CORNELL UNIVERSITY LIBRARY FROM Miss Lucy Starr Cornell University Library PQ 7299.E8S79 Readings from modern Mexican auf.'jo's 3 1924 019 963 333 The original of tliis book is in tine Cornell University Library. There are no known copyright restrictions in the United States on the use of the text. http://www.archive.org/details/cu31924019963333 READINGS FROM MODERN MEXICAN AUTHORS FREDERICK STARR CHICAGO THE OPEN COTJET PUBLISHING COMPANY London: Kegan Paul, Trench, Trubner & Co., Ltd. 1904 Copyrighted, 1904 BY FREDERICK STARR Chicago THIS LITTLE BOOK IS DEDICATED TO SENOR DON VICTORIANO AGUEROS, AUTHOR OF Escritores Mexicanos Contemporaneos, EDITOR OF El TiempOj PUBLISHER OF La Biblioteca de Autores Mexicanos, FAITHFUL FRIEND, VALUED HELPER. CONTENTS. Eduardo Noriega I Antonio Garcia Cubas IS Joaquin Garcia Icazbalceta 26 Agustin Rivera 43 Alfredo Chavero 59 Julio Zarate ^^ Jose Maria Vigil 87 Primo Feliciano Velasquez 94 Juan F. Molina Solis 106 Luis Gtonzales Obregon 118 Francisco Sosa 132 Julio Guerrero 150 Alejandro Villasenor y Villasenor 168 Rafael Angel de la Pena 181 Ignacio Montes de Oca y Obregon i8g Ignacio M. Altamirano 204 Victoriano Agueros 216 Manuel Gustavo Antonio Revilla 228 Jose Peon y Contreras 243 Jose Maria Roa Barcena 259 Justo Sierra 275 Victoriano Salado Albarez 288 Ireneo Paz 301 Jose Lopez-Portillo y Rojas 313 Manuel Sanches Marmol 334 Porfirio Parra 358 Emilio Rabasa 373 Rafael Delgado 392 Federico Gamboa 405 VI PREFACE, Mexican authors write, to a notable degree, for periodical publications. Many Mexican newspa- pers 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 exist- ence. 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 Senor Agiieros 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 de- served inclusion ; I have omitted none for personal reasons. Specialists, unless they have written liter- ary works outside of their especial field of study, have been intentionally omitted. Men like Nico- las Leon, Herrera, Orvananos, Belmar, Batres, could not be left out in a history of Mexican litera- ture, but their writings do not lend themselves to translation of brief passages to represent the liter- ary spirit of the country. It has not been easy to devise a definite plan of PREFACE. Vll arrangement for my selections, but the matter is roughly grouped in the following order — Geog- raphy, History, Biography, Public Questions, Lit- erature, 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, Lopez- Portillo, Altamirano, Agiieros, Roa Barcena, Ob- regon and Chavero, were originally published in Unity. Part of the matter relative to Guerrero, has been printed in the American Journal of Soci- ology. READINGS FROM MODERN MEX- ICAN AUTHORS. EDUARDO NORIEGA. Eduardo Noriega was born In the city of Mex- ico on October 4, 1853. He came of a notable family of Liberals, his father being General Do- mingo 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 2 MODERN MEXICAN AUTHORS. bachelor's degree. Since that time he has dedi- cated 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 tnejor Diamante (The better diamond) and La hija de la caridad (The daughter of char- ity). He has translated dramatic writings and has himself written two plays. From the age of forty years he has confined his teaching and writ- ing to scientific subjects. He holds the chair of History and Geography in the Escuela de Comer- cio y Administracion (School of Commerce and Administration). He is author of a Geografia general (General geography), which has gone through two editions, of a capital Geografia 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 Geografia 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 Geografia 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. EDUARDO NORIEGA. 3 CLIMATIC ZONES OF MEXICO. The climatic contrasts occasioned by the moun- tainous 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 Cor- dillera. The section from one coast to the other, from Vera Cruz to Acapulco, for example, is the line best situated for observing well-marked cli- matic 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 dif- fering trees mingle and crowd, closely bound to- gether 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 magnifi- cent, 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. 4 MODERN MEXICAN AUTHORS, Above the two seaboard zones, one sloping toward the Gulf, the other toward the Pacific, rises the tierra templada (temperate land), at an alti- tude of from looo m. to 2000 m., but higher in the south than in the north. This region corre- sponds to the southwest of Europe, not so much in climate — for it has no winter — as in mean tem- perature, productivity and salubrity. Lastly, the central tableland, the part of the ter- ritory where the maguey is cultivated with notable profit and every class of cereals is produced, con- stitutes 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 o 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 juxtaposi- tion; 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 vol- canoes, the three superposed zones may be clearly seen, at once. The rapid communication, which today happily exists, presents to the traveler the marvelous op- EDUARDO NORIEGA. 5 portunity 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 thou- sands of kilometres. In some places these zones remain clearly dis- tinguished from one another, but this is exceptional, since commonly they crowd upon each other, min- gling one with another by Imperceptible transitions. It is common to mention some certain place as be- longing to one and the other zone, because the line of separation for both runs irregularly in moun- tainous regions. A zone of reciprocal penetration has been formed, on account of the multiple phe- nomena of temperature, of winds and of plant groupings. So, too, caiions and slopes are met with, which, by their vegetation, may be considered foci of tierra caliente, included within the fully de- veloped 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 Zinguila- can, 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 6 MODERN MEXICAN AUTHORS. is connected with that of Ajusco, which is con- nected to the southwest with that of Las Cruces, which, extending to the northwest, forms the Cor- dillera 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 impor- tance such as; in the Sierra Nevada, Popocatepetl, lovely volcano, and Ixtaccihuatl, merely a snow- cap. . . . Popocatepetl — smoking moun- tain — is the highest mountain in Mexican terri- tory 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 sur- prising. The most suitable road for the ascent is the one which goes from Amecameca to the ranch of Tla- macas, 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 o 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 fol- lows 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 EDUARDO NORIEGA. 7 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 wallcing is, naturally, very difficult. When some hundred metres have been traversed, great difficulty in breathing begins to be experi- enced, 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 ver- tigo, which the white sheet surrounding the trav- eler 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 8 MODERN MEXICAN AUTHORS. 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 esti- mated 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 EDUARDO TsrORlEGAi 9 windlass, below which an enormous beam slopes downward toward the abyss; by this beam, and lowered by a cord, the workmen who extract sul- phur descend. In the bottom of the crater are four fumaroles, whence vapors escape, which in issuing produce slight hissing sounds. Abundant deposits of sul- phur exist near these. Besides the fumaroles men- tioned, there are seven points at the borders of the crater, where gases escape, though in less abun- dance ; 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 dif- ferent natures are seen; first, below, are sheets of trachyte, very compact and rich in crystals of stri- ated 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 scoriae, of dark purple color, which indicates the presence of a considerable quan- tity of Iron oxide. These scoriae must have origi- nated 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 lO MODERN MEXICAN AUTHORS. to be seen at a metre's distance and the temperature falls to 20° and 22° below o 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 15 19 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 porphy- ritic and basaltic rocks. Conifers form dense for- ests 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 EDUARDO NORIEGA. II 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 imag- ination 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 Cacahua- milpa). . . . Dominating the eminence formed In the cordlUera 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 stalactltic for- mations 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 12 MODERN MEXICAN AUTHORS. 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 fur- rowed 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 won- derfully beautiful, because of its astonishing origi- nality; 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 ac- count of the shape of its principal concretion is no less beautiful, grand, and imposing, than the pre- ceding. Here the darkness is absolute. Beyond this third gallery there are twelve more, very imperfectly known ; they are called — the cauHflower, the shell, the candelabrum, the gothic EDUARDO NORIEGA. 1 3 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 mar- velously 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 supersti- tious 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 tradi- tion, 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 14 MODERN MEXICAN AUTHORS. twelve or fifteen metres broadens, forming a most beautiful cavern; this cavern has a series of cham- bers, of greater or lesser size, which finally com- municate 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 ani- mals penetrated far into the cave ; those who went in pursuit of them returned after two days of jour- neying 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. Be- fore 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 dur- ing the period of his pursuit, after which he re- turned 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 GARCIA CUB AS. 15 ANTONIO GARCIA CUBAS. Antonio Garcia 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 Mineria (School of Mines), and the Academia de San Carlos. His studies were repeatedly interrupted by appointments of importance and by public commissions. Thus, in 1 6 MODERN MEXICAN AUTHORS. 1853 he published a general map of the Mexican Republic. Since that date he has done much geo- graphical 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 oro- hydrographtca ( Orographlc-hydrographic map ) , still perhaps the best maps of Mexico, of their kind. In 1882, his great Atlas, geografico, estadistico, y pintoresco de la Repuhlica Mexicana (Geograph- ical, Statistical, and Picturesque Atlas of the Mex- ican Republic) was published. In addition to these and other equally important scientific works, Seiior Garcia 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 Sefior Garcia 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 nat- urally been most interested in the Sociedad Mex- icana de Geografia y Estadistica (The Mexican Society of Geography and Statistics). He has ANTONIO GARCIA CUB AS. 1 7 ever been active in movements for public advance- ment 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 miser- able hut serves as a habitation for a numerous family and in it, the inmates actually packed to- gether, 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 1 8 MODERN MEXICAN AUTHORS. thought for the being who stirs within them, oc- cupy themselves in grinding maize and making tortillas, labors which cannot but prove hurtful to the act of giving birth. While the period of Suck- ling has not passed, the child is fed with tortillas and fruits and other foods unsuited to its digestive powers, causing by such imprudence diarrhoeas 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 opin- ion 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 ANTONIO GARcfA CUBAS. 1 9 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 chil- dren, because in their new employment they im- prove their condition, by enforced cleanliness, by good food, and by the total change in their hy- gienic conditions. But this very circumstance is a serious misfortune for the race, the women im- pelled by the desire to gain better wages, abandon- ing 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 prema- turely. 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 20 MODERN MEXICAN AUTHORS. the larger part of the army — the truth of my as- sertion 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 phe- nomena, which the seasons of the year there pre- sent, 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 sharp- ly 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 Sum- mer, 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 envel- opes 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, prop- agating themselves with a constant undulatory ANTONIO GARcfA CUBAS. 21 movement, cause successive reflections and refrac- tions, in the atmosphere and clouds, scattering the light In every direction and permitting the distin- guishing 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 mo- ments in which the splendid rays of the sun, which precede the rising of the luminary, diffuse them- selves through the transparent fluid of the atmos- phere. 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, ex- tending in the form of an arch through space, rap- idly 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 22 MODERN MEXICAN AUTHORS. display the beauties of the sunrise, feebly illumi- nated 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 Popo- catepetl, 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 appar- ently 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 sub- merged 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 Cap- ital city are most charming. Chapultepec, with its many and limpid springs, its picturesque rock mass, its poetic palace and its dense grove of ancient cy- presses, from the branches of which depend masses of gray moss — the honored locks of their hoary age ; Tacubaya with its palaces, its parks, and gar- dens; 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. ANTONIO GARcfA CUBAS. 23 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 butter- flies, with gleaming and brilliant wings, display their beauties and humming-birds, those precious winged gems which, endowed with an extraordi- nary 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 con- verted swamps into lovely gardens, grow the lux- uriant poppy, the purple pink, the elegant dahlia, the perfumed violet, and the fragrant rose of Cas- tile. The canal which unites the lakes of Texcoco and Xochimilco in the days of Spring is to be seen cov- ered with canoes loaded, with flowers and vegeta- bles bound for the city markets ; and everyone, who has participated in the Lenten festivities of the Viga, will ever remember, with delight, the anima- tion that constantly reigns in that place, where the common people finds its greatest joy. It may be 24 MODERN MEXICAN AUTHORS. 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 ex- panded 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 ex- pansion of the lower layers, refraction of the light rays, — or the deviation which they suffer in pass- ing from one medium into another of differing density — takes place in a manner contrary to tliat when the atmospheric layers are normally super- posed, and the mirage* 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 * The word used is espejismo, literally, mirroring. ANTONIO GARCIA CUB AS. 25 their irregularities and details, as if reproduced in a limpid mirror of waters. The mirage is yet more interesting, more won- derful, in the Lake of Texcoco, though the phe- nomenon 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 con- tact, 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. 26 MODERN MEXICAN AUTHORS. JOAQUIN GARCfA ICAZBALCETA. No name better deserves to be first mentioned in the list of modern Mexican writers than that of Joaquin Garcia 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. JOAQUm GARCIA ICAZBALCETA. 27 The boy showed early earnestness in study and was well instructed by private tutors. He was ac- quainted with and encouraged by the great his- torian, 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 trans- lated Prescott's Conquest of Peru into Spanish and enriched it with valuable notes. To the well known Diccionario Universal de Historia y Geo- grafia (Universal Dictionary of History and Geog- raphy) he contributed the biographical sketches of many personages of the sixteenth century. In 1858 he began publishing the Coleccion de Docu- mentos para la Historia de Mexico (Collection of Documents for the History of Mexico), two vol- umes 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 vol- umes were followed by four similar volumes under the name Nueva Coleccion de Documentos para la Historia de Mexico (New Collection of Docu- ments 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 2 8 MODERN MEXICAN AUTHORS. added notes and explanations, characterized by lucidity, interest, and learning. Two important works were published in 1875 and 1877 — Mex- ico en 1554 (Mexico in 1554) and Coloquios es- pirituales y sacramentales y Poesias sagradas (Spir- itual and Sacramental Colloquies and Sacred Poems). The former was a reprint of three in- teresting 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 Icaz- balceta 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 Escri- tores 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 Bibliografia Mexicana del siglo xvi. ( Mexi- can 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 JOAQufN GARCIA ICAZBALCETA. 29 1600, with biographies of authors and various illustrations, facsimiles of ancient title pages, ex- tracts 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 Zumdrraga, Primer Obispo y Arzobispo de Mexico ( Friar Juan de Zumarraga, first bishop and archbishop of Mex- ico). It is a magnificent example of such work. Another subject of his love was Alegre, and be- sides a biography of him he wrote — 1889 — Opusculos ineditos Latinos y Castellanos de Fran- cisco Javier Alegre (The Unpublished Works, Latin and Spanish, of Francisco Javier Alegre). Icazbalceta's last great work was Diccionario de Provincialismos Mexicanos (Dictionary of Mexi- can 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 read- ing before the Mexican Academy or other organi- zations 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 30 MODERN MEXICAN AUTHORS. publica en Mexico durante el sigh xvi. (Public Instruction in Mexico during the Sixteenth Cen- tury). The other is from a paper — Los Medi- cos de Mexico en el sigh 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 JOAQufN GARCIA ICAZBALCETA. 3 1 Others and others as they met them; they under- stood, or rather they divined, the peculiar charac- ter of the population, and at once converted, in- structed, 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 them- selves 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 tem- ples 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. 32 MODERN MEXICAN AUTHORS. At first the friars found great difficulty in gather- ing 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 re- mained there during the hours set for instruction, after which they were free for their ordinary occu- pations. Divided into groups, one of the best Instructed boys taught to each group the lesson learned from the missionary. JOAQUIN GARCIA ICAZBALCETA. 33 PEDRO DE GANTE'S WORK. Although you know the fact well, gentlemen, you would not forgive me should I omit mention- ing 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 di- rected during a half century. This was con- structed, as was customary, behind the convent church, extending toward the north, and contigu- ous to the famous chapel of San Jose 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 sing- ing, 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 sculp- tured figures; with embroidered ornaments, some- times 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 34 MODERN MEXICAN AUTHORS. with workmen for the construction of the churches themselves, for he had in that school painters, sculp- tors, engravers, stonecutters, carpenters, embroid- erers, tailoi-s, shoemakers, and other trades work- ers. He attended to all and was master of all. The gigantic efforts of that immortal lay brother cause genuine admiration — who without other re- sources 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 instruc- tion and religious teaching, an academy of the fine arts, and a trades school, in fine a center of civiliza- tion. 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 in- struction and realizing that what enters by the eye engraves itself more easily upon the mind, they devised the Idea of painting the mysteries of re- ligion 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 JOAQUfN GARcfA ICAZBALCETA. 35 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 heiroglyphs 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 writ- ing, 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 pic- tures 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 be- gun — for use in teaching the Indians of that time the doctrine. ^6 MODERN MEXICAN AUTHORS. 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 en- tered by them a great number of youth, who waited with impatience the moment of commenc- ing or prosecuting their studies. So Cervantes Salazer testifies in the description which he wrote of the institution, the year following its establish- ment. Soon the literary exercises began and not- able 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 Arch- bishop 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 Sala- manca 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 meas- ure obviated the necessity of bringing such from Europe, and there were even some who there bril- liantly displayed the education which they had re- ceived in the schools of Mexico. JOAQUIN GARcfA ICAZBALCETA. 37 A LITERARY FESTIVAL. In the year 1578, on the occasion of the arrival at Mexico of a great quantity of sacred relics, pre- sented 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 be- forehand with much ceremony, announced a pro- gram of seven literary controversies. The pro- cession with the sacred relics sallied from the cathe- dral, 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 cor- ners, 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 pur- pose, the students of the different schools in turn 38 MODERN MEXICAN AUTHORS. 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 mis- sionaries found themselves face to face with a lan- guage 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 lan- guages, of all forms and structures, some polished, others barbarous, for which they had neither inter- preters, 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 JOAQUIN GARCIA ICAZBALCETA. 39 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 begin- nings; a single man at times attacked five or six of these languages without analogy, without a com- mon filiation, without known alphabet, with noth- ing that might facilitate the task. Today such in- vestigations 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 lan- guages, 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 them- selves 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 re- mained unpublished, either for lack of patronage to supply the cost of printing or because they were translations of sacred texts which it was not per- mitted to place in vulgar hands. Father Olmos is a notable example of the sad fate which befell 40 MODERN MEXICAN AUTHORS. 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 Septem- ber, the famous Dr. Francisco Hernandez, court physician of Philip II., arrived in Mexico. He was a native of Toledo and was born about 15 17 or 15 18. 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 con- sumed seven years in the discharge of his commis- sion, making continual journeys, meeting obstacles and suffering diseases which brought him to the edge of the grave. It has been generally said that JOAQUfN GARCfA ICAZBALCETA. 4 1 Philip II. supplied the expenses of this expedition with regal munificence and that it cost him 20,000 ducats ; but documents piiblished in our days, clearly show that Hernandez was given but a modest sal- ary, although we do not know exactly the amount, with no assistance whatever for his extraordinary expenses, not even for those occasioned by his fre- quent journeys. Nor was he supplied the assist- ance 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 prac- tice medicine in Mexico, ' throwing away the op- portunity 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 hos- pitals, and availing himself of his title of proto- medico, convoked the practitioners then in the city and urged them to make similar tests and to com- municate the results to him. Finally he carried to Spain, 1577, seventeen volumes of text and illus- trations, in which was the natural history; and an additional volume containing various writings upon the customs and antiquities of the Indians. Copies " 42 MODERN MEXICAN AUTHORS. 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 direc- tion, commenced a translation into Aztec. Arrived in Spain, Hernandez suffered the se- verest 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 cor- ners, 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. Her- nandez survived his return little more than nine years, since he died February 28, 1587. AGUSTIN RIVERA. 43 AGUSTIN RIVERA. Agustin Rivera was born at Lagos (Jalisco) on February 28, 1824. For a time he studied at and 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 pub- 44 MODERN MEXICAN AUTHORS. lished. 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, in- cludes ninety-four titles. Among the best known and most widely mentioned are his Compendia de la Historia antigua de Mexico (Compend of the Ancient History of Mexico), Principios criticos sobre el vireinato de la Nueva Espana (Critical Observations upon the Vice-Royalty of New Spain), and La Filosofia en Nueva Espana (Phi- losophy in New Spain). Two pamphlets, Fiaje a las Ruinas de Chicomoztoc (Journey to the Ruins of Chicomoztoc) and Fiaje a 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 un- sparing. His Principios criticos is a scathing ar- raignment of the government of New Spain under the viceroys. His Filosofia 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 Tomds in Guadalajara. These serve as the basis for a severe criticism of the philosophical thought AGUSTIN RIVERA. 4^ 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 cen- turies. He sums up his argument in eleven corol- laries. Our selections are taken from the Filosofta en Nueva Espana and from a curious dialogue re- garding 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 stu- dents, admirers, and readers, most brilliantly. In October, 1901, a proposition, that the national government should pension the faithful and fear- less 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 translat- ing Document I. from Latin into Spanish; but those who know the Latin language and philosophy 46 MODERN MEXICAN AUTHORS. will observe that in the Department of Physics in the College of Santo Tomas 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 instruc- tion and existence in this country, since the public acto, in the College of Santo Tomas, 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 Zama- cois, Ignacio Aguilar y Marocho, and other writers, open partisans of the colonial government (few indeed in this nineteenth century) to such docu- ments 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 AGUSTIN RIVERA. 47 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 preoccupa- tion, 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 writ- ers. . . . 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 an- tiquities, 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 applica- tion 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; Bar- tolome de Olmedo, Pedro de Gante, Bartolome de las Casas, Juan de Zumarraga, Toribio de Moto- linia, Bernardino de Sahagun, and the other mis- sionaries surrounded by an aureole of light which 48 MODERN MEXICAN AUTHORS. 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 Pala- fox, Fray Payo Enriquez de Rivera, the Duke of Linares, Revilla Gigedo the second, and other ex- cellent viceroys; the fecund events of 1808; the Revolution of the Independence, the first and sec- ond 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 Litera- tura y de las Ciencias en Mexico. But Philosophy in New Spain is a subject that has not been speci- fically treated by ony one. This work has, per- haps, 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. AGUSTIN RIVERA. 49 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, Sefior Zamacols 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 mon- archs of CastlUe considered those born In the American colonies as Spaniards, and made no dis- tinction between them and Peninsulars; all had equal rights and, therefore, In making an appoint- ment, 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 pen- strokes, but they will be sufficient for any intelli- gent man. Padre Mariana, high authority in his- tory, states this maxim : History takes no sides until shown a clean record. Senor 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 Penin- sula and three were Creoles — Luiz de Velasco, native of the City of Mexico, Juan de Acuna, native of Lima, and Revilla Gigedo the second, native of Havana; in consequence, only one was 50 MODERN MEXICAN AUTHORS. Mexican. There were thirty-three Bishops of Guadalajara and of these twenty-six were Span- ish Peninsulars and seven were Creoles; these were . . . ; that is to say, only five were Mexicans. I confess my ignorance ; I do not understand Sefior Zamacois's arithmetic — the equahty 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, Seiior Zamacois. There were thirty-one Archbishops of Mexico, of whom twenty-nine were Spanish Peninsulars and two Cre- oles; these were . . . ; that is to say, only one was Mexican. Twenty-nine Spaniards and two Creoles are equal. Adolf o 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 defend- ers of the vice-regal government. AGUSTIN RIVERA. 5! 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 use- ful 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 sub- lime. A film to which the intestines of a frog are attached ; what thing meaner ? The science of the- ology ; what thing so grand ? To soil one's hands with the blood and secretions of an animal ; occupa- tion, 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, discov- jerlng the circulation of the blood, rendered an immense service to mankind. Domingo Soto was a Catholic, and one of the Fathers of the Council 52 MODERN MEXICAN AUTHORS. 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 pre- dicament. 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 philo- sophical 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 hav- ing 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. AGUSTIN RIVERA. 53 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." 1 1 . The union between Spaniards and Mexicans is very useful; but history cannot be silenced by the claim that it is a social union. DIALOGUE RETWEEN AGUSTIN RIVERA AND FLO- RENCITO 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, Senor 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 54 MODERN MEXICAN AUTHORS. 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"* " 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." * There is a hard drive here upon the old teacher, which will be understood only by those who have seen him. AGUSTIN RIVERA. 55 " 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 philoso- phy 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 I 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, ele- gantly bound, which was sent to the Paris Exposi- tion." "But man — Florencito," (rising, pacing, and puiEng 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 the- S6 MODERN MEXICAN AUTHORS. ories. This book upon the richness and beauty of the Aztec language, with all its elegant binding, is but a pretty theory. The practical! The practi- cal! Let me give you my opinion in the matter briefly, and in four propositions : First, the eccle- siastical 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 Mat- lazinca; 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 AGUSTIN RIVERA. 57 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 lan- guages." " 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.' * 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 learn- ing 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 colo- nial epoch ! and, unhappy Mexican nation, still, in 1 89 1, 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 educa- tion which we received from the Spanish, are much • The second is, it will be costly. 58 MODERN MEXICAN AUTHORS. given to scholastic disputes, to beautiful discourses, pretty poems, enthusiastic toasts, quixotic proclama- tions, projects, laws, decrees, programs of scien- tific 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 be- cause they found them highly philosophical and adapted to express even metaphysical ideas." " That is true," I replied, " but the Padre Sa- hagun and the other missionary philologists of the sixteenth century dedicated themselves to the study of the Indian languages of the country, not to de- tain 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. 59 ALFREDO CHAVERO. Few men are better known throughout Mexico today than Alfredo Chavero. As a lawyer, a politi- cian, a man of affairs and a writer, he has been emi- nently successful. He was born in the City of Mexico, February i, 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 6o MODERN MEXICAN AUTHORS. in letters. During the administration of Lerdo de Tejada he was in Europe, but when that govern- ment fell, he returned to Mexico and was ap- pointed 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. Seiior Chavero is, probably, the foremost living Mexican authority upon the antiquities of that country. He is also an eminent historian. In both archaeology and history he has written im- portant works. At the quadricentennial celebra- tion of the discovery of America, he was the chief member of a commission, which among other things published a great work — Antigiiedades Mexicanas — which was largely devoted to fac- simile reproduction of ancient Mexican picture manuscripts, before unpublished; the accompany- ing explanatory text was written by Chavero him- self. Among other archaeological 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 Paint- ings. He was the author of the first volume of the great work Mexico a traves de los Sighs, ALFREDO CHAVERO. 6 1 (Mexico, Through the Centuries), a history of Mexico in five large quarto volumes. Each of these volumes dealt with a distinct epoch of Mexi- can history and was written by a specialist. Cha- vero's volume treated Prehistoric Mexico in a mas- terly fashion. In biography Chavero's lives of Sahagun, Siguenza, and Boturini deal with Span- ish-Mexicans, his Itzcoatl and Montezuma with natives. He has edited, with scholarly annotation, the works of IxtUlxochitl and Mufioz Camargo's Historia de Tlaxcala. But Alfredo Chavero has also written in the field of dramatic literature, some of his plays hav- ing been well received. Xochitl, Quetzalcoatl and Los Amores de Alarcon (The Loves of Alarcon) are among the best known. In Xochitl and Quetz- alcoatl, 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 Mexico a 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 62 MODERN MEXICAN AUTHORS. did not limit themselves to interpreting, but which also served them as a foundation for more ex- tended 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, sim- ply recorded the traditions in their works — and we must remember that, on account of the inade- quacy 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 re- mained 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, espe- cially if it related to the gods and the religious calendar, for fear of reawakening the barely dor- mant 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 ALFREDO CHAVERO. 63 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 mate- rial, 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 exam- ine impartially the works of our historians. THE SURRENDER OF CUAUHTEMOC. At dawn Sandoval proceeded, with the brigan- tines 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 sur- render 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 chil- dren, 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 64 MODERN MEXICAN AUTHORS. 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 brigan- tines. 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 destroy- ing the fleet of canoes, Cuauhtemoc, with Tecuich- poch 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, ALFREDO CHAVERO. 65 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 con- queror for the unfortunate hero, embraced Cuauh- temoc 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 follow- ing 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 pris- oner, 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 66 MODERN MEXICAN AUTHORS. but five actors — Cortes, Marina (his Indian in- terpreter and mistress), Xochitl (a beautiful In- dian 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, substi- tuted 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 wtlh Xochitl; his affection is not reciprocated. Marina, know- ing that the love of Cortes has cooled, though she does not know the new object of his love, remorse- ful for her treachery to her own people and smart- ing 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 ALFREDO CHAVERO. 67 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 substitu- tion 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 Ma- rina, 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 Nuiio de Guzman. Gonzalo. " If to lay waste fields and towns. If to assassinate war captives, If to violate pledged faith, 68 MODERN MEXICAN AUTHORS. Is to be Christian, I admit That Don Nuiio 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 Nufio, 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 : ALFREDO CHAVERO. 69 Bernal. Xochitl. Bernal. Xochitl. Bernal. Xochitl. Bernal. Xochitl. Bernal. " But, tell me. Before today Has Cortes told you of his love ? 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. You ought to flee. I fear to find myself Alone in the great world. 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.) Do you think Cortes ever ? If he loves thee, good God 1 Then, both of us must leave. You will leave, with Gonzalo? Do you know to what you expose your- self? Do you know that, Hernando Cortes, 70 MODERN MEXICAN AUTHORS. 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 1 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, ALFREDO CHAVERO. 71 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. Marina. Cortes. Marina. Cortes. Marina. Cortes. Marina. " To counteract the plotting Of so many enemies, I go to Spain. In thinking of your happiness ■ You think of my happiness, Don Her- nando ? — Considering that your nobility Deserves a name, a grandeur, Worthy of you, Marina, I know not what vile treason my soul divines. — Wealth, and state, And a husband — Don Juan de Jara- millo Cease! Hernando, cease! You leave, tomorrow, for Orizaba. And, thus, you abandon me? And thus you crown my loyalty and love? 72 MODERN MEXICAN AUTHORS. 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 con- queror. 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. " Archaeology 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 Cha- vero. ALFREDO CHAVERO. 73 " True, archaeologists 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 Mex- ico. . . . 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 pic- turing 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." 74 MODERN MEXICAN AUTHORS. " As the Arabs have their Hegira, the Chris- tians their era, and the Russians their calendar without the Gregorian correction, so Chaverito* 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 ge- 'ology, archsology, and palaeontology. " Thus, for example, treating of archsology 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 ' ; th6 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 crea- tion,' it is understood that he refers to days when he had not yet been Governor of the Federal Dis- trict; and if he says 'after Christ,' he must be supposed to speak of an epoch posterior to his con- nection with the State Department; and it is claimed, that he is so skilled in understanding hier- oglyphs, 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 Mex- • Little Chavero: half-affectionate, half-jocular diminutive of Chavero. ALFREDO CHAVERO. 75 Ico, a fragment on which are to be seen, coarsely cut, some engravings, or horrible reliefs, or shape- less 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 dis- playing 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,* warlike population of southern Anahuac, and the Esculmiles, their rivals, In which the latter were finally conquered. The person standing Is Chllpocle XI, of the dy- nasty of the Chacualoles, who, by the death of his father Chlchlcullote III, inherited the throne, being In his Infancy, and his mother, the famous Queen Aplpisca II, the Semiramis of Tepachl- chllco, 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 con- queror Cacahuatl II, and his councillor, the illus- trious historian and philosopher Guajalote, nick- named Chlcuase, 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 'This and the following Aztec terms are either actually fictitious or have meanings which are ridiculous in the connections given. 76 MODERN MEXICAN AUTHORS. 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 ZARATE. 77 [fULIO ZARATE. Julio Zarate was born April 12, 1844, at Jakpa, 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 78 MODERN MEXICAN AUTHORS. 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 he 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 — Mexico a 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 jour- nals. 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 Geografia y Estadistica (Mexican Society of Geography and Statistics) . Our selections are from Mexico d traves de los Siglos. JULIO ZARATE. 79 THE DEATH OF HICALGO. Supporting himself on the opinion of the Asses- sor Bracho, the Commandant General, Don Nico- las 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 Jose Maria Rojas, who had been notary of the ecclesi- astical 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 great- est 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 execu- tion, he remembered that he had left some sweets under his pillow ; he returned for them and divided 8o MODERN MEXICAN AUTHORS. 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 exe- cuted; he did not die at the first discharge, but after falling to the ground received numerous bul- lets. His body found sepulchre in the Chapel of San Antonio of the Convent of San Francisco, and his head and those of AUende, Aldama and Jime- nez were carried to Guanajuato and placed in cages of Iron at each one of the corners of the Alhon- diga* of Granaditas, where they remained until 1 82 1, when they were taken to the Ermita de San Sebastian. On the door of the Alhondiga, by order of the Intendant, Fernando Perez Marafion, the following inscription was placed : " The heads of Miguel Hidalgo, Ignacio Al- lende, Juan Aldama, and Mariano Jimenez, noto- rious 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 great- est 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 Senor Brigadier, Felix Maria Calleja del Rey, illustrious conqueror of Aculco, Guanajuato and Calderon, and Restorer * Public granary. JULIO ZARATE. 8 1 of the Peace in this America. Guanajuato, 14 of October, 181 1." But, the hour of reparation, though tardy, ar- rived; 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 Hi- dalgo, AUende, Aldama, and Jimenez, 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 char- acters in Mexican hearts. GENERAL NICOLAS 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 cam- paign, and early in September advanced with three thousand men to Medellin, after attacking a Roy- alist convoy at the Puente del Rey and taking ninety prisoners of the troops that guarded it. 82 MODERN MEXICAN AUTHORS. There Bravo was to cover himself with an immor- tal 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 Jose Maria Piedras and Lu- ciano Perez, apprehended at the same time, after the sally from Cuautla. The viceroy had sus- pended the execution of the sentence, in the hope that the prisoner might influence his sons, Nicolas and his brothers, to desert the files of the Indepen- dents 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 Ordufias were victims of the Royalist Colonel Jose 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, 18 12, Gen- eral Bravo and his fellow prisoners, Piedras and Perez, suffered. In Mexico, the penalty of the gar- rote, the former displaying, in his last moments, that calm and valor, of which he had given so JULIO ZARATE. 83 many proofs in battle. In communicating this sad news to Nicolas 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 viccoy, Vanegas, offering him, for my father's life, eight hundred Spanish prisoners, and that he would in- form 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 Naclonal, 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 84 MODERN MEXICAN AUTHORS. 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 prac- tice 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 re- sults, an idea which pleased me far more than my first resolution ; then there presented Itself the diffi- culty 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 JULIO ZARATE. 85 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 in- formed 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 mer- chants 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 apprecia- tion, 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 extermina- tion. Bravo displays the noble sentiment of forgive- ness as a supreme protest of humanity whose laws were being disregarded and trampled under foot; he condemns the barbarous system of reprisals; he 86 MODERN MEXICAN AUTHORS. 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'shero), 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 diffi- culty 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 uni- versal respect and rehabilitated human dignity in that period of unbridled cruelty. JOSE MARfA VIGIL. 87 JOSE MARIA VIGIL. Jose Maria Vigil was born October 11, 1829, at Guadalajara. Early left an orphan, during the period of his education he was in straitened cir- cumstances. He attended the seminario in Guad- alajara 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, ^"'i ill 1 85 1 his drama, Dolores 6 una pasion (Dolores, or a passion), was well received 88 MODERN MEXICAN AUTHORS. at the Teatro Principal, at Guadalajara. In 1857 he published a collection of his poems, under the title Realidades y Quimeras (Realities and Chi- meras). 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 trans- lations from Latin, French, English, Portuguese, Italian, and German. Through this period. Vigil also edited literary periodicals — La Aurora Po- etica (The Poetic Dawn) , and La Mariposa (The Butterfly) . Sefior Vigil's political career began in 1855, when Comonfort occupied the Plaza of Guadala- jara. 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 princi- ples. 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 JOSE MARIA VIGIL. 89 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 stand- ing 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 Mex- ican Library) in which appear the Important works of Las Casas, and Tezozomoc, and the Godice 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 1 88 1, the Mexican Academy Increased Its mem- bership to fifteen, by the addition of one new chair, Senor Vigil was the unanimous choice of the acad- emicians. He is now the secretary of. that organ- ization. Seiior Vigil is the author of volume five of the great historical work, Mexico a traves de los Sig- los- (Mexico through the Centuries), treating of the period of La Reforma (The Reform) . Our selection Is taken from this work. 90 MODERN MEXICAN AUTHORS. 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 Lieu- tenant-Colonel Platon Sanchez, the judges being Commandant-Captain Jose Vicente Ramirez, Com- mandant-Captain Emilio Lojero, Captain Ignacio Jurado, Captain Juan Rueda y Auza, Captain Jose Verastegul and Captain Lucas Villagran. Maxi- milian 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 Potosi, hastened to direct to the President a second state- ment begging the pardon, a petition which was repeated on the 1 6th, 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 ap- peal 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 Presi- JOSE MARIA VIGIL. 9 1 dent 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 clem- ency." At the same time the Minister sent a tele- gram 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 Jua- rez 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." Fi- nally, when Senores 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 inflex- ibility 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 wel- fare demands It. It also may counsel us to the least bloodshed, and this will be the greatest pleas- ure of my life." The legal resources exhausted, the plan of escape, devised by the Princess Salm-Salm, in col- 92 MODERN MEXICAN AUTHORS. lusion with the Ministers of Austria, Belgium, and Italy and the French Consul, frustrated; the pris- oners 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 main- tained 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 Jesus Diaz de Leon 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 compan- ions 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 JOSE MARIA VIGIL. 93 a loud voice : " Mexicans 1 in the council of war, my defenders attempted to save my life ; here, soon to lose it, and about to appear before God, I pro- test 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 com- patriots 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 be- tween 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. 94 MODERN MEXICAN AUTHORS. PRIMO FELICIANO VElAsQUEZ. Primo Feliciano Velasquez was born at Santa Maria del Rio in the state of San Luis Potosi, June 6, i860. 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 Potosi. He was a diligent student and com- pleted his study of law on October 23, 1880. Although his legal career opened auspiciously, he PRIMO FELICIANO VELASQUEZ. 95 preferred to devote himself to journalism. In 1883 he founded, at San Luis Potosi, a publication intended to promote the celebration of the Iturbide centennial, through which he established a stand- ing among the eminent literary men of Mex- ico. In 1885, in company with several others, he established El Estandarte (The Standard), a periodical bitterly opposed to the State Gov- ernment, which caused him many vexations and penalties. Velasquez has made a special study of local history and archaeology. His Descu' brimiento y Conquista de San Luis Potosi (Dis- covery and Conquest of San Luis Potosi) , received recognition from the Royal Spanish Academy. His Instruccion publica en San Luis Potosi durante la Dominacion espahola (Pub- lic Instruction In San Luis Potosi during the Span- ish Domination) was published in the memoirs of the Mexican Academy, of which he has been a correspondent since 1886. His Coleccion de Doc- umentos para la historia de San Luis Potosi ( Col- lection of documents for the History of San Luis Potosi) in four volumes, was published between 1897 and 1899. Senor Velasquez has during recent years returned to the practice of law. THE TLAXCALAN SETTLEMENTS. In this year of 1589, in which peace was ar- ranged, Santa Maria del Rio was founded by 96 MODERN MEXICAN AUTHORS. Guachichiles and Otomis on lands of the Hacienda of Villela and at a place called San Diego de Ato- tonilco. Of the villages of our State, this one and Tierra Nueva count among their founders indi- viduals of Otomi stock. The other colonies estab- lished 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 Ve- lasco II (1591), and with the aid of Friar Jeronlmo Mendieta. Friars Ignacio de Car- denas and Jeronlmo de Zarate 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, Ve- nado, San Andres, 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 Cas- tllllans; 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. PRIMO FELICIANO VELASQUEZ. 97 ANDRES DE OLMOS. God, who holds aloft with his right hand a torch to light the way of his creatures and to fruc- tify, 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 * and a cilicio,^ 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, * A scourge. , . , , . , , , t A band or strip of wire netting with sharp points, to be bound upon the body for self-torture. 98 MODERN MEXICAN AUTHORS. 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 moun- tains 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 Zumarraga. 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. PRIMO FELICIANO VELASQUEZ. 99 Thus, in the northeast, four leagues from Zacate- cas, 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 Don- cel 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 cruci- fix 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 lOO MODERN MEXICAN AUTHORS. make display of its triumph. That image of Jesus Is still venerated In San Felipe, under the name of the Senor 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 Villalo- bos sealed by a glorious death, in 1582, the doc- trine which he taught the heathen ; not far distant is where Friar Andres de la Puebla was cruelly beaten, in 1586, and the skin was torn off his head, from the eyebrows upward, while he was denounc- ing idolatry and intoning the divine praises. Ours, is that land of Charcas, where also suffered mar- tyrdom, the friar, Juan del Rio, brother of the general of that name, who made the final cam- paign against the Chichlmecs. 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 be- sought 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, PRIMO FELICIANO VELASQUEZ. lOI though many and well directed, made no impres- sion — he held himself well on his horse and con- tinued 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 bar- barians, 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 ORDONEZ. 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 ; 102 MODERN MEXICAN AUTHORS. 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 pro- fessors of the famous university. From Guate- mala, 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 glow- ing thunderbolts, so the venerable centennarian priest. He scarcely tarried at the vice-regal court ; like a flaming arrow he went to Michoacan, Za- catecas, and Durango, whose inhabitants enjoyed the last ministrations of the philosopher, theo- logian, humanist, and eminent preacher, whose name was Diego Ordoiiez, and who, at one hun- dred 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 PRIMO FELICIANO VELASQUEZ. IO3 pride of the convent at Salamanca and the vener- ated 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 peo- ple. 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 un- heard-of penances. When he went forth from his convent, he had them throw about his neck a hal- ter, 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 accom- panied him and knew his orders, buffeted him, spat upon him, and cruelly beat him. This was re- I04 MODERN MEXICAN AUTHORS. peated 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 admin- istered the sacraments, then waited until night to make a general flagellation, which, finished, he sal- lied 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 tor- ture 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 In- dians 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 PRIMO FELICIANO VELASQUEZ. 105; 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 ac- cused 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. io6 MODERN MEXICAN AUTHORS. JUAN F. MOLINA SOLIS. Juan F. Molina Soils, representative of one of the oldest and most respected families of Yucatan, was born June ii, 1850, in the village of Hecel- chacan. His father was Juan F. Molina Esquivel, his mother Cecilia Solis de Molina. In 1857, the family removed to Merida, where the boy's educa- tion was carried on. He received the degree of Master of Arts from the Seminario conciliar de San Ildefonso, after which he studied law, graduat- ing in 1874. He has ever occupied a prominent JUAN F. MOLINA SOLIS. IO7 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 Des- cubrimiento y Conquista de Yucatan con una reseha de la Historia antiqua de esta Peninsula (History of the Discovery and Conquest of Yucatan with a Summary of the Ancient History of this Penin- sula) is a standard authority. It is admirably written and is marked by a sober criticism and con- stant 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 Obispa- do de la Nacion Mejicana (The First Bishopric of the Mexican Nation) and an interesting historical sketch, El Conde de Penalva (The Count of Peiialva). In his editorials Seiior 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 Sena- tors 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 Penalva. I08 MODERN MEXICAN AUTHORS. THE HORRORS OF 1 648 IN YUCATAN. The Count could not arrive at a more unfortu- nate 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 de- vastate 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 hu- man 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 JUAN F. MOLINA SOLIS. IO9 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 pene- trating, 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, no MODERN MEXICAN AUTHORS. 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 in- tensified 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, conspir- ing to exalt the fancy with dread of vague misfor- tunes, 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 scourg- ing with an iron hand, we cannot say. It is enough to know that it was a terrible dis- ease, which converted Yucatan into an immense cemetery. Sometimes, without any warning, it JUAN F. MOLINA SOLIS. Ill showed Itself in intense pains in the bones, accom- panied by excessive fever and delirium; at other times with the fever was united vomiting of putrid blood; now It presented the diarrhoea of the chol- era 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 mes- tizo 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 Merlda 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, 112 MODERN MEXICAN AUTHORS. caused by the news, did not prevent some meas- ures 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, im- ploring 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, leap- ing 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 JUAN F. MOLINA SOLIS. 1 13 the threshold of the house of death, they only en- countered 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 ceme- teries at dawn, where a priest-received them and re- peated 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 scrapes or in henequin mattings, laid out on boards, or stretchers. The Governor, Don Esteban de Ascarraga did not escape the pest; he died August 8 and was burled quietly, not to augment the consternation of the city. A Franciscan friar, Jose de Orosco, mounted, hale and hearty, the pulpit in the church of San Francisco, to preach the sermon, and de- scended ill, and died. The regidors, in the town 114 MODERN MEXICAN AUTHORS. government, died; of eight Jesuits, who lived In the Colleges of San Javier and San Pedro, six sacri- ficed 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 phys- icians, without adequate supplies of medicines, with no hospital except that of Nuestra Senora 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 dif- ficulty, without sanitary police, without hygienic arrangements, with the deaths Increasing, the pub- lic 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 JUAN T. MOLINA SOLIS. II5 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 Iza- mal. As soon as the Indians learned the object of his journey, they tenaciously opposed the re- moval 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 de- parture 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 In- dians, 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 high- way, the statue of the venerated Patroness of Yuca- tan, whose aid was besought. Those who know the faith, the ardor, the effusion of soul with which Il6 MODERN MEXICAN AUTHORS. 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 peni- tent, they arrived at the outskirts of Merlda, where a numerous and select concourse awaited the pro- cession. The Regldors, the Canonlgos, the princi- pal 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* 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 splen- dor, pomp, and accompaniment. The pest miti- gated. In fact, in Merlda at the end of August, and had almost disappeared before the middle of * Mas solemne culto. JUAN F. MOLINA SOLIS. II7 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 coun- try. The first to be attacked were the Indians of Izamal, who, faithful and devoted, did not aban- don 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. Il8 MODERN MEXICAN AUTHORS. LUIS GONZALES OBREGON. Luis Gonzales Obregon, 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 th, 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 inspira- tion 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. 208 MODERN MEXICAN AUTHORS. 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 con- signed him, improvised for himself a throne, and from its dominated creation saw prostrate them- selves at his feet not only his country, but the world. Thus Cervantes, the poor cripple, disdained by persons of distinction and persecuted by for- tune 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 Cer- vantes, and like him unfortunate, left in his death- bed in a foreign hospital, as a great legacy to his country, his Lusiadas, the most beautiful monu- ment of Portuguese glory. Thus many others, dead through the hemlock of contemporary disdain, and compensated with tardy apotheosis, have not found obstacles in pov- erty, in envy and in defeat; and abandoning with thought the narrow spheres of the world, have IGNACIO M. ALTAMIRANO. 209 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; discourage- ment crushes us at times — discouragement, that poisoned draught, whose vase of vile clay is shat- tered 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 2IO MODERN MEXICAN AUTHORS. 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 lan- guage of Cervantes and of Fray Luis de Leon. No: on the contrary, we believe these studies in- dispensable : 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 imitat- ing them. * * * * Our last war has attracted to us the eyes of the civilized world. It desires to know this singu- lar nation, which contains so many and such cov- IGNACIO M. ALTAMIRANO. 211 eted riches, which could not be reduced by Eu- ropean 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 sa- vant gave more attention to his scientific investiga- tions than to his character portraits. Since his day, almost all travelers have calumni- ated us, from Lovestem 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. 212 MODERN MEXICAN AUTHORS. 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 re- sponds to a necessity of the organization of the Tixtla Indians, strongly fetichistic, perhaps be- cause 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 bath- ing it in blood. A mal crista, 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 IGNACIO M. ALTAMIRANO. 213 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 atten- dance 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 im- portant 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 stands, others of ' Ecce-homos of the pil- lar,' but these are few; the crucifixes are in major- ity. 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, 214 MODERN MEXICAN AUTHORS. 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 arrange- ment, the hair arrangement of the Indians, dis- ordered, 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 Alte- pecristo* which the Indians hide in caverns, which is almost an idol of the old mythology, to the mi- croscopic 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 absurd- ities which can be perpetrated in sculpture, are rep- resented 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 him- self oppressed by a frightful nightmare or imagme himself traversing -ome 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 boy- hood days! * Village Christ. IGNACIO M. ALTAMIRANO. 215 Then the Chrlsts 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 en- joyed in the land of your fathers, an evening of the Christs — and of champol/ 2l6 MODERN MEXICAN AUTHORS. VICTORIANO AGUEROS. Victoriano Agiieros 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 op- portunity 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 ad- mitted to the practice of law December 19, 1881. VICTORIANO AGUEROS. 21? He commenced literary work when but sixteen or seventeen years of age, signing his productions with the name " Jose." Using this nom-de-plume he published his Ensayos de Jose (Essays of Jose) in 1877. This was followed by Cartas Literarias (Literary Letters) and Dos Leyendas por Jose (Two Legends by Jose), Shortly after he pub- lished a series of articles — Escritores Mexicanos Contemporaneos (Contemporary Mexican Au- thors) — in the literary journal, La Ilustracion Espanola y Americana, of Madrid. This was re- printed in book form and gave the author deserved credit. Confidencias y Recuerdos (Confidences and Recollections) completes the list of Agiieros's books. Renouncing law for literature Seiior Agiieros became editor of El Imparcial (The Impartial) but shortly after, on July i, 1883, he founded and has ever since, conducted. El T tempo (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. 2l8 MODERN MEXICAN AUTHORS. Deploring the neglect of the national literature by Mexican readers Seiior Agiieros is attempting to arouse new interest by publishing, in uniform style, the works of the best authors under the gen- eral title Biblioteca de Autores Mexicanos (Library of Mexican Authors). The series. has passed its fiftieth volume, is being well received, and is serv- ing a most useful purpose. THE DAY OF THE DEAD. Las ofrendas; (the offerings) this is the cus- tom 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 ten- der corn — sweetened and spiced with cinnamon, preserves, vessels of holy water, and the best of whatever else the mother of the family can pro- vide. It is the banquet which the living give to the dead . . . From three in the afternoon, at which time VICTORIANO AGUEROS. 219 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 be- tween these and by examining the crosses (not the names nor epitaphs, for there are none) they rec- ognize 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 vil- lagers, 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 Im- provised 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 dnima sola (the lonely soul) — that Is to say, of one who 220 MODERN MEXICAN AUTHORS. 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 gen- erally 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 fes- tival the anniversaries of some prominent person- age 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 seri- ously 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 VICTORIANO AGUEROS. 221 are so many physicians and must know and under- stand something of medicine. The judge of the lower court is about to decide a case ; ah, well, be- fore 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 opin- ion concerning the matter with which he is occu- pied. " 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 noth- ing 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 confi- dence 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 2 22 MODERN MEXICAN AUTHORS. sufficient for praising him. How wise ! how hum- ble 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 vir- tues in it, neither love for study, nor noble ten- dencies 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 alma- nacs and reviews of fashion. They believe them- selves 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 dis enchantments 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 VICTORIANO AGUEROS. 223 disillusions they have suffered have no bounds. — They speak everywhere of politics and literature; In the Interludes at the theater they render judg- ment 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 follow- ing 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, taint- ed 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 224 MODERN MEXICAN AUTHORS. 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 cus- tomary 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 twen- ty. No one ventures to frankly express his opin- ion, since friendship, the hope of obtaining a favor, considerations of respect and other various circum- stances, deprive the critic of his freedom; and al- though 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 VICTORIANO AGUEROS. 225 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 Jose Peon y Contreras has just pub- lished; and in order to render a tribute to justice and merit, rather than to praise one who is suffi- ciently praised ilby his very work, I am about to say something about it. Fourteen pieces form the collection, and al- though short they are choicest gems in which are brilliantly displayed the most exquisite and deli- cate beauties. In my opinion the first is a certain originality in the form, under which the poet en- closes a veritable drama, a terrible and sad catas- trophe, 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 un- derstood what that must be — but the unfolding of the romance, the design of the composition, the 226 MODERN MEXICAN AUTHORS. manner employed by the author to present and develop his thought. In these lovely ballads ( for such they appear) there are no details; the move- ment of the action, the rapid development of the plot, the violence and precision with which the fig- ures appear upon the scene, demand few but ener- getic 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 clear- ness, the grace, with which the scene or picture is reproduced in spite of the small space at the dispo- sition of the artist. As little are there inoppor- tune 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 ca- tastrophe is presented in which a passion or a mis- fortune culminates, at the conclusion of a series of unhappy incidents. For the rest, it is easy to di- vine what elements Peon y Contreras employs in his dramatic romances; love with all its tender- nesses, 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 VICTORIANO AGUEROS. 227 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 sim- plicity, what innocence, what grace. 228 MODERN MEXICAN AUTHORS. MANUEL GUSTAVO ANTONIO REVILLA Manuel Gustavo Antonio Revilla was bom in the City of Mexico, February 7, 1863. His father, Domingo Revilla, was a distinguished au- thor and from him the son appears to have inher- ited 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 MANUEL GUSTAVO ANTONIO REVILLA. 229 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, Menendez y Pelayo, said: — "I have read with much pleasure, and I believe with much profit. Arte en Mexico, learning from it new data regard- ing 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 sub- ject, 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 Secre- tary of the same school, in February, 1903. At the same time he was appointed one of a commit- tee of three to prepare a systematic catalogue of the works of art belonging to the institution. Senor Revilla is a public speaker of power and some of his addresses have attracted notable atten- tion. Among these may be mentioned the Inde- pendence 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 wri- ter 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 230 MODERN MEXICAN AUTHORS. (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 Seiior 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 regard- ing the sculptors Patiiio, Ixtolinque, and Guerra, the architect Hidalga, the painter RebuU, and the musicians Paniagua and Valle. This series is being published by Agueros and will be extended. Revilla has also written a biography of Francisco Gonzales Bocanegro, author of the Mexican Na- tional Hymn. Our selections are taken from El Arte en Mex- ico. 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 cen- tury, 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 cen- tres of Spain. But, from the very beginning of MANUEL GUSTAVO ANTONIO REVILLA. 23 1 the seventeenth century, these are to be seen sur- rounded 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 artis- tic manifestation appears, which, although derived from the Spaniards, may be considered indigenous. During the seventeenth century is when paint- ing was practised with greatest brilliancy and the schools of Mexico and Puebla were formed, which, although decadent, were maintained in the follow- ing century. On the contrary, this eighteenth century, is the period of greatest lustre for architecture; during it, ancient edifices, begun long before, were car- ried 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 cen- tury, with the famous Valencian*, 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. • Tolsa. 232 MODERN MEXICAN AUTHORS. The fine arts in Mexico, without having ar- rived, 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 criti- cism, but no one has denied the value of the liter- ature of the vice-royal period, during which arts and letters attained equal prosperity. Echave, the elder, yields in nothing to Balbuena; Jose Juarez and Arteaga stand forth conspicuously as Sister Juana Inez de la Cruz ; Perusquia or Tres Guerras are comparable with Navarette ; and, as famous as is Ruiz de Alarcon 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 Acad- emy, he had been trained in painting; having at- tained no great result in which, he dedicated him- self to architecture, which yielded him merited laurels for constructing — besides various beauti- ful 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 MANUEL GUSTAVO ANTONIO REVILLA. 233 likeness; both, professing another art, — the one statuary, the other painting — dedicated them- selves 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 endur- ing fame. Although it might be thought that Tres Guer- ras felt Tolsa's influence, nothing is further from the truth, since Tres Guerras had already con- structed 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 pro- duced 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 234 MODERN MEXICAN AUTHORS. City of Puebia, about the second half of the past, and the beginning of the present, century, without good masters nor great models for imitation, culti- vated the sculpture of images, forming their own canons. The Coi-as, with all their defects, play the role 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 — Jose Villegas de Cora, the master of all; Zacarias Cora, and Jose Villegas, who also took the surname Cora, as an honorific title. Jose 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 obser- vation of the natural, from which indeed he him- self took but a general idea, leaving the arrange- ment of the details of the projected work to fancy; from this proceeds the arbitrary character, to be observed in the minutiae of almost all of his images. At the same time he sought naturalness in the ar- rangement 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 MANUEL GUSTAVO ANTONIO REVILLA. 235 than accuracy. In expression, he competed with his master. His best work was the San Cristobal with the infant Jesus, which is in the temple of that name in Puebla. Unlike the preceding, most of the works of Jose 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 qual- ity 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 V70RKS 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. 236 MODERN MEXICAN AUTHORS. 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 taberna- culo, the others which adorn this, and which rep- resent the four great doctors of the Latin Church, being of white stucco, imitating marble, and those of the fagade 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 concep- tions, in postures, in gestures, in dress. The horse of the statue of the Spanish monarch, treated after the classic, is of beautiful outline, nat- ural movement, graceful and animated in the ex- treme; as for the figure of the king, although a little heavy, it is majestic, in movement well har- monized 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 dis- tinguished by the movement, which gives them an appearance full of grace and life. All reveal suffi- cient personality combined with conscientious study MANUEL GUSTAVO ANTONIO REVILLA. 237 of the antique. If one sought to find defects he might say that at times he is heavy, over-empha- sizes and gives a berninesque execution to his drap- eries. In wood, he has left two heads of the Dolorosa and a Conception, artistically colored. BALTASAR DE EC HAVE, We have the scantiest personal notices of Bal- tasar 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 Gui- puzcoa, and besides being a painter was a philolo- gist, 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 Monar- quia Indiana (1609), Echave finished his great retable of the Church of Santiago Tlaltelolco ; fur- ther. It is known by the examination of his works, that already in 1601, he was painting, as the colos- sal canvas of San Cristobal, which bears that date, shows, and that still in 1640, the activity of his brush had not ceased, since In that year he executed 238 MODERN MEXICAN AUTHORS. the Martyrdom of Santa Catarina for the Domin- icans 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 at- tributed 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 dis- tance 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 atti- tudes 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 per- sistently 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 lumi- nous intensity. Without being weak, he lacks strength in his modelling and he does not delight in strong contrasts of light and shade — both qual- ities in which the Spaniards surpass. His pictures, MANUEL GUSTAVO ANTONIO REVILLA. 239 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 un- deniable 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 ascet- 240 MODERN MEXICAN AUTHORS. icism, 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 Vir- gin at the Temple, the Visitation, and a masterly Conception, which is in the State College of Pueb- la, of vigorous execution and strong light and shade. Echave gave life size to most of the fig- ures 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 in- correct in form, more neglects the study of the nat- ural, lacks strength in execution, and reduces color- ing to the use of five or six tints, monotonously repeated; he is weak in perspective, and in compo- sition 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 MANUEL GUSTAVO ANTONIO REVILLA. 24 1 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 Jordan shall be compared with, and pre- ferred 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 quan- tity 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 ar- tists 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 pro- claimed the greatest painter of the world, and criticism would have relegated to oblivion such 242 MODERN MEXICAN AUTHORS. works as the Santa Forma of Claude Coello, for having been made, although marvelously perfect, with patient slowness. JOSE PEON Y CONTRERAS. 243 JOSE PEON Y CONTRERAS. Jose Peon y Contreras was born at Merida, Yucatan, January 12, 1843, being son of Juan Bautista Peon and Maria 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 say- ing 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 Hipo- 244 MODERN MEXICAN AUTHORS. lito Hospital for the Insane; for several years he was In charge of public vaccination for the city. Giving his leisure to letters, Jose Peon y Con- treras 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 oi Romances his- toricos Mexicanos (Mexican Historical Roman- ces), in which he dealt with Aztec themes and actors. These hav? merit, but are little known. The field of Jose Peon y Contreras's greatest tri- umphs 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, most- ly 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. Agiieros says of Jose Peon y Contreras that he is to be compared with Jose 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 JOSE PEON Y CONTRERAS. 245 argument and absence of certain dramatic re- sources, showing lack of originality." In 1880, he publishejd Romances dramaticos (Dramatic Romances), in which he presents four- teen 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 re- ceived, the latter being, perhaps, the favorite. Jose 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 Leon. 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 San- cho'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 246 MODERN MEXICAN AUTHORS. intention of making her dishonor the Viceroy's disgrace. To escape a hated suitor, Blanca, trust- ing to Sancho's pretended love, has left her father's house and taken refuge with Sancho. The Vice- roy, distracted seeks her. Ultimately, the true love, which Sancho would give her, proves im- possible. 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. JOSE PEON Y CONTRERAS. 247 S.: Weill 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 eterni- ties. — 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 im- plore 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 im- possible.. 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. 248 MODERN MEXICAN AUTHORS. 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 som- bre 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 con- fess 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 lacer- ating my soul? B. : Listen ! At night you slept — I watched I 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 wheth- er I was awake. I saw you, Blanca, humiliated. JOSE PEON Y CONTRERAS. 249 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; de- spair 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; nol 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 I S. : I love you. — Go ! (Blanca leaves, weeping.) SCENE V. Sancho, who has watched Blanca disappear, when she has gone, says : Unhappy being ! Why does a cursed blood course through your veins? Aye ! — What blame have I, for having loved you ere I knew the stock from which you came — the blood that gives color and freshness to your cheeks, smile to your lips, light to your eyes ? Why do I love you, when I ought to hate you ? Why ought I to hate you, when I love you with all my heart? 250 MODERN MEXICAN AUTHORS. — What is this ? — Aye ! Aye ! I cannot. I cannot more. (The curtain falls darkly on the scene. A short pause.) * * * * SCENE VII. Viceroy : Sancho Sancho : Enter sir ! So great an honor ! — V. : I have already told you, Sancho, that I love you as a son. It is not the Viceroy of Mex- ico, who comes now to your house. I enter it as a friend. Receive me as such. S. : And — to what, then, do I owe this plea- sure? Seat yourself, sir, seat yourself. (The Viceroy seats himself.) V. : I come to you, Sancho, because I am most unhappy. S. : (With pleasure.) You, most unhappy I v.: Yes. If you knew S. : And what has happened to you ? Let me know — but allow me to close this door because a draught enters. (He bolts the door that com- municates with the interior and through which Blanca had passed.) Ah, well! sir! what makes you unhappy? It seems incredible; a man, pow- erful, rich, immensely rich, cradled from infancy in the arms of fortune — Perhaps, your wife ! v.: My wife? — No! My wife has never JOSE PEON y CONTRERAS. 25 1 been able to make me unhappy, just as she has never made me happy. We have never loved. I married her for family reasons and, in fine S. : I do not understand, then V. : Hear me, Sancho ! For many years my only good, my only joy, my sole delight in this world, has been a lovely girl S. : Yes, yes, — a lovely girl who has grown up, receiving her education, in the Convent of Se- ville. v.: You know it! (Profoundly surprised.) S. : And whom you brought with you to Mex- ico, two years ago. v.: Yes. S. : You lodged her with the Sisters of the Conception where you caused her to be loved and respected as if she were your daughter. V. : That is true ! S. : You visited her daily, secretly, at even- ing- V. : Yes, because ■ S. : You have already said it. Because you loved her with all your soul V. : With all my soul ! but ■ S. : But they have robbed you of her. (Very brief pause.) v.: (Approaching Sancho, with great emo- tion.) And you, you Sancho, know this also! S. : As I tell you v.: And, who, who has been — ? Who — ? 252 MODERN MEXICAN AUTHORS. Do not tell me his name, that matters nothing! Tell me where he is, — tell me that — because I desire his life's blood. S. : Calm, Senor Viceroy, more calm ! V. : Calm ! and she is not at my side — Calm ! and the hours pass. — Calm ! and the grief in- creases and the suffering grows stronger, and de- spair kills ! S. : You suffer greatly ! V. : Tell me who it is, Sancho ! You know it. I see it in your eyes. — Tell me. — You know that here I am the equal of the King 1 The King, himself, is not more powerful than I ! Ask, from me, riches, honor, position, — all, all, for your sin- gle word ! Speak ! You know ! Is it not so ? S. : Yes. It is true. V. : Oh, joy ! And you will tell me ! S. : No. v.: (Furious.) No? — You will not tell me, youf (He directs himself toward the door, raising his voice) — Halloa, here! S. : ( Gently detaining him. ) Ah ! I will close this door because a draught enters. (Locks the door with a key. The Viceroy looks at him with frightened surprise.) V. : Sancho ! — Are you making sport of me ? Are you trifling with my agony? — But, no, no, you would not be capable of that, impossible. — You are not an ingrate. S. : Seat yourself, Senor Viceroy, and hear me. JOSE PEON Y CONTRERAS. 253 V. : Seat myself ? — Good, I obey you — Now, you see — I seat myself. — But you must tell it me. S. : Listen. Only last night, Senor Viceroy, I told you that Juan de Paredes, — the person who has been recommended to you V. : My God 1 but — and, what has this to do? S. : If you are not calm ! V. : Sancho ! S. : If you are not calm, I will say nothing and then you would know nothing, even if you put me to the torture. V. : Well ! well ! — I am silent — I listen — What anxiety ! S. : Juan de Paredes, unhappy orphan, en- trusted to a friend — very intimate — in fact a second self — the mission of avenging his wrongs upon the person who dishonored his mother, Dona Mencia, and assassinated his father — and this firm friend finally discovered the scoundrel — ah, he was a man of great power ! V. : And you know his name ? S. : If you interrupt V. : I am silent. S. : The good friend of Juan de Paredes suc- ceeded in approaching — then in speaking with — and, later, in introducing himself into the house of — and, soon in Ingratiating himself in the heart of the criminal.: — He spied upon him as the wolf- 254 MODERN MEXICAN AUTHORS. hunter spies upon his prey, — scrutinized his move- ments — informed himself of his most insignifi- cant actions. He studied his character, his most hidden motives; he followed him everywhere and at all times and at last discovered the place — the place in which the lair of the beast was hidden! He had but a single love on earth ! — And there he fixed his eyes, because fixing his eyes there he thrust a dagger into the assassin's heart. — Not into his heart, no, — into his very soul I — Because, that love was his daughter — a lovely maiden ! V. : Continue ! S. : She gave him evidences of her love. V. : Continue ! S. : She loved him with all the blindness and strength of a first love. v.: And he ? S. : He did not love her ! Blanca: (From within, with a feeble cry.) Aye! V. : That cry S. : A cry? — Did you hear a cry? V. : I thought — perhaps, no — I deceived myself, — continue. S. : And one night — at night ! V. : I know it, now ! — Be still ! his name ! S. : He stole her — to dishonor her V. : Silence. S. : To defile her V. : To defile her 1 — and, she ? JOSE PEON Y CONTRERAS. 255 Blanca: (Within.) Open. (Violently shakes the door.) S. : Hear her. V. : There — she, there ! Wretch — ! What have you done? You shall die. (Placing his hand on his swordhilt. ) S. : Yes, yes ! Come on, infamous assassin ; because, I abhor you as I do her. SCENE VIII. The same; also Blanca, who has broken open the door. B. : (Addressing Sancho.) You he! You do not abhor me ! V. : Blanca ! S. : (Pointing at Blanca.) Look at her — ! look at her — ! She was there — ! ( Indicating his Inner apartments, where she was. ) And when, soon, you die at my hand, Viceroy of Mexico, you will have sufered two deaths! v.: (To Blanca.) And is it true ? B. : Sancho ! Save me from this dishonor ! S. : (Paying no attention to her; to the Vice- roy. ) When finally a father meets v.: (Trying to stop Sancho's mouth.) Si- lence, cursed wretch, silence ! S. : Blanca ; this is not your guardian, he is — your father! v.: Ah 1 256 MODERN MEXICAN AUTHORS. B.: My father! (The viceroy and Blanca stand as if stupefied.) S. : (Contemplating them.) And how much a father's heart must suffer in presenting himself with this sacred title for the first time, to a daugh- ter's heart. She cannot let him kiss her brow — no, she cannot. B.: ( Supplicatingly. ) Sancho ! S. : He cannot feel his eyes wet with tears of joy — but only with tears of vengeance ! How much she must suffer and how much he ! V. : Infamy. S. : Infamy, no ! because her suffering is multi- plied a hundred-fold in yours. V. : ( Drawing his sword. ) Blanca, you die ! B. : (Shrinking, horrified.) Ah! S. : (Throwing himself upon the viceroy.) Do not touch her; look at her — she is innocent! Love has robbed me of my prey. I love her so much that my love conquered my vengeance. (Joy appears on the face of the viceroy.) But do not rejoice, Viceroy. You who rob women of their honor, and assassinate old men, do not rejoice. Only God and you and I know that she is pure. I have not dared to outrage her by a single glance ; but, tomorrow v.: Ah! S. : Tomorrow the whole court shall know that she's your daughter. v.: No! JOsi PEON Y CONTRERAS. 257 S. : And that she passed the night here. (Pointing to the inner rooms.) V. : Thou shalt die. S. : My squire knows it V. : ( Drawing his sword. ) Enough ! — blood ! — what thirst so frightful ! S. : (Unsheathing.) 'Tis less than mine ! B. : Seiiors, hold ! Sancho, is this possible ? S. : Her voice again — again the cry of her love here in my heart! Withdraw your glance from me Blanca, since at its influence my heart fails and the coward steel trembles in my hand. B. : Sancho ! enough ! S. : Hear it ! Hear it, my father ! She asks it ! Have pity on me, since, now that the hour has come for avenging thee, the pardon struggles to issue from my lips! My father, pardon I V. : Your father, you have said ! Who was your father? What is your name ? S. : My name is Juan de Paredes. V. : You — you are the son of Don Diego and Dona Mencia? S. : Why do you remind me of it ? Why do summon before me their bloody spirits? Yes, I am — I am he, whom you have robbed of all. V. : You, who dishonored her! S. : Yes. V. : It seems as if Satan possesses you and hell inspires your words ! 258 MODERN MEXICAN AUTHORS. B. : What does he say? S. : What do you say ? v.: Unhappy being, know that those secret amours with Dona Mencia bore fruit and that fruit is S. : She ! oh cursed love ! She is my sister 1 Oh, almighty God! JOSE MARIA ROA bArCENA, 259 JOSE MARIA ROA BARCENA. .^^^^^^^ <. Jose Maria Roa Barcena was bom at Jalapa, State of Vera Cruz, on September 3, 1827. His father, Jose Maria Rodriguez Roa, was long and helpfully engaged in local politics. The son en- tered upon a business life, and literary work was, for him, at first, but a relaxation. His youthful writings, both in prose and poetry, attracted much attention. In 1853 he renioved to the City of Mexico, at that time a center of great political and literary activity, where he devoted himself to a 26o MODERN MEXICAN AUTHORS. politico-literary career. As a contributor or editor he was associated with important periodicals, — El Universal, La Cruz, El Eco Nacional and La Sociedad. He favored the French Intervention and the Imperial establishment. Soon disapproving of Maximilian's policy, he came out strongly against that ruler and refused appointments at his hands. When the Empire fell, he returned to business life, but was arrested and detained for sev- eral months in prison. Senor Roa Barcena has ever been associated with the conservative party, but has always com- manded the respect of political foes by his firm con- victions and regard for the calls of duty. He is eminently" patriotic and in his writings deals with Mexican life and customs, national history, and the lives and works of distinguished Mexi<:ans. His writings are varied. His poetry has been largely the product of his early years and of his old age ; his prose has been written in his middle life. Of his early poems Ithamar and Diana were general favorites. In 1875 his Nuevas Poesias (New Poems) appeared, in 1888 and 1895, two volumes of " last lyric poems " — Ultimas Poesias liricas. In i860 he published an elementary work upon Universal Geography; in 1863 an En- sayo de una Historia anecdotica de Mexico (At- tempt at an Anecdotal History of Mexico) . This Ensayo was in prose and was divided into three parts, covering ancient Mexican history to the time JOSE MARIA ROA BARCENA. 26 1 of the Conquest. In 1862, in Leyendas Mexi- canos (Mexican Legends) he presented much the same matter in verse. These three charmingly written books, while conscientious literary produc- tions, were intended for youth. Of stronger and more vigorous prose are his political novel. La Quinta modelo (The Model Farm) and his famous biographies of Manuel Eduardo Gorostiza and Jose Joaquin Pesado. Of the latter, often considered his masterpiece, one writer asserts, it shows " rich style, vast erudition, admirable method, severe impartiality in judgment, profound knowledge of the epoch and of the man." Famous is the Recuerdos de la invasion Norte- Americana 1846-18^'/ (Recollections of the American Invasion: 1846-1847), which appeared first in the columns of the periodical El Sigh XIX, and was reprinted in book form only in 1883. But it is in his short stories that Roa Barcena appears most characteristically. His Novelas, originales y traducidas (Novels, original and trans- lated) appeared in 1870. They are notable for delicacy of expression, minute detail in description and action, some mysticism, and a keen but subtle humor. In his translations from Dickens, Hoff- man, Byron, Schiller, our author is wonderfully exact and faithful both to sense and form. 262 MODERN MEXICAN AUTHORS. COMBATS IN THE AIR. Some of Roa Barcena's characteristics are well illustrated in the little sketch, Combates en el aire (Combats in the air). An old man recalls the fancies and experiences of his boyhood. To him, as a child, kites had character and he associated individual kites with persons whom he knew ; they had emotions and passions; they spoke and filled him with joy or terror. One great kite, a bully in disposition, was, for him, a surly neighbor, whom all feared. This dreadful kite had ruined many of the cherished kite possessions of his young com- panions. Once his teacher, the boy himself, and some friends, fabricated a beautiful kite. In its first flight it is attacked by the bully and the battle is described. The preliminaries of the sport began with the manufacture of the kite. The kinds most used were pandorgas, parallelograms of paper or cloth, according to size and importance, with the skele- ton composed of strong and flexible cane, called otate, with hummers of gut or parchment or rag, at the slightly curved top or bottom — or they bore the name of cubos (squares) , made with three small crossed sticks covered with paper and with a broad fringe of paper or cloth at the sides. Both kinds usually displayed the national colors or bore JOSE MARIA ROA BARCENA. 263 figures of Moors and Christians, birds and quad- rupeds. The tails were enormously long and were forms of tufts of cloth, varying in size, tied cross- wise of the cord, which ended in a bunch of rags; in the middle of the cord were the * cutters,' terri- bly effective in battles between kites ; they were two cockspur-knives of steel, finely sharpened, project- ing from the sides of a central support of wood, with which the bearer cut the string of his oppo- nent, which, thus abandoned to its fate on the wings of the wind, went whirling and tumbling through the air, to fall at last to the ground, at a consider- able distance. Night did not end the sport; they had messengers or paper lanterns, hanging from a great wheel of cardboard, through the central open- ing in which the kite-string passed, and which, Im- pelled by the wind, went as far as the check-string and whirled there, aloft, with Its candles yet lighted. * * * * A neighbor of gruff voice, harsh aspect, and the reputation of a surly fellow, was, for me, represented by a great pandorga, with powerfully bellowing hummer, which on every windy day sunk — if we may use the term — some eight or ten unfortunate cubos, thus being the terror of all the small boys of our neighborhood. It was made of white cloth, turned almost black by the action of sun and rain; Its long tail twisted and writhed like a great serpent, and even doubled upon itself 264 MODERN MEXICAN AUTHORS. midway, at times, on account of the weight of its large and gleaming cutters. Its hoarse and con- tinuous humming could be heard from one end of the town to the other and sounded to me like the language of a bully. Just then was heard a bellowing, as of a bull, and, black and threatening, the well known pan- dorga bully appeared in the air, more arrogant than ever, glowering with malicious eyes upon its unex- pected rival and preparing to disembowel it, at the least. For a moment the members of our little company shuddered, because, in the anxiety and haste to raise the cubo, we had forgotten to attach the cutters. To lower it then, in order to arm it, would have looked like lowering a flag, which was not to Martinez's taste. Trusting, then, to his own dexterity, he prepared for the defence, intending to entangle the cord of our cubo in the upper part of the tail of the enemy, which would cause the kite and its tail to form an acute angle riding upon our attaching cord, and would hurl it headlong to the earth. . . . The bully rose to the north, in order to fall almost perpendicularly, on being given more string, upon the cord of the cubo, and then, on ascending again with all possible force, to cut it. Once, twice, three times it made the at- tempt, but was foiled by our giving the cubo extra cord, also, at the decisive moment. Raging and bel- / <■ r JOSE MARIA ROA BARCENA. 265 lowing, the enemy drew much nearer, and taking advantage of a favorable gust, risked everything in a desperate effort to cut us. As its sharp set tail, keen as a Damascus blade, grazed our cord, the watchful Martinez gave this a sudden, sharp jerk against the tail itself, causing both it and the kite to double and plunge. In its headlong dash, it cut loose the cubo, which, alone, and whirling like a serpent through the air, went to fall a quarter of a league away. But the aggressor too fell, and fell most ignominiously. Thrown and whirled by the treacherous cord of its victim, it could not re- gain its normal attitude, and like the stick of an exhausted rocket, fell almost vertically to the earth, landing in the center of our court, where it was declared a just prisoner. • NEAR THE ABYSS. In Noche al raso, the coach from Orizaba to Puebla breaks down a little before reaching its destination. The passengers beguile the night hours with stories. The story told by " the Cap- tain " is entitled /i dos dedos del Abismo (At two fingers from the abyss). An exquisite, Marquis del Veneno, is the hero. Of good birth and well connected, with no special wealth or prospects, fre- quenting good society, he has never yielded to feminine charms. A young lady, Loreto, daugh- ter of an aged professor of chemistry, is beautiful 266 MODERN MEXICAN AUTHORS. and socially attractive, but a blue-stocking, fond of mouthing Latin, of poetry and of science. The Marquis has no idea of paying attentions to Lo- reto, in fact he despises her pedantry. But gossip connects their names and a series of curious inci- dents give color to the report that they are be- trothed. The aged chemist clinches the matter, despite desperate efforts on the part of the Marquis to explain, and the engagement is announced. In his dilemma the Marquis seeks advice and aid from his padrino, General Guadalupe Victoria, and from his friend, the famous Madame Rodriguez. All, however, seems in vain. Just as he decides to ac- cept the inevitable, an escape presents itself. The passages selected are those which describe the inter- view between the old chemist and the Marquis and the opening of a way of escape. Somewhat disquieted as to the purport of such an appointment, del Veneno, after many turns, back and forth, in his chamber, was inclined to believe that reports of his supposed relations hav- ing come to the ears of Don Raimundo, the old man proposed to hear from his own lips the facts. Basing himself on this supposition, the Marquis, whose conscience was entirely clear, decided to be frank and loyal with the old gentleman, explaining fully his own conduct in the matter, and endeavor- ing to dissipate any natural vexation which the JOSE MARIA ROA BARCENA. 267 popular gossip had caused him ; — gossip, for which the Marquis believed he had given no cause. Having decided upon this procedure, he succeeded in falling asleep and the following day, with the most tranquil air in the world, he directed himself, at the hour set, to the place of appointment, feeling himself, like the Chevalier Bayard, without fear and without reproach. He installed himself at one of the least conspicuous tables of the cafe and soon saw Don Raimundo, who saluted him, and seating him- self at his side, spoke to him in these terms : " Dissimulation is useless, my friend, in matters so grave and transcendental as that which you and my daughter have in hand; I do not mean that I disapprove the prudence and reserve with which you have both acted. It is true that you, as Lo- reto, have carried dissimulation and secrecy to such an extreme, that " " Permit me to interrupt you, Don Raimundo, to say that I do not understand to what matter you refer " " My friend, you young people believe that, in placing your fingers over your eyes you blot out the sun for the rest of us. But, we old folks, we see it all I We decompose and analyze ; further — what will not a father's insight and penetration discover? From the beginning of your love for Loreto " " But, sir, if there has not been " 268 MODERN MEXICAN AUTHORS. " Nothing indecorous, no scandal will come from the relations between you — that I know right well ; it could not be othewise in a matter in- volving a finished gentleman, to whom propriety and nobility of character have descended from both lines, and a young lady who, though it ill becomes me to say it, has been perfectly educated, has read much, and knows how to conduct herself in society. I tell you, friend Leodegario, that for months past no one has needed to whisper in my ear, ' These young people love each, other,' because the thing was evident and had not escaped me. Accus- tomed, from my youth, to decomposition and analysis, I have questioned my wife, ' Do they love each other ? ' and she has answered, ' I believe they do.' I then inquired, ' Have you spoken with Loreto about it? ' and she replied, ' Not a word.' Days pass and your mutual passion " " It is my duty, Don Raimundo, to inform you " " It is your duty to hear me without interrupt- ing me. Days pass and your mutual passion, arrived at its height, enters the crucible of test. You withdraw from Loreto and she pretends not to notice it. Thoughtless people say, ' They have broken with each other ' ; but I say, ' Like sheep they separate for a little, to meet again with the greater joy.' Others say, ' The Marquis is fickle and changeable ' ; but I say, ' He gives evidence of greater chivalry and nobility than I believed JOSE MARfA ROA BARCENA. 269 him to possess.' Friend Leodegario, what do not the eyes of a father discover? What, in the moral as in the physical world, can resist decomposition and analysis ? With a little isolation and examina- tion of the elements composing such an affair, the truth is precipitated and shows itself at the bottom of the flask! I know it all; I see it, just as if it were a chemical reaction I You — delicate and honorable to quixotism, knowing that the grocer Ledesma is attentive to Loreto, and considering yourself relatively poor, have said to yourself, ' I will not stand in the way of the worldly betterment of this young lady,' and have abruptly left the field. Loreto, in her turn, offended that you should believe her capable of sacrificing you upon the altai- of her self-interest, has determined to arouse your jealousy by pretending to accept the attentions which Ledesma offers in the form of raisins, almonds, codfish and cases of wine. I repeat that this is all very plain; but it is a sort of trifling that can not be prolonged without peril, and which I have ended so far as my daughter is concerned. Your future and hers might both suf- fer from the rash actions of irritated love ; no, my dear sir: let Ledesma keep his wealth, or lavish it upon some Galician countrjrwoman ; and let re- spectable financial mediocrity, accompanied by the noble character and the delicacy and chivalry which distinguish you, triumphantly bear away the prize. A has GaHcia ! viva Mexico ! " 270 MODERN MEXICAN AUTHORS. " The complete mistake under which you la- bor " " My friend, one who, like myself, decomposes and analyzes everything, rarely or never makes mistakes 1 Last night, I brought my wife and daughter together and, to assure myself of the state of mind of the latter, made use of this stratagem : ' Loreto,' I said, ' Don Leodegario has asked me for your hand ; what shall I answer him ? ' Immediately both mother and daughter flushed as red as poppies and embraced each other. Loreto then replied, ' I am disposed to whatever you may determine.' ' But do you love him ? ' I asked. ' Yes, I love him,' she answered with downcast eyes. With this, my friend, the mask fell and these things only remained to be done, what I have done this morning and what I am doing now; to wit: to intimate to Seiior Ledesma that he desist from his aspirations regarding a young lady who is to marry another within a few days, and to tell you that Loreto's parents, duly appreciative of the noble conduct of the aspirant for their daugh- ter's hand, yield her to him, sparing all explana- tions and steps unpleasant to one's self-respect, and desiring for you both, in your marriage relation, a life longer than Methuselah's and an offspring more numerous than Jacob's." " But, sir, Don Raimundo " " Neither buts nor barrels avail.* You were * There is here a play on words not easy to render well. Pero-hut: pera-pear; aguacate is a sort of fruit. The text runs: JOSE MARIA ROA BARCENA. 27 1 marvelously self-controlled, in believing yourself unworthy of Loreto, and in refusing the happiness for which your heart longed ; but I am also master* of my daughter's lot and I desire to unite her to you and render you happy perforce. Come, friend Leodegarlo, there is no escape. Dr. Roman has promised to marry you in the church; I have or- dered my wife to announce the approaching mar- riage to her lady friends and I am making the announcement to the gentlemen. Everyone cor- dially congratulates me upon my selection of a son- in-law." + * * * With this object, he took up his hat and gloves. Just then he heard a noise and voices in altercation in the corridor ; the door opened violently and Don Raimundo entered the room in his shirt sleeves and a cap, his face pallid, and a breakfast roll in his hand. He entered, and saying nothing to the Marquis beyond the words, " They pursue me," ran to hide himself under the bed, frightened and trembling. Seeing this, the young man seized a sword from the corner of the room and set forth to meet the pursuers of Don Raimundo. " Pero — senor Don Raimundo " " No hay peros, ni aguacates que valgan.*' The exact translation is: " But — senor Don Raimundo — " There are no pears, nor aguacates, which avail. * Here again is a double-entendre. The same word dueno, owner, is here translated as self-controlled, and master. The young man is master (of himself), the old man is master of his daughter s lot. 272 MODERN MEXICAN AUTHORS. He found, in the next room, Fabian, Don Rai- mundo's servant, almost as old as his master him- self. With him were two porters, bearing no arms more serious than their carry-straps. The Mar- quis having asked Fabian what this meant, the faithful old servant took him to one side and said, " The master has left home, against the doctor's orders, and we have come to fetch him, as my lady and her daughter do not wish him wandering alone on the streets." Without yet understanding the enigma, del Veneno further questioned Fabian and learned that Don Raimundo, after some days of symptoms of mental disturbance, had become absolutely de- ranged and, for a week back, had been locked up in the house. Immediately the Marquis understood the con- duct of his father-in-law-to-be toward himself and a gleam of hope appeared. But, moved by sym- pathy and without thinking of his own affairs, he tried to persuade the old man to leave with Fabian, which, with great difficulty, he at last did. He then hastened to the house of Madame Rodriguez, where he was received almost gaily. " I was about to send for you," said that lady, " be- cause I have most important matters to communi- cate to you. Perhaps you know that the unfortu- nate Don Raimundo is hopelessly insane. Ah, well, Loreto and her mamma, after cudgelling their brains vainly to explain why you never whis- JOSE MARIA ROA BARCENA. 273 pered a word about the wedding, of which Don Raimundo only spoke, as soon as they knew the old man was deranged, understood everything else, and I have confirmed them in their conclusions. It is needless to dwell upon the mortification the matter has caused them: you can imagine it; but, fulfilling the commission which they have intrusted to me, I tell you that they consider you free from all compromise and that they are greatly pleased at the prudence and chivalry you have displayed in so unpleasant and disagreeable a matter." " But I am not capable," impetuously exclaimed the Marquis, " of leaving such a family in a ridicu- lous position. No, my dear lady, pray tell Loreto that, decidedly and against all wind and sea, I will marry her, and that in the quickest possible time." " Marquis ! tempt not God's patience ! Now that a door is opened, escape by it without looking back and consider yourself lucky. Moreover, although Loreto babbles in Latin and writes dis- tiches, she is not so stupid as you think, and knows well how to take care of herself. She has under- stood conditions perfectly and knows her advan- tage; a single glance has sufficed to draw to her feet the grocer, more attentive and enamored than ever." "How, madam? Is it possible that Loreto would " " Loreto marries Ledesma within a week." Who can know the chaos of the human heart? 274 MODERN MEXICAN AUTHORS. The Marquis, who a moment before had been supremely happy at the mere idea of his release, now felt vexed and humiliated in knowing that Loreto so promptly replaced him. His pupils grew yellow, his nervous attack returned and this, without doubt, was all that prevented his hover- ing about Loreto's house as a truly enamored swain and challenging Ledesma to the death. JUSTO SIERRA. 275 JUSTO SIERRA. Justo Sierra was born January 26, 1 848, at Cam- peche, the capital city of the State of the same name. The son of a man known in the world of letters, he early showed himself interested in literary pursuits. Determining to follow the career of law, he was licensed to practice at the age of twenty-three. Chosen a member of the Chamber of Deputies, he promptly gained a repu- tation as an orator. He became one of the 276 MODERN MEXICAN AUTHORS. justices of the Supreme Court. At present he is Sub-Secretary of Public Instruction and has been connected with all recent prj)gress in Mexican edu- cation. For some year he was professor of gen- eral history in the Escuela Nacional Preparatoria (National Preparatory School). Among his works are Ctientos romanticos (Romantic Tales), En Tierra Yankee (In Yankee Land), and Mex- ico y su evolucion social (Mexico and its Social Evolution) . In style Sierra is poetical and highly fantastic, with a strain of humor rare in Mexicans. Our selection is a complete story from Cuentos ro- manticos. THE STORY OF STARE I : A LEGEND OF YELLOW FEVER. Examining a volume, pretentiously styled Al- bum de Via]e (Album of Travel) , which lay amid the sympathetic dust, which time accumulates in a box of long-forgotten papers, I encountered what my kind readers are about to see. We were in the diligencia coming from Vera Cruz, a German youth, Wilhelm S. — with flaxen hair and great, expressionless, blue eyes, — and my- self. We had not well gained the summit of the Chiquihuite, when the storm burst upon us. The coach halted, in order not to expose itself to the dangers of the descent over slopes now converted into rivers. I neared my face to the window, JUSTO SIERRA. 2*77 raising the heavy leather curtain, which the wind was beating against the window-frame; it looked like night. Above us, the tempest, with its thou- sand black wings, beat against space; its electric bellowings, rumbled from the hills to the sea, and the lightning, like a gleaming sword tearing open the bosom of the clouds, revealed to us, within, the livid entrails of the storm. We were literally in the midst of a cataract, which, precipitating itself from the clouds, re- bounded from the mountain summit, and rushed, with torrential fury, down the slopes. " I am drenched in oceans of perspiration," said my companion to me in French, " and I have an oven inside of me." " Go to sleep," I replied, " and all this will pass," and, joining example to counsel, I wrapped myself in my cloak and closed my eyes. Two hours later the tempest had passed, drift- ing to the west, over the wooded heights. It was five in the evening and the declining sun was near- ing the last low-lying patches of cloud. The light, penetrating through the exuberant vegeta- tion, colored everything with a marvelous variety of hues, which melted into a glow of gold and emerald. To the east an infinite sheet of verdure extended itself, following all the folds and irregu- larities of the mountain mass, flecked here and there with the delicate and brilliant green of ba- nana patches, and undulating over that stairway of 278 MODERN MEXICAN AUTHORS. giants, became blue with distance and broke like a sea against the broad strip of sand of the Vera Cruz coast. The road which we had followed in our ascent, wound like a serpent among trees, which scarcely distinguished their foliage masses amid the dense curtain of vines and creepers, passed over a lofty bridge, descended in broad curves to a little settlement of wooden buildings, and went, between dense and tangled patches of briers, to confound itself with the bit of railroad which led from the foot of the mountain to the port. At the bottom of the picture, there, where the sea was imagined, were rising superb cloud masses against whose blue-gray ground were defined the black and immovable streaks of stratus, seeming a flock of seabirds opening their enormous wings to the wind, which delayed its blowing. The German slept as one much fatigued and from his panting bosom issued heavy sobs; he seemed afflicted with intense suffering; a suspicion crossed my mind; if he should ! The branches of a neighboring tree projected, through an open window, into the diligencia, which was standing still, until the torrents should have spent something of their force. Upon a yellowed leaf trembled a raindrop, the last tear of the tem- pest. Preoccupied by the dismal fear which the condition of my companion caused me, I looked attentively at that bead of crystal liquid. This is what I saw: JUSTO SIERRA. 279 The drop of water was the Gulf of Mexico, bor- dered by the immense curve of hot coast and cut off, on the east, by two low breakwaters, crusted with flowers and palms, — Florida and Yucatan, between which. In flight, extended a long string of seabirds, the Antilles, headed by the royal heron, Cuba, slave served by slaves. In the midst of the Gulf, surmounted by a yel- low; crown, which gilded the sea around like an enormous sunflower which reflects itself in a flower of water, arose a barren Island of the color of impure gold, where currents deposited the sea- weeds like the wrappings which swathe Egyptian mummies. Above that rocky mass the sun gleamed like copper, the rapid moon passed veiled by livid vapors, and on days of tempest the storm- birds described wide circles around it, uttering dire- ful croaklngs. A voice, infinitely sad, like the voice of the sea, sounded in that lost island ; listen, it said to me. The very year in which the sons of the sun arrived at the islands, there lived in Cuba a woman of thirteen years, named Stare! (star). She was very beautiful; black were her eyes and Intoxlcat- ingly sweet like those of the Aztecs ; her skin firm and golden as that of those who bathe in the Meschacebe ; celestial her voice as that of the shkok, which sings Its serenades In the zapote groves of Mayapan; and her little feet were as graceful and fine as those of Antillean princesses, 280 MODERN MEXICAN AUTHORS. who pass their lives swinging in hammocks, which seem to be woven by fairies. When Starei ap- peared one morning on the strand, seated on the red shell of a sea-turtle, she seeme~d a living pearl and all adored her as a daughter of god, of Dimi- van-caracol. The priestess of the tribe prayed all night near the sacred fire, in which smouldered leaves of the intoxicating tobacco, and at last heard the divine voice, which resounded within the heart of the great stone fetish, saying: " Kill her not; guard and protect her; she is the daughter of the Gulf and the Gulf was her cradle ; God grant that she return there." Starei completed her thirteen years and the old and the young, prophets and warriors, caciques and slaves, abandoned their villages, temples, and hearths, to run after her on the seashore. All were crazy with love, but, if one of them approached her, the Gulf thundered hoarsely and the storm- bird flew screaming across the sky. Starei sang like the Mexican zenzontl, and her song soothed like the Seabreeze which kisses the palms in hot evenings, and in laughing she opened her red lips like the wings of the ipir't and her bosom rose and let fall in enticing folds, the fine web of cotton that covered it. Men on seeing her wept, kneeling, and women wept also, seeing their palm huts deserted and their beds of rushes chilled and untouched. One stormy night, the divine Starei returned to JUSTO SIERRA. 28 1 the village, after one of her rambles on the shore, in which she passed hours watching the waves, as if waiting for something; those who followed her determined to heap high their dead and bury them ; the aged who had died from weariness in the pur- suit of the Gulf's daughter, the youths who had thrown their hearts at her feet, the mothers who had died of grief and the wives who had died of despair. It was a night of tempest ; Hurakan, the god of the Antilles, reigned with unwitnessed fury. The priests spoke of a new deluge and of the legendary gourd in which were the ocean and the sea-mon- sters, which, one day, broke and inundated the earth, and, terrified, they ascended to the summit of their temple-pyramid and took refuge in the shadow of their gods of stone, which trembled on their pedestals. The people of the island, over- whelmed with terror, forgot Starei. All the night was passed in prayer and sacrifice; but at day- break, they ran, infatuated, to where the song of the maiden called them. Starei was on the shore, seated on the trunk of one of the thousands of palm trees, which the wind had uprooted and thrown upon the sand; upon her knees rested the head of a white man, who ap- peared to be a corpse. The beauty of that face was sweet and manly at once and the just appear- ing beard indicated the youthfulness of the man, whom Starei devoured with eyes bathed in tears. 282 MODERN MEXICAN AUTHORS. " Whoever saves him," she exclaimed, " shall be my husband, my life companion." " He is dead," solemnly replied an aged priest. " He lives," cried a man, opening his way through the crowd. The astonished Indians fell away from him; never had they seen so strange a being among them. He was tall and strong ; his hair, the color of corn-silk, rose rigidly above his broad and bronzed forehead and dividing into two masses fell thick and straight upon his shoulders ; his eye- brows were two delicate red lines, which joined at the root of his aquiline nose ; his mouth, of the purple hue of Campeche wood, bent upward at the tips, in a sensual and cruel arch. The oval of his face, unbroken by even a trace of beard, did not so much attract attention as his eyes, of the color of two coins of purest gold, set in black circles. He was naked, but splendidly tattooed with red de- signs ; from the gold chain that encircled his waist hung a skirt, deftly woven of the feathers of the huitzitl, the humming-bird of Anahuac. That man, who, many believed, came from Hayti, approached that which seemed to be a corpse, without paying attention to the glance, of profound anger, of Starei. He laid one hand upon the icy brow of the white man, and, on plac- ing the other to the heart, instantly withdrew it as if he had touched a glowing brand; rapidly he tore open the still-drenched shirt of linen, which JUSTO SIERRA. 283 covered the youth's breast and seized an object that hung at the neck. This object Starei snatched from him. Was it a Talisman? When that singular man no longer had beneath his hand that, which had, doubtless, been to him a hindrance, he placed it upon the stilled heart of the shipwrecked stranger and said to the maiden, " Kiss him on the lips," and had scarcely been obeyed when the supposed dead man recovered and, taking the piece of wood from Starei's hand, knelt, placing It against his lips and bathing It in tears. It was a cross. "Adieu, Starei," said he of the eyes of gold; " yonder is the hut of Zekom (fever) among the palms ; there Is our nuptial couch ; I await you be- cause you have promised." The daughter of the Gulf could not restrain a cry of anger at hearing the words of the son of Heat; she approached the Christian, clasped his neck in her arms and covered his mouth and eyes with kisses. " No ! no ! leave me, thou loved of Satan," cried the youth, trying to release himself from the beautiful being. Starei took him by the hand, led him to her hut, and said to him, in expressive pantomime, " Here we two will live." Then her companion replied in the language of those of Hayti, which was perfectly understood in Cuba: "I cannot be thy husband; I will be thy brother." 284 MODERN MEXICAN AUTHORS. "Why not? Who are you?" " I am from far, far beyond the sea. I come from Castile. With many others, I arrived, some months ago, at Hayti, and knowing that this, your isle, had not been visited by Christians, we de- sired to visit it, but were shipwrecked in the fearful tempest of last night and I was about to perish, when thy hand seized me amid the waves and brought me to the shore." " And why do you not wish to be my husband ? " " Because I am a priest and my god, who is the only god, orders his priests not to marry ; he orders us to preach love. I come to preach it here, but not the love of the world," added the Spaniard, sighing. "This cannot be; it is not true," replied the island woman, with vigor, "remain here with me in my hut, and we will be the rulers of the island and our children will be heirs of all." " I will be thy brother," replied the missionary. And the Indian woman left, weeping. In the way she met Zekom, who fixed his terrible yellow glance upon her. " Comest to my hut, Starei? " he asked her. " Never," she answered firm and brave. " We will be the rulers of all the islands of the seas and our children will be gods on earth, because we are children of the gods; the Gulf begot you in a pearlshell ; the glowing Tropic begot me in a reef of gold and coral." JUSTO SIERRA. 285 Starei paused; she was upon the summit of a rock, from which the whole coast was visible. " Look," continued Zekom, " this will be our kingdom." And before the fascinated eye of the daughter of the Gulf there was spread out a sur- prising panorama. In the midst of an emerald prairie, a cu or teocalli reared its high pyramid of gold, which shed its light around, even to the dis- tant horizon. Over that gleaming plain were prostrated innumerable people with fear depicted on their faces. Genii, clad in marvelous gar- ments, discharged upon these people, innumerable flaming arrows, the touch of which caused death. And upon the summit of the cu, she stood erect, as on a pedestal, more beautiful than the sun of springtime. The daughter of the Gulf remained long in silent ecstasy. " Come, Starei," murmured Zekom in her ear, " tomorrow I await thee in my hut." Starei departed thinking, dreaming. When the new day dawned, she saw the Spaniard, hidden in the forest, kneeling, with his eyes turned heaven- ward. At seeing him, the Indian maiden felt all her love rekindled; she threw herself, anew, upon him and clasping him within her arms, repeated : " Love me ; love me, man of the cold land. I will adore thy god, who cannot curse us because we fulfil his law, the law of life. Come to my nuptial hut; I will be thy slave; we will pray to- 2 86 MODERN MEXICAN AUTHORS. gether and I will be as humble and as cowardly as thou; but love me as I love you." " I will be thy brother," replied the missionary, pale with emotion. " Cursed art thou ! " said Starei, and fled. The priest made a movement, as if to follow her, but restrained himself, casting one sublime glance of grief toward heaven. Again, through all that night, the Gulf thun- dered frightfully. At break of day, Zekom and Starei issued from the nuptial hut, but as the maiden received the first rays of the sun in her languid eyes, they lost their luminous blackness like that of the night and turned yellow with the color of gold, like those of her lover. He cast a stone into the sea and instantly there appeared, in the west, a black pirogue, which neared the shore impelled by the hurricane, which filled its blood- red sails. " Come to be my queen," said Zekom to the daughter of the Gulf and, they entered into the bark, which instantly gained the horizon. Then the missionary appeared upon the shore, crying : " Come, Starei, my sister, I love thee." The silhouette of the pirogue, like a black wing, was losing Itself in the indistinct line Where the sea joins the sky. Starei had joined herself in mar- riage to the devil. And the voice which resounded, sad and melan- JUSTO SIERRA. 287 choly, from the rock, continued — this is the centre of the domain of Starei; from here her eternal vengeance against the whites radiates. The mis- sionary died soon after, of a strange disease, and his cold body turned horribly yellow, as if from it were reflected the eyes of gold of Zekom. Since then every year Starei weeps for him, disconsolate, and her tears evaporated by the tropic heat poison the atmosphere bf the Gulf, and woe for the sons of the cold land. The raindrop fell to the ground ; the coach pro- ceeded on its way, and I turned to glance at my friend; he was insensible; a livid, yellow hue was invading his skin and his eyes seemed to start from their orbits. " I die, I die, oh, my mother," said the poor boy. I did not know what to do. I clasped him in my arms trying to sooth his suffer- ings, to give him courage. We reached Cordoba. The poor fevered patient said: " Look at" her — the yellow woman." "Who? Is it Starei?" I asked him. " Yes. It is she," he answered. It was necessary for me to leave him. On arriv- ing at Mexico I read this paragraph in a Vera Cruz paper: " The young German, Wilhelm S., of the house of Watermayer & Co., who left this city in apparent health, has died of yellow fever at Cordoba, R. I. P." 288 MODERN MEXICAN AUTHORS. VICTORIANO SALADO ALBAREZ. Victoriano Salado Albarez was born at Teocal- toche, in the State of Jalisco, September 30, 1867. He studied law in the Escuela de Jurisprudencia in the city of Guadalajara, taking his title of Abo- gado, on August 30, 1890. He has long been engaged in journalistic work, serving as editor of various periodicals. For three years past he has lived in the City of Mexico and has represented the State of Sonora in the Chamber of Deputies of the National Congress. He is also professor of VICTORIANO SALADO ALBAREZ. 289 the Spanish language in the Escuela Nacional Pre- paratoria (National Preparatory School) . He is a member of the Mexican Academy. In literature, Senor Albarez stands for the care- ful and discriminating use of pure Spanish, and for the treatment of truly Mexican themes in a charac- teristically Mexican way. He is an uncompromis- ing antagonist of the present tendency, in Mexico, to copy and imitate the "modern" (and quite properly called "decadent") French writings. His De mi cosecha (From My Harvest) is a little volume of reviews and criticisms, in which he assails this modern school and pleads for a sane and truly national literature. De autos (From Judi- cial Records) , is a collection of tales, original and reworked. His largest work so far in print is De Santa Anna a la Reforma (From Santa Anna to the Reform) , an anecdotal treatment of that period of the national history. His latest work. La Inter- vencion y el Imperio (The Intervention and the Empire) is now being published in Barcelona, Spain. It is of similar character to the preceding, but deals with the time of Maximilian. The two first parts of this, Las ranas pidiendo rey (The Frogs Begging for a King) and Puebla, are in press as this notice is being written. Our selections are from De autos and De mi co- secha. 290 MODERN MEXICAN AUTHORS. DE AUTOS. In the village of Hulzache, on the twentieth day of February, one thousand nine hundred, having received the accompanying summons, we went to the place known by the name of Corral de Pie- dra, situated about one kilometre distant, and held an inquest upon the body of a man about twenty-two years of age, tall, dark, with a light down on his upper lip, with black hair, eye- brows, and eyes; he showed, In the precardlal region, an opening produced by the entrance of a bullet, which had its hole of exit in the left scapula, and another wound, produced by a sabre, in the forehead, the wound measuring eleven centimetres in length, by one centimetre in breadth, the depth not being ascertainable for lack of suitable instruments for Its examination. With the body were found a red serape sprinkled with blood, a leather pouch containing cigarettes, twenty-two cents in copper, twenty-five cents in silver, a copy of the religious print known as the anima sola, and a recommendation signed by Man- uel Tames, of Guadalajara, in which the good character of a person, whose name cannot be made out, is attested. After the inquest. It was ordered that the corpse should be burled in the village cemetery, after first being exposed to public view, clad in the garments In which it was found — which are white drill pantaloons, calico shirt, sash, VICTORIANO SALADO ALBAREZ. 29 1 sandals, a palm hat — for possible recognition. Near the spot, where it Is supposed that the deed was committed, a piece of a sabre was found, which is believed to be one of the weapons used in the attack. Thus stands the record, signed by the Alcalde, and the other witnesses, as, also, the citizen, Gregorio Lopez, practising physician, forty years of age, married, citizen of a neighboring town, there being no licensed physician In this jurisdic- tion. No autopsy was ordered, there being no suit- able instruments for making it. On this date appears a complainant, who after being duly sworn, says that she Is named Damiana Perez, married, without vocation, seventy years of age, native and inhabitant of Guadalajara; that the corpse here present Is that of her son, Ignacio Almeida, twenty years old, carpenter, son of de- ponent and her husband Pedro Almeida ; that said mentioned son died by the police force of this place, the matter occurring as follows : That for some time past the said mentioned son maintained honorable relations with Marta Ruiz, resident in thie same house with the complainant in Guadala- jara, which house is the alcaiceria * called La Cala- vera, that, as the parents of the Ruiz girl unreason- ably opposed the relation of the lovers, Ignacio • Market for raw stuffs or materials. 292 MODERN MEXICAN AUTHORS. arranged to carry the girl away, which he did, com- ing to this village, where he proposed to work at his trade ; that the deponent, being acquainted with the whole matter, and having gained consent of the parents of the Ruiz girl, who Is a minor, de- sired to legalize the marriage and, for that pur- pose, had come to Hulzache, where she learned that Ignacio had been put In prison and that he had afterward been killed ; that this Is all that she has to declare and that Don Juan Cortes, his em- ployer, Don Manuel Tames, and many others who knew him can testify to the good character and conduct of her son. This same day, appears a witness, who stated, after the customary oath, that he was named An- tonio Vera, married, fifty-five years of age, native of Ixtlan, and now chief of police of this place; that the body present is that of a person, who yesterday morning was sent to him by the munici- pal President, to be conducted to the capital of the district, accused. If he does not remember wrongly, of vagrancy, disorderly conduct, and ab- duction of a girl, who accompanied him; that, as is known, these accusations were made to the Senor President by Seiior Don Pedro Gomez Galvez, owner of the Hacienda de San Buenaventura, who also made complaint against the now defunct, that, he had lost from one of his pastures two horses, VICTORIANO SALADO ALBAREZ. 293 which were there enclosed, one of them being known by the name of El Resorte, and the other being called El Jaltomate, as well as twenty pesos in money, and other objects which had disappeared from the general store on his place; that, this morning at dawn, he commanded his subordinates that they should saddle and mount their horses, which they did, and lead the prisoner, who walked bound with cords, between them riding in two files ; that on reaching the place known as Corral de pied- ra, the now defunct, who had succeeded in loosen- ing his cords, on account of the darkness, tried to escape, crying " Viva la libertad de los hombres; chase me, if you wish," for which reason, those who accompanied the deponent, discharged their arms against him who was escaping, ceasing their attack when they saw that the prisoner fell dead; that Almeida, in attempting to escape fired two shots, of which one pierced the hat worn by one of the police and the other imbedded itself in de- ponent's saddle; that he did not know how the prisoner could have secured the revolver, nor where he threw it when he ran ; that he was equally Ignorant as to how the body received the gash which it showed, as none of his subordinates used his sabre against the accused. The declaration having been read, he approved it, not knowing how to sign his name. * * * * (Similar declarations of the four auxiliaries.) 294 MODERN MEXICAN AUTHORS. Thereupon the coroner was shown a gray hat, with brim and crown pierced by a shot, apparently of a fire-arm, and a cowboy's saddle with signs of a bullet shot in the horn. On the twenty-fourth of February appeared a witness, who, being duly sworn, stated that she was named Marta Ruiz, unmarried, sixteen years of age, without vocation, native and inhabitant of Guadalajara; that she knew Ignacio Almeido, with whom she had lived in iUicit relations for six months, having before been in honorable relations with the purpose of contracting marriage ; not suc- ceeding in their desires, on account of the oppo- sition of deponent's parents, they agreed to run away together, intending to marry later; that, arriving at this place, and being without work, Almeida sought and secured It at the Hacienda de San Buenaventura, situated a half league's distance from here; that, at first they lived there content; but that, soon, the Senor Don Pedro Gomez Gal- vez, owner of that place, began to pay attention to her, urging her to abandon Almeida, and that she resisted; that Don Pedro was angered and threatened her to incriminate her lover, which he afterward did, since, about two weeks later Al- meida was taken prisoner, without deponent's hav- ing succeeded in seeing him meantime; that it is false that Ignacio had a pistol, and, more so, that VICTORIANO SALADO ALBAREZ. 295 he had shot at anyone; that she knows that the hat and the saddle (given in evidence at the in- quest) are shown in all the cases similar to this, to prove that they were pierced; but that said marks are ancient, as she had been told that, in the inquest held two years ago on the death of Perfecto Sanchez, they were in evidence ; that three days since, on the death of her lover being known in San Buenaventura, the Seiior Gomez Galvez came to her and said " Now, ingrate, you see what has happened. You may blame yourself for this." And, that then he attempted to embrace her and when deponent resisted him, the Senor Don Pedro ordered that they should put her off the place, which was done without permitting her to remove her possessions. The declaration having been read, she approved It, not knowing how to sign her name. On the fourteenth of June, when it was known that Senor Don Pedro Gomez Galvez was there, the personnel of the court went to the house of said person, for the purpose of interrogating him. After the affirmation prescribed by law, he stated that he was married, forty years of age, native of the Hacienda de San Buenaventura and inhab- itant of Guadalajara; that he knew Ignacio Al- meida, carpenter, who worked on his place for the space of six months ; that, finally, having lost vari- 296 MODERN MEXICAN AUTHORS. ous animals from San Buenaventura, as well as money and other things, and having suspicion that the thief might be Almeida, he had informed the Municipal President, who ordered the arrest of the criminal; that he knows the said Almeida was killed by his guards, when attempting escape, at the place called Corral de piedra, and that he shot a pistol at the said policemen; that he does not know Marta Ruiz, nor has ever made love ad- vances to her, nor was this the motive of his de- nunciation of Almeida, but the desire to recover the property, which he had lost. On this date, the preceding deponent was con- fronted with the witness Marta Ruiz (who was brought by force from her house), on account of the discrepancies found in their statements. The Ruiz woman, greatly excited, said to Seiior Gal- vez, " You demanded my love and told me, if I gave you no encouragement, you would incriminate Ignacio." The Seiior Gomez Galvez replied to the Ruiz woman, " It is false : I do not even know you." It was impossible to proceed further in the mat- ter, as the Ruiz woman could not reply, having suffered a nervous attack; the investigation was therefore held as closed; the presiding Judge, the Alcalde, and the witnesses signed the records. VICTORIANO SALADO ALBAREZ. 297 Huizache, July i, 1900. No grounds for pro- ceeding against any specific person, having resulted from the investigation, these records may be placed in the archives. It is so ordered. Thus decreed the first constitutional Judge, acting in accord with the assisting witnesses. FEDERICO GAMBOA. If I must confess the truth, Don Federico Gam- boa was not agreeable, as a writer, to me. His book, Del Natural, seemed to me the effort, not always well sustained, of a beginner of promise; his Aparencias, I considered a translated and adapted novel, after the fashion of the dramas and comedies which formerly were " adapted " for the Mexican stage; his Impresiones y Recuer- dos, in which the author describes and discusses the time when he smoked his first cigarette, the color of the eyes of his first sweetheart, the fer- rule with which his teacher punished his boyish pranks, and other equally interesting matters, made on me the impression of an immense exhibi- tion of personal vanity, in which the writer an- nounced his res et gesta, with the gravity with which a Goncourt or a Daudet might make known what he had done m life. Thus, then, his new book, Suprema Ley, sur- prised me agreeably, constituted a revelation, — of a truthfulness so admirable, so vivid, so passional, 298 MODERN MEXICAN AUTHORS. SO full of that well-founded realism, which does not permit a book to remain on the shelf of the bookseller, but places it upon the table of the reader and in the memory of the lover of the beautiful. If one did not see, at the close of the volume, the dates on which it was begun and concluded, he might believe that it had sprung forth com- plete, a spontaneous improvisation, a work of the instant, in which neither art, nor trammels of execution, nor imperfections of detail had had a part. In the novel there is not a needless character, nor a useless incident, nor a single page which does not contribute to the completing of the ac- tion and which has not a direct relation to the plot. Even the descriptions, in which our novelists are prodigal to the degree of piling them up indiscrim- inately, are in Suprema Ley, only different modes in which the subject is impressed by reality. In Gamboa's work, Belen, the Theatre, the Alameda — especially the Alameda — perform the part of the chorus in Greek tragedy. The characters are enchantingly real, to the degree that, after reading the book, we feel that we have encountered, seen, and spoken with the actors. Ortegal is a degenerate, whom we all know; Clothilde is a fallen woman with a mask of sanctity, a profligate, who entered the world for man's undoing; Beron, Holas, even the Comen- VICTORIANO SALADO ALBAREZ. 299 dador and Don Francisco are the very breath of life, are full of enchanting and noble realism. One given to seek similarity between the old and the new would claim a likeness between Dr. Pascual, the learned man of the Rongon Macquart and the poor court writer, between Clothilde of Zola and the Clothilde of Gamboa, between the first night which the lovers spent united and the first night of Laurent and Therese Raquin, between the servant whose type Gamboa barely sketches and the Juliana Conseira de E^a of Quieros. These similarities may or may not exist, but no charge can be made against Gamboa on account of them; he painted reality and the other novetsts painted reality, and nothing resembles itself more closely than truth. Gamboa does not possess what I will call the epic faculty, that is, the faculty of describing ex- ternal nature, as Delgado for instance; as little does he have, as Campo, the privilege of retaining, in memory, phrases and gestures ; nor does he pos- sess a vein of humor, as these writers and as Cuel- lar; he is, before all and beyond all, an analyst, a dissector of souls who sees to the bottom of hearts, who seeks the lust that dishonors, the meanness that kills, the hatred that causes horror. For this reason, in my opinion, he will never be popular, while his luckier fellows will gain proselytes and friends as long as they write. This is not saying that his book lacks attractive 300 MODERN MEXICAN AUTHORS. characters. Prieto is a well depicted jester, Chu- cho an admirably cut figure, Don Eustaquio, though somewhat melodramatic and somewhat out of place in that collection of beings of flesh and bone, is the providence which, dressed in jeans and working in clay, is brought in to give some outlet from the tangle; but, above all, the family of Ortegal is of the most delicate and tender which has been here described. Lamartine and Daudet might well have drawn the picture, if Lamartine and Daudet had dedicated themselves to painting Mexican types of the humbler class. There is no doubt that the world of Gamboa is, as that of Carlyle, a heap of fetid filth, shadowed by a leaden sky, where only groans and cries of desperation are heard ; but, as in the terrible imag- ination of the British thinker, flashes of kindliness bringing counsel and resignation, cleave the sky of this Gehenna. In fine, Suprema Ley is a great success, a success which compensates for many failures and, by It, Senor Gamboa has placed himself among the first Mexican novelists — not, indeed, first of all, be- cause for me, Delgado and Micros hold yet a higher place. IRENEO PAZ. 301 IRENEO PAZ. Ireneo Paz was born at Guadalajara, on July 3, 1836. His father died, when Ireneo was a child, leaving the widow in poverty. When a boy of thirteen years, he began his studies at the Semina- rio, laboring for his support throughout his course. By diligence and earnestness, he made an excel- lent record, gaining the respect and esteem of teach- ers and fellow-students. Graduating from the Seminario in 185 1, he took his baccalaureate In philosophy at the University in 1854, and was 302 MODERN MEXICAN AUTHORS. licensed as a lawyer in 1861. In his youth he wrote verse " as a tree sprouts leaves." Identify- ing himself with the liberal party, he soon became prominent in politics. He was also a Captain in the national guard. During this period he pub- lished El Independiente (The Independent), El Dia (The Day), and Sancho Panza. When the Imperial forces, in 1863, took posses- sion of Guadalajara, Ireneo Paz withdrew to Co- llma, where he was editor of the Official Periodical of that State, and Magistrate of the Court of Jus- tice. A year later, the approach of the Imperial- ists forced him to abandon these offices. He was with the Federal forces of the coast until their rout at Zapotlan, when he was one of the three to arrange the terms of capitulation with General Oroiioz. He was kept under surveillance at Guadalajara, where he, nevertheless, dedicated himself to the Republican cause, establishing El Payaso (The Clown), which vigorously combated monarchical Ideas, with audacity and satire — re- placing it later by El Noticioso (The Well-in- formed) . Maximilian himself was impressed by the little sheet and ordered that a full set should be secured for him. On the occasion of an operatic triumph, at Guadalajara, by the prima donna, An- gela Peralta, — Ireneo Paz gave vent to some dem- ocratic sentiments, which led to his arrest and im- prisonment on November 12, 1866. His stay there was brief, as the Republican forces gained IRENEO PAZ. 303 possession of the town, one month later. With the full re-establishment of the Republic, he was ap- pointed in 1867 Secretary of State for Sinaloa. A few months later, he was again actively interest- ed, against Juarez, in favor of the ideas of Diaz. The opposition failed and Paz was again in prison, this time in Santiago Tlaltelolco; he was later transferred to La Deputacion. During his eleven months in prison, he vigorously assailed the Juarez regime in the popular anti-administration journal. El Padre Cobos (Father Cobos). After his re- lease, he continued his attacks in newspaper articles, in popular clubs, and in the secret plottings pre- ceding the revolution known as La Noria. Not- withstanding all the efforts against him, Juarez was re-elected in 1871, but shortly died. Ireneo Paz was active in the revolution of La Noria and in that of Tuxtepec, four years later — supporting Diaz on both occasions and suffering imprisonment twice. The mere list of the books written by Ireneo Paz is too long for quoting here. Many of them are historical novels dealing with Mexican themes. He has written too much for all of it to have great hterary merit, but he is widely read and well known. His style is often tedious and prolix, but many interesting, and even thrilling, passages oc- cur in his works. He has a quiet and dry humor and, sometimes, keen satire. His Algunas Cam- panas (Some Campaigns), is practically a history 304 MODERN MEXICAN AUTHORS. of events in which he himself has participated. Our quotations are from it. In poetry Paz ranges from satire to love, from humor to philosophy. Ireneo Paz has long lived in the City of Mexico, where he has been a member of Congress, in both houses and a Regidor. He has been, and is, editor of La Patria (The Fatherland). He has been president of the Prensa Asociada (Associated Press) and of the Liceo Hidalgo. He was a Commissioner from Mexico to the World's Colum- bian Exposition, and as a result of his visit to our country wrote La Exposicion de Chicago (The Chicago Exposition). THE AGREEMENT OF EL ZACATE GRULLO. In an hacienda, situated on the Autlan road, with an obscure name, which, nevertheless became famous in the annals of the period, we, the troops under command of the Generals Anacleto Herrera y Cairo, Antonio Neri and Toro Manuel, includ- ing a whole regiment of officers and some few common soldiers, pulled ourselves together, though truly In a pitiable state. The name of this afterward celebrated hacienda deserves special mention — El Zacate Grullo. At the hacienda of El Zacate Grullo we planned to impart some organization to those forces, the scanty remnants of what had been the Army of the Centre. It was agreed that, for the time, they IRENEO PAZ. 305 should bear the name of the United Brigades. But, promptly, this other question had to rise — who was to command them? The regular leaders at once fixed their eyes upon the valiant and sympathetic General Herrera y Cairo; but the chief obstacle to his taking com- mand was in the great preponderance of irregulars. Would Rojas and his companions submit to the command of a man of fine manners and good edu- cation? The next thought was of Rojas or of Julio Garcia ; it was certain that two State Gover- nors would not place themselves at the orders of the former, even though he had the greater forces, particularly as he had, among the French, the reputation of a bandit, for which reason they had declared him an outlaw and had proposed pursuing him and treating him as other bandits. Don Julio had the friendship of all and possessed qualities, which connected him with both of these opposite factions. He had been a companion of Rojas, he understood pillage, and he also knew how, at the proper time, to assert his dignity as a public man, rising above his antecedents ; but no one gave him credit for military ability. That Don Julio was a sort of bond of union between the two leaders mentioned, served for nought then, in that emer- gency. But to continue with the facts. The Generals Herrera, Garcia and Rojas, as- sisted by Aristeo Moreno, who was the secretary 306 MODERN MEXICAN AUTHORS. of the first and the very intimate friend of the last, passed the whole day in private conference. I supposed, and my supposition was later con- firmed, that Rojas had refused to permit my pres- ence in that council. A general order was issued, that after the six o'clock roll-call, all the leaders and officers should present themselves at the lodgings of General Ro- jas, in order to be informed of what had been decided in the council of generals. We all hastened to the meeting, hoping that from the discussion had flashed out the ray of light so much needed in escaping from the diffi- culties, in which we were entangled. Rojas occu- pied the centre of a table placed at one end of the main saloon of the hacienda. At the sides were Generals Garcia and Herrera y Cairo, and at the end, near six candlesticks with lights was Aristeo Moreno, surrounded by papers. I do not know whether because the candles were of tallow, or because of the state of agitation in which our spirits were, we observed that the faces of those at the table appeared extremely pale. When the hundred and more officers, of the grade of Lieutenant and upward, of which the United Brigades boasted, were gathered together in the hall, we observed that five hundred galeanos surrounded the hacienda house. We were, then, to deliberate under pressure of five hundred ban- IRENEO PAZ. 307 dits, who could pulverize us at the least signal from their chief. Rojas solemnly said: " Mr. Secretary, read the agreement which we have made." Aristeo Moreno read the considerations of that abortion, which terminated with the following ar- ticles : Article l. The undersigned solemnly bind themselves, under oath, to defend the Republic against all intervention, battling, if need be, until death. Art. 2. All those who do not approve the pres- ent compact, showing themselves indifferent to the national defense, will be considered enemies and shot. Art. 3. Those who, in any manner whatever, shall be unfaithful to the Repubhc, and shall make alliance with the Empire, shall be shot. Art. 4. Populations where the Republican forces are not received with rejoicing, open hos- pitahty being refused, shall be burned and their inhabitants shall be compelled to fight as common soldiers or to be shot, according to the gravity of their offense. Art. 5. All prisoners taken from the enemy, of whatever category they may be, will be immedi- ately shot, without the necessity of personal iden- tification. Art. 6. All individual property becomes the property of the United Brigades; consequently all 308 MODERN MEXICAN AUTHORS. who refuse to furnish rations, fodder, money, or whatever else may be demanded, shall be shot. Art. 7. All who compose the United Brigades are free to sign this agreement or not, but once having signed it, he who does not support it, or who shall commit the crime of desertion, shall be shot. Given in the Hacienda del Zacate GruUo, etc. When Aristeo Moreno had finished reading, General Rojas with a voice apparently calm, but with the black rings about his eyes unusually dark and deep, a certain sign that he was breathing out hatred and that bad sentiments animated him, said, addressing those of us who were in the hall : " That is what I and my companions have sworn to sustain. Those who are in accord with the plan may come to sign it. Those, who are not, are free to ask for their passports." The profoundest silence reigned. " Does no one wish his passport? " he asked. And as an equal silence reigned, he said in a voice less abrupt : " Very well, let them come to sign." Some started to the table in order to sign, but as others vacillated or remained near the door, Rojas spoke again: " No one can leave the hacienda, unless accom- panied by one of my aides, after he has signed. That is the order I have given the guard which is watching the doors." IRENEO PAZ. 309 In fact, the galeones were watching the door from the hall to the corridor, that of the street, and all the other exits; there seemed no possible means of escape without placing one's signature to the shameful document. Nudgings with the arms, joggings with the feet, and words said so low that they seemed rather the buzzing of a fly, were the only protests which worthy and honorable leaders, there present, dared make. Rojas signed, and his secretary who was an in- significant Indian, signed; Herrera y Cairo fol- lowed, his secretary, Aristeo Moreno signing be- side him; General Julio Garcia was called and I felt a shiver run through me from head to foot, because I ought to follow him as his secretary, and, no less, the secretary of the republican government of Colima. ... In that moment of supreme anxiety, I felt it the height of folly to publicly oppose the signing of that infernal abortion, which would be the same as to provoke an undesirable quarrel in which the probabilities were that we who were decent men, being few, would perish at the hands of the bandits, who were many. Fortu- nately three copies had to be signed; Don Julio wrote slowly and I had time to climb, unobserved, through a small window, which opened from the hall into the inner rooms of the hacienda, which served us as lodgings, where I arrived, greatly agitated, and, promptly undressing, went to bed. As a precaution, which served me well, I bound a 3IO MODERN MEXICAN AUTHORS. white cloth around my head and surrounded my- self with medicines. Scarcely had I done all this, when an adjutant entered my room and asked if I were there. " What is wanted ? " I asked him. " The generals need you." "Tell them to excuse me; my head aches ter- ribly and you see that I am lying down." " Are you not coming to sign? " he asked. " No," I replied, rolling myself up in the bed. "Why?" " Because I do not wish to dishonor myself, even more in the eyes of my fellow-patriots than in those of the enemy." " Then you believe we have done badly in sign- ing it?" " Yes, sir; very badly." " Then you will not sign it? " " No, sir." "But, what shall I say to Rojas?" " That he may order me shot." " Very well," he said and withdrew, annoyed. Three copies were signed, one for each general, and when the act was concluded my room was filled with leaders and officers, who desired to know my opinion about that absurd agreement. I said to them all that it was unworthy and that I would not sign it. Some said that there ought to be an uprising, others desired to fly, though they saw this pact. IRENEO PAZ. 311 like an anathema, which would follow them every- where, a sentence of death. Death and dishonor if they fulfilled it; death and dishonor if they did not. There were some who wept with rage. I attempted to console them as well as I could and gradually they departed until, finally, only Crispin Medina and Juan Valadez were with me. " Did you sign? " I asked them. " Unfortunately yes, but only on one of the cop- ies." "On which?" " On that of Don Julio." At that moment, he entered. " Are you still talking of that unhappy docu- ment? " he asked us. " Yes, sir." " And what do you think? " " We think. General," I said to him, " as every worthy man, who respects himself and who de- sires an honorable career in politics, must think; this agreement is absurd because impracticable; it is hateful because it wars against all the good senti- ments of mankind; and it is monstrous, immoral, iniquitous, because it orders destruction and slaugh- ter." " You are right," he answered. " I ought not to have agreed so far with Rojas, and for my part, the compact is broken from this moment." He drew forth his copy and tore it to pieces. The next day on taking up our line of march. 312 MODERN MEXICAN AUTHORS, Rojas said to me: "You not only do not sign yourself but breed disaffection among the other leaders." I frankly told him my opinion, which he heard with interest. When I had finished he added : " I am not shooting you now, because Julio and his people forbid it. . . . But, we will see later. . . . We have a lot of unsettled ac- counts." He cast a sinister glance at me and then left, urging his horse to a gallop. JOSE LOPEZ-PORTILLO Y ROJAS. 313 JOSE LOPEZ-PORTILLO Y ROJAS. Jose Lopez-Portillo y Rojas was born at Guad- alajara May 26, 1850. His father was an emi- nent lawyer and teacher in the law school. Son of wealthy parents, the young man was given every opportunity for study, first in his home city and later at the capital. His final studies in law were made at Guadalajara, where, in 1871, he became Ucenciado. His parents then gave him an oppor- 314 MODERN MEXICAN AUTHORS. tunity for foreign travel. He visited the United States, Great Britain and Ireland, France and Italy, Egypt and the Holy Land. On his return he published his Impresiones de viaje (Impres- sions of Travel). Since that time Seiior Lopez- Portillo y Rojas, has practiced law, represented his state in the National Congress, taught in the law school and done important work in journalism. His writings are always clear, direct and marked by a literary style of unusual grace and purity. Besides his scattered articles and the book already mentioned, he has edited — with notable scholar- ship — the interesting Cronica de Jalisco ( Chron- icle of Jalisco) of Fray Antonio Tello, and written a novel, La Parcela (The Piece of Land). It is from this last work that our selections are taken. In La Parcela the author presents a sketch of characteristic country life. The novel has for pur- pose the illustration of the strong, almost morbid, affection for land felt by the native proprietor. Don Pedro Ruiz Is a wealthy and progressive haciendero of pure Indian blood. He is noble- hearted, thoughtful, shrewd, intelligent and a man of resources. A widower, he is devotedly attached to his only son, Gonzalo, a fine young fellow of twenty-three years. The owner of the adjoining property, Don Miguel Diaz, has been a life-long friend, and between them exists the artificial rela- tion of compadre. His wife, Dona Paz, is a cousin of Don Pedro; there is one daughter, a JOSE LOPEZ-PORTILLO Y ROJAS. . 3 1 5 beautiful, gentle but rather weak lady named Ra- mona. The two young persons — Gonzalo ' and Ramona — have grown up like brother and sister ; their childish affection has ripened into love, and at the beginning of the story they are engaged to be married. Don Pedro is by far the richest man of all the district. Don Miguel is also wealthy, but has seen with some jealousy and dissatisfaction the constantly increasing difference between their fortunes. This dissatisfaction, encouraged by a scheming lawyer, leads to his claiming a worthless bit of property on the borders of his and Don Pedro's lands. The value of the land is but a trifle to either party; but Don Pedro, sure that right is on his side, refuses to yield to the unjust demands of his neighbor. Don Miguel at first seizes the property by force, but is dispossessed by Don Pedro's tenants. The bitter feeling aroused by this incident leads to a battle between two tenants of the two masters; both of the fighters are thrown into jail. Carried into the courts, the boundary line is infamously determined by a corrupted judge; a higher court reverses the decision and Don Pedro is supported in his rights. Furious with anger, Don Miguel seeks to injure his neighbor. Through a wicked scheme plotted with the local authority, the tenant of Don Pedro, who has been in jail, is assassinated. A great dam, which holds back a mighty volume of water for driving mills, irrigating the property. 3l6 MODERN MEXICAN AUTHORS. etc., is damaged by Don Miguel's orders, with the idea that the inundation will ruin the property of Don Pedro. Throughout these various exciting incidents — seizure, dispossession, law-suit, appeal, assassina- tion and diabolical destruction — the love affairs of the young people are naturally more or less disturbed. Having carried things to such a cli- max, the author brings about a sudden reconcilia- tion and the story ends. EXTRACTS FROM LA PARCELA. " Good morning, compadre Don Miguel," said Don Pedro as soon as he recognized the horseman who arrived. " Good morning, compadre," replied the new- comer, checking his horse and dismounting. The servant who accompanied him quickly dis- mounted from his horse and went to hold, by the bridle, that of his master. Then he bent to re- move his master's spurs. " No, Marcos," said Don Miguel to him, " do not remove them. We shall go on at once." "How! compadre," said Don Pedro; "then you will not remain to take breakfast with me ? " " No, not today, because I must arrive at Der- ramadero before 6, and it is yet distant." " That is true, compadre; but there will be an- other day, will there not? Pass in, pass In. Do JOSE LOPEZ-PORTILLO Y ROJAS. 317 you desire that we sit down here on the bench to enjoy the fresh air, or shall we go into the office? " " We are very well here. Do not trouble your- self." " Very well. What are you doing so early? " "It does not please me to visit. I come to treat of our business." "What business?" " That which we have pending." " But we have nothing pending." " How not? The Monte de los Pericos." "What about it?" " I want you to decide whether you will yield it to me." " Why do we speak of this ? A thousand times I have told you that the Monte is mine." " That is what you say, but the truth is that it belongs to me." " Compadre, It is better that we talk of some- thing else; leave this matter. Are we not friends? " " We are so ; but that is not to say that you may deprive me of my things. What sort of friendship is that?" In fact, at a very short distance from where the group found itself, there were seen down below, through the shrubbery, the four men of Don Mig- uel. They were stretched out on the ground upon their blankets, and in the shadow of the trees 3l8 MODERN MEXICAN AUTHORS.' conversed without suspicion, with their eyes fast- ened on the house of Palmar, which was visible from there. Their horses, unbridled and fastened to the trees, were pasturing on the green herbage. " But man ! How good was that blow ? " said one of the mozos. " It still gives me delight."- "What a surprise for the poor montero!" ex- claimed another. " What will Don Pedro say? " " He will have to calm his rage." And they laughed with their mouths open. Just then they heard the tramp of horses, and turning their heads saw Don Pedro, followed by his men. They tried to rise to draw their pistols. " Do not stir! " said Don Pedro in a terrible voice, " or we will shoot you." And he and all his held their arms ready. There was nothing to be done. The servants of Don Miguel comprehended that all resistance was useless. " Master, we are taken," said one of them. " Do you surrender at discretion ? " " There is no way to avoid it." " Then give up your arms. Look, Roque, dis- mount and take away from the gentlemen their rifles, their pistols, their sabres and their cartridge boxes." They gave up with trembling hands the pistols and the cartridge boxes. The rifles were hanging from the saddles of their horses. JOSE LOPEZ-PORTILLO Y ROJAS. 319 " Now," continued Don Pedro, " tie their hands behind them and help them to get onto their horses. Distribute their arms so that their weight shall not be too great, and let each one take the halter of a horse in order that he may lead it." All was done with the rapidity of lightning. The men of Don Pedro strongly tied the hands of the conquered behind their backs with the satis- faction of the tyrant characteristic of all conquer- ors. One of the captured, Panfilo Vargas, was vexed and said : " They gain advantage because they are more than we. Tie quickly for some day you will know who I am. We are arrieros, and we go through the country." " Shut your mouth, braggart ! " said Don Pedro angrily. "How many were you this morning? There were six of you to take the poor montero, who was alone and not expecting anyone. As for you, you were left here to guard and had the obligation of not permitting yourselves to be sur- prised. You have lost because you are fools. Who told you to be careless? They shall know that I do not sleep nor neglect mine own. Let him who jokes with me be careful." Then he turned to Oceguera, saying to him, " Where is the montero hidden ? " " Here am I, master," replied the montero him- self, appearing from the bushes. " I was looking for you to order you to attend 320 MODERN MEXICAN AUTHORS. to your business in your place. Have no fear. I shall send reinforcements. Do not move from here until I tell you." " Very well, sir." " Let us go then," ordered Ruiz. And the party put itself on the road to the hacienda, just as the sun began to set and the great shadows from the mountains were extending themselves across the valley. Roque passed the arroyo and entered the camp. Some time passed and he did not return. Panfllo began to believe that he did not come to the ap- pointment because he was afraid; but soon he heard a whistle at the foot of the slope and saw Roque on horseback, striking his chest arrogantly, as If saying: " Here you have me at your orders." On seeing him Panfilo hastened to meet him. " Now yes," said Roque, " here I am ready to serve you and give you all you want." "Well, you know what I want; that we shall have a good tussle." " It seems to me that here we have a good place." " Well, then, do me the favor," exclaimed the impetuous Panfilo, drawing a revolver. " Listen to me," said Roque, drawing his also; " If really you desire that we shall kill each other. JOSE LOPEZ-PORTILLO Y ROJAS. 32 1 don't let us create an excitement. Put away your pistol and take your machete." " I will do what I please. Are you afraid of the noise? " " It is you who should be afraid of the noise, lest they hear us and come to part us. If we do not succeed at the first shot nothing will come of it, for they will come and separate us. Is that per- haps what you want? " "You are right," replied Panfilo. "Well, then, there is no time to lose. Let us get at it." Soon they found themselves on foot, lame, cov- ered with dust, pale, horrible. They seemed not men, but fierce beasts. The contest could not prolong itself for the combatants were exhausted. They could scarcely move ; but they did not wish to yield, since although strength failed, anger more than abounded. Chance finally settled the contest. When Roque raised his arm to deal a blow with his machete upon Panfilo's head, the latter by a quick movement tried to parry the blow, to save his head from being cleft open. But he parried It, not with his blade, but with the haft, and the heavy weapon of his antagonist severed his smaller fingers. With this there fell to the ground the sword and the 322 MODERN MEXICAN AUTHORS. amputated fingers; that tinged with blood, these livid and convulsed. " Now, yes, I have lost," exclaimed the wound- ed man with a gesture of grief. " Yes, friend,'* replied Roque, filled with con- sternation. " What need was there of this? " " It is a thing of bad luck; who may gain may lose. You have proved me a man; you cannot deny that." " How have I to deny it ? The truth is that you have much courage. Let me bind your hand with this cloth to see if the blood can be staunched." Saying this Roque wrapped the hand with his great kerchief. "Where do you desire that I take you?" he asked. " You cannot go alone." " Go and leave me; do not let them take you prisoner," replied Panfilo. " Though they take me to jail, I will not leave you." " Well, then, help me to get near to Chopo. When we are within sight of the hacienda save yourself." " Wherever you wish; let us walk along." They started. Panfilo advanced with difficulty; he murmured and suffered with thirst. He stopped frequently to drink in the arroyos and Roque gave him water in the hollow of his hand. " Friend," he said, " it gives me sorrow to see you so injured." JOSE LOPEZ-PORTILLO Y ROJAS. 323 " There is no reason; I am to blame." " It had been better that we had not fought." " Why do we speak of this ? There is now no remedy." The wounded man was presently unable to walk. Supported on Roque's arm he progressed very slowly. Finally it was necessary to carry him like a child. Thus they came in sight of Chopo. Pan- filo did not wish Roque to carry him farther. " May God reward you," he said to him. " Leave me upon this stone and hurry away that they may not come to seize you." " Though they seize me, how can I leave you alone?" " Every little while the peons and their women pass ; they will carry me to my house. Go." " Good friend, since you wish it, I will go; but one thing is necessary first; without it I will not go- " What." " That we may henceforth be good friends." " With much pleasure — from now on." " Do not hold hatred toward me and forget the things that have happened." "Why should I hold hatred?" " Because of what I did." " You did it like a man; it needs naught said." " Then give me the good hand." " Here it is," answered the wounded man, ex- 324 MODERN MEXICAN AUTHORS. tending his hot left hand. Roque grasped it with feeling. " God grant that you may soon be well," he murmured. " With a maimed hand," added the wounded man, his pallid and dry lips contracted in a sad smile. " God's will be done," said Roque, sympathetic- ally. At this moment a whistle was heard from near by. " Indeed it is time that you go," said Panlilo. " Do you not see that persons are coming? " He could scarcely speak; he was on the point of losing consciousness. Roque hesitated. " How leave you ? " he said. " Go, if you desire that we be friends; if not, remain." "Then I leave." " Farewell, and run fast that they may not over- take you." So urgent and impassioned was his request that the girl was moved in spite of herself. To quench the sympathy which rose in her bosom she recalled to herself that he who thus spoke was the nominal friend of Gonzalo, and on remembering this she felt that for her budding pity was substituted vex- JOSE LOPEZ-PORTILLO Y ROJAS. 325 ation and indignation. Thus this harsh reproach escaped her lips: " And you call yourself the friend of Gonzalo." Had a thunderbolt fallen at the feet of Luis it would not have produced a more prostrating effect. " Gonzalo is my friend, in fact," he gasped. " Not if he knew himself," insisted Ramona, ironically. " If it were so you could not have spoken as you have just done." " Then are you yet in relations with him? " " You know it very well." " No," replied the unfortunate youth, pale as a corpse ; " I give you my word as a gentleman that I did not know it. My father told me some days past that he knew these relations were broken; only for this reason have I forced myself to reveal to you my love. I may endure the fact that you do not love me, since such is my lot, but I cannot be willing that you should consider me disloyal. I desire that you should esteem me even if you may not love me." The youth in the meantime had arrived at his home, mounted his horse and immediately sallied forth to the house of Luis. He sent a message to his former friend by a servant, begging him that he would come outside, which Medina did immedi- ately, well bred and polite as he was. " Gonzalo ! " said Medina, extending his hand. 326 MODERN MEXICAN AUTHORS. " I come to arrange with you a very serious mat- ter," replied our youth, without extending his. " You have me at your orders," rephed Luis, exchanging the friendly expression of his face for another more severe. " Only we cannot do it here. Mount your horse and take your arms. I await you." And by the contraction of his features and the pallor of his countenance, Medina knew that Gon- zalo had come on a warlike errand, and was not slow in divining what was the cause of his annoy- ance. Without replying a single word he entered the house and soon reappeared and mounted his horse, with a pistol at his belt and a sword at the saddle. " Here you have me," he said to Gon- zalo. " Come," replied Gonzalo, " let us go to the field." Together they took the street which most quickly would bring them to the end of the village, and went a considerable stretch outside the town. Leav- ing the road they went into the meadows and stopped at a little open space formed by four im- mense camichines , which, extending over the space, their broad, flat and immovable boughs projected a dense and heavy shadow around. " I have brought you to this spot," said Gon- zalo, stopping his horse, " because it is retired and no one may see or hear us. It is unnecessary to enter into explanations; you know how gravely JOSE LOPEZ-PORTILLO Y ROJAS. 327 you have offended me, and in what way. That is sufficient. Now I desire that you shall give me satisfaction with arms in hand." " Although I am not valiant, I have some dig- nity and never will I yield before an enemy who challenges me," answered Luis, tranquilly; " but I have one remark to make to you, which is, that my conscience does not reproach me with having done anything to offend you."' " Yes, I was expecting that you would deny responsibility for your acts. Anything else was im- possible." " Moderate your words. Do not let us pass to a serious occasion without some rational cause." " Pretext," cried Gonzalo; "you do not desire to fight. You are a coward." Saying this he placed his hand upon his pistol for a moment. Luis was livid and acted as if he would follow his example; but he stopped and left his arm in place, recalling his promise to Ramona at the ball. " One moment," he said, " only one moment; if you are a man and not a brute, as you seem to be, you must first hear me. By my mother's honor, I assure you that I am disposed to fight; but not before we understand each other. What is the matter? " " You love Ramona. Deny that if you can." " God save me from committing such a vile actl It is true." " You have courted her." 32 8 MODERN MEXICAN AUTHORS, " That is true." " You danced with her the night of the fiesta." " That also is true." " You made a declaration of love to her." " I cannot deny that." " You are a shameless being, because you knew she was my sweetheart and that we were engaged to be married." " That is not true." Gonzalo threw upon Luis a glance of infinite contempt on hearing these words. " You are a wretch," he cried, " and it is neces- sary that I punish you. Defend yourself." " Assassinate me if you wish ; I will not draw my pistol until you have heard me. Come, dis- patch me; here you have me," and he exposed his breast to his challenger. " There is nothing to do but hear you in order to quit you of every excuse for your cowardice. Speak, and hurry, for I am impatient to punish you." " I call God to witness that I believed your love relations with Ramona were broken. Don Mig- uel had told my father that with absolute certainty. Every one in Citala asserted the same. You did not come to town, and as your father and Don Miguel were quarreling it seemed to me probable and I believed it. For this reason I made love to Ramona. Had it not been for this I would have remained silent, as I have been silent for so many JOSE LOPEZ-PORTILLO Y ROJAS. 329 years, for my love to her is nothing new. I have always had it, Ramona informed me of my error, and accused me of perversity and treason, as you have just done. She herself can tell you how astonished I was when I learned that it was not true that all was ended between you and that you still loved each other. It caused me infinite grief. Now," pursued the youth, " that you have heard me, I have done, and am at your orders." The caravan for some leagues journeyed silently, but seeing that the storm approached, the sergeant neared himself to one of the soldiers and said to him in a low voice: " The storm is coming; here is a good place." " Yes, we have already gone six leagues and there has not been one person on the road." " Well, then, let us at once to what we have to do; then let us get back to the pueblo." " That is what I say," responded the soldier. " Go on then, you already know what you have to do; see if you can do it. I pretend not to look; I will fall behind." " I go then to see what happens." The soldier drew near to Roque. " What cheer, friend? How goes it? " " Diabolically, friend. How do you expect it goes with me with these cords? " replied the pris- oner. 330 MODERN MEXICAN AUTHORS. " Yes, it must go very unpleasantly. Why don't you smoke a cigarette?" " Friend, impossible. Don't you see that I go tied?" " 'Tis true, I see it with pity. Now you will see what we will do. At last the sergeant has fallen behind and will not see us. I'm going to untie you to give you a little rest." " But will not the sergeant see it? Thank you much; but will he not see? " " Have no concern; anyway it is very dark." And the soldier leaned over and untied the knot which held Roque's hands. " May God reward you, friend," said he, stretching his arms in front of him ; " I was very tired. But tell me, why are your hands so cold? Are you chilled? " " Nothing is the matter with me. The air is damp. But, take a cigarette. Here is the light " — and he reined up. The unsuspecting Roque rolled the cigarette and lighted it by that which the soldier was smoking. They then went on, talking. After talking for a little time of indifferent matters the gendarme said: " Man, friend, I sympathize with you and it pains me that you are going to jail." " There is no alternative, friend ! Some day I will be out. Anyway the jail does not eat people." " Good ; but it is always atrocious to be a pris- oner, and God knows for how long. Why not JOSE LOPEZ-PORTILLO Y ROJAS. 33 1 escape. I will dissemble and you will run. I will fire into the air and you race along into the country and no one can find you." " I am afraid they will shoot me." " Don't be afraid; I will help you." The unfortunate man fell into the snare. " Do you say It seriously ? Are you not fool- ing?" " I advise you in earnest. All you need is courage." " But you tell me when." " Right now — race along before the sergeant comes." Roque gave rein to his horse and urged it with quick strokes of his heels against its flanks, but he hardly succeeded In making it take a slow and mea- sured gallop. He had gone but a few steps when a report sounded just behind him and a bullet passed, grazing the brim of his sombrero. " Zounds," he murmured, " what a scare this man has aimed to give me." And instinctively he tried to place himself in the field at one side of the road to hide himself in the brambles. But there was no time for anything. For all his urging the horse would not do better than his little gallop. He heard the nearing band of horses and various shots sounded. Then he understood that he had fallen into a trap and that he was about to lose his life through It. Impelled by the Instinct of self-preservation, he tried to dis- 332 MODERN MEXICAN AUTHORS. mount to seek shelter; but It was too late. The gendarmes were upon him, firing with their rifles. " Jesus help me ! Mother receive my spirit ! " he said in thought, and fell penetrated by the bul- lets. Two had entered at the shoulders and emerged at the chest, and the third entered at the neck and destroyed the skull. What was it which the terrified Diaz then saw ? Upon a plank, borne by four peasants, tied down with coarse cords, was a corpse, rigid and yellow. The miserable clothing which covered it, coarse cotton drawers and shirt, was soaked with blood, principally upon the breast, where the abundant and coagulated flow had darkened and become almost black. Above the forehead, in the black harsh hair, matted and stiffened with blood, were visible clots of red, mingled with whitish bits of brain. The livid face, turned toward heaven, bore an expression of anguish which was heart-rending; the eyes half opened and glazed fascinated by their glance; and the opened mouth, dark and full of earth, seemed to exhale Inaudible groans and com- plaints. The gendarmes surrounded the body and the curious crowd followed It. In the midst of the group a woman walked, weeping and uttering cries of grief. She carried a babe at her breast — bear- ing it with her left arm, and as well as she could led jos^ l(5pez-portillo y rojas. 333 with her right another boy about four years old, barefoot and tattered. "Roque! my Roque! my husband," cried the miserable woman. " They have killed my hus- band! They have killed him! Children! My little ones 1 Poor little ones ! They are orphans ! What shall I do? What shall I do ? What shall I do? Ay! Ay! Ay!" In passing close to Don Miguel she saw him and said to him, sobbing : " Seiior Don Miguel, do you see? They have killed my husband ! That is what is there on the board! What shall I do Seiior Don Miguel? What shall I do? Ay! Ay! Ay!" / ■ 334 MODERN MEXICAN AUTHORS. MANUEL SANCHES MARMOL. Manuel Sanches Marmol was born in the State of Tabasco. He displayed a literary tendency very early, and, while still a student, collaborated in such literary reviews as La Guirnalda (The Gar- land), El Album Yucateco (The Yucatecan Al- bum) , and El Repertorio pmtoresco (The Pictur- esque Repertoire). His first essays in the field of fiction were El Misionero de la Cruz (The Mis- sionary of the Cross), and La Venganza de una injuria (The Revenge of an Injury). MANUEL SANCHES MARMOL. 335 At the time of the French Intervention, he joined the Republican forces. He acted as Secre- tary of State of Tabasco, and aroused the patriot- ism of his fellows by his writings. He founded El Aguila Azteca (The Aztec Eagle), a paper devoted entirely to the national cause. During this period of disturbance he was a Deputy to the State Legislature, Secretary of Colonel Gregorio Mendez, and his Auditor of War. The course of local events during this stormy period was largely directed by him. (See p. 148.) After the war had passed, Manuel Sanches Mar- mol continued his activity both in politics and let- ters. He has been Magistrate of the Supreme Court of the State of Tabasco, several times mem- ber of the Federal Congress, Director and Foun- der of the Instituto Juarez of Tabasco. He has constantly contributed to those periodicals which represent the most pronounced liberal ideas — as El Sigh XIX (The Nineteenth Century), La Sombra de Guerrero (The Shade of Guerrero) , El Radical and El Federalista. He represented Mexico m the second Pan-American Congress, which met in the City of Mexico in 1902. He is now Professor of History in the Escuela Nacional Preparatoria (National Preparatory School). Besides his early essays in fiction, he has written the following novels — Pocahontas, Juanita Sousa, and Anton Perez (titles untranslatablej as being 336 MODERN MEXICAN AUTHORS. personal names). He has now in press Piedad (Mercy), and is preparing three others. Our selections are taken from Anton Perez, a novel dealing with the French Intervention in Ta- basco. Anton Perez was the son of poor but de- cent parents, but was pardo (" dark "), a fact cer- tain to be to his disadvantage, no matter what abil- ities he might possess. Having gone through the public school of the village, he attracted the atten- tion of the priests, who had newly come to his town, the villa of Cunduacan. Their school was below Anton's needs but the good priests taught him privately to the extent of their ability. He was their trusted protege and they encouraged him to high hope of a brilliant future: In the pa- rochial school for girls was Rosalba del Riego. She was ugly and unattractive but of good family and aristocratic connection. She adored the big boy, handsome as a picture, who studied with the priests and aided them in all ways, occupying quite a lofty place in their little world, but her admira- tion merely irritated him, as it called down upon him the laughter of the little school boys. When Anton had learned all that his patrons could teach him they tried to secure for him a scholarship at the Seminario, at Merida ; the effort appeared like- ly to be successful, but it failed ; — a youth with more powerful influence behind him securing the appointment. The blow was keenly felt by the poor and ambitious boy. Soon after, his father MANUEL SATSrCHES mArMOL. 337 died, the old priests left for new fields, and two old aunts who have been to him In place of mother depended upon him for support. The brilliant dreams of a career faded; hfe's realities fell upon the boy. He was equal, however, to the demands and earned enough for their modest needs. He was busy, useful, respected, and content. He was lieutenant of the local guard and had some notions of military drill and practice. Meantime his little admirer, Rosalba, completed her education outside the State, and, at last, returned transformed. Beautiful as a dream, brilliant, educated, she was Immediately the centre of attraction in the town. Anton was madly In love with her. But her child- ish admiration had given place to — at least, ap- parent — aversion. She Insulted him openly on account of his Inferior position. Rosalba had a maiden aunt, Dofia Socorro Castrejon. Just as Anton's love for Rosalba arose, Doiia Socorro saw the boy, appreciated his handsome face and fine bearing, and was smitten with an Infatuation, which had only a passionate and unworthy basis. She was a scheming and intriguing woman but not without charms and brilliancy. When events were in this condition the French Intervention took place. The foreign forces appeared in Tabasco; the governor, Duenas, traitorously yielded the cap- ital ; later, pretending to arrange for local defense, he scattered the forces, so that they could present no obstacle to the invader. One after another 338 MODERN MEXICAN AUTHORS. these separated bodies of the national guard suf- fered defection. The Dona Socorro was an ar- dent imperialist. Anton, at Cunduacan, was lieu- tenant of the yet loyal forces, under Colonel Men- dez. One day, while Colonel Mendez and his brother. Captain Mendez, were breakfasting with a friend Doiia Socorro influenced Anton to " pro- nounce," with his soldiers, in favor of the Empire. His deed was represented, in brilliant colors to the young commander of the Imperial forces, Arevalo, and Anton was rewarded. He was the confiden- tial friend and trusted adviser of Arevalo, and, for a time, all their plans prospered. But Gregorio Mendez and Sanchez Magellanes gathered a hand- ful of loyal men and made a stand. A battle was fought, the invading forces looking for an easy victory; they met with dire defeat. Anton Perez was mortally wounded. The death of the youth, who had sacrificed loyalty, patriotism, and honor, to a foolish love, is depicted in dreadful detail. EXTRACTS FROM ANTON PEREZ. Doiia Socorro was somewhat irritated, that the compliment for which she sought was not given, and that only her niece was praised. She con- trolled herself, however, merely saying inwardly — " what a fool the boy is ! he must be waked up." Then she said aloud : " Well, since you do not care to stay, feel that MANUEL SANCHES mXrMOL. 339 I am interested in your welfare. I should like to see you at my house, tomorrow." " I will be there, madam," Anton answered re- spectfully. And slipping, timidly, through the crowd of guests, directing a furtive glance at Ro- salba, he went to his work at the humble desk in Ajagan's shop. But he could not keep track of the figures ; sums and differences came out badly; everything was topsy-turvy; seven times six was forty-eight and five would not contain three. His head was in a whirl. That night he could not sleep. In the morning, he performed his usual duties and at midday, his heart high with vague, happy hopes, he went to his appointment with Doiia So- corro. He was expected. The lady received him with expressive signs of affection, and seating him, said : " I have invited you here for your own good. You are poor; I wish to aid you. Do not be ashamed; speak to me frankly. What are your resources for living? Go into full particulars." Anton lowered his eyes and turned his hat around and around in his hands, until the lady again encouraged him : " Go on ; don't be brief. Speak ! boy." " Well then, lady," answered the young man, hesitatingly, " I can't say that it is so bad; I earn my twenty-five pesos a month." " And from whom? " 34C> MODERN MEXICAN AUTHORS. " From what persons, you mean " — continued Anton, with somewhat greater frankness, — " why then, Don Ascencio Ajagan gives me ten pesos be- cause, every night, I go there for a little while to make up his accounts and to write a letter or two. Master Collado pays me five pesos for the class in arithmetic, which I teach in the public school; an- other five, the receiver of taxes, who scarcely knows how to sign his name, pays me for balancing his accounts at the end of the month; and the other five the town treasurer gives me for doing the same." " That Is not bad; but Collado and the collec- tor pay you a miserable price." " The latter, perhaps, yes; but the other, no — he receives a salary of barely twenty-five. As much as I earn." " Ah, well ! bid farewell to Master Collado and Ajagan, and the collector and the town treasurer, and enter my employ. La Ermita is wretchedly cared for; mayorsdomos succeed one another and all rob me. You shall go to La Ermita as man- ager, with house and table, horses for your use, servants to do your bidding — that is to say, as master, because you will command there ; the twen- ty-five pesos per month, which you now earn by your varied labors, will continue to be paid you and in addition fifteen per cent of the annual income of the place. I am making you not a bad offer! " * * Moco de pavo; literally, a turkey's crest. MANUEL SANCHES MARMOL. 34I " No, Indeed, lady ! I appreciate that it is more than liberal; but, I cannot accept it." " Why not? " asked Dona Socorro, thoroughly vexed. " Because, I must not abandon my good aunts." " You need not do so. La Ermita is only three leagues from here; a mere nothing. You can come here in the evenings, Saturdays, to spend Sun- days, and Mondays you are at your duties again. Finally, in case they are not satisfied, take them out to the place." " They were not made for country life; still, for my good, they would make the sacrifice. But there is another — an insuperable — difficulty." "What?" " I do not understand rural affairs and one who controls should know what he commands. I would not know where to begin; there would be neither head nor foot, and you would gain noth- ing, with your unhappy administrator." " What I gain or do not gain, does not concern you; it is not your affair. If you do not know rural affairs, I will instruct you, and, as you are not stupid, you will be, within two months, more dex- terous than San Ysidro* himself. When shall we begin, come now? " " But, lady, I am sorry; I believe I will not go. Agriculture does not attract me. The few studies I have made do not tend thither." • The patron of agricultural labor. 342 MODERN MEXICAN AUTHORS. "Ah! You aim at a literary career, to some public ofScel " replied Dona Socorro, sneeringly. " Do not make sport of me, lady; I know right well, that I shall never fill the position of a general or a magistrate. You asked me to be frank, and I frankly admit that I have my aspirations." " Very good — what difficulty is that. Better and better. Go and fill this position, save money, put yourself in contact with people of consequence, and from La Ermita, you may go to be Regidor, or something higher. You know well that Alcaldes, and even Jefes Politicos, come from the country- places. What hinders? " " Really, lady, speaking plainly, the position does not attract me in the least." " H'm ! — You are not telling me the truth ; at least, you are concealing something from me — something — what is the real cause of your re- fusal?" Anton maintained silence : the lady urged him. " Why are you not frank with me — who care so much for you ? " "It is" — he stammered — "the truth is that just now, less than ever, do I care to leave the town." " Come, come, tell it all " — insisted the lady, piqued with lively curiosity — " who is your sweet- heart?" "Sweetheart? — No; indeed I would rather MANUEL SANCHES MARMOL. 343 "Yes, indeed; who?" " I say she is not my sweetheart — Perhaps " Finish, man — perhaps what? " " She may come to be " " And, who is the girl? Do I know her? " " Very well." While Anton was silent. Dona Socorro thought over the riddle, and, after some minutes, declared : " I'm sure I don't know, child; give me a clew." " She is your relative." The lady passed over in her thought, to whom Anton could allude, and could not imagine which one of her relatives, the poor and obscure youth presumed to win. Suddenly, like a flash, came the remembrance of the words, which he had pro- nounced when she invited him to remain at the party; but it was a thing so unheard of, so un- thinkable, that she dared not mention the name, but desired to assure herself, indirectly, that she was not on a false trail. " Was she at the party last night? " she asked. Anton replied by a nod of his head. The lady was confounded; her face lengthened, her eyes rounded, her mouth opened, and she exclaimed : " Rosalba ! — well, but, you are a fool ! " Anton was stupefied; it seemed as if the ground sank under him and he was raised into the air. Why, was he a fool ? Dona Socorro saw the boy's emotion and some- 344 MODERN MEXICAN AUTHORS, thing like pity stirred within her. Certain that, later, this senseless delirium would vanish, she said to him : "Poor child! You will get over it. When you decide to accept my offer, you know that I am here. Think well over it. I wish only your own good." Anton, overwhelmed, could scarcely murmur a " thank you, madam," rose half tremblingly and walked away, with bowed head. Dona Socorro remained absorbed in reflection. "To think of it — but the child aims high — to aspire to Rosalba — he is handsome — who would have thought it — decidedly, he is a fool." Doiia Socorro, attentive to what was passing in the Republican ranks, prompt to aid the triumph of her cause, had displayed all the resources of her astuteness to complete the demoralization of the remnants of the brigade and to foment desertion. Her efforts were meeting abundant success and in seeing the resources of war which had been grouped around Duenas, completely disorganized, she was greatly rejoiced. Not content, however, with such signal successes, when she saw the com- panies of the coast guard, — the most loyal to the Republic — evacuate the villa, to the loyalty of which the Mendez brothers entrusted themselves for some hours, she had an inspiration, truly worthy MANUEL SANCHES MARMOL. 345 of her brain. She conceived the idea of capturing the two officers, to offer to Arevalo, as a prized trophy. How to realize it? It was not beyond her power — capable as she was, of all in the do- main of evil. There was Anton Perez ; Rosalba would be the incentive, "Paulina! Paulina!" she called, and a serv- ant appeared. " Run, at once, to the barracks; ask for Lieuten- ant Perez, and urge him, from me, to come here immediately." Pauline departed, encountered Anton, and gave the message ; the lieutenant shrugged his shoulders and replied, with evident dislike : " I will come presently : I am busy, now." No more than five minutes had elapsed, when the servant returned with new and more urgent summons to Anton, who displayed no more interest than before, responding abruptly: " I will come." Dona Socorro was dying with impatience; the moments seemed like hours to her and she paced restlessly to and from the door anxious for Anton's coming; but, he came not. Tired of waiting, she resolutely entered her room, threw a rehozo over her shoulders, and went directly to the door of the barracks. Without her having to announce herself, a soldier ran to give notice to the lieutenant of the presence of the lady; 346 MODERN MEXICAN AUTHORS. this time, unable to escape, he advanced to the en- counter. Doiia Socorro, plainly desirous of losing no time, threw aside her natural pride, and without a word of reproach to Anton, said, with affected sur- prise : "But, what are you doing! child? Now is your time." " I do not understand, madam." " Then you are not in this world. If you let this chance escape, farewell to your hopes." " But, I do not understand, madam." " Ah ! come now ! then you no longer think of Rosalba " " As God is my witness, madam ; with greater desperation, now, than ever." " Then, today is when you ought not to despair; today your hopes are realized. Your fate is in your own hands." "In my hands?" exclaimed the astonished youth. " In your own hands, boy; Rosalba will be yours." " Where is she ? " he asked yet more surprised. " Here in your barracks." Anton believed Dona Socorro was trifling with him, but she, without giving time for further sur- prises, hastened to explain herself. " You know that our party, the Imperialist, is composed of the best people of the country. If MANUEL SANCHES MARMOL. 347 you join it, you will come into contact with the most elevated classes. Rosalba does not respond to your love for sheer pride, not because she is not interested in you, not because she does not love you — it is /, who tell this to you, — ^when she sees that you are not the insignificant ' pardo ' of the vil- lage but a personage of consequence, or even of im- portance, she will herself make the advances and will surrender herself to you. I tell you true. Come — now or never! Place yourself in the first line, become the chief authority in the town, and who knows what more. — : Your happiness de- pends upon yourself; it is in your own hands. Enter your barracks, ' pronounce ' yourself and your soldiers for the Empire, and that the blow may be decisive, that you may at a single bound reach the greatest height, go and seize the two Mendez brothers, who are breakfasting at the house of Sanchez, make them prisoners, and you will gain the full favor and protection of General Arevdla. Go ! do not hesitate." Dona Socorro had launched this speech at one breath, accompanying her words with gestures and posturings which the most consummate elocution- ist might envy. Poor Anton felt his head whirl; he was taken by surprise and only ventured this one objection: "Pronounce myself, yes; but capture my old chief, who has loved me well, madam, that is too much! I have not the bravado for such a thing." 348 MODERN MEXICAN AUTHORS. " But what harm are you going to do to him, innocent ? Do you think he runs any danger with Arevalo?" " Who can say that he does not? " " No one; no one. Perhaps he will catch them in arms on the field? No; on the contrary, they will become great friends, and the two Mendez will join our party also. Above all, it is to your in- terest to raise yourself as nearly to Rosalba's level as possible, to dazzle her " " Very well, madam," murmured Anton, with a trembling voice. Without further hesitation, he entered the bar- racks, spoke with the two sergeants of the dwindled company, bade them form it, rapidly exchanged words with his men, and, then, drawing his sword and facing the files, cried out — his voice still trembling ; "Boys! viva el Imperio! " (May the Empire live) . " Viva ! " (may it live) — one soldier answered. " Sergeant Beltran," said Anton, " fifteen men with you to guard the barracks; twenty-five, with Sergeant Federico, may follow me." The order was carried out to the letter, and at the head of his twenty-five men, Anton marched to the house, where the two Mendez brothers were gaily breakfasting. At the moment when the colonel exclaimed, " Impossible," denying Don Vencho's report, there MANUEL SANCHES MARMOL. 349 was heard, on the walk in front, the sound of guns, on falling to rest. "Sergeant Federicol " ordered Anton, "ad- vance and order Colonel Mendez and the officers who accompany him to yield themselves prisoners." There was no necessity for the sergeant to enter, since Captain Mendez rushed out at once, and standing, from the opposite sidewalk, with hair bristling and eyes flashing, as if he were the per- sonification of indignation, burst forth in these cries, which issued in a torrent from his frothing lips: " Bravo I Lieutenant Perez ! Thus you fulfil the oath of fealty, which you swore to your flag! thus do you employ the arms which your country placed in your hands for her defence ! Traitors 1 traitors to your native land! What do you seek here? What wish you, of us? Assassinate us! We shall not defend ourselves. Lieutenant Perez, complete your crime, fulfil your part as assassins ! Here, am I ! let them kill," and, saying this, he stepped forward and drawing back the lapel of his coat, bared his breast. "What delays them? Traitors ! Assassins ! " At that moment a soldier among those who heard the violent and insulting reproach raised his gun. Anton Perez saw it and drawing his sword, threw himself upon the soldier, crying : 350 MODERN MEXICAN AUTHORS. " Lower that gun ! The first man who at- tempts to aim, I will run him through." Captain Mendez continued: " I prefer death to the ignominy of finding my- self in your company. Traitors ! Assassins ! " " Assassins, we are not, my captain, that you have already seen," replied Anton. " I am not the captain of bandit-traitors, ex- Lieutenant Perez." " We are not traitors," returned Perez, " we de- sire to save our country from Yankee usurpation." " To save it indeed ! and give it over to the for- eigner! noble patriots! famous Mexicans!" con- tinued Mendez. " Would that I had no eyes to behold you ! Would that I were a lightning- stroke to destroy you. Cursed race I race of scor- pions, who repay our country, our sacred mother- land, by stinging her to the heart. One last word, Lieutenant Perez ; in the name of our native land, in the name of that oath of fealty, which you swore to the flag, in the name of a man's sacred duty, I implore you to fulfil your obligations as a soldier, as a Mexican, as a man. Lay down those arms which you are converting from sacred to infamous. Lieutenant Perez; worthy fellows of Cunduacan, Viva la Republica." No one responded. The moon, in its second quarter, shed a yellow- ing light through the trees and impressed upon the MANUEL SANCHES MARMOL. 35 I night an infinite sadness. When the beams of dawn came, that funereal light paled, until com- pletely extinguished, and the sky became tinted with a rosy flush, which kindled in measure as the new day neared. A trembling of leaves agitated the branches at the awakening of the birds, which after shaking themselves, took silently to flight. Suddenly earth and trees appeared enveloped in dense fog, as if a night of whiteness had substi- tuted itself for that, which had just ended. The fog, thinned little by little, until it seemed like heaps of spider webs, piled one on another, through the elastic meshes of which was seen a sun of pol- ished silver. Suddenly the spider webs broke into a thousand tatters, falling to the ground, converted into a tenuous rain, and the day shone forth in full splendor. The trees gleamed in their beauteous verdure, the flowers of vines and the morning- glories opened their chalices, sprinkled with dew drops, to the glowing and incestuous kisses of their father and lover, the regal star of day. Mean- time Anton Perez, in an agony, which seemed endless, lay at the foot of the oak-tree, which, in- different, spread forth its broad and abundant leaves to the solar heat. In fact, Anton Perez, braced between the roots of the tree, in the immovableness of death, the life concentrated in his eyes, participated in his own tor- ture, like those guilty immortals, whom Alighieri's pitiless fancy created. Bloodless, annihilated, yet 352 MODERN MEXICAN AUTHORS. he felt himself living. Who ever had seen the gleam of his eyes, would have known that his con- science was accusing him. What implacable moral law had he broken, that his punishment should be so horribly prolonged, by his marvelous vitality? Was it because he had loved madly? that he had aspired to raise himself to a sphere higher than that, in which he had been born? that he had en- dured, perhaps disgracefully, the scorn and the disdain of the human being whom he had wor- shiped? Why had he not deserved Rosalba? Why had God made her so bewitching? Where was his sin? Perhaps that he had passed from the flag of the Republic to the Imperial standards? And was he, perchance, the only one? Were not a thousand distinguished Mexicans aiding and de- fending the new cause, shown to be pleasing to Heaven, by the rapidity with which it had spread and gained proselytes? Did not God's ministers suggest it in the confessional and, even, preach it in the pulpit? Was not that cause, indeed, to be the savior of Mexico? — ^Where was his sin? Thus, in his moments of lucidity, the unhappy condemned being thought, and then fell into lethargies from which he again, presently, aroused himself. How slow and tedious the passage of the hours ! And the sun continued to mount at its accustomed speed and, now, gained its greatest height. Piercing through the leafy branches, its rays designed odd patches of sunlight on the ground which every MANUEL SANCHES MARMOL. 353 breeze complicated into fantastic deformations. The nymph of light amused herself at- her fancy, with such sports. At one moment, Anton raised his gaze, and be- fore him, perched upon the pointed leaf of a coco- yol, found that he, at last, had a companion in that loneliness; it was a buzzard, which looked at him fixedly, moving his neck regularly, up and down, as one who meditates. The presence of that liv- ing being caused Anton a vague sensation of com- fort; that, even, was much, at the end of so long and complete abandonment, to see in his last mo- ments that he was not alone in the world. He then fell into a syncope, — condition which now came on more frequently and lasted, each time longer, sign that his agony was nearing its end. On returning to himself, he mechanically turned his gaze to the palm-tree and saw that now there was not only one, but three, of the buzzards, which with the same nodding movement of the neck, and with no less attention, looked at him. A sinister and dreadful thought shot through his sluggish brain; those birds were there, in expectation of his death, to devour him. Then, a horror of death seized him ; a shudder of dread passed through his nerves, and he longed that his miserable existence might be prolonged, with the hope that some hu- man being might draw near and discover him. The nervous disturbance, which that idea produced, provoked a new unconsciousness. On recovery, he 354 MODERN MEXICAN AUTHORS. could see that not three, but a considerable number of vulturea had settled on the palm and on the neighboring trees. He believed they might take him for already dead, and to let them see that he was not, he attempted to raise and move his left arm, which, with enormous effort, he succeeded in doing. The scavengers seemed to understand their error since they looked' at one another, ex- changing guttural croakings. But night, — last refuge to which Anton trusted against the danger of being torn to pieces, while yet alive, — showed no signs of approach. It was now his duty to pre- serve the little remaining life. The vultures, on the contrary, ought to be impatient to gorge them- selves with the banquet which they had before them, since others were constantly arriving, hover- ing, and settling, on the neighboring tree-tops, where they formed moving spots of black. One, bolder than the rest, descended from the branch, on which he rested, to the ground and, like an explorer, was cautiously approaching Anton, who, divining, in his last gleams of lucidity, the purpose of the bird, renewed the effort, which he had made before, and continued to raise and, even, shake, his arm and to bend his undamaged leg, at the moments, when the buzzard stretched out his neck to give the first peck. The carrion-eater drew back his head and retreated a few steps, but did not take to flight. Encouraged by this his companions descended, one by one, from the tree MANUEL SANCHES MARMOL. 355 and took possession of the space around, forming a semi-circle at the foot of the oak-tree. Perhaps, through an instinctive respect to man's superiority, felt by other animals, even though seeing him helpless, the line of vultures remained at a considerable distance from Anton and limited themselves" to contemplating him, nodding and stretching out their heads, and repeatedly croak- ing. A Hoffmanesque fancy would have seen, in them, a group of zealots in prayer, making rever- ence. But this did not last long. One of the vultures ventured to dash at the head of Anton, who still had enough energy to guard himself against the attack, raising his arm and striking the bird with his fist, so that it returned to stand on the ground again, though without any sign of fear. The effort Anton had made was so great that he fell into a new stupor. The same vulture again raised himself, but not to dash directly upon the dying man; he hovered a moment over his head and, then, hurling himself upon Anton's face, tore out, at a single clutch, his right eye. The pain was so intense that the victim not only returned to con- sciousness but gave a cry of agony, which echoed like the last shriek of one who dies exhausted under torture. Yet, he could, by an instinctive senti- ment of preservation, turn his head, so that the left eye was protected by the tree trunk. Then he felt that the crowd of vultures fell to tearing his cloth- 356 MODERN MEXICAN AUTHORS. ing, doubtless to discover his wounds, to commence there with devouring him. So it happened. The shattered leg was the first to suffer tearing by the beaks, which tugged at the already lifeless tendons and muscles ; his arm, though somewhat protected by the astrakan, which, finally, with no little diffi- culty, the vultures ripped open, was not long in suffering the same fate. Suddenly, Anton turned his face, which bore a frightful expression of pain, for which he had no sounds to express. A power- ful beak had seized the anterior, branchial, muscle and was pulling furiously at it. The involuntary movement was fatal to Anton. Other vultures cast themselves upon the exposed face and dragged out the left eye. The last suffering of the unfor- tunate was Only indicated by a convulsive trem- bling of all his members. He felt as if a black pall, very black, heavy, very heavy, fell upon him and then there came over him a sentiment of the profoundest joy — perhaps, that his nerves could no longer carry a sensation to his brain. The mouth opened, closed, and he lost himself, forever, in the night without end, in the loving bosom of Mother Nature, who received the remains of that organism, her creation, to decompose it into its component elements, and then to distribute these, as the materials of other organisms, in the endless chain of life. Meantime, that other night, which with the sun engenders time and, with him, divides it, began to MANUEL SANCHES MARMOL. 357 envelop the earth, and the carrion-eaters, not ac- customed to eat in darkness, abandoned Anton's corpse and perched themselves on the neighboring branches, to await the feast until the following day. 358 MODERN MEXICAN AUTHORS. PORFIRIO PARRA. Porfirio Parra was born in the State of Chihua- hua. In 1869, when he was scarcely fourteen years of age, he was voted a sum of money by the State Legislature, to take him to the City of Mex- ico for purposes of study. From 1870 to 1872, he attended the Escuela Nacional Preparatoria (National Preparatory School), where he stood first in his classes and where his conduct was so ex- emplary, as to gain him state aid until the time of his graduation. In 1871, entering the competi- PORFIRIO PARRA. 359 tion for the Professorship of History in the Girls High School, he gained the second grade, although three eminent historians were among the contes- tants. Entering the Escuela Nacional de Medi- cina (National Medical School), in 1873, he maintained high rank there and took his degree in February, 1878. In March of that year, he was appointed Professor of Logic in the Escuela Na- cional Preparatoria. In 1879, by competition, he received the Professorship of Physiology in the National School of Medicine, with which he has been associated in some capacity ever since. In 1880, by competition, he became Surgeon and Physician of the Juarez Hospital. In 1886, after a brilliant examination, he became a member of the Academia de Medicina de Mexico (Academy of Medicine) . In the Escuela Nacional de Agri- cultura y Veterinaria (National Agricultural and Veterinary School), he has held chairs of mathe- matics and zootechnology. An alternate Deputy In 1882, he was in 1898 elected Deputy of the Federal Congress, and has been re-elected until the present time. He was made chairman of the House Committee on Pub- lic Instruction. In 1902 he was named Secretary of the Upper Council of Education. Dr. Parra has participated, officially, in several of the most Important medical congresses held In Europe dur- ing recent years, sometimes as a delegate from his native State of Chihuahua, at others as delegate 360 MODERN MEXICAN AUTHORS. from the Mexican nation. In 1892, he was elect- ed a member of the Mexican Academy. Dr. Parra has written both in poetry and prose. Most of what he writes is in scientific lines. Even in poetry he is a scientist, and in a volume of his poems, we find odes to the mathematics and to medicine, a sonnet to a skull, and poems on the Death of Pasteur, Night, Water. Of very great importance is his Nueva Sistema de Logica, induc- tiva y deductiva (New System of Logic, Inductive and Deductive). He has written one novel, Pa- cotillas, in which the life of the medical student is depicted. It is from this work that we have drawn our selections. Lopez (Santa Anna), Robles (El Chango — " the monkey "), Albarez (Patillitas) and Tellez (Pacotillas), are fellow-students in the School of Medicine. They are friends but present four quite different types of character. Santa Anna figures least in the story and attends most strictly to business ; Patillitas is a dandy, anxious to make feminine conquests ; El Chango drops out of school before he has completed his course, toadies in poli- tics, rapidly rising to importance as the private secretary of a departmental minister, and marries great wealth. Pacotillas, the hero, is an astonish- ing combination of strong and weak qualities. Of lofty ideals, of great firmness in announcing and supporting them, and of brilliant intellectual pow- ers, he is cold, morose, lacking in Initiative, easily PORFIRIO PARRA. 36 1 depressed, and procrastinating. He smokes con- stantly and excessively and readily yields to drink. He loves a beautiful and amiable girl and lives with her without marriage ; though he realizes the injustice this is to her, the injustice — excused at the time by poverty — is never atoned for in his days of comparative prosperity. Pacotillas and his beautiful Amalia suffer enormous trials of pov- erty; Paco finally secures a position on the force of an opposition paper. He antagonizes the govern- ment, is arrested and thrown in jail, where he dies of typhus. The book is an interesting picture of Mexican life, but it is a particularly difficult task to make brief selections from it for translation. EXTRACTS FROM PACOTILLAS. The next day the vigilant argus, accompanied by a faithful friend, was at his post from nine o'clock in the morning. He was not on beat but he warned his fellow policeman to pay no atten- tion to what was about to take place at the house, since it concerned a personage of consequence, closely connected with the official world, whose plans it were best not to disturb; that the gentle- man did not ask something for nothing and would not fail to reward him; that everything would go on behind closed doors, and was really no more than a joke; that it concerned a private matter, with no political bearings; that the woman living 362 MODERN MEXICAN AUTHORS. in the house badly repaid him who supported her, and that he merely wished to scare her and put her to shame. The policeman on the beat permitted himself to be convinced by Pablo's diplomatic arguments; he demanded, indeed, a guarantee that nothing serious should take place, that there should be no fight, wounds, shots, or other scandal. No, comrade, answered Pablo, it only concerns giving a thrashing to a young fellow who is accus- tomed to enjoy women, whom other men support. Put yourself in the place of the deceived man; what would you do ? What would any other de- cent man do, in such a case? Just what he is going to do. I shall not compromise you. You see that I am also one of the police-force. Fur- ther, this may help you, the gentleman we are help- ing is in with the government, and he does not expect service for nothing. Completely convinced, the policeman agreed that, at a signal from Pablo, he would walk slowly toward the Plazuela del Carmen, to see what was going on there. The astute Pablo had arranged for two stout fellows of evil mien to meet him at the corner pul- queria; they arrived at the place appointed at half- past-nine carrying heavy cudgels as walking sticks. A little before ten the servant of Mercedes left the house; Pablo, who had already made her ac- quaintance, overtook her and said: PORFIRIO PARRA. 363 " Where are you going so fast, my dear? " " I am going far; I am taking a message to the Arcade of Belem and from there to Sapo street, to the socursal." " Does not my pretty one want a drop? " The pretty one did want a drop, entered the pulqueria, drank, submitted to various pinches, and left, Pablo at once said to his friend: "Run and call the General," and he planted himself where he could see the house. A little later poor Mercedes, who suspected nought of what was plotting for her undoing, opened the windows and looked out. It was the signal, arranged between her and Patillitas, indi- cating that there were no Moors on the coast and that the happy lover might enter. He was not slow in appearing, strutting pompously as if enjoy- ing in anticipation the pleasure he was about to have. He caught sight of his sweetheart, which was equal to seeing the gates of paradise opening, saluted her with much elegance and cautiously en- tered the doors of the court-yard, which were ajar. "The fish falls into the net! how easy! how easy! "* murmured the malicious Pablo, humming the accompanying tune in a low voice. A quarter of an hour had passed when, by San Pedro y San Pablo St., the General was seen ap- proaching, as grave, as correct, and as arrogant as * Cayo el pez en la remanga: Que ganga! que gangal 364 MODERN MEXICAN AUTHORS. ever, smoking his unfailing cigar, without hasten- ing his pace or displaying the least emotion. As soon as Pablo saw him, he spoke to the po- liceman on the beat, who at once walked slowly in the direction of the Plazuela, as he had promised. Then Pablo summoned his assistants from the puU queria and all three joined the messenger, who had been sent to call the General and who had now returned ; the whole party stopped on the sidewalk opposite Mercedes' house. The General, without quickening his pace, with- out looking at the men, nor making any signal to them, had already arrived before the house. When he had almost reached the gateway, the four men crossed the street and, when he entered, they cautiously followed. Lopez, with measured tread, crossed the court, followed by his men; he turned to the left and knocked at the house-door, which was fastened. No one responded, but noises of alarm were heard within, a sound as of a person running and finding some piece of furniture in his way, a stifled cry, and the murmur of troubled voices. The General knocked a second, and a third time with briefer interval and with greater force. No one replied and now nothing was heard. The General knocked for the fourth time and said, in his stentorian voice, though without displaying anger or emotion : " Open, Mercedes, it is I." " I am coming," shrilly answered a woman's PORFIRIO PARRA. 365 voice, " I am dressing; I was ill and had not yet risen." The General waited with the utmost calm. No escape was possible; from the hall one passed di- rectly into the room, which was the scene of the guilty love and which received light by a grated window, that opened onto the patio of the next house. The General, who knew all the hiding places and the location of the pieces of furniture in the room, was delighted, imagining the little agree- able plight of the student, who had already, trem- blingly, hidden himself under the bed. After ten minutes waiting, Mercedes, visibly pale with chiquedores * on her temples, her head tied up in a handkerchief, and covered with a loose gown, which she was still hooking, finally opened the door, smiled at the General, and attempting to overcome her manifest uneasiness, said: " Ah, sir! what a surprise ! " " Good morning, madam," said the General, abruptly entering the hall and then the inner room, followed by his four men, and paying no attention to Mercedes, who, following them all, exclaimed, each time more afflicted : " What do you wish, sir? What are you look- ing for? Why have these men come here? " Once in the room, the General stopped near the door, and, as he expected, saw under the bed the * Small round plasters stuck upon the temples for the relief of headache. 366 MODERN MEXICAN AUTHORS. coiled up body of the student who would gladly have given his whiskers to be elsewhere. " Drag out that shameless fellow," said the General to his men, " and beat him for me." " Senor, for God's sake ! " cried Mercedes. The four men obeyed the order. The unhappy student did not even try to escape. One took him by the feet and dragged him out into the middle of the room ; the others began to discharge a hail of blows upon him, distributing them evenly over the shoulders, back, seat, and legs of that unfor- tunate, who squirmed upon the floor like an epilep- tic, writhing, screaming, and howling, with a choked voice : " Ay ! ay ! they are killing me ! ay ! ay I help 1 Ay ! ay ! infamous fellows ! assassins ! " Meantime the General looked on at that calam- itous spectacle, without a word; when the flogging seemed to him sufficient he exclaimed — " Hold I " and then, addressing the man who had been flogged, added : " Be warned by this experience and let the women of other men alone." The maltreated Patillitas arose, hurled some insolence at the General, and threw himself upon him with his fists clenched; the floggers started to seize him, but the General said, " Leave him to me." And, with the greatest calmness, he allowed him to deal his inoffensive blow, and, then, seizing his wrist, gave it such a wrench that the poor fel- low suffered more than from the beating, and, not- PORFIRIO PARRA. 367 withstanding all his efforts to the contrary, fell upon his knees before his conqueror, howling with pain. " Listen well, jackanapes," said the General, without loosening his hold, " get away from here at once; and, if you prefer the least complaint or cause the least scandal, I will put you into jail and afterwards send you into the army as a vagabond and mischief-maker." He loosed his prisoner who rose uttering suffo- cated groans and muttering inarticulate insolences. Limping, and with his dress disordered, he started to walk away; he took his hat, which one of the floggers, at a signal from the General, handed him. Pablo followed him and at reaching the hall door gave him a kick behind, saying with a horse laugh : " There ! take your deserts, you ! " " Now," said the General, addressing Mercedes, who, huddled on the sofa, with her kerchief thrown over her head and covering her face, was sobbing violently, " indicate what you wish to take with you and get out into the street." " Keep it all, horrible old man, monster without heart or entrails of pity," said the unhappy woman, drying her eyes; and, arranging her dress as best she could and wrapping up her head, she left. When she had disappeared, the General, as pleased as if he had consummated some great act of justice, dismissed the floggers, after paying 368 MODERN MEXICAN AUTHORS. them ; then, he went out onto the street with a lofty air, and, smoking his ever-present cigar, closed the gate of the court, put the key into his pocket, and walked away. The Chango did not pronounce this long dis- course at one breath, but interrupted himself from time to time to sip coffee or to ask Pacotillas inci- dental questions, which he answered in his usual laconic style. He expressed himself somewhat more upon his matrimonial troubles and the faults of his wife's parents. Then, changing his tone, he said: " Now I have tired you in speaking of myself and my affairs; now you must reciprocate, as a good friend, and tell me all about yourself." " I can do that in a few words : I am slowly con- tinuing my course of study and with more or less of difficulty and labor gain my bread." " Spartan ! You do wrong not to confide in me. Am I to understand that you desire nothing ? that you do not care to better your condition ? " " I do not say so; I desire many things; I desire to escape from poverty ; but, I am content with my situation." " What a fool you are I I could do much for you, because I love you well, and I would willingly offer you more than one chance of improving your condition." PORFIRIO PARRA. 369 " I thank you for your good will but I see no means of taking advantage of it." " See Paco, let us speak frankly; notwithstand- ing your assertion that you are content with your situation, I cannot believe it; the fact is that you are very proud, that you do not care to ask anything from anyone; that is all right with strangers, but when I, your school-fellow and friend, anticipate your desires and offer " " I thank you and beg you to respect my free- dom of action." " What a hard-shell you are ! Come, consent to this anyway — separate yourself from the In- dependiente; I promise to supply resources for you to found a paper of your own, which will bring you at least double what Don Marcos can pay you, and also to secure you a grant to aid you in your studies, and, if you desire more, you shall have more." " But, truly, I desire nothing; I owe considera- tion to Don Marcos and cannot treat him cava- lierly," said Paco, at the same time saying to him- self, " Oho, now I see I " " You are fearfully stubborn," said the Change, " but you are your own master and I will not insist further; but, now, I come to one favor, begging you affectionately, in the name of our old friend- ship, to grant it; do not continue to discuss. In your bulletins, the objectionable question upon which you have been writing." 370 MODERN MEXICAN AUTHORS. " In my soul, I regret that I cannot gratify you, since I have resolved to examine that matter in all its aspects." "You are more tenacious than a Biscayan! Don't you understand that in this you do me a per- sonal injury and expose me to public criticism? " " I do not see why? I have never mentioned your name, nor shall I mention it ; nor are you re- sponsible for that contract." " Don't be a ninny; although you do not men- tion me by name; although, legally, you do not treat of me ; yet the odium of the transaction falls on me." " Whether the part you play is odious or not, I am not to blame ; you have chosen it freely. You act, and I judge. We are both within our rights." " In fine, Paco, if you continue to write as here- tofore, you do me an injury, you attack me." " That is not my intention, nor do I believe it the necessary result of my procedure." " Of course, if you attack me, you give me the right to defend myself." " Granted," answered Paco, coldly. " And you know that I have many means of doing it?" " I know it and they have no terrors for me." " Paco, you despise me," said the Change with annoyance. " No, I merely answer you," replied Paco, coldly. PORFIRIO PARRA. 37 1 " For the last time I will sum up the situation. If you consent to withdraw from the Independiente you shall have whatever advantages you desire that I can give you; you shall have the same if you consent, at least, to speak no more of the contract. Do you agree ? " " I have already said no," replied Paco with dignity. " Very well; it is hard for me to proceed against a fellow-student, whom I have always esteemed for his talents and his brilliant promise; for that rea- son, I desired to speak with you beforehand and give you proofs of my friendship, but since you are obstinate, I warn you that I shall prosecute you criminally." " Thanks for the warning." " Do you reflect that you will be proceeded against, that you will be sent to jail, that you will be sentenced? " " Yes, I consider all, and I am prepared for all ; you will allow me to say that I appreciate the kindness and politeness, with which you have treat- ed me ; but now, as it seems your wish to induce me to maintain silence and to separate myself from the Independiente, and as I will never agree to this, I judge my further presence here to be useless and, with your permission, will leave." And the young man at once rose and left; the Change followed him without a word ; they went down the stairway, crossed the corridor, Pacotillas 372 MODERN MEXICAN AUTHORS. took his hat in the hall, and on saying adieu to Robles, the latter involuntarily moved by the dig- nity of Pacotillas, said to him : " Think yet, Paco." "I need not think; neither threats nor bribes can swerve me from what I believe to be my duty." EMILIO RABASA. 373 EMILIO RABASA. Emilio Rabasa was born in the pueblo of Oco- zautla, State of Chiapas, on May 22, 1856. He studied law in the City of Oaxaca, being licensed to practice on April 4, 1878. He returned to his native State, where he was a Deputy to Congress and Director of the Institute during the years 1881 and 1882. He then removed to Oaxaca, where he was Judge of the Civil Court, Deputy to the State Legislature and Secretary to Governor Mier y Teran, during 1885 and 1886. Remov- 374 MODERN MEXICAN AUTHORS. ing to the City of Mexico in 1886, he there filled various judicial and other offices. In 1891, he was elected Governor of Chiapas, which office he filled for two years, particularly interesting him- self in improving the financial condition of the State. In 1894, he was elected Senator from the State of Sinaloa, an office which he still fills. He resides in the City of Mexico, where he is engaged in legal practice. The work which has given him literary fame is a four volume novel, written under the nom-de- plume of Sancho Polo. These volumes bear spe- cial titles — La Bola (The Local Outbreak), La gran Ciencia (The Grand Science), El cuarto Po- der (The Fourth Power), and Moneda falsa (False Money). These novels have their impor- tance in Mexican literature. Victoriano Salado Albarez, speaking of the notable advancement of the Mexican novel in recent years, says: "The works of Sancho Polo, precious studies, — initiated this truly fecund and permanent move- ment." Luis Gonzales Obregon says of these books : " These are notable for the correctness of their style, for masterly skill in description, most rich in precious details, for the perfect way in which those who figure in them are characterized, for the natural and unexpected development, as well as for many other beauties, which we regret not being able to enumerate here." Emilio Ra- basa's active public life has prevented his follow- EMILIO RABASA. 375 ing up his early success in literature. Since tke Sancho Polo series, he has written but one brief novel, La Guerra de tres anos (The Three Years War). In 1888, in connection with the well- known publisher, Reyes Spindola, he founded El Universal (The Universal), which is still pub- lished, and which really initiated a new era in Mex- ican journalism. The hero in the Sancho Polo novels is a youth named Juan Quiiiones. Born and reared in an obscure village, he loves a pretty girl who lives with her uncle, a man of common origin and medi- ocre attainments. Don Mateo is, however, a rising man, and, as he mounts, his ambitions for his niece mount also. The boy has real ability, but is petulant and precipitate, throwing himself into positions from which there should be no escape, and learning nothing by experience. He passes through a series of remarkable experi- ences — a local outbreak, a State revolution, anti- governmental journalism in the capital city, a discreditable love affair — finally, of course, gain- ing the girl. THE DAY OF BATTLE. I attempted in vain to restrain and reduce the uneasiness and disquietude, by which I was pos- sessed and which Minga and her mother but in- creased, now dragging me away from the window. 37^ MODERN MEXICAN AUTHORS. now preventing me from drawing the bolt to open the door, now bringing me back from the court- yard whither I had desired to go to escape their oversight. " What a Don Abundio ! " said Minga, jeer- ingly, " Trust him! But have no fear; he will not now let the girl go." Nevertheless, I sent the old woman back to see Felicia, to beg her, if preparations for the jour- ney were not immediately discontinued, to send me word by her servant. And the good old woman, who was brave and fearless, started out again, cau- tioning her daughter not to allow me to commit any imprudence. What a day was that for me. The sun ran its course with desperate slowness, but finally stood in mid-heaven. The old woman had not yet returned, nor had Don Mateo made his attack, nor had I news of any one. I do not understand how I could remain shut up all those hours, without breaking out and letting myself be killed. While thus chafing, and more often than ever peeping from the window to catch a distant glimpse of the old woman, a choked and panting voice, at my shoulder, cried : " They are coming." It was ' Uncle Lucas,' who seemed in that one day to exhaust all his remaining life's force. He seated himself on Minga's bed, with his mouth EMILIO RABASA. 377 open, his chest puffing like a blacksmith's bellows, his head nodding in time to his heavy breathing. In spite of his breathlessness, I made him speak, although his words were broken by his gasps for air. Don Mateo and his force were organizing at half a league's distance. Uncle Lucas had told the Colonel all that the Sindico * had said and had returned with the order to unite as many men as possible from our quarter of the town, in order to impede and disconcert Coderas's force, when it should return to town, as probably it would only skirmish in the open field. Just as he arrived at the creek. Uncle Lucas saw five men on horseback, the advance guard of Coderas, descend from the terrace. In fact, while he was speaking we heard the noise of horses running through the street and the clank of swords against the stirrups. Almost at the same moment the door opened and Minga's mother burst into the room, her face pale, her eyes flashing fire. " A little more and those dogs had had me ! " she cried angrily and hurled forth a tirade which I cannot repeat. " What is the matter? " I asked, agitated. " What is it ! If it were not for my nephew Matias, who was in the trenches by the church, they would not have let me go. Cursed wolves. When Pedro comes I will tell him that they would • Town treasurer. 378 MODERN MEXICAN AUTHORS. not let me go and the foul words they said to me. As I told you, were it not for Matias, I would still be there in the Plaza." "And what did Felicia say?" I interrupted, impatiently. "The horses are all ready; but Don Abundio told her to tell you to have no concern ; Remedios need not go. But remember, Juanito, this man has no shame." Keeping her to the point, I made her tell me all that could concern us. Coderas and Soria had agreed upon a plan of defense, believing that Don Mateo could not take the Plaza in several days; meantime the auxiliaries from the next district, whose Jefe politico was in communication with San Martin, could arrive. At the last moment, it had been decided that Coderas should sally with two hundred men, for a skirmish just outside the town, falling back upon the hundred, who re- mained in the Plaza with Soria; if fortune should prove averse to them, which the intrepid leader did not believe, they would withdraw to the best entrenchments, in order to force Don Mateo to attack them there. " Now for the main thing," said the old woman to me. " Remedios told me to say that they plan to take the prisoners from the jail and put them in the trenches, to terrify the other party, who can- not fire without killing their own friends and -relatives." EMILIO RABASA. 379 My hair stood on end, I felt a giddiness and almost fell, with my face convulsed with emotion and with shortened breath, I could scarcely turn to Uncle Lucas. Terrified, he rose and tried to detain me; but I promptly regained my self-con- trol and assumed the voice of command which, in such cases, constitutes me a leader of those about me. " Run ! " I said to him quickly. " Immedi- ately collect all those who last night promised to follow us and bring them here at once." My voice was so authoritative and commanding that I scarce awaited a reply. The old man made none and directed his way to the door ; on opening it, he started violently. " There they come ! they come I " he said in a whisper. Minga drew me violently back from the win- dow, and Coderas and his force galloped down the road from the creek. Some villagers followed the force from curiosity, others appeared in their doorways, and some few shut themselves in, cautiously barring their doors. My wisdom and patience were now completely exhausted, and, my excitement depriving me of all prudence, I rushed forth with Uncle Lucas, order- ing him to promptly meet me at that spot. With no attempt at concealment, without pre- caution and without fear, I ran to Bermejo's house, to the houses of the imprisoned regidors, to the 380 MODERN MEXICAN AUTHORS. houses of all those who were suffering In jail, alarming all with the terrible notice which I had received. In this house, I secured a man; in that one, some weapon; from here I led forth a terri- fied son ; from there, a half-crazed father. Every- where I carried terror and awakened the most vio- lent manifestations of hatred and affliction. Half an hour later, in Pedro Martin's patio, I had collected some thirty men, who, worthy fol- lowers of a leader such as I, would fight like tigers and would not be sated with three hundred victims. One proposed hanging the wife and chil- dren of Coderas ; another proposed dragging Soria through the streets and casting his lifeless body on the dungheap; another suggested sacking of the house of the Gonzagas, and another, cutting the throats of all who lived In the ward of Las Lomas, with a few exceptions. To me, this all appeared excellent and I energetically approved these savage propositions, while I distributed arms to those who had none and Issued my orders to Uncle Lucas. At that moment, the first discharge of the battle was heard ; a cold chill ran through my body, mix- ture of terror and of impatience for the combat. I felt myself impelled toward the Plaza, and from my lips issued a torrent of foul words, which I was astonished at myself for knowing. Evil predomi- nated in me; under the kindled passions of the bola, I was unconsciously transformed, my nature becoming that of the mass around me. EMILIO RABASA. 38 1 In such moments I had no idea of forming a plan of campaign. I only knew that I was going in defence of my mother, whose life was gravely imperilled, and that I ought to hasten to achieve my object. I did not think how I should attain it, nor did it occur to me to think. Uncle Lucas ventured to remind me that the Colonel's plan was for us to hamper the enemy in his retreat. " All follow me !" I cried with authority. And all, with resolution equal to my own, fol- lowed me. Passing behind Minga's house, to the edge of the village, we took the road to the right and marched at quickstep up the street parallel to that which led to the Plaza. On arriving in front of this we halted, to the terror of the neighbors, and then cautiously advanced until the jail was in sight. Not dreaming of enemies so near, the soldiers in the Plaza were listening to the fusillade which was taking place, almost on the banks of the creek. In front of us was a gentle slope, from the gully up to the Plaza and the prison door; at that place, which could scarcely be seen, because of the village corral which intervened, a sentinel was visible. " They have not yet taken out the prisoners," I said to my companions; " we will wait here until we see some movement showing that they are about to remove them." Among our arms was a single gun ; the rest were 382 MODERN MEXICAN AUTHORS. machetes, darts, or knives tied to the end of staves. I nevertheless believed myself invincible. The distant noise of musketry, which, to tell the truth, was not great or terrible, consequent on the small number of the combatants and the still smaller number of the firearms, became less at the end of a few minutes, and the few shots heard seemed to me to be already discharged within San Martin. I ordered my party to approach the foot of the slope, I myself remaining where I was so as not to lose sight of the jail; and I ran to join them, when the discharges from the entrenchments showed me that Soria had entered the Plaza and that Don Mateo was in front of it. We mounted to the jail, before the sentinel could give the alarm and at the moment when Coderas and Soria repulsed Don Mateo in his first assault. Taken by surprise, the sentinel fled to the Plaza, and we, without thought of the imprudence of our hasty action, hurled ourselves against the prison door, and, after a few efforts, burst it in, broken into fragments. LA SOLA. How many then, as I, wept orphaned and cursed the bola! In that miserable village, which scarcely had enough men to till its soil, and in which the loftiness of citizenship was unknown, its victims had floods of tears and despair, instead of EMILIO RABASA. 383 laurels, the reward of right. Here the father, love and support of the family, was mourned; there, a son, hope and stay of aged parents ; there, again, a husband, torn from the fireside to be borne to a field of battle, which had not even tragic grandeur, but only the caricaturing ridiculousness of a low comedy. And all that was called in San Martin a revolu- tion ! No ! Let us not disgrace the Spanish lan- guage nor human progress. It is indeed time for some one of the learned correspondents of the Royal Academy to send for its dictionary, this fruit harvested from the rich soil of American lands. We, the inventors of the thing itself, have given it a name without having recourse to Greek or Latin roots, and we have called it bola. We hold the copyright; because, while revolution, as an inexorable law, is known in all the world, the bola can only be developed, like the yellow fever, in certain latitudes. Revolution grows out of an idea, it moves nations, modifies institutions, de- mands citizens ; the bola requires no principles, and has none, it is born and dies within short space, and demands ignorant persons. In a word, the revolu- tion is a daughter of the world's progress and of an inexorable law of humanity; the bola is daughter of ignorance and the inevitable scourge of back- ward populations. We know revolutions well, and there are many who stigmatize and calumniate them; but, to them 384 MODERN MEXICAN AUTHORS. we owe the rapid transformation of society and of institutions. They would be veritable baptisms of regeneration and advancement, if within them did not grow the weed of the miserable bola. Miserable bola f Yes ! There operate in it as many passions as there are men and leaders en- gaged ; in the one it is avenging ruin ; in the other a mean ambition ; in this one the desire to figure ; in that one to gain a victory over an enemy. And there is not a single common thought, not a prin- ciple which gives strength to consciences. Its the- atre is the corner of some outlying district; its heroes, men who perhaps at first accepting it in good faith, permit that which they had to be torn to tatters on the briers of the forest. Honorable labor is suspended, the fields are laid waste, the groves are set on fire, homes are despoiled, at the mere dictate of some brutal petty leader; tears, despair, and famine are the final harvest. And yet the population, when this favorite monster, to which it has given birth, appears, rushes after it, crying enthusiastically and insanely, hola! bola! THE INDEPENDENT PRESS. Albar came down into the editorial room and, approaching me, picked up, one by one, the yet fresh sheets. He was satisfied, extremely so. " Very good," he said to me, " this will cause a sensation, and will exalt your name yet more. Attack fearlessly." EMILIO RABASA. 385 At twelve, he called me up to his writing-room, not without my feeling a strange fear, presentiment of danger. " I want you to take one matter on yourself," he said, " because this Escorroza is of no use some- times. Besides, I know you are from the State of X and I suppose you know its men, its his- tory, its conditions, better than anyone else on the force." " I think so," I replied, trembling. " It is so," affirmed Albar. " Put special care on the articles relative to the matter, to which I refer; because it is of importance to me and I en- trust it to you because you are the best man on the staff." " You are very kind " " Not at all; it is mere justice " " And the matter " " In a moment. In a moment; you shall hear." The interest of the Director must Indeed be great, when he was so friendly and courteous with me. His dark skin wrinkled more violently and a forced smile Incessantly contracted his lips, separating yet more widely from each other, the two halves of his typically Indian moustache. We heard, sounding in the patio, the footsteps of several persons. My suspicions had grown with Albar's words, my fears Increased, and that noise caused me such disturbance that I was forced to rise from the sofa to conceal It. 386 MODERN MEXICAN AUTHORS. In spite of my efforts to control myself, I felt that I turned pale, when Don Mateo entered the room, accompanied by Bueso and Escorroza. In^ stinctively, I stepped back a step or two and appeared to occupy myself with something lying on the table. Don Mateo awkwardly saluted Albar, with scant courtesy, and passed with him and Bueso into an adjoining room. As he passed near me, I noticed that the General looked at me and hesitated a moment as if he wished to stop. Albar, who went last, indicated to Escorroza, by a sign, that he might retire, and when he, in turn, repeated the signal to me, Albar said, shortly, " Wait here ; I will call you." Escorroza withdrew, casting at me a glance of terrible hatred, which in some degree compensated me for my anxieties, by the vain satisfaction it caused me ; but, hearing the first phrases exchanged between the three men, I understood at once that Pepe was right in telling me that I had lost my cause. I should have fled from the place, on feel- ing myself so completely routed, at comprehend- ing the event and its significance to me ; but, I know not what painful desire to know the end, held me, as if bound, to the chair in which I had seated myself near the door. At first Don Mateo himself desired to present the matter; but his rustic awkwardness, little suited to the presentation of so difficult a matter, over- EMILIO RABASA. 387 came him, and it was necessary that Bueso should take up the conversation for him. For some minutes his tranquil, unvarying, and unemotional voice was heard; for him, no matter was difficult of presentation, no circumlocutions were necessary to express the most delicate affairs. The General had seen, with surprise, a paragraph in El Cuarto Poder which demanded evidence proving what El Labaro had stated concerning him ; that his surprise was the greater from the fact that he had before considered Albar as his friend, although they had had merely business relations through correspondence. All that was printed in El Labaro, and much more, was true, as could be testified by thousands of persons, who knew the General as their own hands. It could be proved (indeed it could!) with documents from State and Federal governments; with periodicals of different epochs which he had preserved; with this and with that — ^ — But, why? Albar could not doubt the word of a gentleman. The important matter now is that the eminent Director should recognize in the General a good friend, and in place of raising doubts in regard to his glorious past, should strive, as a good friend, to make it well known, appre- ciated, and recompensed by the applause to which a man so distinguished as the General is entitled. While he understood this involved considerable expense, that was no obstacle. 388 MODERN MEXICAN AUTHORS. At this critical point Albar interrupted Bueso with a grunt, which said neither yes nor no. It is not necessary to mention that; no, sir. The unlucky paragraph in question had crept into the paper, without the Director's knowledge; but, as soon as he discovered it, he determined to apply the remedy; which would consist in publishing a com- plete biography of the General, stating that it had been written after inspection of convincing and authentic documents; and, even, that the portrait of the General should be printed in the paper, if he would have the kindness to furnish a photo- graph. Clouds of blood, blinding me, passed before my eyes; my whole body trembled convulsively; with my contracted fingers I clutched the arms of the chair and dug my nails into the velvet upholstery. In the fury of my rage and anger, I scarcely heard some words about thirty subscriptions, which Don Mateo would send the following day, to be mailed to his friends in the State. Bueso asserted that this was important for the General, because the General was a man with a great political future, that he ought, therefore, to act promptly and vig- orously, to augment his prestige and propagate his renown everywhere. To me, nailed to my chair, that scene appeared for some minutes the horrible illusion of a cruel nightmare. I was perspiring and choked. The door suddenly opened and the three actors EMILIO RABASA. 389 in the comedy entered the writing-room. Trying to compose myself, and rising, I heard Albar, who, pointing at me, said: " Here is the best pen on my staff; this young man will be charged with writing all relative to your life." Don Mateo and I faced each other, exchanging a glance of profound hatred ; hatred, kneaded with the passion of purest love, as mud is kneaded with water from the skies. I knew not what to say, much as I desired to speak, but Don Mateo, incapable of controlling himself, said insultingly: " This young man going to write ? And what does he know ? " And, filled with rage, he turned his back on me, pretending to despise me. " I know more than will suit you, for writing your biography," I replied, " but I warn Senor Albar that my pen shall never be employed in the service of a man like you." Don Mateo made a motion as if he would throw himself upon me, and I made one as if seizing a bust of bronze to hurl at him. Albar leaped between us. " What is this ? " he cried, in terror. " You are a miserable puppet," thundered Don Mateo, shaking his fists at me above Albar's head. " When I meet you in the street I will pull your ears." 390 MODERN MEXICAN AUTHORS. " We shall see," I replied. " Wretched, insignificant boy." " Stop ! enough of this," cried Albar, with all the force of his lungs. "What is the matter? " " Senor Albar," I said, " I heard all that was said. I can write nothing about this man; not a word." " Nor will I permit that he shall write," bel- lowed Don Mateo, choked with rage; " I will not consent to it." " Then he shall not write; enough said," replied Albar. Bueso stood before me undisturbed; with his hands in his pockets he looked me over with an air of curiosity. " That means that Javier will write it," he said completing Don Pablo's thought. Escorroza, at the sound of voices, had come upstairs and, at this moment, arrived. " Very well," said the Director, " let it be so. As Quinones refuses and the General does not con- sent, Escorroza will be charged with writing all relative to " "To the Senor General? With the greatest pleasure," broke in Don Javier, " And he will do it much better," said Bueso. Don Mateo looked at me with an air of triumph and derision. " The Senor Director may order what seems best to him," I said, restraining myself with dif- EMILIO RABASA. 39 1 ficulty, " but I ought to inform him that I with- draw from the staff, the moment when the paper publishes the least eulogy of this man." And without saluting, with clenched fists and gritted teeth, I left the room. While in the corri- dor I heard the voices of Cabezudo, Bueso, and Escorroza, who cried at once : " Canasto ! this puppet " " Talked to you, in that manner ! " " How can you permit " The noise of the loud voices reached the edito- rial room. Pepe and Carrasco asked me what had happened, but I simply shrugged my shoulders and the two became discreetly silent. The noise continued for half an hour. At the end of that time the footsteps of the three men were heard in the patio, and their yet angry voices. As they passed the doorway I heard them saying : " Astonishing how much Don Pablo thinks this boy to be 1 " " Canasto ! recanasto ! this I will never for- give." Elevated pride, satisfied hatred, gratified and exalted vanity, almost choked me and I had to rise for breath. Pepe and Sabas looked at me aston- ished, and I, my face twitching and working with a nervous smile, threw my pen upon the table. " This pen is worth more than most persons imagine." 392 MODERN MEXICAN AUTHORS. RAFAEL DELGADO. Rafael Delgado was born in Cordoba, State of Vera Cruz, August 20, 1853, of a highly honor- able and respected family. His father was for many years the Jefe politico of Cordoba, but at the close of his service retired to Orizaba. This removal was made when Rafael was but two months old, and it was in Orizaba that he was reared and has spent most of his life. After re- ceiving his earlier instruction in the Colegio de Nuestra Senora de Guadalupe, he was sent, in RAFAEL DELGADO. 393 1865, to the City of Mexico, where, however, on account of the turbulence of that time, he spent but one year. On account of the disturbances due to civil war his father lost the greater part of his fortune. In May, 1868, Rafael entered the Colegio Nacional de Orizaba, then just organized, where he completed his studies. From 1875 on, for a space of eighteen years, he was teacher of geography and history in that institution. The salary was so small and irregular that, at times, he was compelled to give elementary instruction in other schools in order to meet expenses. In his own personal studies, outside of his professional work, he was especially interested in the drama, and he carefully read and studied the Greek, Latin, French and Italian dramatists, as well as the Span- ish. In 1878 he wrote two dramas. La caja de dulces (The Box of Sweets), prose in three acts, and Una taza de te (A Cup of Tea) in verse in a single act. These were staged and met a good reception. At a banquet tendered to the author after the first rendering of La caja de dulces, his friends presented him a silver crown and a gold pen. In 1879, Rafael Delgado published a trans- lation of Octave Feuillet's A Case of Conscience and later an original monologue — Antes de la boda (Before the Wedding). Between the ages of sixteen and thirty years, Delgado wrote much lyric poetry. Francisco Sosa compares his work in this field with that of Pesado, 394 MODERN MEXICAN AUTHORS. and adds : " Greater commendation cannot be given." From the time when he was a student in the Colegio Nacional at Orizaba, Delgado always received the helpful encouragement of his old teacher, the head of that school, Silvestre Moreno Cora. It was due to this truly great man's efforts that the Socledad Sanchez Oropeza was founded in Orizaba, in the literary section of which Rafael Delgado was active. At this society he gave a series of brilliant Conversaciones and to its Bulletin he contributed both prose and verse. He has writ- ten Cuentos (Tales) of excellence, showing the influence of Daudet. More important, however, than his lyric poems and his stories, are Delgado's novels, three in number. La Calandria, Angelina, Los parientes ricos (Rich Relations). In fiction he is a realist. He prefers to deal with the com- mon people; he is ever a poet in form and spirit; his satire is never bitter; beauty in nature ever ap- peals strongly to him. Without being a servile imi- tator, he has been influenced by Daudet and the Goncourts. His plots are simple — almost noth- ing. In regard to this, he himself, in speaking of Los parientes ricos, says : " Plot does not enter much into my plan. It is true that it gives interest to a novel, but it usually distracts the mind from the truth. For me the novel is history, and thus does not always have the machinery and arrange- ment of the spectacular drama. In my judgment it ought to be the artistic copy of the truth ; some- RAFAEL DELGADO. 395 what, that is, as history, a fine art. I have desired that Los parientes ricos should be something of that sort; an exact page from Mexican life." In Calandria, the story opens with the death of Guadalupe, an abandoned woman, poor and con- sumptive. The man of wealth, who betrayed her, has a lovely home and a beautiful daughter. Car- men, "the Calandria," as she is nicknamed by those about her on account of her singing, the illegiti- mate daughter of Don Eduardo by Guadalupe, Is left in poverty. An appeal, made In her behalf, by a priest to Don Eduardo fails to secure her full recognition and reception into his home, but leads to his arranging for her care in the tenement where she lives and where Guadalupe died. An old woman. Dona Pancha, who had been kind to her mother, receives the orphan into her home. Her son, Gabriel, an excellent young man, a cabinet- maker by trade, loves her, and she reciprocates his love. A neighbor in the tenement, Magdalena, exerts an unhappy influence upon Carmen, leading to estrangement between her and Dofia Pancha. Magdalena encourages her to receive the atten- tions of a worthless and vicious, wealthy youth named Rosas. At a dance given In Magdalena's room, Rosas is- attentive, and Carmen, flattered and dazzled, is guilty of some Indiscretions. This leads to a rupture between her and Gabriel. To escape the persecutions of Rosas, Carmen goes with the friendly priest to a retreat at some little 396 MODERN MEXICAN AUTHORS. distance. The troubles between the lovers ap- proach adjustment, but at the critical moment Rosas appears upon the scene, and the girl, though she rejects him, is compromised. Gabriel stifles his love and actually casts her off. In despair, the girl yields to the appeals of Rosas, who promises marriage. He is false, and soon tiring, abandons her. From then her downward career is rapid and soon ends in suicide. EXTRACTS FROM CALANDRIA. And she sighed and spent long hours in gazing at the landscape; attentive to the rustling of the trees, to the flitting to and fro of the butterflies, to the echoes of the valley, which repeated, sono- rously, the regular stroke of the woodman's axe, to the rushing of the neighboring stream, to the cooing of the turtle-dove living in the neighboring Cottonwood. I need to be loved and Gabriel has despised me. I need to be happy and cannot because Gabriel, my Gabriel, is offended. He has repulsed me, he has refused my caresses, he has not cared for my kisses. I desire to be happy as this sparrow, graceful and coquettish, which nests in this orange tree. How she chirps and flutters her wings when she sees her mate coming. I cannot forget what took place that night. Never did I love him more, never ! I was going to confess all to him, repent- RAFAEL DELGADO. 397 ant, resolved to end completely with Alberto, to say to Gabriel: "I did this; pardon me! Are you noble, generous, do you love me? Pardon me ! I do not covet riches, nor conveniences, nor elegance. Are you poor? Poor, I love you. Are you of humble birth? So, I love you! Par- don me, Gabriel ! See how I adore you ! I have erred — I have offended you — I forgot that my heart was yours. Take pity on this poor orphan, who has no one to counsel her. Pardon me! You are good, very good, are you not? Forget all, forget it, Gabriel. See, I am worthy of you. I do not love this man ; I do not love him. I told him I loved him because I did not know what to do. I let him give me a kiss because I could not prevent it. Forgive me ! And he appears to be of Iron. He showed himself haughty, proud, and cruel as a tiger. But, he was right; he loved me, and I had offended him. One kiss ? Yes — and what is a kiss? Air, nothing! I wanted to calm his annoyance, sweetly, with my caresses, and I could not. Weeping, I begged him to pardon me, and he refused. I said to him — resolved to all — what more could I do? — I said to him, here you have me — I am yours — do with me what you will ! And, he remained mute, reserved, did not look at me. He did not see me; he did not speak to me, but I read distrust, contempt, re- strained rage, in his face. He almost insulted me. If he had not loved me so much, I believe he 398 MODERN MEXICAN AUTHORS. would have killed me ! Again I tried to conquer him with my caresses. I wished to give him a kiss — and he repulsed me ! Ah, Gabriel ! How much you deceive yourself! How self-satisfied you are ! You are poor, of humble birth, an arti- san — and you have the pride of a king ! Thus I love you, thus I have loved you. Haughty, proud, indomitable, thus I would wish you for my love! I would have softened your character; I would have dominated your pride; I would have conquered you with my kisses. You love me, but my tears have not moved you! You are strong and boast of your strength, for which I adore you ! You are generous, and yet you do not know how to pardon a weak woman ! And we would have been happy. One word from you and nothing morel If it were still possible — and — why not? * * * * But, when he heard from the mouth of Ange- lito that Carmen had responded to the gallantries of Rosas, when the boy described the scene which he had witnessed, and in which, yielding to the desires of Alberto, the orphan had permitted her- self to be kissed, the very heavens seemed to fall ; he raged at seeing his love mocked and dragged in the mud, and promptly told Dona Pancha all he had learned. The old woman strove to calm him ; made just remarks about Carmen's origin, tell- ing him that she might have inherited the tendency to evil from her mother and the desire for luxury. RAFAEL DELGADO. 399 which had been her perdition; she begged him to cut completely loose from the orphan, and, fearful that he might, after the first impression caused by what Angelito described had passed, involve him- self in humiliating love entanglements, appealed to her son's generous sentiments, not to again think of the girl. And she succeeded. Gabriel armed himself with courage and ful- filled his promise. Hard, most cruel, was the in- terview; his heart said: pardon her. Offended dignity cried: despise her. Love repeated: she loves you; is repentant, have pity on her; see how you are trifling with your dearest illusions, with all your hopes; but in his ears resounded his mother's voice, tender, trembling with sympathy, supplicat- ing, sad, Gabriel, my boy, if you love me, if you wish to repay me for all my cares, if you are a good son, forget her! He loved her and he ought not to love her. He wanted to despise her, to offend her, to outrage her, but he could not. He loved her so much! Wounded self-esteem said with stern and Imperious accent : leave her. When the cabinetmaker left his home that night, wishing to escape from his grief, almost repenting what he had done, wandering aimlessly, he jour- neyed through street after street, without note of distance. The main street of the city, broad and endless, lay before him, with Its crooked line of lamps on either side, obscure and dismal in the distance. So the future looks to us, when we are 400 MODERN MEXICAN AUTHORS. victims of some unhappy disappointment, which shakes the soul as a cataclysm, — with not a light of counsel, not a ray of hope on the horizon. He arrived at the end of the city and on seeing the broad cart-road that began there, passed a bridge, at the foot of a historic hill; he felt tempted to undertake an endless journey to distant lands, where no one knew him; to flee from Pluviosilla, that city fatal to his happiness, forever. But, he thought — my mother ? The river flowed serene, silent. The cabinet- maker, with his elbow on the hand-rail of the bridge, contemplated the black current of the river; the great plain which lost itself in the frightful shadow of the open country. A sentiment of gen- tle melancholy, consoling and soothing, came over his soul. Meantime, the more he dwelt on his misfortune, the more desolate appeared his life's horizon, and something akin to that sad homesick- ness, which he experienced in his soul, when the maiden first said to him, / love you, passed like a refreshing wave through his soul. The abyss at his feet attracted him, called him. What did Gabriel think in those moments? Who can know? "No! " he murmured, turning and tak- ing his way to the city. The next day, he told Doiia Pancha In a few words what had happened and then said no more of the matter. In vain Tacho, Soils, and Lopez questioned him, on various occasions. He did not RAFAEL DELGADO. 40I again mention Carmen. He learned that she had left Pluviosilla, but made no effort to learn where she had gone; and, not because he had forgotten her, but because he had resolved never to speak of her again. The journeyman and Dona Pancha repeated to him the conversation of Alberto and his friends, what they said of the planned elope- ment, but he scarcely deigned to listen, and an- swered with a scornful and profoundly sad smile. When Angelito found him and told him that Carmen was at Xochiapan, repeating all that she had said, he hung his head as if he sought his answer on the ground, and exclaimed: " Say you have not seen me. No — tell her that I beg she will not think of me again." And he turned away, disdainful and sad. The young man placed himself in a good posi- tion, resolved to hear the mass with the utmost de- votion ; but he could not do it. There, near by, was Carmen ; there was the woman for whom he would have given all that he had, even to his life. He did not wish to see her, and yet did nothing else. He turned his face toward the altar, and without knowing how, when he least expected it, found his eyes fixed upon the maiden, whose graceful head, covered with a rebozo, did not remain still an in- stant, turning to all sides, in search of him. Gabriel remained concealed behind the statue of 402 MODERN MEXICAN AUTHORS. San Ysidro which, placed on a table, surrounded by candles and great sprays of paper roses, served him as a screen. Why had he come? Was he determined to reunite the interrupted loves? Would he yield to Carmen's wishes? He had come to look at her, not desiring to see her ; he had come to Xochiapan dragged by an irresistible power, but he would not yield. How could he blot out of his memory that kiss, that thundered kiss, which he had not heard but, which, nevertheless resounded for him like an injury, like an insulting word which de- mands blood ? And yet he had seen her ; there she was, near him, never so beautiful. At the close of the service, at the ite misa est, Gabriel left promptly, so that when the faithful flocked out to the market-place, he was mounting his horse. On crossing the plaza, he met some rancheros, his friends, who invited him to drink a cup and then to eat at the ranch, which was not far distant. He accepted ; it was necessary to dis- tract himself. To leave the plaza, on the way to the house of his friends, it was necessary to pass along one side of the church; almost between the lines of vendors. The Cura, Dona Mercedes, Angelito and Car- men were in the graveyard. Gabriel did not wish nor dare to greet his love; he turned his face away, but could see and feel the gaze of those dark RAFAEL DELGADO. 4O3 eyes fixed upon him, a gaze profoundly sad which pierced his heart. After dinner he returned to the town to take the road to Pluviosilla. His friends proposed to accompany him, but he refused their offer. He wished to be alone, alone, to meditate upon the thought which for hours had pursued him. She loves me — he was thinking as he entered the town. — She loves mel Poor child! I have been cruel to her. — I ought to forgive her. — Why not? I will be generous. I will forgive all. The energetic resolutions of the young man be- came a sentiment of tender compassion. His dig- nity and pride, of which he gave such grand ex- amples a month before, yielded now to the im- pulses of his heart. He could resist no longer. Carmen triumphed; love triumphed. I will speak with her; yes, I will speak with her; I will tell her that I love her with all my soul; that I cannot forget her; that I cannot live with- out her! I will tell her that I pardon; that we shall again be happy. Poor child! She is pale, ill , I do not wish to increase her unhap- piness. At the end of the street, through which at the moment he was passing, the cabinet-maker saw two men on horseback, one on an English, the other on a Mexican saddle. Apparently, people of Plu- viosilla. 404 MODERN MEXICAN AUTHORS. The riders stopped a square away from the Cu- racy. The one dressed in charro, dismounted and cautiously advanced along the hedge, A terrible suspicion flashed through the young man's mind. He quickly recognized the cautious individual. While this person was going along on tiptoe, as if awaiting a signal to approach, Gabriel took the lane to the right, then turned to the left and passed slowly in front of the window of the Curacy, at the moment when Rosas was speaking with Carmen at the grating. His first idea was to kill his rival like a dog and then the infamous woman who was thus de- ceiving him — but — he was unarmed. He cursed his bad luck, hesitated a moment, between re- maining and going, and, at last, whipping up his horse, went almost at a gallop, by the Pluviosilla road. FEDERICO GAMBOA. 405 FEDERICO GAMBOA. Federico Gamboa was born In the City of Mex- ico, December 22, 1864. After his elementary studies he attended the Escuela Nacional Prepara- toria (National Preparatory School), for five years, and the Escula de Jurisprudencia (Law School) for three more. After an examination, he entered the Mexican Diplomatic Corps, October 9, 1888, and was sent to Guatemala in the capacity of Second Secretary of the Mexican Legation in Central America. In 1890, he was appointed First Secretary of the Mexican Legation to Ar- 406 MODERN MEXICAN AUTHORS. gentina and Brazil. In 1896, he returned to Mex- ico, where he remained until the end of 1898, as Chief of the Division of Chancery of the De- partment of Foreign Affairs. He was then sent again to Guatemala, as Charge-d' affaires. In De- cember, 1902, he was appointed Secretary of the Mexican Embassy at Washington, which position he now holds. Through the year 1898, Seiior Gamboa was Lecturer on the History of Geographical Discovery in the Escuela Nacional Preparatoria. From 1886 to 1888, inclusive, he was engaged in newspaper work in the City of of Mexico. In June, 1888, he presented on the Mexican stage a Spanish trans- lation of the Parisian operetta. Mam' selle Nitouche, under the title. La Senorita Inocencia (Miss Inno- cence). In 1889, he presented a translation La Moral Electrica (Electric morality) of a French vaudeville. Besides these translations, Sefior Gam- boa has produced original dramatic compositions — La Ultima Campana (The Last Campaign), a three act drama, and Divertirse (To amuse oneself), a monologue; these appeared in 1894. Sefior Gamboa has written several books. Del Natural — Esbozos Contempordneos (Contempo- rary Sketches: from nature) was published when he was first in Guatemala and has gone through three editions. Apariencias (Appearances) , a novel, was published while he was at Buenos Ayres, in 1892. Impresiones y Recuerdos (Impressions and FEDERICO GAMBOA. 407 Recollections) appeared in 1894. Three novels, which have been well received are Suprema Ley (The Supreme Law), 1895, Metamorfosis (Met- amorphosis), 1899, znd Santa, 1900. At present Seiior Gamboa is writing a new novel Reconquista (Reconquest) and his biographical Mi Diario (My Journal) , the latter in three volumes. As may be seen from this brief sketch Seiior Gamboa has been a considerable traveler. He has made two European journeys, has twice vis- ited Africa, and has traveled over America from Canada to Argentina. He lived in New Yorlc in 1880 and 1 88 1 and holds a city schools certificate for elementary teaching. He was elected a Cor- responding Member of the Royal Spanish Acad- emy in 1889, an officer of the French Academy in 1900, and a Knight Commander of Carlos III in 1901. In Suprema Ley we have a tale of common life. Julio Ortegal is a poor court clerk, of good ideals, decent, married, and the father of six children. His wife Carmen is hard-working, a good wife and a devoted mother. Clothilde, well-born and well-bred is a native of Mazatlan, where she be- comes infatuated with a young man named Alberto ; they live together and, on the discovery of dis- honest dealings on his part, flee to the interior and to the City of Mexico, where he suicides. Clo- thilde, suspected of his murder, is thrown into jail; there she meets Julio, in the discharge of 408 MODERN MEXICAN AUTHORS. his duties, whose kindness awakens her gratitude. After her acquittal, her father, who does not wish her return to Mazatlan, arranges, through Julio, for her support in Mexico. She goes first to Ju- lio's home and, later, to a hired house. Julio's love for her is kindled; it grows during the time she lives in his house and is the real cause of her removal. He finally abandons wife and children although he still turns over his regular earnings at court to their support, working nights at a the- atre for his own necessities. Meantime, consump- tion, from which he has long suffered, continues its ravages. Clothilde's parents, who can no longer endure her absence, finally send her aunt to bear their pardon and implore her return. Clothilde, repentant, casts off Julio and returns to Mazatlan. He is furious, crushed; but repentant he determines to rejoin his abandoned wife and family; his old and normal love revives, but in that moment, he dies. EXTRACTS FROM SUPREMA LEY. Julito no longer resisted and he also lay down to sleep; he would make his aunt's acquaintance in the morning. Carmen, sitting by the spread ta- ble, solitary and silent, after the fatiguing day, could not sleep. She was thinking . Through her thoughts passed vague fears of FEDERICO GAMBOA. 4O9 coming misfortunes and dangers; of a radical change in her existence. Her poor brain, of a vulgar and unintellectual woman, performed prod- igies in analyzing the unfounded presentiments; what did she fear? On what did she base these fears? While she attempted to define them they weakened, though they still persisted. She re- viewed her whole life of hard struggle and scanty rewards ; she examined her conduct as an honorable wife and a decent mother of a family, and neither the one nor the other, justified her fear. This stranger woman, this stranger who was about to come; would she rob her of something? Of what? Her children? Surely, no. Of her hus- band, perhaps? Her presentiment wa« founded in this doubt ; yes, it was only of her husband that she could rob her. And her humble idyl of love, which she had cherished among the ancient things of her memory, as she cherished in her clothes- press some few artificial flowers, shriveled and yel- lowed, from her bridal crown, her idyl revived, shriveled and yellowed also, but demanding an ab- solute fidelity in Julio; not equal to her own; no, Julio's fidelity had to be different, but it must be ; but, however much Carmen assured herself, with the mute assurances of her will, that Julio was faithful, she continued to be possessed by the idea that he would sometime prove unfaithful, just be- cause of the long period of their marriage, that cruel irony of the years which respect nothing, 4IO MODERN MEXICAN AUTHORS. neither a loving marriage nor the hearth which belonged to us in infancy; the marital affection is choked by the ivy of disgust and the bind-weed of custom ; the home disappears covered by the weeds, which grow and grow until they overtop the very pinnacle of the fagade. Carmen then appreciated some things before not understood; all the little repugnances and the shrinking apart of two bodies, which had long lived in contact and no longer have surprises to exchange, no new sensations to offer, no curves that are not known, no kisses that are unlike those other kisses, those of sweethearts and the newly-wed, then novel and celestial, after- ward repeated without enthusiasm as a faint mem- ory of those gone never to return. Believing that Julio was yet in word and deed her own, she re- solved to carry on a slow reconquest, displaying the charms of a chaste coquetry; her instincts of a woman, assuring her that this was the infallible mode of salvation. But on considering her attractions marred by child-bearing; her features sharpened by vicissi- tude ; her hands, the innocent pride of her girlhood, deformed by cooking and washing; she felt two tears bum her eyeballs and, unable to gain in a contest of graces and attractions, her face fell upon the table, supported by her arms, in silent grief for her lost youth and her perished beauty. * * * * At two o'clock in the morning there was a FEDERICO GAMBOA. 4II knocking at the gate and then at her door. It was they, Clothilde and Julio. " Carmen, the Sefiora Granada." They embraced, without speaking; Clothilde, because gratitude sealed her lips ; Carmen, because she could not. The supper was disagreeable; the dishes were cold, the servant sleepy, those at the table watching one another. When, in the silence of the night and of the sleeping house, Julio realized the magnitude of what he had done, he read, yes, he read in the darkness of the room, the fatal and human biblical sentence, and began to understand its meaning : " The woman shall draw thee, where she will, with only a hair of her head." Clothilde's first impulse was to conceal herself; to tell her servant that she was not accustomed to receive evening visits; but, besides the fact that Julio had certainly already seen her, the truth is that she felt pleasure, a sort of consolation and discreet satisfaction. Thank God the test was about to commence ; she was about to prove to her- self the strength of her resolution. Julio, now nearer, saluted, lifting his hat; Clo- thilde answered with a wave of the hand. In all confidence, as two friends ought to salute. She waited for him smilingly, without changing her 412 MODERN MEXICAN AUTHORS. place or posture, determined not only to show, a lack of love but even of undue friendliness. Julio, paler than usual, crossed the threshold. "Bravo, Senor Ortegal, this is friendly; come in and I will give you a cup of coffee." Julio gave her his hand with extraordinary emo- tion and looked searchingly into her eyes as if to read her thoughts. Clothilde, scenting danger, led the way to the dining-room. How were they all at home? Carmen and the children? Do they miss her a little ? Julio promptly answered that all were well, all well but himself, and that is her fault, Clothilde's. "My fault?" " Yes, your fault. And I ought to have spoken with you alone, long ago." And, saying this he covered his face with his hands. The coffee-pot boiled noisily ; the servant placed two cups upon the table and Clothilde, not en- tirely prepared, because she had not counted upon so abrupt an attack, betook herself to her armory of prayers. She served the coffee with a trembling hand, putting in two lumps of sugar, which she remembered Ortegal always took. " Will you tell me the truth ? " he burst out. " Certainly." Ortegal collected all his nervous energy and without taking his hands from his face, as if he did not desire to look at Clothilde, and poured out his words in a torrent : FEDERICO GAMBOA. 4x3 " Clothilde, I am a wretch to offend you ; to dare to speak to you as I do, but I can endure it no longer; I adore you, Clothilde, I adore you and you know it ! You have known it Pardon me, I beg you ; and love me just a little — nothing more," he added, sobbing, " have pity on my life and soul. Do you love me sometimes ? " " No," replied Clothilde, closing her eyes, with a transport of cruelty and the consciousness that she caused immense suffering, and terrified at hav- ing caused such a passion. " I can never love you because I idolize and will ever idolize the memory of Alberto." When he heard the sentence, Julio bowed his head upon his arm as it rested on the table ; pushed back the coffee without tasting it and rose. " You forgive me? " " Yes," said Clothilde, " and I pray God to cure you." " Will you not come to my house? Will I not see you again? " exclaimed Julio with a sweeping gesture of his arm that indicated that his suffering was incurable. " Yes, yes, but the least possible." The two felt that the interview was ended; and Julio believed himself finally cast off. As in all critical situations, there was a tragic silence; Clo- thilde looked at the floor; Julio gazed at her with the yearning love, with which the dying look for the last time upon the familiar objects and the 414 MODERN MEXICAN AUTHORS. dear faces, never so beautiful as in that awful mo- ment. Thus he gazed, long, long, taking her hand and kissing it with the respect of a priest for a holy thing. Then he passed the wicket of the little garden, and departed without once turning his head, staggering like a drunken man; he was lost on the broad pavement, his worn garments of the poor office hack, hanging in the sunlight in such folds as to throw into relief the narrow shoulders of the consumptive. I am dismissed, he thought, and I am glad that it was with a " no." What folly to think that a woman like Clothilde could ever care for a man like me ! What can I offer her ? — A worthless trifle, an illegal love, a legitimate wife, children, poverties! How could I pay her house rent, the most necessary expenses, the most trifling luxuries ? Better, much better, that they despise me, the more I will occupy myself with my wife and my chil- dren, what is earned they will have ; I will return to the path of rectitude, to my old companion ; I will cure myself of this attack of love. And walk- ing, walking, he reached the Alameda, seated him- self in the Glorieta of San Diego, on a deserted bench, in front of two students, who were reading aloud. "But what has happened to you, Seiiorita?" and the lie presenting itself for sole response; the FEDERICO GAMBOA. 415 lie which augments the crime and the risks of what is foreseen. Her situation was not new; the eter- nal sufferings, one day a little worse than another. Then, in the little alcove, where she had thought herself strong enough to resist, the encounter with Alberto's portrait, a life-size bust photograph, in a plain frame, with an oil lamp and two bunches of violets on the bureau, upon which it stood. It was there waiting for her, as it waited for her every night, to watch her undressing as he had in life, seated on the edge of the bed or on a low chair, mute with idolatrous admiration, until she had completed her preparations, and, coquettish and submissive, came to him, who, with open arms and waiting lips embraced her closely, closely, say- ing, between kisses, " How much I love you." Clothilde remained leaning against the bureau, unable to withdraw her gaze from the portrait or her thought from what had just happened. Why had she yielded? Why had she not screamed, or drawn the cord of the coach, or called the passers- by or the police? Scarcely a year a widow, be- cause she was a widow although the marriage cere- mony had not been performed, and she had already forgotten her vows and promises, and had already enshrined within her heart another man, who was not the dead, her dead, her poor dear dead, lying yonder in his grave between two strangers, without protest or opposition to infidelity and perjury ; en- - closed in the narrow confines of the grave, without 4l6 MODERN MEXICAN AUTHORS. light, nor air, nor love, nor life; lost among so many tombs, among so many faded flowers, among so many lies written in marbles and bronzes. She could redeem her fault with nothing, not only was she not content to dwell at the graveside, but she had given herself to another and still dared to present herself before his portrait, defying its wrath. Trembling with terror she recalled a mu- tual oath sworn in those happy times, when in their flight across half the Republic, they enjoyed a relative calm in hotels and wayside inns. The sight of a country graveyard, peculiarly situated, had saddened them ; with hands clasped, they were walking after supper before the inn, when Alberto, affected by one of those presentiments which so often appear in the midst of joy, as if to remind us that no happiness is lasting, clasped her to his bosom, and stroking her hair, had asked her: " What would you do, if I should die? " She had answered him with tears, shuddering; had stopped his mouth with her hand; had prom- ised him, sincerely, with all her loving heart and her voice broken with sobs, that she would die also, but Alberto had insisted, who can say whether already possessed with his coming suicide, had begged her to make him an answer. " Come tell me what you will do, since that will not cause it to happen, and I will tell you what I would do if you should prove false." " Why do you say such things? Why do you FEDERICO GAMBOA. 417 invoke death ? " And Alberto, with solemn face had replied, what she had never since forgotten. " Because disillusionment and death are the two irreconcilable enemies of life and one ought ever to reckon with them." As Clothilde remained silent, Alberto, after dry- ing her eyes, which were immediately again filled with tears, demanded a solemn oath from her, not of the many with which sweethearts constantly re- gale each other, but of those which fix themselves forever, which impress us by their very solemnity ; would she swear it by her mother? Would she fulfil it whatever happens? Truly — ? If — ? " Then swear to me, that only in honest wed- lock will you ever belong to another man ! " And Clothilde swore; and now, before that portrait and that scene as it rose in her memory, she felt herself criminal, very criminal, lost, and unhappy. She did not leave the bureau; she could see the road, obscure in the night; she could see the little inn; some muleteers, the tavernkeep- er, who spoke of robbers, ghosts, crops, and horses; she could see Alberto and now she dared not raise her eyes to look at his face in the plain frame. Turning her back to it, she lay down in the bed, buried her head among the pillows, and closed her eyes; but instead of conciliating sleep, there pre- sented themselves before her, pictures of her brief domestic life with Alberto; and, worst of all, amid these pictures, the figure of Julio, of Julio sup- 41 8 MODERN MEXICAN AUTHORS. plicating and ill, of Julio wearied and weighed down with cares, was not hateful to her. " Here is the fortnight's pay, do me the favor of handling it." In the handling the cashier came cut bankrupt, but could never make up her mind to tell Julio that to meet necessities she was forced to take in sew- ing, at night, while others slept and her loneliness was emphasized. The little Julio kept her com- pany, studying his lessons or reading aloud one of those continued stories, which delight women and children by the complexity of their plot and by the happy exit, which ever favors virtue. Some- times, the romantic history contrasted with her own, so mean and prosaic, and a tear or two, un- noticed by the reader absorbed in the story, fell upon the white stuff of the sewing and expanded in it as in a proper handkerchief. But if Julito learned of the tears, he stopped his reading and kneeling before his mother dried them, more by the loving words with which he overwhelmed her, than with his coarse schoolboy's kerchief. " Come, foolish mama; why are you crying? Don't you know it isn't true? The whole book is made up." He never added that he knew well that she was not weeping for the characters of the story, but for the neglect of her husband ; but, as her husband FEDERICO GAMBOA. 419 was also his father, he employed this pretext in order not to condemn Julio, openly and aloud, to Carmen. Thus, there happened, what was to be expected, that between Carmen and Julito there grew up love in one of its sublimest forms, the love of mother and son, with open caresses, but caresses the most pure, with no touch of sin; and ideal love which illumines our spirit and assures us that we would have loved our mother so, had we not lost her too early. Julito's fifteen years spent in tenements and public schools, had acquired for him an undesirable stock of bad habits, of which perhaps the least was smoking, inveterate, demanding his with- drawal at the end of each chapter, to the corridor to smoke a cigarette in the open air. One night Carmen, who knew not how to show him the extreme affection, which by his treatment of her he had gained, said, unexpectedly: " If you wish to smoke, you may do it before me." And the boy, who, on the streets, at school, and in the neighborhood, was a positive terror, could not smoke near Carmen, look you ! He could not ; he loved her too much to be willing to puff smoke from mouth and nostrils in her presence. He did not smoke secretly, but as before, in the cor- ridor, after each chapter. How sadly beautiful was the sight of these twcj in the dismantled dining room of their miserable tenement! The immense house, the squalid quar- 420 MODERN MEXICAN AUTHORS. ter, SO noisy and turbulent during the day, pre- sented the silence of the tomb in the late hours of the night. Carmen and Julito, separated by a corner of the table with its tattered cover of oil- cloth, and a tallow dip, which needed snuffing every little while; Julito greatly interested in his read- ing and Carmen, sewing at her fastest, contemplat- ing, with infinite love the black and curly head of her son, when she stopped a moment to thread her needle. Now and again, the coughing of the other children came to them from the adjoining room, and Julito exclaimed : " Listen to my brothers." " Yes, I hear them ; poor little things."