Thirty-three years have passed since there was laid in the tomb, shrouded in humble Franciscan garb, one of the most glorious ornaments of Hispanic letters, and one of the greatest literary critics that Spain has had. His name, nevertheless, is glorious and is still revered in Hispanic countries along with those of Cervantes, Lope de Vega, and Calderón. While still alive, he had been raised to the category of the classics. His watchful spirit still dwells in the halls of universal culture, for his simplicity and modesty as a tireless worker gave him, even in his lifetime, the crown of the immortals. Don Marcelino Menéndez y Pelayo in a period of criticism and reflection produced a literary work which has been idolized. “The studies of Menéndez y Pelayo,” wrote Edmundo González Blanco, “on literature and history have not only been used extensively in themselves, but have been elaborated and developed; and if they are not so much read today, it is because they were entirely absorbed into the spirit of the times and penetrated into every vein of contemporary Spanish culture, and it may be justly stated that in the last thirty years not a single important line has been written on topics treated in his studies in which his influence is not recognized.”

On the 8th of March, 1500, a fleet of thirteen ships and caravels departed from Lisbon under the command of Pedro Alvares Cabral. Two of the caravels were destined for East Africa and the others for Calicut, on the Malabar coast of India, where they were sent to obtain cargoes of spices and other Eastern commodities, to establish friendly relations with its ruler, and to leave a factory for future trade. Vasco da Gama with his fleet had preceded; Cabral followed to reap the reward. The route was carefully selected to secure the safest and best passage to the Cape of Good Hope. The ships of the fleet were clumsy so that the course must be taken with the most favorable winds. They sailed somewhat to the west of south from the Cape Verde Islands and the coast of Brazil was reached, probably for the first time. After remaining here for about a week taking on supplies of water and wood, the main fleet continued to India. Before doing so, possession of this discovery was taken for the Crown, though it was not then known whether it was mainland or an island. A small supply ship was sent back to Lisbon carrying letters for the King, among them one by Pedro Vaz de Caminha telling of the sojourn and describing the natives, and another by the king’s astrologer, Master John. Both of these letters still exist. The date of the arrival of the supply ship in Portugal is not known but it was probably early in July, 1500. The news of the discovery was of great interest to the King and to the Portuguese people, but their chief concern was with the success of the India fleet, and Caminha’s letter reported that little of value was found in the new land during Cabral’s stay. The discovery made by Cabral was considered of sufficient importance, however, to warrant sending a second fleet for further investigation. The King and the cosmographers wished to know whether it was mainland, as they undoubtedly suspected, and if so its extent. If such were the case, they desired to claim the land for Portugal under the Bull of May 4, 1493 and the Treaty of Tordesillas, signed June 4, 1494. If it were an island, the Spice Islands farther to the west might be reached as Columbus had claimed. The merchants were interested in its commercial value particularly for obtaining pearls and dye wood and in its possibilities for the cultivation of sugar cane. In the latter of these Bartolomeo Marchioni, a wealthy Florentine, who had long resided in Lisbon and operated sugar plantations in Madeira and elsewhere, could anticipate profits, if the land were fertile and native labor adequate. The New Christians or converted Jews evidently also saw in this new land the possibility of escape from persecution in Portugal and a chance for wealth from the products which might be found there.

California has exercised a haunting fascination on men’s imaginations ever since the days of Cortés. During the course of the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries, at least twenty expeditions served as a prelude to the occupation, first of the Lower California Peninsula in 1697, and then of New, or Upper, California in 1769. A complete list of these voyages and attempted entradas has not yet been made. Suffice it to say that we are far from possessing the accounts of all the efforts that were made to discover and colonize those regions from 1535 to 1769.

In 1769 New, or Upper, California was first visited by the pionéer founders of its missions and presidios. They had come from Loreto in the Lower California Peninsula, after an arduous trip of over two-hundred leagues over barren mountains. This was the famous expedition of Serra and Portolá, which marks the beginning of the Spanish colonization with the founding of San Diego and the exploration of all the coast up to San Francisco. That year records the birth of Upper California.

The old mission buildings of California will, so long as a vestige of them remains, furnish inspiration for writers of fiction and history, poetry and song. For there were built into their very walls stories that can never be completely told; stories that can only be guessed at. And so the subject is ever new, never ending.

Over twenty years ago the writer began a serious study of the old establishments as of the mission day period, feeling that there was need of a better, fuller understanding of them and of the part they had played in the early history of our State. There has been too much of romantic, fanciful, even prejudiced writing and too little that is sanely historical.

To understand the setting of the discovery and of the early voyages to Brazil we must go back to some of the circumstances which preceded, and review the conditions in Europe at that time. The discoveries of the Portuguese navigators mark an epoch in world history. Had Columbus not persuaded the Spaniards to finance his voyage to the Spice Islands by a western route, the Portuguese might easily have claimed the discovery of both North and South America within a decade following Columbus’ landfall. Both continents would probably have been visited in 1500 when Gaspar Corte-Real reached Newfoundland and Pedro Alvares Cabral, Brazil. The former voyage was but a continuation of others westward over the Atlantic and the latter was only an incident in the Voyages to India. Furthermore, the delusion of reaching Asia would have been avoided. The exploration of the Americas would then have been carried on in an orderly manner with the realization that a new world had been found. However, the Portuguese are not best known for their voyages to America, but for the first accurate knowledge of both the West and East coasts of Africa, of the Indian Ocean and of the Spice Islands. They continued these voyages even farther, up the coast of China, and in 1542 they were the first Europeans to set foot in Japan. These achievements, of which any nation might justly be proud, were made by a country which then numbered between one and two million people.

One of the first acts of the Administration of the future Marquês de Pombal was to put into execution the Treaty of 1750, which was the keystone of the peninsular policy of D. João V. To assure and consolidate the good relations with Spain, that had begun with the exchange of princesses at Caia, was his principal desire. To liquidate the old disagreement about the Colónia do Sacramento, which had cost both the Portuguese and Spaniards quantities of blood since its foundation on the Rio Plata by D. Manuel Lobo, was the end and purpose of this treaty.

The monarch hoped, by marrying the Princess D. Maria Bárbara with the Prince of Asturias, the future King of Spain, and his elder son D. José with D. Mariana Vitória, to liquidate the old question by means of this “treaty, that had been concluded through the efforts of Alexandre de Gusmão”. In spite of everything, and notwithstanding the language and the “tone of this memorable treaty”, and the sincerity and good intentions of the two Crowns, the treaty produced “discontent, as much in Spain as in Portugal”.

As the armies and navies of the United Nations press on to victory in all parts of the world, we at home, who are planning for the organization of peace, have an obligation to the young people of the United States to perfect a program that will reap the fruits of our war-time partnership with the Good Neighbor Republics. Brought to a white-hot temperature during the clash of arms, the policy of inter-American friendship established its value in creating “the corridor of victory” from Brazil to Africa and in forging a strong, defensive shield on the West Coast, whose southern anchor extended from Chile, through the Ecuadorean Galápagos Islands, to the Panama Canal. Would not all the students in our colleges and universities acknowledge that this was an “accelerated program” of American amity that paid out rich dividends both in national security as well as in furnishing the bases, naval, land and air, which are now the springboards for victorious offensives in Europe and in the Orient? In the eyes of our young men and young women it must be clear that America’s need proved itself to have been an inter-American opportunity.

Fifty years ago all Mexico assembled at the feet of the ancient and venerated image of Our Lady of Guadalupe, and in token of their loving submission to the Queen of Heaven, an imperial crown was placed on the head of the Blessed Mother of God. Her spiritual empire had been extended from the day when she had first appeared to the Indian Juan Diego on the hill of Tepeaca. The holy friar and first Archbishop of Mexico, the Franciscan Don Fray Juan de Zumárraga, was proud to have been among the first to kneel before the holy Image. Our Lady had won the hearts of all Mexicans. Tireless missionaries had taught the story of Guadalupe to their neophytes in far-off lands, and in this year of grace 1945, when all the American continent claims her as their Queen, the Chapter of the Basilica of Guadalupe, the Archbishops and Bishops of Mexico, and the hierarchy of all the Americas joined in the celebration of the fiftieth anniversary of the Coronation of Our Lady of Guadalupe.

Having dealt with the poetry which Catholics contributed to Mexican literature during the Díaz era, we now turn our attention to their literary contributions in the field of prose composition. As in the case of poetry, much of this literary prose appeared originally in the periodicals of the day and, unfortunately, much of it is still there, comparatively little having been assembled and brought out in book form. In this respect the prose writers have received smaller recognition from posterity than the poets, owing perhaps to the fact that the Mexican by tradition and temperament prefers verse to prose, finds greater delight in the measured magic of a song than in the less appealing beauties of an essay, a discourse, or even a novel.

Whatever the reason may be, we must examine the periodicals of the time before we can form an adequate estimate of contributions to literary prose. The part that Catholics played in the realm of periodical literature will, therefore, occupy our attention before we marshal the writers themselves and their productions in prose.

Very little has been known about the life of the seventeenth century Yucatecan historian, Francisco de Cárdenas Valencia, author of the Relación historial eclesiástica de la provincia de Yucatán. He completed this important work on the early colonial history of Yucatan in February, 1639, but although it was known and used by Diego López de Cogolludo and later historians, it remained unpublished for nearly three hundred years. In 1937 it was finally printed in the Biblioteca histórica mexicana de obras inéditas. In his bibliographical note to this edition, Federico Gómez de Orozco tells the history of the manuscript, refuting the erroneous belief that Cárdenas Valencia wrote two works, but he does not give much new data concerning its author.

The fall of the monarchy in 1889 left Brazil in a state of confusion and disorder. The republicans seemed to lack a coherent political program; the new régime as a consequence, was forced to contend with dissension within its own ranks. Extreme ideas of “states’ rights” and the vagaries of impractical political dreamers diverted attention from a monarchist opposition which, however small, was at least united on a specific aim. The army was mainly responsible for the existence of the new republic; the army proceeded, therefore, to take charge and attempt to introduce unity after its own fashion.

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.

Another gifted writer whose name has almost passed into oblivion is Tirso Rafael Córdoba. Like Rafael Gómez, he from Michoacán, a circumstance that seems to explain why during the period we are considering these two men stood on such intimate terms of friendship and in their literary career had so many things in common. His biographer tells us that in 1853, at the early age of fifteen, Córdoba, then a student in the Seminario de Morelia, was admitted to membership in the Liceo Iturbide, a distinction conferred upon him in view of the exceptional progress he had made in the arts and sciences. Only for the disturbed times in which his youth and early manhood fell, Córdoba would have entered the priesthood, this being his intention when he studied philosophy in the Seminario Conciliar Palafoxiano in the city of Puebla. From this celebrated school he graduated with high honors and then proceeded to Mexico City where he studied canon and civil law in the Colegio de San Ildefonso and passed the bar examination in the University of Mexico. But again he became a victim of circumstances, unable to engage freely and fully in the legal and political circles for which he was so richly qualified. After the fall of the Second Empire, at which time he was Secretary General of the municipal government of Puebla, he retired from public life and thereafter took a prominent part, chiefly in Mexico City, in social and literary activities. He was one of the founders of the organization known as La Sociedad Católica and collaborated in the founding and editing of periodicals, popular as well as literary, such as La Voz de México, El Obrero Católico, El Hijo del Obrero, La Lira Poblana, La Aurora, and La Oliva.

The first Franciscan to enter the present Ecuador was the well known Fray Marcos de Niza, who accompanied the conqueror Benalcázar from Caxamarca, Peru, to Quito in 1533, and thence returned to Mexico. There, it seems, he was instrumental in sending the first Franciscan missionaries not only to Peru but also to Ecuador. In 1534, the year in which the city of Quito was founded, the Father Commissary Fr. Juan de Granada sent three friars from Mexico to Ecuador: Fr. Jodoco Ricke (de Rycke) de Marselaer, Fr. Pedro de Gosseal, and Fr. Pedro Roqueñas.

In the same year Fr. Jodoco began the founding of the famous Franciscan church and friary in Quito. They were only small and poor structures then, and it took more than a century before the present church and friary were completed. The first doctrinas to be founded outside of Quito were Santa Clara de Pomasqui, San Juan de Cotocollao, and San Jorge de Perucho. Additional friars soon joined the original group, and under Fr. Jodoco’s direction friaries were founded also at Cotocollao, Guano, Pasto in southern Colombia (probably in 1549), Cuenca, and Loja.

The name of the Dominican friar, Padre José María Vargas, is well-known in the literary and artistic centres of Ecuador, and especially in its capital, the ancient city of “San Francisco de Quito”. The work which we here consider is not the first that has come from his facile pen, prolific in production and classic in style. In 1941 he published the interesting survey entitled: La Cultura del Quito Colonial wherein the author, with abundant information and calm investigation, places before the eyes of the reader the Old Quito of Colonial days, that Quito which, despite its secondary political importance during the Spanish regime, was a centre of intellectual and especially of artistic culture of the first order. Its culture was not dammed up within the confines of the city, but rather, like one of these quiet and peaceful little rivers of tranquil waters that fructify far-off lands, it overflowed into the cities of the viceroyalties of New Granada and Peru. For such was the city of San Francisco de Quito: an enormous workshop where the plastic arts were widely cultivated and where colonial artists, both the famous and the nameless, gave themselves up entirely to the pursuit of their art.

Modern Ibero-American thought is generally neither distinguished by originality nor by systematic integrity. The Mexican philosophers Antonio Caso and José Vasconcelos, both to-day well advanced in years, are two notable exceptions to this rule. Both are systematic thinkers as well as prolific writers, and Vasconcelos combines with a synthetic view of life and civilization a vigorous originality of expression, two gifts which in their conjunction make it quite understandable that he is regarded by many of the intellectual leaders of Latin America as one of the most representative exponents of Ibero-American ideas in general and of Mexican philosophic thought in particular. A comprehensive monograph, dealing with the life and work of José Vasconcelos is being published this autumn by Dr. Oswaldo Robles, Professor of Philosophy at the National University of Mexico and Academic Rector of the Latin-American Military University in Mexico City. The writings of Vasconcelos comprise more than twenty volumes of works on metaphysics, ethics, and aesthetics; a History of Philosophy; a History of Mexico; essays, biographies, and tragedies; and an extensive autobiography in four volumes. The author of this imposing oeuvre is at present Director of the National Library of Mexico and engaged in carrying through important reforms in that venerable institution.

Much has been written about New Mexico, but few of those who have described its unique heritage and character have fully understood its true spirit and appreciated what it represents as a part of the present-day United States.

New Mexico has a personality all of its own. Three cultural groups have been most important in forming the American way of life to be found there: the Pueblo Indians, who were the first permanent settlers of the region; the Spanish, who made it a part of Western civilization; and the Anglo-Americans, who have brought it into the current of modern American life. Today, New Mexico is neither Indian, nor Spanish, nor Anglo, but a harmonious combination of all three; and in the persistance and, generally speaking, local appreciation of the permanent values of each of the dominant cultural heritages, it has been for the past one hundred years a significant laboratory of the Good-Neighbor Policy. I speak as one whose ancestors were among the pioneers of both the Anglo and Hispano-American frontiers of settlement who, advancing from northeast and southwest, met and joined hands in what is now the state of New Mexico during the first half of the nineteenth century.

The founding of the College of St. Francis at Celaya, near Querétaro in Mexico, later to achieve the status of a Royal and Pontifical University, offers an excellent example of the Franciscan Order’s internal conflict between the strict observance of poverty and its willingness to administer higher educational institutions on a permanent basis.

Hardly had the Spaniards established themselves in Peru, when they founded a settlement also in Upper Peru or Charcas, the present Bolivia. Los Charcas, the name of an Indian tribe, was given not only to the first town, but also to the entire province which in 1825 became an independent republic named for the “Liberator,” Simón Bolívar.

As early as 1538, Diego de Rojas, sent out by the governor of Peru, founded a colony at Charcas. He also was the first to enter Tucumán, or northern Argentina, in 1543. Charcas is the present capital of Bolivia, and since Independence it has been known as Sucre. In colonial times the town was known also as Chuquisaca and as La Plata, which latter should not be confused with the La Plata colony, south of Paraguay, the present Argentina.

Known by various names, this Franciscan Province at one time comprised the territory of all the states in the vast basin of the Rio de la Plata and its great tributaries: the Rio de la Plata and Tucumán colonies (present Argentina), Paraguay, and Uruguay—and in the beginning also the southernmost part of Brazil.

Though it was the last of the Franciscan Provinces to be established in Spanish South America during colonial times, it was founded as the independent Custody of Paraguay-Plata as early as 1538. In 1565 another Custody, that of St. George of Tucumán, was founded by Franciscans of the Peruvian Province (see The Americas, II, 83–90). These two Custodies were united into one in 1575, but separated again into two in 1597, both remaining dependent on the Province in Peru. Fifteen years later, the General Chapter held in Rome on July 12, 1612, once more joined the two Custodies to form the Province of Rio de la Plata.