Rizals First Published Essay El Amor Pat
Rizals First Published Essay El Amor Pat
Rizals First Published Essay El Amor Pat
http://www.philippinestudies.net
Fri June 27 13:30:20 2008
Rhl's First Published Essay=El Atnor P a w
Raul J. Bonoan, S.J.
Befoe Jo& Rizal left the Philippines for the first time on 3 May 1882
for Spain, Basilio Teodoro, managing editor of the DMong Filipino,
a newly established bilingual newspaper, asked him to send articles
for publication. Arriving in Barcelona in June, Rizal wrote and sent
El amor pltrio to Manila. In its 20 August 1882 issue the newspaper
aided the essay, the first piece wer to be published of Rizal whose
crowded literary career was to stretch to his last days in 1896 when
he wrote UItbno adi6s. Rizal sent other articles which were not pub-
lished due to the early demise of the newspaper (Schumacher 1973,
33-34). The article was reprinted by La S o l i d a W in its issue of 31
Odober 1890 under the pseudonym Laon Laang.
Historians, like John Schumacher, and Rizal's biographers, like
Wenceslao E. Retana and Le6n M a Guerrm, acknowledge the im-
portance of this article, which Rizal wrote at the age of twenty-one
shortly after his anival in Spain even before being s u b j j as a
university student to the full impact of liberal thought, in the study
of the development of his political thought. But being an earlier work
it has been obscured by his novels and other essays. When in 1961
the National Commission on the Centenary of J o d Rizal published
Rizal's writings in the ten-volume collection Esm'tos de Jod b l , this
first article was omitted, more than likely through some oversight,
quite understandable in view of the magnitude of the Commission's
task. This omission is probably why Austin Coates, who relied heav-
ily on the Escritos, makes no mention of it at all.
Both in style and content the piece is classic Rizal. It expresses
intense feelings. The prose is oratorical, employing the rhetorical style
and technique (e.g., periodic sentences, repetition and reformulation
of the same idea) of the Latin authors he had studied at the Ateneo
PZINPPINE STUDIES
The woods and plains, every tree, every bush, every flower bear the
images of people you love; you feel their b m t h in the sweet-smelling
breeze, hear their song in the sound of the fountains, see their smile
in the brilliance of the sun, sense their anxieties in the troubled howl-
ing of the winds at night.
For in the land of our birth the memory of our earliest years still lin-
gers like an enchanted fairy taking a stroll, visible only to the eyes of
children, the flower of innocence and bliss sprouting at her feet.
Whatever be the visage of the beloved country-a rich and mighty lady
clothed in royal purple, with a crown of towers and laurels on her
head; or a sad and lonely figure dressed in rags, a slave longing for
her enslaved children; or some nymph, beautiful and pretty like the
dream of deluded youth, playing in a garden of delights by the blue
sea; or a woman shrouded in snow somewhere in the north pole await-
ing her fate under a sunless and starless sky; whatever be her name,
her age, her fortune--we will always love her as children love their
mother even in hunger and poverty.
With bold strokes of his romantic pen Rizal paints the countryside
and mother nature: hills and mountains, fields and forests, soft
breezes and howling winds, streams and rivers, rains and storms,
seas and sky. Against this vast canvas he conveys a message.
From time immemorial love of country has been a universal sen-
timent All peoples have worshipped the pattia as an idol, offering
her the best of their talents and even their lives. Should we not do
the same? Thus Rizal (he uses the editorial "we") dedicates his first
written words (primes acentos) in a "foreign land" to his country.
Strong feelings for the patria are but natural since she stirs memo-
ries of our childhood years, our families and friends. Thus whatever
be the condition of our country, be she poor or rich, full of the
dreams of youth or weighed down by misfortunes, we must always
love her as a mother. The fatherland-the familiar places, home and
even the tomb, mountains, lake, fields, plain, storm and lightning-
captures our imagination and casts a magic spell on us. When we
leave her for other lands, we (editorial) go into a severe pathologi-
cal depression
Emotions come and go, interests and ideals change, but love of
the country remains the unchangeable constant in the human heart.
Rizal cites Napoleon and Ovid, who in time of death wished to re-
turn to their native land. Love of country has inspired great heroic
deeds, wen the sacrifice of lives. Out of love of country Brutus and
Guzman hindered not the execution of their dear ones found guilty
of crime. Rizal gives other examples: the obscure researcher and
thinker who endures all for the country's good, the farmer who
serves her by planting, and fathers and sons who answer the call of
battle. Many indeed have died for her-from Jesus Christ who suf-
fered death in defense of the laws of his country to the victims of
modem revolutions.
The message is: love the fatherland even unto death but not as in
former days, through the immoral ways of fanaticism, destructive-
ness, and violence, but by following "the hard but peaceful and pro-
ductive paths of science which lead to progress and ultimately to the
union which Jesus Christ wished and prayed for on the night of his
passion." Thus the true dawn of Christianity has appeared.
We are told by Rizal himself in his student memoirs that his own
mnor patrio dates back to his years at the Ateneo Municipal de Manila.
The study of Poetty and Rhetoric had further refined my sentiments;
V i Horace, Cicero and other authors showed a new way.which I
.
could follow in the pursuit of one of my aspirations.. . My second
year as a boarder in school [his fifth and last year at the Ateneol, which
yvas similar to the previous year except that in a rtmarkabk loay there
had deaeloprd in me pltriotic sentiments as wll as an exquisite sensibility,
was spent studying the principles of Logic and Physics and compos-
ing poetry. (1%1, 18, italics added.)
country . . . " Here clearly, Spain was tierra ertranjm; hence phia
was none other than the F'hilippines. Among the histoxical figures
he adduced as harboring an intense love and longing for country
were Napoleon who wished to be buried in his beloved France and
Ovid who in his last moments, knowing he could not be intend in
his native soil, was consoled by the thought that his verses would
be m d in R o n at the Capitol. Ihe Philippines was now pked in
the same category as France and Rome. And among those who died
for country Rizal mentioned Jesus Christ and "the victims of rnod-
em revolutions," by which as an avid student of history, Rizal cer-
tainly meant the French and American Revolutions, and possibly the
Latin American revolutions of the nineteenth century. He was speak-
ing of the Philippines in the way one spoke of the nations of the
world, like France and the United States of America.
True enough, in El mnor patrio the Philippines was not yet patria
in the sense of nation-state, lacking as it did political content, which
would develop in his mind in the course of time and become more
spwific in the writing of the statutes of the Liga filipim in 1892 spell-
ing the establishment of a new political community Wjd 1959, 12-
17). Nonetheless, the broad parameters of patria were already
established by the time he reached Barcelona in 1882 @ria was not
Spain but the Philippines, which bore comparison with the
great nations and cultures of the world: Greece, Rome, France, the
United States.
The editorial staff of Diariong Tagalog were ecstatic about the arti-
cle, stating that only Casteb, the well-known Spanish politidamorator
o d d match the style, ideas, and poetic imagery of the piece (Teodoro
1930,39). Rizal's political message was not lost on the Spaniards who
read it, for his brother-in-law Silvestre Ubaldo warned him that he
had become the object of hatred (quinapopofan) for some friars, who,
it would seem, had "placed him in their list" (Ubaldo 1930, 79).
Some have d c e d their youth, their joys; others have given the bril-
liance of their @us; still others have shed their blood. All have be-
queathed an immeasurable fortune, the h i and glory of the beloved
country. And what in turn does she do for them? She weeps and
proudly p-ts them to the world, posterity, and her children, as
worthy of emulation.
(As by a magic command, soldiers and leadem rise from the land. The
father abandons his children, sons their parents; all rush to the defense
of the native land, the mother of all. They bid farewell to their home
and peaceful chores, and hide with their helmet the tears that well from
tender hearts. All set forth and die! Perhaps it's a father blessed with
many fair and smiling children, or a young man full of bright hopes,
or son, or some one in love: it does not matter who. All fight for the
defense of one who gave them life; they only fulfill their duty.)
The essence of his faith is not the sheer nobility of a hero's death,
but going beyond Horace's duke et decorum est pro patria mori,
encapsules the very heart of Jesus' sacrifice on the cross, that for the
seed to grow and give life it must die. How beautiful it is to die for
the patria under the sky above her, for in dying the martyr gives
her life and in the repose of death finds peace!
What we will here discuss has an element of beauty, and for that matter it
is a commonplace topic-love of country. It has caught the imagination of the
sage, the poet, the artist, the tiller, the merchant, the warrior, all whether old
or young, ldng or slave. Everyone has dedicated the treasures of heart and
mind to the fatherland. E v e r y o n d m cultured Europeans, free and proud
of their glorious history, to black Africans plucked from the forests and shame-
fully sold as slaves; from ancient avilizations which survive in melancholic
ruins memo^ their triumphs and defeats, to modem nations throbbing
with motion and lif+everyone has worshipped the fatherland like an idol,
fair, brilliant and sublime, but at the same time implacable, stern and de-
manding. In praise of one's country, songs in a thousand languages have risen
and music in most melodious strains has filled the air. The sharpest of minds
and the most inspired of geniuses have regaled her with their brilliance. The
beloved country has been the rallying point in the struggle for peace, love and
glory, for she occupies the minds of all and, like light from limpid crystal,
scatters rap of bdiance in all directions.
Is the behavior of our forebears reason for us to shy away from this obses-
sion? Can we match in some small way the dedication of the past, we whose
only misfortune was to have been born late in history? Does the nineteenth
century give w the right to be ungrateful? By no means. The heart is a rich
mine whose resources have not been exhausted, its memory forever fertile;
and however little inspired we may be, we will find in the recesses of our soul
if not priceless metal, at least a humble coin, which notwithstanding its size
will fire enthusiasm and give expression to our sentiments. Therefore, in the
fashion of the Hebrews of old who made offerings of the first fruits of their
labor of low, we exiles in a foreign land will dedicate our first w r d s to our
country shrouded in clouds and morning mists, ever fair and poetic, ever more
the object of idol worship the longer our absence and distance from her shores.
Do not be surprised, for these sentiments are but natural. For in the land of
our birth the memory of our earliest years still lingers like an enchanted fairy
taking a stroll, visible only to the eyes of children, the flower of innocence and
bliss sprouting at her feet. There the past remains in slumber and we get a
glimpse of the future The woods and plains, wery tme, every bush, every
flower bear the images of people you love; you feel their bmath in the sweet-
smelling breeze, hear their song in the sound of the fountains, see their smile
in the brilliance of the sun, sense their anxieties in the troubled howling of
winds at night. With the eyes of the imagination you see in the quiet ancestral
home the family which remembersyou and awaits your return, thinking and
worrying about you F i y , you find poetry, tenderness and love in the sky,
the sun, the seas and forests, and even in the cemetery where a humble grave
waits to receive you back into the womb of the earth. Must it not be some
magic spell which ties our heart to the native soil, beautifies and embellishes
PHIUPPINE STUDIES
LAONC LAAN
Barcelona, Junio 1882
the defense of one who gave them l i i ; they only fulfill their duty. Codrus or
Leonidas or whoever: the fatherland will remember each one forever.
Some have sacrificed theii youth, their pys; others have dedicated the
brilliance of their genius; still others shed their blood. All have bequeathed an
immeasurable fortune, the h i and glory of the beloved country. And what
in turn does she do for them? She weeps and proudly presents them to the
world, to posterity and her children, as worthy of emulation.
But alas, oh beloved country, if there shine heroic virtues in your honor,
and superhuman sacrifices are offered in your name, how many injustices still
prevail!
Alas, how many have suffered and died in your name, which others have
taken in vain to free the fatherland from conquerors-from Jesus Christ who
out of great love came to the world for the good of humanity and died for all
in defense of the laws of his own beloved country, down to the unknown vic-
tims of modern revolutions! How many victims of rancor, ambition or igno-
rance have breathed their last, blessing you and wishing every good fortune!
Fair and majestic is the beloved country when at the sound of battle her
sons give of themselves in deknse of the ancient soil of their forebears. Em-
boldened and proud is she when from on high she watches the foreign ag-
gressors flee in dread of the invincible column of her sons. By the same token,
when her sons, divided into opposite camps, destroy one another, when anger
and rancor devastate fields, towns and cities, she takes off her mantle, throws
away the scepter and dresses in black to mourn for her dead children.
Whatever be then our situation, let us love her and wish her nothing but
her good. Thus we will work for that end which God has wished for all
humankind, universal harmony and peace in all creation.
You whose ideals of the past are lost, you whose hearts are wounded and
whose dreams have vanished one by one, you are like the trees of autumn
without flowers and leaves, and wishing to love, you find nothing worthy of
your affections: here is your native land; love her.
You who have lost father or mother or brother or spouse or child, or a
beloved on whom you were building your dreams, and find within your-
selves nothing but a vast and terrifying emptiness: here is your own country,
love her as she deserves.
Love her, yes, not in the ways of old through rough deeds rejected and
condemned by genuine morality and mother nature, but rather, by doing
away with all display of fanaticism, destructiveness and cruelty. The rosy
dawn rises in the horizon, scattering sweet and quiet rays of light, harbinger
of life and p e e true dawn of Christianity announcing happy and tran-
quil days, It is our duty to tread the hard but peaceful and productive paths of
science which lead to progress and ultimately to the union which Jesus Christ
wished and prayed for on the night of his passion.
LAONG LAAN
Barcelona, June 1882.
PHIUPPINE STUDIES