Pandemic physical distancing discouraged me from going to Rizal Park yesterday to commemorate the

150th anniversary of the execution of Jose Burgos, Mariano Gomes (with an “S” not a “Z”), and Jacinto
Zamora. Bur-Go-Za would be their acronym if we followed alphabetical order. Gom-Za-Bur if we follow
the order of their dispatch by the garrote in Bagumbayan now Rizal Park. Gom-Bur-Za is the order set by
Jose Rizal when he dedicated his second novel, “El Filibusterismo,” to the martyr priests.

In the original manuscript of the “Fili,” the dedication page reads:

ADVERTISEMENT

“Francisco (sic) Gomez (sic), Jose Burgos and Jacinto Zamora executed on the gallows of Bagumbayan on
__February 1872.”

In the first edition of the “Fili,” published in Ghent in 1891, the dedication reads:

“To the memory of the priests Mariano Gomez (85 years old), José Burgos (30 years old) and Jacinto
Zamora (35 years old) executed in the gallows of Bagumbayan on 28 February 1872.” However, not
everything Rizal writes is correct: Gomes was 73 not 85 at the time of execution, Burgos was 35 not 30,
and Zamora was 37 not 35. Rizal also got the date wrong, Gomburza were executed on Feb. 17, 1872 not
Feb. 28.

I must have been absent or daydreaming when Gomburza was taken up in school because I don’t
remember that four men were executed that day. Zaldua is the fourth man, justly forgotten because the
case against Gomburza was built largely on his testimony. He was said to have ratted on the priests in
exchange for a pardon, and got what he deserved by being executed first.

Mariano Gomes was the first priest to go. Born in Santa Cruz, Manila, on Aug. 2, 1799, he was the oldest
and most venerable of the three; well-known for his anti-Spanish sentiment, well-loved by parishioners
in Bacoor that he served long and well. Eyewitnesses described Gomes as calm and resigned to his fate.
His eyeglasses fell as he walked to the scaffold, and his famous last words were: “Let us go where the
leaves never fall or move without the will of God.”

Jacinto Zamora went next. Born in Pandacan on Aug. 14, 1835, he was, at the time of his death, reading
for a doctorate in canon law at the University of Santo Tomas. In 1860, he headed a student protest and
was punished by being confined to quarters for two months. His juvenile act of subversion did not affect
his appointment to parishes in Marikina, Pasig, and Lipa, but his subversive record was brought against
him in 1872. Zamora’s fatal vice was gambling, specifically panguingue. His guilt and complicity in the
Cavite Mutiny of January 1872 was built on a note in his confiscated mail. It was an innocent invitation
to a card game that read: “Grand reunion … our friends are well provided with powder and
ammunition.” Taken literally by the authorities, it sealed his fate even if it simply referred to money for
an overnight card game. Witnesses marveled at Zamora’s amazing serenity at the execution site not
knowing the priest had suffered a nervous breakdown. One could say that he was already dead before
the garrote broke his neck.

Jose Burgos had the worst time, having heard the crank of the garrote followed by the sound of breaking
necks thrice before his turn. He had just turned 35, having been born on Feb. 9, 1837 in Vigan, Ilocos
Sur. He was the most distinguished among the three priests: He had doctorate degrees in theology and
canon law, he was a prolific writer (though “La Loba Negra,” a novel attributed to him, is a 20th century
forgery by Jose E. Marco), he was an accomplished swordsman and boxer, and he was appointed to
some responsibilities at the Manila Cathedral.

Burgos’ death was the most dramatic, as retold in detail by the Frenchman Edmond Plauchut, who said
he was in a bad state. Before the hood was placed over his head in preparation for execution, Burgos
stood abruptly from the garrote seat and shouted: “What crime have I committed to deserve such a
death? Is there no justice in the world?” Then 12 friars restrained him and calmed him down with advice
to accept a Christian death. Pushed back into the seat, Burgos sprung up again shouting: “But I haven’t
committed any crime!” At that point, one of the friars holding him down hissed: “Even Christ was
innocent!” That remark calmed Burgos who then accepted his fate after pardoning his executioner and
giving one last blessing that brought the curious crowd to their knees.

—————-

Comments are welcome at aocampo@ateneo.edu