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Literary Contributions of Catholics in Nineteenth-Century Mexico: Part Two: The Díaz Regime (1867–1910)

Published online by Cambridge University Press:  11 December 2015

Francis Borgia Steck O.F.M.
Francis Borgia Steck O.F.M.*
Affiliation:
The Catholic University of America
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Extract

Whereas proper classification presents no difficulty in the case of Peón y Contreras, who was primarily a poet, it is not so apparent in which group of writers one should place José María Roa Bárcena. That he was a poet of real merit is recognized, for instance, by González Peña, who treats of him in the chapter on poetry. In the present study, following the plan originally adopted, he will be considered now only as a poet and later in the study be given attention as a prose writer.

José María Roa Bárcena was born in 1827 in Jalapa, State of Veracruz, and he breathed his last in 1908 in Mexico City at the ripe old age of eighty-one. Thus his devotion to letters was yielding fruit long before the collapse of the Second Empire and continued to do so during the transition period and most of the Díaz era that followed. In this respect he ranks with the two bishops, Pagaza and Montes de Oca, whose contributions to Mexican literature will be dealt with presently. To the vigilant care with which his deeply religious parents watched over his childhood and early youth and also to the beneficent influence of a private tutor who combined learning with piety must be ascribed the fact that throughout his long life José María not only clung tenaciously to the Catholic faith but also exemplified in his private life and fearlessly upheld in his writings the religious and social principles which this faith stood for.

Type
Research Article
Information
The Americas , Volume 2 , Issue 2 , 1946 , pp. 165 - 188
Copyright
Copyright © Academy of American Franciscan History 1946

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References

88 For biographical data, see Agüeros, Victoriano, Escritores Mexicanos Contemporáneos (Mexico, 1880), 65–79.Google Scholar

89 Peña, Carlos González, Historia de la Literatura Mexicana, 2nd ed. (Mexico, 1940), 165–167.Google Scholar

90 See Agüeros, op. cit., 172.

91 See Plancarte, Gabriel, Horacio en México (Mexico, 1937), 112.Google Scholar

92 González Peña, op. cit., 166.

93 Quoted from Méndez Plancarte, op. cit., 111–112. Translation:

94 Quoted from Joaquín García Icazbalceta (ed.), El Alma en el Templo, 135. Translation:

Unworthy am I, O Lord, of the grace
Ineffable which Thy bounty assures me,
Nor able to make myself worthy of it.
But content thee, my soul; the word of God
Will save, and pardon, and purify thee!

95 Quoted from La Sociedad Católica, II (1870), 226. Translation:

96 Quoted from La Edad Feliz (México), December 18, 1873, p. 4. Translation:

Nearby one heard most piteous weeping
And aged Adam they saw kneeling,
His soul bent down in sorrow.
Toward Christ his arms were extended
And, when he saw how the blood was flowing,
His members shook with trepidation.
Through a rift on the livid horizon
He beheld a thousand generations
Come forth, one by one, in confusion.
And endless chain of afflictions,
They all passed by, disgorging
Invectives upon their common Father.
Then turning his gaze on Jesus,
Hanging bloody and cold on the Cross,
He beat his grief-worn breast and cried:
Have pity on the sinner! Have pity, O God!

97 Quoted from Gabriel Méndez Plancarte, op. cit., 115–116. Translation:

The laurel that crowns the brow of the sage
Among the deities assures me a place.
The frigid grove and the nimble dance
Of satyrs and nymphs take me from the crowd.
If Euterpe deny me not dulcet flutes,
Nor Polimnia forbid the melodious lyre
Of Lesbos to thrill me with its tunes,
And if thou dost class me a lyric bard,
Then needs must my lyre reach up to the stars.

98 See González Peña, op. cit., 166.

99 Gabriel Méndez Plancarte, op. cit., 111.

100 For biographical data see Agüeros, op. cit., 169–180; Merino, A. Fernández, Poetas Americanos: México (Barcelona, 1886), 158–191 Google Scholar; González Peña, op. cit., 216–218.

101 González Peña, op. cit., 216–217.

102 Ibidem, 217.

103 Rueda, Jiménez, Historia de la Literatura Mexicana (Mexico, 1942), 196.Google Scholar

104 Urbina, La Vida Literaria en México (Madrid, 1917), 200.

105 Fernández Merino, op. cit., 170.

106 González Peña, op. cit., 217–218.

107 Antología de Poetas Mexicanos, 391–393; Castro Leal, op. cit., 203–206.

108 González Peña, op. cit., 217.

109 Quoted from Fernández Merino, op. cit., 171–172. Translation:

110 Quoted from Urbina, op. cit., 202. Translation:

My sorrow is a sea; it has a fog,
Densely besetting my bitter days;
And tears, my daughters, are its waves
And deep in them is dipped my pen.
Ye are the flowers without reproach,
That came to life on the shore of this sea;
The muffled gale of my sorrows was
Your lullaby in those early years.

111 Quoted from Castro Leal, op. cit., 205–206. Translation:

(a) O ingrate world! How many reverses
In thee have I suffered! The tempest has shorn
All the fields that I sowed of their harvest …
My little girl sleeping beneath the cypress,
Her slumber rocked in eternity’s arms.
All passed away! All fell to pieces!
Faith alone in my soul remains,
Like frayed and faded shreds that flutter
From the statue to which they still are clinging …
All taken by death! All come to naught!
(b) Facing the house the Christian emblem
Of the very same church where she knelt and prayed;
The same holy Masses in the morning hours,
The very same steeple containing the church bells
That roused her from sleep in my arms.
O ancient house, deserted homestead,
Alone behold me returning to thee …
Here on my knees I kiss thy doorstep,
Madly believing the loved one, departed
Is waiting within and is thinking of me.

112 Quoted from Antología de Poetas Mexicanos, 393–397. Translation:

All hail, to thee, all hail, broad river,
With emerald walls for thy embankment!
Out here amid thy passing ripples
My soul is holding communion with God.
* * * * *
To the city robed in smiling beauty,
Reclining as if she were thy beloved,
Serene and graceful, fair and charming,
Upon thy blue and crystalline mantle,
Thou givest banks forever enchanting
And gardens enriched with verdure and flora,
And she sees herself in thy passing waters,
Like a snow-white swan with gleaming wings.
Oh, thither take me …! Dispel the sadness
That fills with anguish and slays my thoughts,
And then proceed thou, proud of thy beauty …
All hail, broad river! A thousand times, hail!
God lives! And thou an image of His greatness!

113 Quoted from Valadés, José C., El Porfirismo (México, 1941), 420–421.Google Scholar Translation:

Yonder, beyond the. ocean, the winsome shores
Of the land of the Cid and of the Guzmans;
On the Moorish battlement the Cross is planted
Below at its feet yataghans lie scattered,
On gorgeous ruby-clad skies Aurora
Today our hands in a clasp illumines:
Honor eternal to Mexico, ye Spaniards!
Honor eternal to Spain, ye Mexicans!

114 Quoted from Antología de Poetas Mexicanos, 398–399. Translation:

See John and Peggy, brother and sister,
Angels adorning my home with endearments,
Entertaining themselves with play so human
They seem to be grown-ups instead of children.
While John, three years old, is a soldier,
Astride a cane riding, feeble and hollow,
Peggy her ruby lips is pressing
To her doll-baby’s lips of cardboard.
The two are disporting their innocent treasures,
Happily dreaming in the sweet bonds of fancy:
He, charging forward serene among bullets;
She, holding enclosed in her arms a baby.
O my dear children! That fortune might never
Disturb your peaceful and innocent playing;
That sword and that cradle, O never desert them:
When they become real, they murder the spirit!

115 González Peña, op. cit., 218.

116 For biographical data and critical appreciation see Carreño, Alberto María, Clearco Meonio—Breves Noticias acerca del Illmo. Sr. D. Joaquín Arcadio Pagaza (México, 1919),Google Scholar a discourse delivered by the author at a meeting of the Academia Mexicana (Mexico City) on February 12, 1919; Piña, José Castillo y, Cuestiones Histéricas (México, 1935), 237–298 Google Scholar; Gabriel Méndez Plancarte, op. cit., 127–143; González Peña, op. cit., 224–225; Plancarte, Gabriel Méndez, “Pagaza, Traductor de Horacio,” Abside (México), III (1939), No. 2, 23–40 Google Scholar; Dávalos, Balbino, “Joaquín Pagaza: El Hombre y el Poeta,” Abside, III (1939), No. 3, 8–24 Google Scholar; Toussaint, Manuel, “Pagaza, Traductor de Virgilio,” Abside, III (1939), No. 3, 38–50 Google Scholar; Valdés, Octaviano, “Joaquín Arcadio Pagaza: El Poeta Original,” Abside, III (1939), No. 8, 34–51.Google Scholar

117 See Gabriel Méndez Plancarte, Horacio en México, 141.

118 See Castillo y Pina, Cuestiones Históricas, 245–246.

119 González Peña, op. cit., 244.

120 Quoted from Castillo y Piña, Cuestiones Históricas, 252–253. Translation:

When timid and drowsy faintly illumines
Aurora the woods and tints in soft colors
The heavens and when the birds are singing,
I say Holy Mass in the humble church.
From heavy cares free, on feet light and nimble
I follow behind or look for my sheepfold;
Not costly rafters afford me shelter,
But an oaktree reaching into the heavens.
Delia, her light; the trees, their fruitage;
Here at my feet the murmuring brooklet,
Its crystals; the flowers, their sweetening scent;
And the gentle breeze astir in the thicket
With the cooing doves in sweet competition
Regale me with dreams of blissful days.

121 Quoted from Abside, III (1939), No. 3, p. 48. Translation:

Thou, and thou alone, of the crystalline spring
Wherein is mirrored the tranquil sky,
Didst happily solve the tender lament,
Thy attention fixed on the humid stream.
Thou, and thou alone, the rustling glen
Didst understand, and of the sheep
The bleating, and the droning of the bee
That, flees in glittering pollen bathed.
Thou, and thou alone, dost bring to light
The secret when the prudent swain recounts
His happy lot and blandishments of peace.
To Nature’s everlasting charms
Brings new delights thy sovereign skill,
Thy peerless sweetness, thy lofty warmth.

122 Quoted from Castillo y Piña, Cuestiones Históricas, 247. Translation;

123 Quoted from Abside, III (1939), No. 3, p. 23. Translation:

Ye lucky farmers! The outlying woodland
With rich provision, from the tricks of fortune
Holds yousafe to its bosom where nestles
Adorable peace and distributes its treasures.
Yea! Who will permit me in quiet seclusion
To live in your midst and to die there untroubled,
Now sailing in fruitless search for a harbor
On turbulent sea ‘neath lowering clouds.
A low-lying cottage now that it is autumn,
A small strip of land, a sheepfold, a fountain
Of crystal-clear water; in springtime, a garden
Laden once more with a wealth of flowers;
A clear sky, and a shepherd’s pipe heard from afar,
A shady nook on the verdant embankment
Of a rippling river, and a frugal subsistence …
What might there be wanting to make me content?

124 Following are the lines in question:

“Qui legitis flores et humi nascentis fraga,
frigidus, o pueri, fugite hinc, latet anguis in herba.”

Dryden’s rendition of these lines reads:

“Ye boys, who pluck the flowers, and spoil the spring,
Beware the secret snake that shoots a sting.”

H. Rushton Fairclough (Loeb Classical Library: Virgil, I, 27) offers this rendition:

“Ye who cull flowers and low-growing strawberries,
Away from here, lads; a chill snake lurks in the grass.”

125 Quoted from Carreño, Clearco Meonio, 18. Translation:

126 Ibidem, 35–36. Translation:

127 Carreño, Alberto María, Semblanzas, III (México, 1939), 157.Google Scholar

128 For biographical data see Agüeros, op. cit., 9–23; Castillo y Piña, Cuestiones Históricos, 447–461; González Peña, op. cit., 222–224; Carreño, Semblanzas, III, 157–163; Moctezuma, Pedro (ed.), “21 Sonetos Póstumos de Ipandro Acáico,” Abside (México), IV (1940), No. 5, pp. 3–25 Google Scholar; Gabriel Méndez Plancarte, “Montes de Oca, Humanista,” Ibidem, pp. 26–29.

129 Valadés, op. cit., 273. For a well-defined portrayal of the personal character of Montes de Oca see the one traced by Gabriel Méndez Plancarte, Abside, IV (1940), No. 6, p. 28.

130 González Peña, op. cit., 223.

131 Ibidem, 224.

132 Quoted from Antología de Poetas Mexicanos, 319–320. Translation:

Thy judgments, O Lord, I humbly adore.
In the chapel deserted, unkempt, and forlorn
Of the lonely Alcázar, on bended knees
I devoutly in prayer remember my kings.
How different that day! Of the loud-pealing organ,
The marvel of Europe, I still can hear
The echoes and see the tapers aflame
In the rich candelabras of shining gold.
How fervent we all the Ambrosian chant
Entoned! How warmly we rendered thanks
To God in heaven for a favor so great!
A lonely remnant of that court, I return;
In the chant for the dead I mingle the tears
With which I bedew their blood-stained throne.

133 Quoted from El Parnaso Mexicano (México), 2a serie, I de Abril de 1886, pp. 20–24 Translation:

134 Quoted from Gabriel Méndez Plancarte, Horacio en México, 147. Translation:

My reeds, can they comparison suffer
With the golden strains and the ivory plectrum
Wherewith the hymns of Catullus and Sappho
Thou gently repeatest?
But thou dost wish it and I dare not deny thee
So easy a payment, since not even Horace
Would care to refuse a reply to thy charming
And high-minded missive.
Let them cross the seas then and reach thee safely,
The rhythmic strains of Sicilian pastorals,
That from their native tongue, the Doric,
Into our own I render.

135 Quoted from Castro Leal, op. cit., 185–186. Translation:

Dig thou thy greedy mines, unhappy one,
At all times covered with worry and fear,
And wash out with covetous sweat and tears
The gold so eagerly thou dost hoard.
By the beauteous shores of the majestic Arno
I meanwhile will finger my dulcet lyre
Or sing in seclusion my lonely song
Rome in the midst of her quiet remains.
Some brawny burglar perchance will come
And, robbing thee of thy glittering pile,
Depart unseen from thy red-stained floor.
My life I will spend a stranger to tears;
No outlaw in fury will ever aspire
To my unpolished song and resonant harp.

136 Quoted from Abside, IV (1940), No. 6, p. 19. Translation:

From this homeland of exquisite wine
That never now doth moisten my lips,
The wanderer more than eighty years old
His last mark of homage thee pays.
I am coming by Destiny carried away,
Already in Cadiz is rocking my ship,
Sounding its siren and urging me on
To start the voyage to the port of New York.
Will an accident fling me into the sea?
Will dynamite kill me when I arrive?
Will my ship be shattered against a reef?
In brotherly love I ask for thy prayers,
Whether by a lightning flash I am killed
Or an Aztec or Moscovite bolshevik’s arm.

137 Ibidem, 28.

138 Quoted from El Parnaso Mexicano, 2a serie, 1 de Abril de 1886, p. 34. Translation:

O evening star! Thou astral patron of love
How brightly thou shinest! Yea, not in vain
Did the pagan name thee Cytherea’s lamp
“When contemplating thy quickening rays.
But the errors of paganism took to flight;
And the Christian bard when chanting thy praise
Calls thee the eye, the sparkle supreme,
The light of the Virgin-Mother of God.
O evening star! Full many a time,
By lighting my path through the gloom of the wood,
Hast thou gently becalmed my anguish and grief:
When I, as a stranger, am crossing the sea,
O hide not, I beg thee, that heavenly sheen
Thou sheddest upon the watery waste.