corresponding Member of the Mexican Academy. In
1899, he was Secretary of the Latin-American Council at Rome. In travels
in Italy, France, and the United States, during the past three years, he
has made several notable addresses.
JOAQUÍN GARCÍA ICAZBALCETA.
Great is my satisfaction at presiding over this meeting. It is more than
two years that you have not gathered in general assembly; and on seeing
three-months after three-months pass, without your coming to invite me
to your regular meeting, I had come to ask myself the question: “Do the
Conferences of San Vicente de Paul still exist in my diocese?” The
President General of your pious brotherhood has, on various occasions in
Mexico, directed to me the same question and with that zeal which
distinguished him has asked me, with tears in his eyes: “Is it possible
that charity is dead among the distinguished gentlemen of San Luis
Potosí? Is it possible that there is no one who can arouse the members
and revive the almost extinguished meetings?”
The sign of life, which you now give, coincides with the death of that
illustrious President, and it is fitting that, in addressing you, I
shall pay a tribute to the eminent _savant_, the fervent Christian, the
exemplary member of your conferences, Don Joaquín García Icazbalceta.
Others have already pronounced his eulogy as a man of letters, as a
historian, as the type of a man of wealth and of the flower of Mexican
aristocracy. It falls to me to present him to you as a model member of
the conferences and to briefly praise before you his charity and his
obedience and attachment to the Church.
His was a long life and he employed it all in distributing benefits.
Rich from his cradle, he preserved and increased his capital, without
ever extorting from the poor, without unduly taking advantage of their
labors, without ever practicing usury, that plague of our society which
seems to most tempt those who have most wealth, and which the Gospel so
clearly anathematizes. In all his vast territorial possessions, that
dissimulated slavery, so common in some parts of the country, which
chains the peasant for his whole life to one master and to one piece of
ground without hope of bettering his condition, was never known. Most
exact in his payments, he had further a box of savings, as he called it,
for each of his employees, from the humblest to the highest, which
really consisted of systematic gifts which he made them on the more
important occasions of their lives or of the lives of their wives and
children. Were they marrying? He supplied the necessary expenses without
making any charge against them. Were children born; did disease come to
afflict them; did death arrive? He generously opened his chest and
alleviated their pains and necessities.
The works of mercy which he did among his own, he also practiced with
strangers. Through long years, the conferences of Mexico found him
visiting the houses of the poor and liberally succoring them; when he
was their President, he exerted his influence inside and outside of the
Capital, maintaining the fervor of the old members, and attracting new
ones by his fine demeanor, his opportune appeals and his prudent
persistency. How important is such tact in those who occupy the high
posts in the conferences! The most ardent zeal, unless accompanied by
prudence and judgment, far from attracting, repels, and instead of
aiding, hinders good service of the poor and the prosperity of the
association.
Great as were his material works of mercy, they are eclipsed when
compared with the spiritual. It is, indeed, a meritorious work to teach
the ignorant, to correct the erring, to pardon injuries, and all this
Joaquín García Icazbalceta did in a high degree. Not only did the Lord
give him great wealth, but also the inestimable gift of wisdom. The
leisures, which his condition of comfort afforded him, were all employed
in gathering an immense store of solid doctrine and in placing this at
the service not only of the wise, but also of the humble and the
ignorant. The devotional books compiled and _printed_ by him have gained
an enormous circulation among the faithful and have greatly fomented
piety among Mexicans. _Printed_ by him, I have said, and this is true in
the full meaning of the word. Convinced that manual labor dishonors no
one, he, personally, worked at his printing, and, to his talent and
assiduity, the typographic art owes much.
All these labors, all these studies, were placed at the service of the
Church and of the public by Señor García Icazbalceta. How, except for
him, would we know how much the early missionaries did for the
civilization and the prosperity of the New World? Thanks to his
researches, books, and manuscripts, long forgotten, were reborn, and, in
circulating, decked in the typographic beauty of Señor García
Icazbalceta’s private press, and adorned with his commentaries and
notes, they dissipated many prejudices and made those holy men, the
apostles of New Spain, who were despised by the few who recalled them,
known to the world.
Among them he presents Friar Juan de Zumárraga, how beautiful, how
grand! Not without reason did the history of that life, so beautifully
written, fly through the world, and, attracting the attention of the
highest dignitaries of the Seraphic Order, to which the first Bishop of
Mexico belonged, it was translated by one of them into the Tuscan and,
in that idiom, circulated about the Vatican and throughout the whole
Italian peninsula.
Such pious undertakings could not fail to arouse the envy of the
world--and of hell. The demon, disguised as an angel of light, clothed
in a religious garb, attacked him, as envy ever attacks, with
bitterness, with acrimony, with implacable cruelty. What he had
published was malinterpreted and _what he had not written_ was thrown
into his face; his intentions were calumniated and productions foreign
to his genius were attributed to him.
The fruitful writer replied never a word, nor even attempted to defend
himself. At the suggestion of a prelate he cut out one chapter, an
entire chapter, from his most cherished work; a chapter which cost him
long years of study and diligent labors. Nor did his sacrifices end
here. On seeing that those who were most embittered against him were
ministers of that Church of which he was an obedient and submissive son
and which he desired to defend, he broke, forever, his learned pen. Ah,
beloved members of the conferences of San Vicente, how many injuries a
misguided zeal inflicts! To the unjust and uncharitable attacks of which
he was the victim, we owe it that most important works upon the Mexican
Church remained unfinished, that documents of the highest interest lie
mouldering in dust, that your learned President General dedicated the
last years of his life only to the compilation of dictionaries and to
grammatical studies, which could scare no one.
The Lord has already rewarded his ardent charity, his obedience to the
prelates of the Church, his readiness to forgive even those injuries
which most deeply wound one who is conscious of being a fervent
Catholic and a conscientious historian. Without the sufferings of
illness, without the bitterness of the final agony, sudden death, though
not unforeseen, which is accustomed to be the punishment of sinners and
the recompense of the righteous, lately snatched him away. Although a
layman, he exercised, upon the earth, an apostleship more fruitful than
that of many who are called by God to the highest destinies; and on
receiving him to his bosom, the Lord without doubt has given him that
reward, which he offered to those, who, without occupying a high place
in the Church, duly fulfil their mission, and, being the _last_ in the
hierarchic scale, come to be _first_ in heaven.
That which he could not gain in this world by his persistent efforts and
courteous appeals to men, he will gain, we trust, in the better land by
his prayer to the Almighty--the regeneration of the conferences of San
Luis Potosí. May heaven rekindle your fervor, reanimate your charity,
and infuse that zeal, as ardent as prudent, and that respect to the
ministers of the Church, which animated Don Joaquín García Icazbalceta
through his mortal life. Pray for him, and try to imitate him.
MEXICO’S PROTOMARTYR.
Today, it is fifteen months since I terminated the longest pilgrimage of
my life, arriving at the shores of that enchanted Japan, in which our
Mexican protomartyr was crucified. Terrible are, in all times, the seas
of the Far East. The cyclones, which, in the century of Vasco de Gama
and Francis Xavier, engulfed so many ships, have not lost their force;
and the most that modern science can do is to predict them by a few
hours, to indicate their probable course, and to teach mariners, if
their vessels are capable of such speed, to fly before these messengers
of death.
Just so, steaming at full speed before one of these tremendous
hurricanes, our vessel was sailing the night before we reached the
desired haven of Nagasaki. Although we were considerably in advance of
it, our velocity was not so great but that the effects of what is called
the anticyclone overtook us. The waves tossed, the wind whistled, and
while, on the one hand, I promised Felipe de Jesús, if he saved me from
peril, to honor him in an especial manner on the next centenary of his
martyrdom, on the other hand, my thoughts transported me to that galleon
of imperishable memory, which, through these same seas, bore the saint,
three hundred years ago, to the very coasts whither we were bound.
Before entering fully upon the brilliant epic, which through good
fortune, it falls to me to narrate to you this happy day, I desire to
carry you also on board of it.
Do not expect to see in it a rival of the colossal steamers which today
plow the ocean. Although a marvel for that time, it is comparatively
small and shows not a few defects in construction, which render it
unsafe in tempests. It is scarcely ninety feet in length and its highest
mast is of equal measure. In spite of criticisms already beginning to be
made among naval architects, the enormous castles of the poop and prow
rise high above the rest of the ship; and, that slope, which has begun
to be given to the hull of merchant vessels destined for the Indies, in
order that the waves in striking may lose some of their force, is
impossible here on account of the many heavy pieces of artillery which
garrison it. Its hulk is broad and the means of controlling the rudder
are crude.
It sailed from the port of Cavite, in the Philippine Islands, July 12,
1596, bound for Acapulco; and, though now it is September 8, far from
being near the Mexican coast, it is at 33 degrees of latitude, and the
hurricane is constantly driving it toward the northwest. Almost from the
start storms have troubled it and contrary winds have driven it from its
course; on this night the tempest has culminated, and the Commander,
Matéas Landecho, though an expert mariner, despairs of its salvation.
The sails have been torn to tatters, the yards float in the sea, it has
been necessary to destroy the masts, and the pumps have been worked
unceasingly, in vain. To cap all these misfortunes, a wave of
irresistible force shattered the rudder, and one of those moments has
arrived, when even the most impious of sailors, the last hope gone,
looks to God alone.
Officers, soldiers, crew, and passengers, all threw themselves upon the
deck and cried with one voice, like Peter on the Lake of Tiberias,
_Lord, save us, we perish_. Among these last were two Augustinian monks,
one Dominican, and two Franciscan. Of these, the youngest remained on
his knees, holding fast to one of the broken masts, his eyes fixed on
heaven, and absorbed in profound prayer. By the gleam of the frequent
lightnings, his manly face could be seen, upon which were visible
traces, not only of recent privations, but also of long penances, and
were observed that fineness of features, that ardent glance, that Roman
nose, that sun-darkened skin, peculiar to the Spanish race as modified
in the New World. His companion, older than himself, and named Friar
Juan de Zamora, has often spoken of the austerity of that youth, during
the five years which he had spent in Manila, in the Franciscan
community. There he took the habit, May 20, 1591; there he made his
vows, and not content with the penances prescribed by the rules, he had
given himself up to greater austerities and was accustomed to make daily
confession of his sins, before the Seraphic Family. Named _enfermero_,
he had practiced such acts of charity and abnegation with the suffering
and dying as are scarcely recorded of the most famous saints, and this
not occasionally, but through entire years.
On the other hand, during the first days of the voyage, when the sea,
yet tranquil, left opportunity for jests and idle talk, the careless
soldiers pointed at him with their fingers and told the story of the
young Franciscan, to one another, in terms but little flattering. He is
the son of Alonso de las Casas (they say), a rich Spaniard of the City
of Mexico, and he has a very pious mother, who came from Ilescas to New
Spain, where this young fellow was born. This is not the first time he
wears the seraphic habit. Formerly he was a novice in Puebla de los
Angeles; but, after a few months, he threw aside his gown and gave
himself again to the libertinage, which had distinguished him. His
parents sent him to China, for punishment, where not a few of us have
seen him living the gay life of a merchant. They say that he goes, now
to Mexico, to take sacred orders and console his pious mother. We shall
see whether he now gives proof of greater constancy.
Thus passengers and sailors of the galleon _San Felipe_, painted the
youth, Friar Felipe de las Casas, at whom, apparently absorbed in
meditation, we look from the bridge. The sea has calmed somewhat and the
thick cloud masses, separating a little, permit us to see the
constellations of the two bears, and, particularly, the polestar,
shining brighter than ever. The Franciscan has his eyes fixed in that
direction and after a half hour of silent prayer, he rises majestically
and pointing southwest of the Great Bear exclaims with prophetic voice,
“Look, look, our ship shall not perish! We shall soon arrive in safety
on the coast of Japan.”
“A miracle! a miracle!” exclaim the sailors in chorus, seeing for the
first time the prodigy, which Friar Felipe had been watching for a half
hour, and the meaning of which the Lord had made known to him by
inspiration, as in another time, to the Magi, that of the mysterious
star in the East. It is a cross, an immense cross, much larger than that
constellation which we call the Southern Cross; a cross, whose pale and
peaceful glow at first resembled that of Venus; but which afterward
appeared red, the color of blood, (such as we saw the planet Mars in
last December), surrounded by a refulgent aureole and afterward
enwrapped in a black cloud. It is a cross, but not such as that of Jesus
Christ, which we are accustomed to see. Besides the customary arms, it
has another transverse piece near the feet and a little protuberance
near the centre, all perfectly drawn against the blue of the clear sky.
Passengers and sailors rejoice at the celestial vision. A board is soon
rigged out as rudder; those sails, which the wind has not completely
destroyed are quickly repaired; the countless holes are covered up and
the prow is turned, not toward New Spain indeed, but, in the direction
indicated by Providence. Yet there lack thirty-two days of stormy
sailing, but they journey gaily in the midst of dangers, and on arriving
at the port of Tosa, on October 20, they intone hymns of thanks to the
Savior.
They journey gaily; yes, but beyond all Felipe de Jesús de las Casas, to
whom God has revealed his high destinies. He knows that martyrdom upon a
cross, such as he has seen in the sky, awaits him; martyrdom, the
supreme recompense to which we, who run the race of life, aspire, but
which the Lord grants to few; the martyrdom which Francis Xavier and his
companions in religion and apostolic labors, sought with longing, but
which God in His lofty purposes refused to them, to give it to Felipe de
Jesús and to some companions, who arrived but yesterday, who did not
seek it. _Omnes quidem currunt sed unus accipit bravium._
To relate to you the details of that glorious martyrdom, is what I
propose in this discourse, longer than usual. Do not refuse me your kind
attention. The story is so interesting and so brilliant notwithstanding
its dark passages, that the sublimity of the event will compensate for
my deficiencies. Furthermore, as the Holy Virgin has never yet refused
me her aid, she will surely assist me in this memorable centenary.
Invoke her with me, saluting her with the sweet words of the angel--_Ave
Maria_.
IGNACIO M. ALTAMIRANO.
[Illustration]
Once and again in Mexico there arises, from the mass of the Indian
population, a man who leads, not only his race, but his nation. Such a
man was the great President Juarez, who established Mexico’s present
greatness; such in art were the artist Cabrera and the sculptor
Instolinque; such in letters was Ignacio M. Altamirano.
No one who knows not the Mexican Indian village can appreciate the
heroism of the man who, born of Indian parents, in such surroundings,
attains to eminence in the nation. It is true that the Aztec mind is
keen, quick, receptive; true that the poorest Indian of that tribe
delights in things of beauty; true that the proverb and pithy saying in
their language show a philosophic perception. But after all this is
admitted the horizon of the Indian village is narrow: there are few
motives to inspiration; life is hard and monotonous. It must indeed be a
divine spark that drives an Aztec village boy to rise above his
surroundings, to gain wide outlook, to achieve notable things.
And when once started on his career, what an enormous gulf yawns
_behind_ him! How absolutely severed henceforth from his own. And what a
gulf opens _before_ him! He is absolutely alone. Poor, friendless, with
race prejudice against him, obstacles undreamed of by the ordinary man
of talent confront him. Only immense ambition, tenacious purpose,
inflexible persistence, unconquerable will, can succeed.
Ignacio M. Altamirano, pure Aztec Indian, was born at Tixtla, State of
Guerrero, December 12, 1834. The first fourteen years of his life were
the same as those of every Indian boy in Mexico; he learned the
Christian Doctrine and helped his parents in the field. Entering the
village school he excelled and was sent, at public expense, in 1849, to
Toluca to study at the _Instituto Literario_. From that time on his life
was mainly literary--devoted to learning, to instructing, and to
writing. From Toluca he went to the City of Mexico, where he entered the
_Colegio de San Juan Letran_. In 1854 he participated in the Revolution.
From that date his political writings were important. Ever a Liberal of
the Liberals, he figured in the stirring events of the War of the
Reform, and in 1861 was in Congress. When aroused he was a speaker of
power; his address against the Law of Amnesty was terrific. Partner with
Juarez in the difficulties under Maximilian, he was also partner in the
glory of the re-established Republic. From then as journalist, teacher,
encourager of public education and man of letters his life passed
usefully until 1889, when he was sent as Consul-General of the Republic
to Spain. His health failing there, he was transferred to the
corresponding appointment at Paris. He died February 13, 1893, at San
Remo. His illness was chiefly _nostalgia_, longing for that Mexico he
loved so much and served so well.
Altamirano was honored and loved by men of letters of both political
parties. Although a pronounced Liberal, he numbered friends and admirers
among the Conservatives. His honesty, independence, strength, and
marvelous gentleness bound his friends firmly to him. He loved the young
and ever encouraged those rising authors who form today the literary
body of Mexico.
We may not even enumerate his writings. He produced graceful poems,
strong novels, realistic descriptions, delicate but trenchant criticism,
strong discourses, truthful biographies. He ever urged the development
of a national, a characteristic literature, and pleaded for the
utilization of national material. Unfortunately, his writings are
scattered through periodicals difficult of access. A collection of them
is now being made. Our selections are taken from his _Revista Literaria_
(Literary Review) of 1861, from a discussion of Poetry dated 1870, and
from his well-known _Paisajes y Leyendas_ (Landscapes and Legends) of
1884.
GENIUS AND OBSTACLES.
Rigorously speaking, it can not be said that popular neglect can be a
chain which holds _genius_ in the dust of impotence.
No: the genius, powerful and lofty eagle, knows how to break with his
talons the vulgar bonds with which the pettiness of the world may
attempt to shackle thought.
Thus Homer, aged beggar, to whose eyes the sun denied its light, but
whose divine soul inspiration illuminated, was able to endow ungrateful
Greece, in return for his miserable bread, with the majesty of Olympus,
with the glory of the heroes and with the immortality of those eternal
songs which survive the decay of the agonies and the ruin of empires.
Thus, Dante, proscribed by his countrymen, has been able to cause to
spring from the depths of his hatred and his grief the omnipotent ray
which was to illuminate the conscience of his time and to be the
admiration of future ages.
Thus, that other blind man, who, as Byron says, made the name _Miltonic_
synonym of _sublime_ and who died as he had lived the sworn enemy of
tyrants, in the cell to which ingratitude consigned him, improvised for
himself a throne, and from its dominated creation saw prostrate
themselves at his feet not only his country, but the world.
Thus Cervantes, the poor cripple, disdained by persons of distinction
and persecuted by fortune created, in the midst of the agony of misery,
the sole treasure which can not be wrested from old Spain, more precious
truly than the ephemeral grandeur of kings and the imbecile pride of
nobles.
Thus lastly, Camoens, soldier also like Cervantes, and like him
unfortunate, left in his deathbed in a foreign hospital, as a great
legacy to his country, his _Lusiadas_, the most beautiful monument of
Portuguese glory.
Thus many others, dead through the hemlock of contemporary disdain, and
compensated with tardy apotheosis, have not found obstacles in poverty,
in envy and in defeat; and abandoning with thought the narrow spheres of
the world, have gone to grave their names upon the heaven of poetry.
But such is the privilege of genius and of genius only. The talents
which cannot aspire to such height, nor feel themselves endowed with
force divine, are eclipsed in the test, the same test which causes him,
who is predestined for sublimity, to shine forth more resplendent and
more grand.
And in Mexico the genius enwraps himself yet in the shades of the
invisible, or does not belong to the new generation.
Those of us who penetrate, with timidity and difficulty, into the sacred
enclosure of poetry and literature, belong to the crowd of mortals; and
scarcely may we aspire to the character of second rate workers in the
family of those who think.
Thus for us are heavy those chains which for geniuses would be but
spider webs; discouragement crushes us at times--discouragement, that
poisoned draught, whose vase of vile clay is shattered before the glance
of genius, accustomed to sip the nectar of the immortals in the myrrhine
cup of faith.
As for us, we need, not the applauses of the world, but the sympathy of
our countrymen, the word of encouragement, the hand which saves us from
the waves which threaten to submerge us in their bosom.
It is not the necessities of material life which hamper us. We may rise
superior to those or may supply them with the product of honorable
labor, though outside of literature. As little do we seek, the patronage
of the mighty. The _gilded mean_ of Horace were unbearable for us if we
have to supply in exchange for it a _Hymn to Maecenas_; the palatial
advantages of Virgil would cause us loathing if we had to purchase them
by placing the sacred lyre of the aged singer of the Gods at the feet of
Augustus.
PLEA FOR A MEXICAN SCHOOL OF WRITING.
We do not deny the great utility of studying all the literary schools of
the civilized world; we would be incapable of such nonsense, we who
adore the classical memories of Greece and of Rome, we who ponder long
over the books of Dante and Shakespeare, who admire the German school
and who should desire to be worthy to speak the language of Cervantes
and of Fray Luis de Leon. No: on the contrary, we believe these studies
indispensable: but we desire that there be created a literature
absolutely our own, such as all nations possess, nations which also
study the monuments of others, but do not take pride in servilely
imitating them.
* * * * *
Our last war has attracted to us the eyes of the civilized world. It
desires to know this singular nation, which contains so many and such
coveted riches, which could not be reduced by European forces, which
living in the midst of constant agitations has lost neither its vigor
nor its faith. It desires to know our history, our public customs, our
private lives, our virtues and our vices; and to that end it devours
whatever ignorant and prejudiced foreigners relate in Europe, disguising
their lies under the seductive dress of the legend and impressions of
travel. We run the risk of being believed such as we are painted, unless
we ourselves seize the brush and say to the world--_Thus are we in
Mexico_.
Until now those nations have seen nothing more than the very antiquated
pages of Thomas Gage or the studies of Baron Humboldt, very good,
certainly but which could only be made upon a nation still enslaved.
Further, the famous _savant_ gave more attention to his scientific
investigations than to his character portraits.
Since his day, almost all travelers have calumniated us, from Lovestern
and Madam Calderon, to the writers--male and female--of the court of
Maximilian, trading upon public curiosity, selling it their satires
against us.
There is occasion, then, to make of fine letters an arm of defense.
There is a field, there are niches, there is time, it is necessary that
there shall be the will. There are talents in our land which can compete
with those which shine in the old world.
THE PROCESSION OF THE CHRISTS.
If there is one thing characteristic in the Holy Week at Tixtla, it is
this procession of the Christs, ancient, venerated, and difficult to
abolish. It responds to a necessity of the organization of the Tixtla
Indians, strongly fetichistic, perhaps because of their priestly origin.
This propensity has caused the maintenance always in the pueblo of a
large family of indigenous sculptors who live by the fabrication of
images--poor things!--without having the least idea of drawing, nor of
color, nor of proportion, nor of sentiment. For them sculpture is still
the same rudimentary and ideographic art that existed before the
conquest. Thus with a trunk of bamboo, with the pith of a _calchual_, or
of any other soft and spongy tree, they improvise a body which resembles
that of a man, give it a coat of water-glue and plaster and paint it
afterwards in most vivid colors, literally bathing it in blood. _Á mal
cristo, mucho sangre_ (bad Christ, much blood); such is the proverb
which my artistic compatriots realize in an admirable fashion. After
they varnish the image with a coat of oil of fir, they have it blessed
by the priest and then adore it in the domestic _teocalli_, on whose
altar it is set up among the other penates of similar fabrication.
The only day on which such Christs sally forth to public view is Holy
Thursday and in reality few family festivals assume a more intimate
character than the especial festival with which each native family
celebrates the sallying forth of its Christ. _A padrino_ (godfather) is
selected who shall take it out, that is to say who shall carry it in the
procession, on a platform if it is large, in his hand if it is little.
But every Christ has an attendance which bears candles and incense.
With such a cortege, the Christs gather in the portico of the church,
awaiting the priest and the Christ who shall lead the procession, the
one which is called the _Christ of the Indians_. When these issue from
the church the procession is organized; the cross and the great
candlesticks go before and then file by slowly and in good order some
eight hundred or a thousand Christs with their retinues. Tixtla has some
eight thousand inhabitants, hence there is a Christ to about each eight
persons. This might well dismay an iconoclast.
The procession passes through the more important streets, in the midst
of the crowd gathered at the corners, the doors, windows and public
squares. What a variety of images! It should be stated that not all
represent crucifixes; there are also Christs with the cross on their
shoulders, some simply stand, others of ‘Ecce-homos of the pillar,’ but
these are few; the crucifixes are in majority. The sole respect in which
all are equal is in the rude sculptural execution. There are some in
which the chest muscles rise an inch above the ribs, others which have
the neck of the size of the legs; some are the living portrait of
_Gwinplaine_ or of _Quasimodo_; they smile lugubriously or they wink the
half closed eyes with a grimace calculated to produce epilepsy. All have
natural hair arrangement, the hair arrangement of the Indians,
disordered, blown by the wind, tangled like a mass of serpents around
the bleeding body of the Christ.
As to size they vary from the colossal _Altepecristo_,[17] which the
Indians hide in caverns, which is almost an idol of the old mythology,
to the microscopic Christ which wee Indians of nine years carry with
their thumb and forefinger, before which are burned tapers as slender as
cigarettes. All the sizes, all the colors, all the meagerness of form,
all the wounds, all the deformities, all the humped-backs, all the
dislocations, all the absurdities which can be perpetrated in sculpture,
are represented in this procession. When by the light of torches (for
this procession ends at night), this immense line of suspended, behaired
and bloody bodies is seen in movement, one might believe himself
oppressed by a frightful nightmare or imagine himself traversing some
forest of the middle ages in which a tribe of naked gypsies had been
hung.
Callot in his wild imagination never saw a procession more fantastic,
more original.
Yet this spectacle was the delight of my boyhood days!
Then the Christs withdrew with their _padrinos_ and retinues to the
houses whence they issued and there the family prepared a savory feast.
The _atole_ of cornmeal called _champol_ and the sweet and delicate
_totopos_.
Ah, General Riva Palacio, never in thy days of campaign in Michoacan,
have you had a more sumptuous banquet than that which you have enjoyed
in the land of your fathers, an evening of the Christs--and of
_champol_!
VICTORIANO AGÜEROS.
[Illustration]
Victoriano Agüeros was born September 4, 1854, in the pueblo of
Tlalchapa, in the State of Guerrero. His father was a Spaniard, his
mother a Mexican. Young Victoriano was given good opportunity for
education, being sent, at twelve years of age, to the Capital city where
he attended the _Ateneo Mexicano_. In 1870 he was qualified to teach in
primary schools. In 1877 he entered the National School of Jurisprudence
and was admitted to the practice of law December 19, 1881.
He commenced literary work when but sixteen or seventeen years of age,
signing his productions with the name “José.” Using this _nom-de-plume_
he published his _Ensayos de José_ (Essays of José) in 1877. This was
followed by _Cartas Literarias_ (Literary Letters) and _Dos Leyendas por
José_ (Two Legends by José). Shortly after he published a series of
articles--_Escritores Mexicanos Contemporaneos_ (Contemporary Mexican
Authors)--in the literary journal, _La Ilustracion Espanola y
Americana_, of Madrid. This was reprinted in book form and gave the
author deserved credit. _Confidencias y Recuerdos_ (Confidences and
Recollections) completes the list of Agüeros’s books.
Renouncing law for literature Señor Agüeros became editor of _El
Imparcial_ (The Impartial) but shortly after, on July 1, 1883, he
founded and has ever since, conducted, _El Tiempo_ (The Time), the most
conservative of the periodicals published in the Mexican capital. During
the twenty years and more that have passed since then his pen has been
well employed. His editorials are always carefully written and--though
ultra-conservative--are marked by thought and judgment. No modern
Mexican writer uses Spanish in a more accurate and graceful way. As a
literary critic he ranks high, though it is difficult for him to see
aught of good in the radical and liberal movement of the day or in those
who are its exponents.
Deploring the neglect of the national literature by Mexican readers
Señor Agüeros is attempting to arouse new interest by publishing, in
uniform style, the works of the best authors under the general title
_Biblioteca de Autores Mexicanos_ (Library of Mexican Authors). The
series has passed its fiftieth volume, is being well received, and is
serving a most useful purpose.
THE DAY OF THE DEAD.
_Las ofrendas_; (the offerings) this is the custom which gives a special
character to the Day of the Dead in my village. Those candles of whitest
wax, those human-figure shaped loaves of bread, those crowns, those
exquisite sweets which for six days have been offered for sale in the
booths in the Plaza are to be deposited upon the graves in the
cemetery--in such wise, that the rude bench covered with a cloth of the
finest cotton, assumes the appearance of a carefully prepared table,
fitted with the richest and most delicate dishes. There are placed
earthen jars of syrup, dishes of wild honey in the comb, cakes made of
young and tender corn--sweetened and spiced with cinnamon, preserves,
vessels of holy water, and the best of whatever else the mother of the
family can provide. It is the banquet which the living give to the
dead....
From three in the afternoon, at which time the bell of the
parish-church begins to strike the doubles, sadly and slowly, as the
doubles are always struck in the villages, families sally from their
houses and direct their way to the cemetery or to the church porch,
where there are also some graves. There they traverse the pathways
between these and by examining the crosses (not the names nor epitaphs,
for there are none) they recognize the place where relatives or friends
rest.... They then place the objects which they bear as the _ofrenda_,
light the candles, sprinkle the grave with some drops of holy water, and
soon after there is heard in that enclosure of the dead, the murmur of
the prayers they raise to Heaven.... Thus the afternoon passes: neither
curiosity, nor the desire to see, nor other profane pastime, distract
the attention of these simple villagers, who, absorbed in the sanctuary
of their most intimate recollections, pray and sigh with tender and deep
sadness.
When the evening shadows drive them thence, they bear the _ofrendas_ to
the interior of the houses. The lights are renewed, a sort of an altar
is improvised upon which are placed the objects which before were on the
graves, and other prayers and other mournings begin. It is not rare to
see, high in some tree in the grove, or in some solitary and retired
spot, a taper which gleams, in spite of the night breeze: it is the
offering for the _ánima sola_ (the lonely soul)--that is to say, of one
who has in the village neither a relative nor a friend who remembers it
and decorates its grave. A bit of bread and a little taper, and a prayer
repeated for it--this is what each family dedicates to the soul of that
unknown one.
Thus do the poor people of my village honor the memory of the dead.
THE STUDENT AT HOME.
The student who returns to his village is generally reputed to be a man
of learning, who knows everything. The most perplexing questions are
submitted to him, though they may be remote from the studies which he
has pursued. If the priest is preparing a Latin inscription, he consults
about it with the student; if the townspeople desire to make a petition
to the town government, the chief of the district, or the governor of
the state, they request the student to compose the document to be
presented; if it is planned to celebrate with a festival the
anniversaries of some prominent personage of the place, they invite,
first of all, the newly-returned collegian, to pronounce a discourse and
enthuse all with his words; if some person is seriously ill, they call
the student to examine the patient and hold his opinion decisive
regarding the disease. That year he has studied civil procedure and
international law in the Law School; but what of that? He has lived in
Mexico, where there are so many physicians and must know and understand
something of medicine. The judge of the lower court is about to decide a
case; ah, well, before doing so he strolls around to the house of the
collegian, and after asking him a thousand things about Mexico,
regarding politics, theaters, the promenades and driveways, etc.,
inquires his opinion concerning the matter with which he is occupied.
“You can enlighten me,” he says humbly. “Perhaps I have not sufficiently
informed myself regarding the value and force of the evidence; I fear
that I have badly interpreted such and such articles of the Code. Come,
let us walk down to the courtroom and have the good will to show what is
best.”
“But that will be useless, because I know nothing of this matter,”
replies the collegian. “This year I have been studying mathematics in
the School of Mines.”
“So much the better; thus you will have a clear head for this kind of
questions; because it is plain, had you been studying law you might now
have difficulty in co-ordinating your ideas. No excuses, no excuses;
come to my house, I have great confidence in your knowledge and sound
judgment.”
Such is the part which the student fills, in his village, during
vacations. If he yields to all the requests made of him and speaks of
matters which he does not understand, words cannot be found sufficient
for praising him. How wise! how humble and good he is! he refuses no
one. If, on the contrary, the student is timid and only desires to speak
of matters with which he is acquainted; if he refuses to decide a
law-suit, to cure a sick man, to preach a sermon, then--who so ignorant
as he, he knows nothing, he is good for nothing!
CRITICISM OF THE NEW SCHOOL OF MEXICAN WRITERS.
Well, then, in my opinion the new literary generation has no importance;
I discover no virtues in it, neither love for study, nor noble
tendencies favoring the advancement of our literature. Who can endure
this crowd of youth who write in the papers and who, in spite of their
ignorance, give themselves the airs of learned men? With what eyes can
we observe their affectations? They think they know all, but because
they have learned jokes in the low plays, history in the novels and
librettos of the opera, and gallantries in the almanacs and reviews of
fashion. They believe themselves men of letters and poets, because they
have published some article in the ---- and have, in the ---- given forth
some verses in which they speak of their _disenchantments_ and of their
_ennui_, of their _doubts_ and _hours of pain_. Although beardless
youths, they are already miserable, very miserable, their complaints and
laments for the disillusions they have suffered have no bounds.--They
speak everywhere of politics and literature; in the interludes at the
theater they render judgment on the play in an epigram, and if some
praise it they criticise it, or they celebrate its beauties when all
find it defective. And thus they are in other things; because they
believe that, in following public opinion, even though well founded,
they fall into vulgarity, and to be singular is what they most desire.
Moreover, these youth, neither by the literary education they receive,
nor by the system of studies pursued today in the schools, nor by their
tastes and inclinations, nor finally by the models which they set before
themselves for imitation in their writings, will ever succeed in giving
days of glory to our literature. Profoundly inflated by the praises of
their friends, without direction or desire to receive it, their
self-esteem nourished by the very persons who ought to reprove and
correct it, tainted with modern skepticism, rebellious, in a word, to
the authority of rules and of good models, what hopes do they offer?
What class of works are to sally from their hands? They do not study nor
accumulate new information; they are not mindful of the literary
movement of the epoch; still less do they attempt to correct their
defects by following the teaching and example of the masters in the art.
And if they do none of these things it is useless for them to write and
publish verses, since the progress of a literature has never yet
consisted in the abundance of authors and of works. Love for study and
for work, close thought, good selection of subjects and care in
expression--these are the things necessary.
Criticism, further, is completely lacking among us; criticism, so
necessary for correcting and instructing, so useful for preventing our
lapses to bad taste and for forming good taste. Who has thought of it?
Who has ventured to exercise it, here where all desire praises and where
it is customary to lavish them? For my part, I hold, that if our
literature has not progressed so much as it should, if there are
ignorant, insolent writers, inflated with vanity and pride, it has been
due not exactly to the lack of criticism but to the mutual flatteries
which all have exchanged in the papers. Today, as a French writer says,
one utters one compliment, to gain the right of demanding twenty. No one
ventures to frankly express his opinion, since friendship, the hope of
obtaining a favor, considerations of respect and other various
circumstances, deprive the critic of his freedom; and although he ought
to be severe, impartial and just, he becomes a benevolent dispenser of
unmerited eulogies, an encourager of unpardonable defects and veritable
literary heresies.
Criticism, to give efficacious results, should be severe always, above
all here in Mexico where many believe themselves endowed with the
talent of Gustave Becquer, of Figaro, of Delgas or of Theophile
Gauthier. It should eulogize with much moderation, and that to the
humble, modest and timid, because these need kindly words for their
encouragement.
PEON Y CONTRERAS AND HIS ROMANCES DRAMATICOS.
These suggestions and many others which it would be impertinence to
present in this article were suggested to me by the precious little
volume which, with the title _Romances dramaticos_, our inspired poet
José Peon y Contreras has just published; and in order to render a
tribute to justice and merit, rather than to praise one who is
sufficiently praised by his very work, I am about to say something about
it.
Fourteen pieces form the collection, and although short they are
choicest gems in which are brilliantly displayed the most exquisite and
delicate beauties. In my opinion the first is a certain originality in
the form, under which the poet encloses a veritable drama, a terrible
and sad catastrophe, a poem in which the great passions of the soul are
stirred and the tender breathing of the purest affections are felt. The
form, I say, but I do not mean precisely the meter--since it is
understood what that must be--but the unfolding of the romance, the
design of the composition, the manner employed by the author to present
and develop his thought. In these lovely ballads (for such they appear)
there are no details; the movement of the action, the rapid development
of the plot, the violence and precision with which the figures appear
upon the scene, demand few but energetic pencil strokes and do not
permit digressions nor long and minute descriptions of places and
persons; they are like those pretty miniatures whose merit consists in
the exactness, the clearness, the grace, with which the scene or picture
is reproduced in spite of the small space at the disposition of the
artist. As little are there inopportune references to times preceding
the drama which develops; nothing to distract the reader from the scenes
which the poet places in view: all is _actual_, if I may so express
myself, and only the final catastrophe is presented in which a passion
or a misfortune culminates, at the conclusion of a series of unhappy
incidents. For the rest, it is easy to divine what elements Peon y
Contreras employs in his dramatic romances; love with all its
tendernesses, jealousies with their terrible ravages, virtue with its
power and its struggles against temptation and vice, the energy of a
manly heart, the storms resulting from defiled honor, from violated
faith, from lost hope ... all that which the soul feels in its hours of
joy or despair. And what pictures he can paint with a single stroke; how
he transports us to those distant times of Castilian honor, of solitary
and retired castles, of somber and silent cities; what strength of
coloring there is at times in the scenes he paints and at other times
what enchanting ingenuity, what adorable simplicity, what innocence,
what grace.
MANUEL GUSTAVO ANTONIO REVILLA
[Illustration]
Manuel Gustavo Antonio Revilla was born in the City of Mexico, February
7, 1863. His father, Domingo Revilla, was a distinguished author and
from him the son appears to have inherited his studious inclinations.
Young Revilla studied law, completing his course in 1887, but the
practice of that profession had little attraction for him, and he has
devoted himself to teaching and writing. Having a strong taste for the
fine arts, he developed sound art criticism, and in 1892 was appointed
Professor of the History of Art in the National School of Fine Arts.
During the following year he wrote his _Arte en Mexico_ (Art in Mexico),
of which the Spanish art writer, Menéndez y Pelayo, said:--“I have read
with much pleasure, and I believe with much profit, _Arte en Mexico_,
learning from it new data regarding architects, sculptors, and painters,
of the times of the Viceroys, who are almost unknown in Spain. As well
from the novelty and interest of its subject, as for the good taste and
sound art criticism with which it is treated, the book deserves every
kind of praise, and will no doubt receive it, from all intelligent
readers.” After ten years of class instruction Professor Revilla was
appointed Secretary of the same school, in February, 1903. At the same
time he was appointed one of a committee of three to prepare a
systematic catalogue of the works of art belonging to the institution.
Señor Revilla is a public speaker of power and some of his addresses
have attracted notable attention. Among these may be mentioned the
Independence Day oration of September 16, 1889, and that commemorating
the forty-third anniversary of the Death of the Cadets of the Military
School of Chapultepec. He has also been a prolific writer for
periodicals. To _El Tiempo_ (The Time), he has long been an editorial
contributor, especially upon topics of public law, political economy,
and social problems. Traveling in Guatemala, he was connected for a time
with _El Bien Publico_ (The Public Weal), in which he published an
article upon the Monroe Doctrine, which attracted considerable attention
in Latin America. In his writings of every kind, Revilla shows the
greatest care in the choice of words and use of language. In 1902 he was
named a Correspondent of the Mexican Academy.
At present Señor Revilla is writing a series of critical biographies of
Mexican artists. This is an absolutely new undertaking in Mexico and the
work demands exceptional information and much research. Volumes have so
far appeared regarding the sculptors Patiño, Ixtolinque, and Guerra, the
architect Hidalga, the painter Rebull, and the musicians Paniagua and
Valle. This series is being published by Agüeros and will be extended.
Revilla has also written a biography of Francisco Gonzales Bocanegro,
author of the Mexican National Hymn.
Our selections are taken from _El Arte en Mexico_.
THE FINE ARTS IN MEXICO.
The three arts do not attain the same grade of development, nor prosper
equally, at all times. At the beginning, that is, during the sixteenth
century, their growth was slow, as was to be expected of all pertaining
to a young community, and they were sustained, thanks to masters from
the art centres of Spain. But, from the very beginning of the
seventeenth century, these are to be seen surrounded by disciples, many
born in the colony, to whom they transmit their knowledge, and, owing to
the increasing demand for works, which they receive, the production
augments and a new artistic manifestation appears, which, although
derived from the Spaniards, may be considered indigenous.
During the seventeenth century is when painting was practised with
greatest brilliancy and the schools of Mexico and Puebla were formed,
which, although decadent, were maintained in the following century.
On the contrary, this eighteenth century, is the period of greatest
lustre for architecture; during it, ancient edifices, begun long before,
were carried to completion, many others were rebuilt, and new ones were
erected, and there appears in houses, palaces, and churches, a style in
which symmetry is but laxly observed and ornamentation is profuse or
lavish.
Sculpture, long confined to imperfect wooden statues and crude
bas-reliefs in stone, acquires an actual existence only near the close
of the past century, with the famous Valencian[18], author of one of the
most famous of equestrian statues; with him also architecture assumed
correctness, simplicity and proportions in harmony with the classical
canon.
* * * * *
The fine arts in Mexico, without having arrived, in general, to the
perfection to which the Spaniards carried them, ... cannot, for that
reason, be considered unworthy of esteem and study, since in them are
found undeniable and many excellences. The defects met with in them are
not sufficient to invalidate their merits. The literary works of that
time are also open to criticism, but no one has denied the value of the
literature of the vice-royal period, during which arts and letters
attained equal prosperity. Echave, the elder, yields in nothing to
Balbuena; José Juarez and Arteaga stand forth conspicuously as Sister
Juana Inéz de la Cruz; Perusquía or Tres Guerras are comparable with
Navarette; and, as famous as is Ruíz de Alarcón in his line, is Tolsa in
his.
TRES GUERRAS AND TOLSA.
Independently, in a modest city, a creole artist, Eduardo Tres Guerras,
followed the same impulse, with result and applause. Student of the
Academy, he had been trained in painting; having attained no great
result in which, he dedicated himself to architecture, which yielded him
merited laurels for constructing--besides various beautiful private
houses--the Church of the Carmen of Celaya and the Bridge of the Laja in
the same city.
Tolsa and Tres Guerras have many points of likeness; both, professing
another art,--the one statuary, the other painting--dedicated themselves
later to construction; both cultivated the same style, that of the
Renaissance, and succeeded in imparting majesty to their buildings.
Tolsa is more severe, elegant, and grand; Tres Guerras better knows how
to express grace and is more audacious. This one sometimes lacks good
taste, the other--rather frequently becomes heavy. Withal, both are
notable architects; and, if one wins constant applause, the other gains
an enduring fame.
Although it might be thought that Tres Guerras felt Tolsa’s influence,
nothing is further from the truth, since Tres Guerras had already
constructed the Carmen and the Laja bridge, before Tolsa had reared his
edifices.
With these two artists, the cycle of vice-royal architecture ended.
Beginning rude and coarse it developed brilliant and overloaded, and
ended simple and correct, ever showing itself strong and robust as the
virile, conquering, race that produced it.
WOOD CARVING IN PUEBLA.
When these glaring offenses against art were not only condoned, but
authorized by religion, it will be appreciated how great credit is due
to a group of modest and industrious artists, who, in the City of
Puebla, about the second half of the past, and the beginning of the
present, century, without good masters nor great models for imitation,
cultivated the sculpture of images, forming their own canons. The Coras,
with all their defects, play the rôle of restorers to respect of an art,
which could not fall to a more lamentable extremity. There were three
principal--though other artists of lesser value figure in turn--José
Villegas de Cora, the master of all; Zacarias Cora, and José Villegas,
who also took the surname Cora, as an honorific title.
José Villegas de Cora, called in his time the _Maestro Grande_, from
having been the founder of the school, was the first to insist upon the
observation of the natural, from which indeed he himself took but a
general idea, leaving the arrangement of the details of the projected
work to fancy; from this proceeds the arbitrary character, to be
observed in the minutiæ of almost all of his images. At the same time he
sought naturalness in the arrangement of draperies; that for which he
was most esteemed, was the grace and beauty of the faces, particularly
those of his Virgins; which, like most of his other works, were made to
be clothed.
Zacarias Cora made show of some knowledge of anatomy, accentuating the
muscles and veins, which did not prevent his figures from frequently
lacking proper proportions and appearing to have been supplied with them
from sentiment rather than accuracy. In expression, he competed with
his master. His best work was the _San Cristóbal_ with the infant Jesus,
which is in the temple of that name in Puebla.
Unlike the preceding, most of the works of José Villegas were of full
size; in them he handled the draperies well, though at times falling
into mannerisms, as did Zacarias also, in exaggerating movements and
delicacy in them. His faces are less pleasing. His _Santa Teresa_,
larger than life, belonging to the church of that name in Puebla, offers
a good example of draperies, and presents the feature,--common to all
the works of the sculptors of this school, of a pursing of the lips,
with the purpose of making the mouth appear smaller.
Each of the three artists named had some quality in which he was
distinguished from the others; one in the attractiveness of the faces,
another in the greater attention to the natural, the other in the
regular proportions and in having preferred to make figures of life
size. After them the school decayed and died.
THE WORKS OF TOLSA.
Tolsa did not make many statues, since another art robbed him of a great
part of the time which he might have given to sculpture. The few, which
remain, suffice to show his knowledge, his talent, his brilliancy and
his power.
Besides the superb equestrian statue of Charles IV, legitimate pride of
the City of Mexico, he made the principal statues of the _tabernaculo_
of the Cathedral of Puebla, those of the clock of the Cathedral of
Mexico and some pieces in wood. Only two of his sculptures were run in
bronze, the _Charles IV_, and the _Conception_, of the _tabernaculo_,
the others which adorn this, and which represent the four great doctors
of the Latin Church, being of white stucco, imitating marble, and those
of the façade of the Cathedral of Mexico, which represent the three
virtues, being of stone. The size selected for all of these is the
colossal, which so well lends itself to the grand. And this is Tolsa,
beyond all, grand in proportions, in type conceptions, in postures, in
gestures, in dress.
The horse of the statue of the Spanish monarch, treated after the
classic, is of beautiful outline, natural movement, graceful and
animated in the extreme; as for the figure of the king, although a
little heavy, it is majestic, in movement well harmonized with that of
the noble brute, and forms with it a beautiful combination of lines.
There has been abundant reason for counting it one of the best
equestrian statues.
The remaining sculptures of Tolsa, that is, the _Doctors_, the
_Conception_, and the _Virtues_, are distinguished by the movement,
which gives them an appearance full of grace and life. All reveal
sufficient personality combined with conscientious study of the
antique. If one sought to find defects he might say that at times he is
heavy, over-emphasizes and gives a berninesque execution to his
draperies.
In wood, he has left two heads of the _Dolorosa_ and a _Conception_,
artistically colored.
BALTASAR DE ECHAVE.
We have the scantiest personal notices of Baltasar de Echave, commonly
called Echave the elder, to distinguish him from the painter of the same
name, his son, who is designated as Echave the younger; but although
these data are scanty, they are abundant in comparison with those which
are preserved of other painters (of the time), of whom we know only the
names. He was a Basque, born in Zumaya, in the Province of Guipúzcoa,
and besides being a painter was a philologist, having published a work
upon the antiquity of the language of Cantabria. He has several sons, of
whom two were painters. Torquemada states that, at the time when he was
writing his _Monarquia Indiana_ (1609), Echave finished his great
retable of the Church of Santiago Tlaltelolco; further, it is known by
the examination of his works, that already in 1601, he was painting, as
the colossal canvas of _San Cristóbal_, which bears that date, shows,
and that still in 1640, the activity of his brush had not ceased, since
in that year he executed the _Martyrdom of Santa Catarina_ for the
Dominicans of Mexico....
His fecundity did not prevent his pictures from having that completeness
and detailed study which makes them so agreeable; yet, at times he falls
into carelessness of drawing, which cannot at all be attributed to lack
of skill, but to the fact that his pictures were generally destined to
occupy high places in churches, rendering unnecessary a minute attention
to finishing, unappreciable at a great distance and in the feeble light
of the interior of churches....
Being of versatile genius Echave displayed varied characteristics;
sometimes we see him most painstaking in outlines; sometimes easy and
firm in handling the brush; now varied in types and attitudes and again
attentive to the arrangement of draperies; now skillful in the nude, of
which but few examples are found in the Mexican school; now notable as a
colorist, worthy of comparison with the Venetians. When it suits him, he
can give beauty of expression, but he does not so persistently seek it,
that it becomes a mannerism.
He neglected, yes, systematically, the figures of secondary importance,
his draperies are often hard and confused, and his halos and glories
lack luminous intensity. Without being weak, he lacks strength in his
modelling and he does not delight in strong contrasts of light and
shade--both qualities in which the Spaniards surpass. His pictures, in
general, do not profoundly move, although they produce an agreeable
impression largely because he does not highly develop expression,
although undertaking highly emotional incidents, such as the martyrdom
of certain saints, at the moment of their suffering. Thus it is not the
expression which most interests in his _San Ponciano_, _San Aproniano_,
and _San Lorenzo_, but the nude figures of the martyrs, the character in
the participants in the scene, and the fine coloring.
As an example of feminine beauty and of undeniable and palpable
Raphaelean influence, may be cited the figures of the Saints and the
Virgin, respectively, in the paintings of _Santa Cecilia_, _Santa
Isabel_, _Queen of Portugal_, the _Porciuncula_, and the _Adoration of
the Magi_.
In the latter, one figure is seen, that of the king who adores the
infant Jesus, which is admirably conceived and executed; type,
expression, attitude and drapery, are worthy of a great master. The
coloring and rich draperies of the _Santa Isabel_ and of _Santa Cecilia_
are also notable. But the best pages of Echave, and at the same time the
most mystical creations, are his _Christ praying in the Garden_, and
_Saint Francis receiving the Stigmata_; both compositions as simple as
they are beautiful; the figure of Jesus, in the first, is so peaceful
and resigned, that it has been justly compared to the celestial visions
of Overbeck; that of Saint Francis is equally imposing and majestic for
its great asceticism, for the sincerity and truth with which the
ecstasy in which the Christ of the Middle Ages is overwhelmed, is
represented.
To him belong also the _Presentation of the Virgin at the Temple_, the
_Visitation_, and a masterly _Conception_, which is in the State College
of Puebla, of vigorous execution and strong light and shade. Echave gave
life size to most of the figures on his canvases, as did--indeed--most
of the other painters of the school.
MIGUEL CABRERA.
Miguel Cabrera exaggerated the defects of Ibarra and fell into others,
because he is more incorrect in form, more neglects the study of the
natural, lacks strength in execution, and reduces coloring to the use of
five or six tints, monotonously repeated; he is weak in perspective, and
in composition never maintains himself at any great height; yet, with
all this, his vogue was great during his lifetime and his prestige has
not ceased today. The religious communities outbid each other for his
works, connoisseurs sought his canvases, the University entrusted
important commissions to his hand, Archbishop Rubio y Salinas appointed
him his court painter, and when, in 1753, a group of painters were
organizing the first Academy of Painting, they elected him perpetual
president. How can we explain the high opinion in which he was held?
The reason may be found in the bad taste then prevalent, bad taste which
in other times has even elevated a Gongora, or has caused that a Lucas
Jordán shall be compared with, and preferred to, a Claude Coello. But
there is a further reason for the popularity, which Cabrera enjoyed;
that he painted prettily, taking great pains with the faces, even when
he neglected the rest, and employing brilliant coloring, pleasing to the
crowd.
To his fame, have contributed his activity and extraordinary
productiveness, shown by the quantity he produced, but particularly by
his having painted the thirty-four great canvases of the life of San
Ignacio, and the same number of that of Santo Domingo, in the short
period of fourteen months. The fact is not, really, so surprising if one
considers on the one hand his unfinished style, and on the other that it
is in those very pictures, that his style reached its fullest
expression; these being, for that reason, the worst we have seen of that
artist. It must be added, too, that other artists worked in his studio,
who naturally assisted him in his heavier commissions. Furthermore, it
is not the quantity of the works of an artist, nor the rapidity with
which he turns them out, that gives the measure of his value, but their
quality, no matter how small their number. Otherwise, Luca, of course,
would have long since been proclaimed the greatest painter of the world,
and criticism would have relegated to oblivion such works as the _Santa
Forma_ of Claude Coello, for having been made, although marvelously
perfect, with patient slowness.
JOSÉ PEON Y CONTRERAS.
[Illustration]
José Peon y Contreras was born at Merida, Yucatan, January 12, 1843,
being son of Juan Bautista Peon and María del Pilar Contreras. Studying
medicine in his native city, he received the degree of M.D., at the age
of nineteen years. In 1863, he went to the City of Mexico and saying
nothing of his earlier course, again went through the medical
curriculum. By competition, he obtained an appointment in the _Hospital
de Jesus_; in 1867, he was Director of the _San Hipólito_ Hospital for
the Insane; for several years he was in charge of public vaccination for
the city.
Giving his leisure to letters, José Peon y Contreras soon gained high
rank as a lyric poet and a dramatist. He had already entered the field
of letters before leaving Merida. His first effort was _La Cruz del
Paredon_, a fantastic legend, printed when its author was eighteen years
of age. A volume of _Poesias_ (Poems) appeared in 1868. In Mexico, in
1871 he printed, in the paper, _El Domingo_ (Sunday) a collection of
_Romances historicos Mexicanos_ (Mexican Historical Romances), in which
he dealt with Aztec themes and actors. These have merit, but are little
known. The field of José Peon y Contreras’s greatest triumphs is the, in
Mexico, much neglected drama. In 1876 he published his _Hasta el cielo_
(Unto Heaven), a drama in prose, which was a great success. It was
rapidly followed by others, mostly in verse. On May 7, 1876, _La hija
del Rey_ (The Daughter of the King) being presented, the writers of
Mexico presented the author of the piece a gold pen and a Diploma of
Honor signed by all. Agüeros says of José Peon y Contreras that he is to
be compared with José Echegary. He is of “marvellous dramatic talent;
profound knowledge of the human heart; his descriptions are paintings;
his dialogue is natural, sound, and moral. His faults are claimed to be
similarity of argument and absence of certain dramatic resources,
showing lack of originality.”
In 1880, he published _Romances dramaticos_ (Dramatic Romances), in
which he presents fourteen brief, rapid sketches, each of them capable
of expansion into a drama. In 1881 he published _Trovas Columbinas_
(Columbian Metres), lyrical poems dealing with Columbus and his
discovery. In 1883, a volume of poems, _Ecos_ (Echoes) was published in
New York. Two novels by our author _Taide_ and _Veleidosa_, have been
well received, the latter being, perhaps, the favorite.
José Peon y Contreras at one time represented Yucatan in the lower house
of Congress; later, in 1875, he was Senator for the same State. He has
recently been a Deputy for the State of Nuevo Léon.
HASTA EL CIELO!
The scene is laid in the City of Mexico; the time is the seventeenth
century. The play is in three acts and is written in prose. The
selections are from Act III. The action takes place at Sancho’s house.
Sancho is the private secretary of the Viceroy; he is passing under an
assumed name and is seeking vengeance against the Viceroy, who does not
know his identity, for his father’s death and his mother’s dishonor.
Blanca, supposed to be the Viceroy’s ward, is in reality his daughter;
this Sancho knows and gains her love, with the intention of making her
dishonor the Viceroy’s disgrace. To escape a hated suitor, Blanca,
trusting to Sancho’s pretended love, has left her father’s house and
taken refuge with Sancho. The Viceroy, distracted seeks her. Ultimately,
the true love, which Sancho would give her, proves impossible.
SCENE IV.
Blanca: Sancho!
Sancho: Ah, Blanca--what is the matter?
B.: Nothing; nothing; how happy I am to find you here.
S.: Did you not sleep?
B.: No. I could not. Slumber fled from my eyes.
S.: Why? Are you not here secure? What do you fear? Have I not told
you----?
B.: In vain I seek repose. My agitated spirit wakes; my afflicted soul
recalls the past and trembles for the future. There are moments, when I
feel that I shall go mad!
S.: You tremble, are cold--Blanca, calm yourself.
B.: The memory of this misfortune haunts me.
S.: You still insist----!
B.: You attempt to conceal it from me, in vain.... Last night I
overheard, when Fortun announced to you the death of this--of this
marquis.
S.: Well! What of that?--Man’s days are numbered. His hour of punishment
arrives.
B.: Moreover, I can not conceal it from you, Sancho; the passing moments
seem to me eternities.--We cannot continue living thus.--It is necessary
that God should sanctify this union.
S.: Soon--very soon.
B.: This is not my house. Much as I love you, much as I have sacrificed
my dignity upon the altar of this love, I cannot be tranquil. I feel
something here, in my breast, of which I had no idea before,--and--you
see, I cannot venture to raise my eyes in your presence.--The blush,
which inflames my cheek, is the shame of guilt----
S.: You, guilty----?
B.: Just the same!--What am I, here?--When I am alone no one beholds me,
but I would even hide me from myself.--If, in snatching me from my home,
you have taken advantage of my love, do not sport with my weakness.
S.: Blanca, God reads our hearts----
B.: Yes, and because God reads them, I implore you, once for all, to end
this situation. What is past is as the image of a fearful dream.--To
have dreamed it alone had seemed to me impossible. Cruel! this is very
cruel!--Your very presence is enough to humiliate me--and I could not
live without your presence!--I would desire that looking at you my heart
should beat with joy. I wish to feel that which I have always felt at
seeing you! that which I felt before!--Why turn your face away? Why does
your stern and sombre glance uneasily conceal itself beneath your lids,
and why do you not look at me as heretofore?
S.: Blanca, you suspect----
B.: No, I do not suspect; I believe. I confess it frankly.... Love is
born and grows slowly, but it may die in a single instant!--Mine is the
guilt.
S.: Cease.--Do you not see that you are lacerating my soul?
B.: Listen! At night you slept--I watched! I shuddered, for presently I
heard your voice, as if distant, broken and tremulous--you were speaking
as if an enormous rock weighed down upon your breast----
S.: You are right--it was so----!
B.: You uttered crushing words,--words of vengeance--of dishonor--of
love!
S.: Also of love!
B.: Among those words, which issued as if drawn from the innermost
places of your heart, and which escaped from your lips like an echo--I
heard my name.--What was this, Sancho?--Tell me.
S.: A dream!--an awful nightmare! I know not whether I dreamed. I know
not whether I was awake. I saw you, Blanca, humiliated, degraded,
vile,---- ... and in this fearful struggle between my love and my
vengeance----
B.: Your vengeance!
S.: You do not know what that is! Grief wrung my soul; I felt madness in
my brain; despair sprung up in my heart as the tempest in the black
centre of the storm-cloud and a torrent of blasphemies and prayers broke
from my lips.
B.: Sancho! But you are still delirious!
S.: No, Blanca; no, my poor Blanca--Now, I am not delirious; no! but I
believe indeed, I shall go mad. There still continues, in my soul, a
frightful combat--here I feel the battle, fierce, desperate,--mortal.
Go--recover yourself.--Leave me alone!
B.: Sancho!
S.: I love you.--Go----!
(Blanca leaves, weeping.)