Updated:04/08/2020 12: 35h
Vitoriano, son of Cuban and English, Ramiro de Maeztu today it is the Institute of the best Spanish series B (Jesús Franco and Paul Naschy are alumni), and that is the posterity of the man from “Defense of Hispanidad”, murdered in the ’36 bags “for writing on ABC” (in the same month of October he has the humor to send the secretary of Hispaniola, Julio Casares, a handwritten card apologizing for not attending the inaugural session of the course for being “detained by the government”). His “Being is defending” learned in England is not worth him.
Maeztu begins with anarchism and ends with traditionalism, passing through American pragmatism and “stability”:
–My ideal is a piece of land –he writes in «El Sol» of 21–, limited by a fence, and in the center a house, where there is a shotgun with which to shoot a shot at the first person to cross the fence without asking permission . It is such a modest ideal that there are towns where most universal suffrage is carried out. But, modest and all, it is the secret of the stability of nations.
Maeztu and Ortega alternate in the editorials of «El Sol». Ortega, who is politically a gyro-liberal (his idol is Mirabeau!), he fraternally dedicates his first book to Maeztu, and (Spain, Spain) erases his dedication in subsequent editions. But in the autopsy of the Restoration he is more accurate than Ortega: for Maeztu, in Cánovas’ work pessimism is noted.
–An optimist would have founded the Restoration on the truth. A pessimist preferred to found it on the falsification of the elections based on caciquismo.
On the 27th he renounced «El Sol» («painful tear», says the newspaper), which editorialized the theory of the incompatibility between Catholicism and democracy (?), And in the middle of the pre-revolutionary period reached ABC, where in 31 he met him Ruano, for whom Maeztu is an honest and arbitrary man who spends his life at the extremes, “like an energetic”.
–I knew that Don Ramiro found it absurd that I had been contracted ten articles at the maximum price, but I never took it for granted. Once he said to me: «That you, as a young man, and me, as an old man, are paid relatively well, it is logical. But what about So-and-so?
Maeztu is obsessed with “that of money” (his “reverential sense of money”, which has so much play to give to Camba) and invents a sin, the “sin of waste”, which Ruano has maliciously never incurred, who upon learning of his savage death in Rome discovers that he loved him more than he would have liked.
Maeztu travels from Side to the spirit and of the spirit to the faith, and in the final moment he says to his murderers (children of an “intermittent people who do not come out of atony but to fall into passion”):
“You don’t know why you kill me, but I do know what I’m dying for.”
They are words, in such a trance, now unimaginable in our Colossi of «Inmoderate» Journalism.