Rizal as a Man of Letters The way José Rizal is celebrated in the Philippines as a national hero finds no match in the world. Shrines and monuments dedicated to his figure are abundant throughout the archipelago, and his name indicates often the most prominent street or plaza in town. Rizal is a subject in the university as it has become a symbol of Philippine patriotism. Some historians have gained fame and money becoming eminent “Rizalistas,” and I was not surprised at all when I got to know that there is even a small group of religious believers in Mount Banahaw called Rizalistas, who claim Rizal is the real messiah. Rizal is the favorite among the national heroes, and the best word I find to call the relation between Filipinos and Rizal is devotion. Although Rizal was already esteemed as a top intellectual and writer both in the Philippines and Spain, the making of Rizal as a national hero was a legitimate and well-intentioned operation carried out a few decades after his cruel execution during the American period. And the problem with having him converted into a national hero is that it has resulted in some unexpected consequences: an exaggerated focus in his life: what I have called “chismography” about Rizal, the oblivion of other world-class Filipino intellectuals – Sancianco, De Los Reyes, Kalaw – and a neglect of what it should be most valued: his writings. I remember a day in class when I asked my students what they could say about Rizal, and I was told he was a babaero (womanizer) and had many many girlfriends. “That’s why he is our role model!” one said cheerfully. I remember a student telling me she failed in class because she forgot the color of the shirt Rizal was wearing when he was shot. I can recall the faces of disappointment every time I bring my foreign friends to Rizal’s shrine, a reliquary-like place where you can find a long list of the professions Rizal supposedly practiced and the list of the 14 languages he was supposed to master, but nothing that could help to understand him. The state of semi-divinity achieved by his figure carries other problems: “I will not achieve what he did in 35 years. He is a genius and he liked to work hard. I admire him, but I prefer a simple life,” another student told me. Rizal has been placed on such a high level that some young Filipinos do not think of him anymore as a human person whose achievements could inspire. The lack of understanding of Rizal comes, in my modest opinion, because Rizal was a writer and suffers the irony of being a national hero in a country where most people do not like to read. Sadly, the proliferation of monuments, shrines, and homages have not been accompanied by a close scrutiny of his writings, which are most often read in a very shallow and purely nationalistic way. Apart from Noli and Fili, the rest of his abundant and rich written production is almost impossible to find in bookstores, and if not for the outstanding efforts of another patriot – Teodoro M. Kalaw – in collecting and editing most of his precious letters, those would not be easily available today. The centennial of his birth moved the government in 1961 to publish most of his works in several volumes. However, the editorial criteria were far from the rigor demanded today in reliable editions and, most importantly, with the exception of Noli and Fili, and some other English Rizal’s literary works do not need to be introduced to any Filipino or to any avid reader of novels: they are classics in their own right, have been translated to several languages and recently entered the pantheon of the canonical Penguin Classics. But some information regarding the editions Dr. Legarda was able to acquire might be necessary. Generally speaking, these editions are almost as desired by collectors, bibliophiles and lovers of everything related to Rizal as the first editions, which are now almost impossible to find. Noli was published in Berlin in 1887, while Fili was published in Ghent in 1891. Both novels were financed out of his own pocket, produced in printing houses and distributed through his own efforts and those of his friends. The 1900 edition of El Filibusterismo is the second to be published, and the first after the execution of its author. The most relevant change is that it does not contain the dedication to Gomburza of the first edition. The third edition is, if possible, even more valuable than the second, as it is presented by the man who was his nemesis at first, Wenceslao Retana. The bibliographer from Madrid was quick to recognize his mistake and this 1908 edition, with its prologue of almost 40 pages and some explanatory footnotes, is his second tribute to the author of Calamba. Recall that Retana published the previous year Vida y escritos del Dr. Jose Rizal, a biography from which all others have been derived to this day. The 1899 edition of Noli Me Tangere is the second in Spanish and is an exact copy of the text published in Berlin in the first edition.