CHAPTER XXXII
CONCLUSION
From Don Cayetano Polentinos to a friend in Madrid:
"ORBAJOSA, April 21.
"MY DEAR FRIEND:
"Send me without delay the edition of 1562 that you say you have pickedup at the executor's sale of the books of Corchuelo. I will pay anyprice for that copy. I have been long searching for it in vain, and Ishall esteem myself the most enviable of virtuosos in possessing it.You ought to find in the colophon a helmet with a motto over theword 'Tractado,' and the tail of the X of the date MDLXII ought to becrooked. If your copy agrees with these signs send me a telegraphicdespatch at once, for I shall be very anxious until I receive it. Butnow I remember that, on account of these vexatious and troublesome wars,the telegraph is not working. I shall await your answer by return ofmail.
"I shall soon go to Madrid for the purpose of having my long delayedwork, the 'Genealogies of Orbajosa,' printed. I appreciate yourkindness, my dear friend, but I cannot accept your too flatteringexpressions. My work does not indeed deserve the high encomiums youbestow upon it; it is a work of patience and study, a rude but solid andmassive monument which I shall have erected to the past glories of mybeloved country. Plain and humble in its form, it is noble in the ideathat inspired it, which was solely to direct the eyes of this proud andunbelieving generation to the marvellous deeds and the pure virtues ofour forefathers. Would that the studious youth of our country might takethe step to which with all my strength I incite them! Would that theabominable studies and methods of reasoning introduced by philosophiclicense and erroneous doctrines might be forever cast into oblivion!Would that our learned men might occupy themselves exclusively in thecontemplation of those glorious ages, in order that, this generationbeing penetrated with their essence and their beneficent sap, its insaneeagerness for change, and its ridiculous mania for appropriatingto itself foreign ideas which conflict with our beautiful nationalconstitution, might disappear. I fear greatly that among the crowd ofmad youth who pursue vain Utopias and heathenish novelties, my desiresare not destined to be fulfilled, and that the contemplation of theillustrious virtues of the past will remain confined within the samenarrow circle as to-day. What is to be done, my friend? I am afraid thatvery soon our poor Spain is doomed to be so disfigured that she willnot be able to recognize herself, even beholding herself in the brightmirror of her stainless history.
"I do not wish to close this letter without informing you of adisagreeable event--the unfortunate death of an estimable young man,well known in Madrid, the civil engineer Don Jose de Rey, a nephew of mysister-in-law. This melancholy event occurred last night in the gardenof our house, and I have not yet been able to form a correct judgmentregarding the causes that may have impelled the unfortunate Rey tothis horrible and criminal act. According to what Perfecta told methis morning, on my return from Mundo Grande, Pepe Rey at about twelveo'clock last night entered the garden of the house and shot himselfin the right temple, expiring instantly. Imagine the consternation andalarm which such an event would produce in this peaceable and virtuousmansion. Poor Perfecta was so greatly affected that we were for atime alarmed about her; but she is better now, and this afternoon wesucceeded in inducing her to take a little broth. We employ every meansof consoling her, and as she is a good Christian, she knows how tosupport with edifying resignation even so great a misfortune as this.
"Between you and me, my friend, I will say here that in young Rey'sfatal attempt upon his life, I believe the moving causes to have been anunfortunate attachment, perhaps remorse for his conduct, and the stateof hypochondriasm into which he had fallen. I esteemed him greatly; Ithink he was not lacking in excellent qualities; but he was held in suchdisrepute here that never once have I heard any one speak well of him.According to what they say, he made a boast of the most extravagantideas and opinions; he mocked at religion, entered the church smokingand with his hat on; he respected nothing, and for him there wasneither modesty, nor virtue, nor soul, nor ideal, nor faith--nothing buttheodolites, squares, rules, engines, pick-axes, and spades. What do youthing of that? To be just, I must say that in his conversations with mehe always concealed these ideas, doubtless through fear of being utterlyrouted by the fire of my arguments; but in public innumerable storiesare told of his heretical ideas and his stupendous excesses.
"I cannot continue, my dear friend, for at this moment I hear firing.As I have no love for fighting, and as I am not a soldier, my pulsetrembles a little. In due time I will give you further particulars ofthis war.
"Yours affectionately, etc., etc."