It was into the great unknown that the Spanish expedition of Mendaña sailed in search of the Southern Continent, the Terra Australis. Sharing the perils of this remarkable voyage of discovery were four Franciscan friars. They acted in a dual capacity: as chaplains to the Spaniards and as missionaries to the natives in the newly found lands. Although their missionary work was of necessity restricted because of the hostility of the natives, nevertheless they may claim the honor of being the first missionaries in the South Pacific. Fortunately the missionary experiences of these friars have been preserved in records and narratives, the reading of which, centuries after the events have taken place, is not unlike witnessing the unreeling of some religious drama in a modern picture-theatre. In graphic detail, the writers of these narratives draw picturesque and lifelike portraits of the officers, men and friars, sketching in events that run the whole gamut of human interest. As we read their vivid descriptions the centuries seem to roll back so that we are able to lay hold of, as it were, the elusive past with its throbbing Franciscanism; to catch glimpses of the life and work of these missionary friars, and to recapture for a brief moment the heroic spirit that animated them and inspired others whom they sought to influence for good.

The Subject of this Study lends itself to a threefold interpretation: it can refer to the books which Zumárraga himself wrote, or to the books which he edited and published, or to those which made up his library, in all probability the first library that existed in New Spain. However it be taken, a study of “The Books of Zumárraga” will give us a glimpse of one of the objects of the invincible zeal that inspired him in his broad vision of his duties as bishop and missionary, as the guide of souls and the father of his flock, occupied with all the necessities of the natives that dwelt within the immense territories comprised in his diocese.

In fact, the constitutive elements of his diocese were two: the conquerors and the conquered. The former, as was to be expected, had their full share of the spiritual defects which the lower nature of any army on active service seems all too prone to exhibit. These faults became even worse among the conquistadores of Mexico when their active service was done and they began to lead a soft, idle life that in many cases incited all their concupiscences.

In the History of the Central American hierarchy there is no personality so highly praised and so little disputed as that of Don Francisco Marroquín, the first Bishop of Guatemala. His good sense, activity and zeal for the conversion of the natives, and his interest in the culture, moral welfare and progress of the incipient province rest upon solid bases in the reports and eulogies of documents and historians, although, strangely enough, he has never been the subject of a full-length biography.

No less praiseworthy was his moderate position as to the very serious problem which confronted Spain, and which she herself posed for consideration and decision, from the very beginnings of the colonization and pacification of the New World—namely, the problem of what treatment should be accorded to the natives.