Madness of Mamá Carlota, The

By Graciela Limón

It’s 1852 in Cholula, Mexico, and three sisters, indigenous girls of the Chontal people, seek work at the Hacienda La Perla. They rapidly make their way from dish washers to the cook’s assistants before entering the house as servants to the wealthy Acuña family. But when the youngest sister is viciously raped by a family member, they flee the estate—after taking their revenge—only to be caught up in the historic Battle of Puebla, where native Mexicans defeat invading French troops.
Fearful that the Acuña family will not rest until the sisters are found and punished, they keep moving, ultimately finding work as servants at the National Palace in Mexico City, where the French have recently taken control. There, the sisters’ fortunes become intertwined with that of the Empress Carlota. Both beautiful and extremely intelligent, she dedicates herself to the empire, chastising Napoleon when he reneges on his promise to send troops and antagonizing the Church by proposing that the empire secularize at least part of its holdings. But her love for Mexico’s people is not reciprocated, and soon the sisters have to decide whether to stay behind without the empress’ protection or to accompany her to Europe.
Weaving the story of Mexico’s indigenous peoples with that of the tragic Belgian princess who became the wife of the Austrian Archduke Maximillian von Hapsburg, acclaimed author Graciela Limón once again explores issues of race, class and women’s rights. She skillfully crafts a gripping novel about a smart, wealthy woman who is not afraid to challenge powerful men, and re-imagines the story behind Empress Carlota’s descent into madness and eventual imprisonment in a remote European castle.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Arte Público Press
• Release date: Aug 31, 2018
• ISBN: 9781611924435

Graciela Limón

Graciela Limón is the author of eight widely read novels: In Search of Bernabé, The Memories of Ana Calderón, The Song of the Hummingbird, Day of the Moon, Erased Faces, Left Alive, The River Flows North and The Madness of Mamá Carlota. Her writing has received reviews from Publishers Weekly, library Journals and scholarly journals. The Los Angeles Times, The New York Times, Houston Chronicle and other leading newspapers have reviewed her work, as well as several anthologies. She was the recipient of the prestigious award for U.S. Literature: The Luis Leal Literary Award. The Los Angeles Times listed her as a notable writer for the year 1993. The Life of Ximena Godoy is due to be published in the spring of 2015. Graciela was born in Los Angeles, California, where she has resided until recently relocating to Simi Valley, California. Los Angeles plays a major role in many of her novels.

Book preview

birth.

MEXICO

1852-1866

Chapter One

It began when i was a child, when the dream first came to me, when I dreamed of the empire. Then, on a certain day, the dream came to my doorstep. It took shape when I was a young woman at Miramar Castle where Maximilian and I resided. On that day the Mexican emissaries approached him to become emperor of their country. They came dressed in fine clothing. They were stiff, awkward men obviously made nervous by surroundings none of them had ever experienced. Nonetheless, it was they who came to offer us a Mexican empire.

In the beginning I feared the undertaking because I had doubts about Maximilian’s weak nature, but then it became clear to me that those emissaries had brought the seduction of the empire for my taking, not his, that I had come face-to-face with my destiny. I was incapable of turning my back on that allure. What my enemies later called inordinate ambition was instead my dream, one that turned dark and fatal. It was the force that drove me. It was the aspiration that compelled me to embrace the illusory Mexican throne.

Chapter Two

Cholula, Mexico, 1852

Hacienda La Perla

The three little girls had no recollection of when they were indentured as maids into the hacienda known as La Perla. They didn’t remember their mother or father, nor did they have memory of brothers or sisters to call family. Their first recollections began when they were already living on that hacienda, where they were attached first to one maid and then to another so they might learn the ways of a good servant.

La Perla was so vast that its master needed a week each year to make his way on horseback to the far corners of his holdings of herds of cattle and horses. His spread covered hundreds of hectares of rich land that stretched from the fringes of Cholula, westward to Tochimilco. From there, any traveler would need to head north all the way to La Posta, and then south to Teyuca, just to cover the surface of the hacienda. Only when that traveler approached el Gran Teocalli did he know that he had gone beyond la Perla’s holdings and that he had wandered onto the sacred ground of Cholula.

La Perla had been in the possession of the Acuña family since the days of the Spanish Viceroyalty, and, during those centuries, patriarch followed patriarch, each man passing ownership of the hacienda onto the oldest son. That son had, among other demanding duties, the obligation to provide the clan with sons to inherit the family patrimony. Like other families, the Acuñas had their secrets, but those were closely guarded; hardly anyone was aware of them. Publicly, the family fabricated an image of themselves as upstanding and honorable. The men were portrayed as brave, hardworking, faithful to their wives and staunchly Catholic. At least, that was their public image. The women were beautiful, modest, also faithful to their husbands, models for their daughters and always fertile. This also was the public image.

Above all, the family took particular pride in their purebred ancestry, one that the family tree traced directly to Spanish nobility. Over time it became an unwritten family rule that its children intermarry only with those of equally pure lineage in order to preserve those roots. There were, however, whispers that somewhere along the line there must have been at least one ancestor of Indian blood. This was evident, judging from the brown complexions of some of the Acuña children born over the years. But as expected, it was forbidden to repeat this rumor, although the kitchen help liked gossiping about it, regardless of that rule.

When this story begins, the head of that hacienda was Don Melchor Acuña, master of countless peons dedicated to tending fields and livestock. Inside the rambling buildings, almost as many maids served the patriarch’s large family that consisted of his wife Doña Herminia, and numerous sons and daughters. As the years passed, the Acuña children grew, married and lived on the hacienda along with wives, husbands, children and personal servants.

It was at this hacienda that, on a certain day, three little girls of the Chontal people appeared at the kitchen door. No one saw them approach nor knew how they had made their way from the neighboring hacienda or village. They had come from out of nowhere. When one of the scullery maids on her way back from fetching water saw them, she was startled because she had not seen them on her way out of the kitchen. The young woman looked around, trying to locate how the girls had come, but when she didn’t see signs of a cart or a wagon that might have brought them, she stared down at the girls. Taking her time, she examined them from head to foot and saw that they were dressed like the Chontal women of distant lands. The little things were pretty and, she guessed, they must have been around ten years old.

¡Hola, niñas!

¡Hola!

The maid was taken by the way the girls spoke, with one voice it seemed. They didn’t say more than hello, but only smiled, not seeming afraid or nervous. At a loss for what to say or do, the maid made a move to go around them into the kitchen, but then stopped to look at them again.

What are your names?

I’m Tila. The girl that appeared to be the oldest was the first to respond. Then the middle one piped in, My name’s Chelo, and this is my little sister Lula. With that introduction, the girls made a little curtsey and smiled again.

Where are you from?

From over there. The girls pointed toward Cholula, but said no more about a village or mother or father or even brothers or sisters.

What are you looking for?

A place to live. Tila spoke for her sisters, who didn’t lose their smiles or their calm way.

Not knowing what to do next, the maid opened the narrow door that led into the kitchen, and the girls followed her in. Once inside they waited for their eyes to get used to the dim light, and then they were able to make out servants at work over large stoves and cutting boards. Everyone was busy stirring, mixing, chopping, peeling and patting dough into balls that would soon be slapped on the grill for the evening dinner’s supply of tortillas.

The girls had never seen such a large kitchen with so many people busy at work, and they stood very still, all the time staring. The maid went to the woman in charge, exchanged a few words with her, causing her to look over at the girls. She wrinkled her brow and interrupted what she was doing. She seemed at a loss as to what to do or say, but in a few moments she wiped her hands on her apron, came over to the girls and stooped lower to look each one closely in the face.

Niñas, are you good workers?

Sí, señora.

Bien. Go to that table over there. Eat and drink what is brought to you, and when I’m finished here, I’ll tell you what to do.

The woman watched the girls make their way through the traffic that was at its pitch just before the family’s dinner, and she was pleased by how they walked with small, dainty steps. She liked their smiles and bright eyes, and something told her that they would be a fine addition to her cooking staff. There would be no need to ask permission of Don Melchor; after all, the girls would require only a place to sleep and food to eat and that was hardly a reason to ask permission right away. Maybe that would come later on.

This was how the Chontal sisters became part of La Perla, where they would remain for ten years, all the time moving upward in that intricate world of peones and patrones. The first thing the cook did was to take the girls under her guidance, making sure that the room attached to the kitchen, usually used for grain storage, was cleared and that a bed wide enough for the three to sleep on was moved in. Along with the bed, a small stand with a basin and a jug were brought in as well. The maid could see, from the expression on the sisters’ faces, they were happy and grateful.

In the beginning, the sisters washed dishes and pots, and then, when the cook saw how quickly and efficiently they worked, she brought them closer to her, where they learned her recipes. When they mastered those, the sisters were moved up to places inside the household, prime places where they tended to the needs of the family members. No matter where they worked, the sisters were liked and even sought after.

As time passed, the girls became acquainted with the house, as well as with the servants that worked alongside them. For their part, they grew to like what they did, so much so that people knew where to find them because the sisters always sang while at work, their voices blending so beautifully that most people called them las canarias. When it was their task to dust furniture and polish the long, tiled corridors, they sang with even more spirit because they enjoyed walking through the house’s vaulted chambers, patios and terraces that led to fountains and birdcages; some small, but some big enough for them to fit into. Whenever the girls interrupted a song, it was to gaze at the faded portrait of a long-ago Acuña patriarch, side by side with one or two viceroys. The sisters found those wigged and bearded men so imposing that it almost took away their breath.

One year followed the other as the sisters developed into beautiful Chontal women. Tila grew into a thoughtful, practical young woman. Chelo was gifted with the ability to make people laugh, and Lula’s talent was a beautiful singing voice. Although she was the youngest sister, Lula grew slightly taller than Tila and Chelo, but the three shared a lovely complexion, almond-shaped eyes and lustrous black hair. Early on, the sisters’ looks became so striking that young men often stopped what they were doing just to gaze at them when they happened to pass by. Naturally, there were those young indios who approached one or the other sister with warm smiles and soft words, and the girls responded happily because that was their nature. But none of those suitors was in a position to offer anything in return for marriage, so everyone understood that the time for the sisters to take that step had yet to come. Besides, who would give them away? There was not a father or even a godfather to speak up for them. In time, the sisters contented themselves to be smiled at and to smile in return.

Chapter Three

Arcides Acuña was the youngest of eight children. In all, the Acuñas were a brood of five boys and three girls. The oldest was Baltazar, the future patriarch of the family. The youngest was Arcides, who was born late in Doña Herminia’s childbearing years. He was conceived when changes had begun to afflict her body; it was a period when she struggled with waves of heat that swept over her, and her menstrual cycles were fading. When she became pregnant, Doña Herminia felt a mix of surprise and joy as well as fear—she didn’t know what the child would be like. But her apprehensions disappeared the moment she held the infant in her arms and she saw that Arcides would be the most beautiful of all her children.

From that instant the boy became his mother’s favorite child, perhaps because the other sons had by then grown and left her to form their own families, or perhaps it was that Doña Herminia felt lonely, or even forgotten. Whatever the reason, the child brought her profound consolation and satisfaction, and she took full possession of the boy. It had been different with his older brothers, whose father had overseen their training, the same father who now seemed to have forgotten about his youngest son.

Doña Herminia didn’t resent her husband neglecting Arcides, because the truth was that she welcomed the blessing of keeping the new child to herself. Arcides quickly became his mother’s only joy, the center of her attention, and she coddled and pampered him, hardly ever allowing him out of her sight. In the beginning, when she breastfed the child, it was taken as natural, but when the boy grew out of infancy, when he became a toddler and then turned four and five, matters changed. Doña Herminia still allowed the child to suck her breast. People gossiped, but there was nothing to be done because not only was she the mother of the future patrón, she was also a stubborn and willful woman.

Tongues wagged for years until Doña Herminia became so fed up with the whispering that swirled beyond her bedroom door that she responded first with anger, then with furtiveness, and then she gave strict orders that no one was to enter her bedroom while she and her son were in it. But her prohibition only inflamed curiosity. Because gossip is like dampness or mold that creeps from under doorways, around hinges and even through keyholes, and because rumors will not be contained, word got out that the boy still slept with his mother, although he was older than twelve years of age. Eventually the murmuring became so loud and widespread that it soon reached the ears of Don Baltazar, now the new patrón. No one was surprised when he responded with shock and then outrage at his mother’s treatment of Arcides. As soon as he became aware of what was happening, he barged into her bedroom and confronted her in a bitter face-to-face quarrel.

Baltazar shouted and raged. Doña Herminia screamed and wept. In the end Arcides was dragged away from his mother’s breast, and he was forbidden to go near her. Doña Herminia secluded herself after that confrontation and abandoned herself to what others saw as morbid, unrestrained grief. She died a few months later. Her passing was dutifully marked by the required thirty days of masses, novenas and rosaries, but thereafter the maids and peons of La Perla hardly spoke of the old woman who had loved her little son too much.

With his mother’s death, Don Baltazar took the reins of his brother’s training, but it came too late because Doña Herminia’s obsession for Arcides had rooted an irreversible corruption in him. As the boy developed into adolescence, he manifested a disdain and disrespect for others, especially for women, and nothing that Baltazar or the other brothers did or counseled took him off the pathway of self-indulgence that was rooted in him.

The worst began when Arcides was no more than fifteen, when he took to prowling neighboring villages and haciendas in search of whatever girl he thought beautiful. At first the outings happened occasionally, but as he grew older the habit became a routine that took him out every night. He had a favorite horse that people swore was a part of him. They said that the brute sensed when the boy was ready to go and in what direction they would be riding. After a while, he and the horse became a terror to the neighboring lands as what Arcides did on those prowls became widely known. Villagers openly talked about how he targeted a girl, dismounted, said flattering words to his victim and, because he was so handsome, he easily seduced her. Soon word made its way throughout those places that the Acuña son was ravishing their girls and that something had to be done.

Confronting a scion of a powerful hacienda with such an allegation was dangerous; however, it was not long before a band of outraged fathers worked up the courage to approach Don Baltazar with their complaint.

Don Baltazar, we have a grievous issue to discuss with you. One of the villagers had volunteered to be spokesman for the group, and it was he who stepped up to the patrón.

Don Baltazar, sensing that something was wrong, went on the defensive. Speak, but before you do, be certain that what you say is true and important and that you can prove it.

The villagers, hats in hand, flinched at those words and moved back slightly, but the spokesman didn’t lose his nerve.

Patrón, it’s about your youngest brother, Don Arcides.

What about him?

He has violated several of our daughters, and we demand that he be punished.

Don Baltazar was expecting a complaint about overwork, about too little grain, about bad soil, but he didn’t expect what he was hearing, and it caught him off guard. After a moment’s reflection, he admitted to himself that the grievance was undoubtedly true, but Arcides was his brother and Baltazar had no choice; he had to be loyal to him. Without asking for details or proof or any more talk, he shut down the discussion.

You’re lying, and you’re the one that’s going to be punished. If someone else has the same complaint, he, too, will be punished. Now’s the time to step forward with whatever you have to say.

He waited for his words to sink in, but when no one moved, Don Baltazar signaled his peons to take the man who had faced him with the accusation, strip him and punish him in the usual manner: The peon was flogged until he lost consciousness. This was done in the presence of maids and workers standing around as witnesses. The man’s punishment was meant to teach them what happens when the patrón is challenged.

Tila, Chelo and Lula stood alongside the other horrified maids and peons. Like everyone else, the sisters felt each lash almost as if it were ripping into their own flesh. Soon they found the ordeal too much, so they quietly moved away, slowly at first so as not to be noticed, and then at an open trot until they reached their room. Once inside they cried for the man who endured the lashes that should have instead landed on Arcides Acuña’s back.

As for the offended fathers, they faded away without a word, never again to protest what the youngest Acuña was doing to their girls. After that, the only recourse left to those peasant families was to hide their daughters whenever the hooves of the terrifying horse echoed through village streets and other surrounding spreads. And it was from that time that Arcides Acuña became known as El Centauro.

Chapter Four

What happened next was inevitable, not even surprising. What was unexpected, however, was that it occurred not at night, but in plain daylight, not in a village or an empty field, but close to where the Chontal sisters worked day in and day out. Unexpected also was how little time it took for Arcides to rape Lula, the youngest of the sisters.

It happened when she went out to the shed for firewood; the predator caught a glimpse of her as she slipped into the dim hut. It took very little effort for him to slide in behind her, close the door and throw himself on top of her. Although older than Arcides by some two years, Lula was slight of build, small-boned and, more importantly, caught by surprise. As for him he had the advantage of being experienced in how to maneuver himself in such encounters.

Lula tried to scream for help, but he slapped a cupped hand over her mouth while he pulled and tore away her garments with the other hand. Lula was not altogether at his mercy, for she was strong, her hands used for wringing out wet sheets, lifting crates and chopping wood. Once she overcame the initial surprise of the attack, she put up a ferocious fight, all the time scratching and kicking Arcides until one of her knees landed on his groin, forcing him to crumple back in pain. Despite losing his breath, he recuperated almost instantly, more than ever intent on getting in between her legs.

He got what he wanted when he ripped her undergarment away and thrust a hand deep between her thighs. All the time Arcides, in lustful frenzy, scratched, slapped, twisted and bit whatever part of Lula’s body he could reach. When she was finally subdued, he pulled down his trousers. It was a struggle, but when his member was free, he thrust himself into her with such force that she yelped

Reviews for Madness of Mamá Carlota, The

[krbrancolini · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

It seems impossible to believe, but during the nineteenth century, Mexico had a Belgian emperor and empress for three years, from 1864-1867. Emperor Maximilian I and Empress Carlota (Charlotte) were installed as rulers of the Second Mexican Empire by conservative Mexicans and Napoleon III. "The Madness of Mama Carlota" entwines the story of the factual Empress Carlota with three fictional sisters, Indians of the Chontal tribe, Tila, Chelo, and Lula. These three sisters have no recollection of their parents or their origins. As children they wander onto Hacienda La Perla in Cholula, Mexico. They become cooks and servants in the household. Ten years later, when they are in their early twenties, Lula is raped by the youngest brother of the patron. After the women take their revenge, they must flee. They end up in Mexico City just as the emperor and empress arrive and they become servants in the National Palace. They eventually become Carlota's personal maids and her most trusted companions.Author Graciela Limon skillfully weaves the story of the young Chontal sisters with that of Empress Carlota. Limon conveys the exotic beauty of Mexico, including the beauty and strength of the Chontal sisters. Carlota loves Mexico from the first moment. Some of the most evocative passages in the book describe the sights and sounds of both Mexico City and rural Cuernavaca, where the emperor and empress have a house. However, the Mexicans resent the Belgian rulers and Benito Juarez is determined to drive them out. Soon after they arrive, those who installed Maximilian begin to lose interest and withdraw their support. Limon portrays Carlota's frustration with her marriage and her inability to fulfill her ambitions as a ruler. She runs afoul of the Catholic Church, for example, when she suggests that they share their wealth with the Mexican people. History tells us that Carlota went mad in Mexico and never regained her sanity. She was confined to Castle Bouchout for the last 60 years of her life. But Limon builds a plausible argument that Carlota was not mad at all: "She was too strong, too influential and too outspoken. She would not keep silent about who had brought the Mexican Empire to its knees. She was, they all agreed, someone who had forgotten her place as a woman, and they did nothing to disarm the indidious gossip tht she had gone mad, because it fit into their agenda to silence her" (p. 158).I read this book in one day because I could not put it down. Limon's knowledge of the indigenous people of Mexico strenghtens the novel, bringing in a multitude of cultural details that lend authenticity to the narrative. But it is the characters that stand out, including Mexico itself. Although Tila, Chelo, and Lula are fictional, it seems entirely reasonable that women such as these might have formed a life-long bond with the tragic empress who fell in love with Mexico.