Chapter 4
The Rise of Power: Opportunism in Post-Revolutionary Mexico
Emerging from the chaos of revolution, Artemio Cruz transforms himself from idealistic soldier to calculating opportunist. He gains entry to the Bernal household by bringing news of Gonzalo's brave final moments in prison-the same Gonzalo he had abandoned to save himself. Don Gamaliel Bernal, Gonzalo's father, welcomes him with philosophical resignation about change and revolution. The old aristocrat impresses Artemio with his perfect nobility and courteous manner, which seems simultaneously natural and calculated-"a mask so well-worn it might be indistinguishable from the face beneath."
When Don Gamaliel introduces his daughter Catalina, Artemio is struck by her beauty-her chestnut hair, amber eyes, her slim yet rounded body in white muslin. During dinner in the old house filled with antiques and religious paintings, Artemio studies Catalina intently, feeling triumph at her physical presence and barely disguising his intention to possess her. He touches her foot under the table, which she initially withdraws but later accepts, signaling the beginning of their complicated relationship.
Before visiting the Bernals, Artemio had spent six days in Puebla gathering information. He learned that Don Gamaliel had financial troubles-peasants were rebelling, planting fallow land, and debtors refused to pay. Artemio's scheme is calculated: offer loans to peasants at lower rates than the old man demanded, ultimately gaining control of his land. Don Gamaliel recognizes Artemio as the representative of a new world rising from the civil war, instructing Catalina to make herself attractive and meet them in the library. The old man sees himself as the final product of a Creole civilization of enlightened despots, while recognizing Artemio as "a man with nothing to lose and everything to gain."
Despite Catalina's protests about Artemio's lustful gaze, Don Gamaliel insists this man could save them financially. She understands her sacrifice is necessary for her father's final years and her own security. When Artemio touches Catalina's face in the patio, she trembles with hatred yet can't resist his forceful presence. In a symbolic act of defiance before submitting to her fate, Catalina releases all the birds from their cages in the patio-a poignant metaphor for her own impending captivity in a loveless marriage.
As post-revolutionary Mexico stabilizes, Artemio builds his empire through strategic corruption. He secures railroad contracts worth millions, manipulates political connections, and establishes a vast business network spanning real estate, mining, logging, and media. During a meeting with American businessmen about sulphur deposits, he demands $2 million for securing their concession, refusing to be exploited while allowing them to exploit Mexico's natural resources. This hypocrisy defines his business philosophy-he positions himself as a patriot while facilitating foreign exploitation of his country.
Chapter 5
The Hollow Marriage: Love Without Tenderness
The marriage between Artemio Cruz and Catalina Bernal embodies the novel's central theme of power without love, possession without connection. Their relationship begins as a business arrangement-Catalina sacrifices herself to save her father's financial situation, while Artemio gains social legitimacy and valuable land connections. From the beginning, their physical intimacy is poisoned by emotional distance.
In a revealing scene, Catalina whispers to herself as she awakens from fitful sleep: "I let myself go." Lying beside Artemio with chestnut hair covering her face, every fold of her flesh damp with summer fatigue, she covers her mouth in shame. Unwilling to remember the night's events, she buries her face in the pillow and repeats those words of surrender-suggesting a momentary physical pleasure that only deepens her self-loathing.
Years later, their marriage has calcified into mutual resentment. In a bitter confrontation, Artemio tries to justify his need for Catalina as a witness to his life. She rejects him, claiming she closes her eyes during intimacy to imagine another man's face. Catalina accuses Artemio of humiliating her father and betraying her brother, while he insists her brother chose martyrdom. When Artemio confesses his sins and begs for her acceptance, Catalina retreats to pray, rejecting their shared destiny.
Their relationship reaches its nadir when Artemio, frustrated by Catalina's emotional withdrawal, walks to an Indian girl's cabin, takes her by force, and brings her to live in the main house-the ultimate humiliation for his wife. Meanwhile, Catalina waits in their bedroom, listening for his footsteps that never come. This pattern of emotional cruelty and distance continues throughout their marriage, creating a household where power replaces love and possession substitutes for connection.
On Artemio's deathbed, Catalina approaches him and, for the first time in decades, caresses his forehead with trembling fingers-a gesture of tenderness he barely registers through his pain. This moment underscores the tragedy of their relationship: even in death, genuine connection remains elusive. Their marriage stands as a metaphor for post-revolutionary Mexico itself-a union founded on pragmatic considerations rather than shared ideals, maintaining appearances while rotting from within.
Chapter 6
The Corruption of Power: Politics and Business in Modern Mexico
As Artemio Cruz consolidates his power in post-revolutionary Mexico, he becomes the embodiment of the revolution's betrayal. His newspaper ownership allows him to manipulate public opinion while presenting himself as a champion of free press. In a revealing conversation with his managing editor Pons, he instructs him to attack political opponents as "a brazen red plot" and "alien infiltration totally foreign to the essence of the Mexican Revolution"-cynically invoking revolutionary rhetoric to protect his business interests.
A pivotal moment in Cruz's political evolution occurs during a clandestine meeting at Saturno's establishment. Military officers and politicians speak in coded language about shifting allegiances as political power changes hands. "We got where we are with the chief, and we'll go down with the chief," one insists, while another counters, "He's done for. The new boss has him all boxed in." They debate loyalty versus self-preservation, agreeing that "each guy's got to figure it out for himself" while promising this meeting "never happened."
Cruz receives a phone call informing him that "We've got him down at the station" and that "The President has been informed." The caller requests Cruz make a "gesture"-a visit with no need for words. Driving to his appointment, he sees newspaper headlines about executions of those who attempted to assassinate a political candidate. He contemplates his position-he had chosen the emerging leader over the fading one, knowing that "the guys who got screwed today would end up screwing him tomorrow." At the government building, he meets with the President himself, to whom he pledges unconditional support. In return, he secures promises of valuable vacant lots on the city outskirts. Meanwhile, former friends who had been at Saturno's the previous night now pass by without acknowledging him.
This political maneuvering extends to his business dealings. When meeting with an American businessman named Corkery about union troubles, Cruz demonstrates his ability to suppress worker rights while maintaining a facade of Mexican nationalism. His fish transportation business in Sonora generates enormous profits through bribes and price inflation. Through these corrupt practices, Cruz amasses a fortune that includes $15 million secretly deposited abroad-a hedge against the political instability he helps perpetuate.
On his deathbed, Cruz reflects bitterly on the legacy he leaves behind: "mortgages...a class without class, a power without greatness, a consecrated stupidity" alongside "thieving leaders, submissive unions, new latifundia, U.S. investments, jailed workers." This acknowledgment reveals his awareness of his role in creating a corrupt system that betrays the revolution's original promise.
Chapter 7
The Weight of Memory: Past Choices and Present Regrets
As death approaches, Artemio Cruz's memories become increasingly vivid, revealing the moments of choice that shaped his life. These memories aren't chronological but emerge based on emotional significance, creating a tapestry of regret and justification. The novel's innovative structure-alternating between first, second, and third person perspectives-mirrors Cruz's fragmenting consciousness as he confronts the sum of his choices.
His relationship with Laura represents one such pivotal moment. After dancing together at the Plaza Hotel, they return to her apartment where she reads from Calderon de la Barca while Artemio touches her pearl necklace. Their conversation reveals the strain in their relationship-Laura wants commitment while Artemio resists change. "I can't go on this way," she tells him. "You have to make up your mind." Despite his protests that they're fine as they are, Laura grows frustrated with his unwillingness to evolve beyond their first-day dynamic. As Handel's music plays loudly, Laura curls up with pillows, turning her back to him. Artemio leaves, closing the door carefully behind him-another connection sacrificed to his fear of vulnerability.
The Spanish Civil War provides another crucial memory. Artemio stands on a rooftop with his comrade Miguel as Republican soldiers retreat. They meet three women-Dolores (Lola), Nuri, and Maria-and flee toward mountains that might lead to safety. During the night, Artemio and Dolores grow intimate, promising to meet after the war. The next day, a Nazi plane attacks the refugees. Artemio stands exposed with a rifle that won't fire as bullets ricochet around them. "Down, Lorenzo, get down, you damn fool Mexican!" Miguel shouts as Artemio falls. Dolores throws herself on his body while Miguel, crying, tells her they must continue-"life is on the other side of the mountains."
This memory reveals Cruz's son Lorenzo was named after him, suggesting the boy who died in the Spanish Civil War was his son, not himself-a detail that adds layers to Cruz's complex relationship with his own mortality. On his deathbed, Cruz contemplates what's most painful about death-not just physical suffering or the abandoned body, but the inability to truly remember those we've lost: "But what does his sweat smell of? Nothing catches the color of his skin."
In his delirium, Artemio imagines all the different choices he could have made-embracing the wounded soldier, saying yes to Laura, refusing the fat man in the blue room, staying with Bernal and Tobias, speaking to Catalina that night, remaining with Lunero on the hacienda. This cascade of alternative possibilities underscores the novel's existentialist theme: we are defined by our choices, and each choice eliminates countless other lives we might have lived.
Chapter 8
The Origins of Identity: Childhood and Formation
The novel's final sections reveal Artemio Cruz's origins, providing context for his complex character. In 1903, thirteen-year-old Artemio (called Cruz) lives in a shack with Lunero, a mulatto who has raised him. They survive by making candles and canoes on what remains of a once-grand hacienda now owned by the alcoholic Master Pedrito and his reclusive grandmother Ludivinia Menchaca.
Lunero has protected the boy for fourteen years, since Master Atanasio's death, keeping him hidden from those who might have killed him. Now Lunero must leave-the master's agent has ordered him to work at another hacienda. Their relationship is tender and paternal; Lunero has taught him to swim, make candles, and handle a machete. The boy stretches naked under a palm tree while Lunero drums rhythmically on a frying pan, singing songs that connect him to his ancestral past-a rare moment of cultural transmission in a life marked by disconnection.
Meanwhile, in the ruined mansion, ninety-three-year-old Ludivinia Menchaca lives in self-imposed isolation. When her estranged son Pedro enters her sealed bedroom for the first time in decades, their encounter reveals the family's tragic history. Through unspoken thoughts, we learn that young Cruz is "flesh of my flesh," suggesting he is Ludivinia's grandson-likely the illegitimate son of Atanasio, who was brutally murdered fourteen years earlier.
As Lunero prepares to leave, young Cruz sneaks into the forbidden house and steals Master Pedrito's shotgun. When a man in a frock coat enters their shack calling for Lunero, Cruz shoots him, only to discover he has killed Master Pedrito himself. Lunero rushes to the scene in horror, realizing the master has died in his place. Meanwhile, Ludivinia, hearing the gunshots, stumbles out of her bedroom for the first time in years, hoping to finally embrace the boy she has known was nearby for thirteen years. Instead, she encounters the agent on horseback demanding to know where "the boy and the black" have gone.
The final passage portrays young Cruz fleeing into the mountains after the shooting. Sitting on a rock waiting for Lunero, he experiences a moment of cosmic awareness under the vast starry sky. He contemplates the movements of celestial bodies and the scents of tropical plants, recognizing that his innocence has ended not through guilt but through "amorous astonishment" as his life begins a new phase. He understands that everything is changing, aging, corrupting in a river of time, yet he stands at the edge of life, hearing Lunero's approaching call-until suddenly there's silence, without Lunero's shout or the echo of horseshoes. This abrupt ending suggests another abandonment, another formative loss that shapes Cruz's character.
Chapter 9
The Mexican Condition: National Identity Through Individual Experience
Through Artemio Cruz's life, Fuentes creates a powerful allegory for Mexico's national experience. Cruz's journey from idealistic revolutionary to corrupt businessman parallels Mexico's own transformation from revolutionary promise to institutional corruption. The Mexican Revolution (1910-1920) began with democratic ideals and agrarian reform but ultimately created new forms of authoritarianism and inequality-a historical trajectory embodied in Cruz's personal evolution.
Fuentes explores this national identity through language itself. Artemio reflects on the Mexican expletive "motherfucker" as a cultural chain binding all Mexicans together. This crude expression functions as password, greeting, threat, and national identity. He sees it as both curse and connection-the word that "separates us, petrifies us, rots us with its double venom of idol and cross." As the priest administers Extreme Unction, Artemio prays for release from this cultural burden that "poisons love, dissolves friendship, smashes tenderness." He recognizes himself as "a son of the fucked mother"-part of an endless chain of injustice where outrage is washed clean by outraging others.
This cultural analysis extends to Cruz's observations about Mexico's class structure. His New Year's Eve celebration brings together one hundred guests from Mexico's elite circles-industrialists, businessmen, government ministers, and socialites. He observes them with cold amusement, knowing their corrupt dealings and false personas while they dance, drink, and pay him obsequious compliments. Throughout it all, Artemio sits like a mummified king, silently cackling at the spectacle of power and wealth he commands.
The novel also explores Mexico's relationship with the United States-a theme that remains relevant decades after publication. Cruz's business dealings with American investors reveal the complex power dynamics between the two countries. When negotiating with American businessmen about sulphur deposits, Cruz demands $2 million for securing their concession, positioning himself as a nationalist while facilitating foreign exploitation of Mexican resources. This contradiction embodies Mexico's post-revolutionary dilemma: achieving economic development while maintaining national sovereignty.
In his final reflections, Cruz contrasts his own future-obsessed generation with those who live fully in the present, recognizing that his people "will be tomorrow because they live only today." He contemplates Mexico itself-its diverse landscapes, peoples and languages that form both a frontier and a connection to distant histories. Through Cruz's fragmented consciousness, Fuentes captures the complexity of Mexican identity-a nation simultaneously ancient and modern, indigenous and European, revolutionary and conservative, independent yet economically dependent.
Chapter 10
The Final Reckoning: Death as Ultimate Truth
As Artemio Cruz approaches death, his physical deterioration parallels his moral accounting. His body betrays him completely-puffy, leaking fluids, emitting stench. The clinical language of his doctors ("tumefaction," "cyanosis," "hypothermia") contrasts with the emotional weight of his memories, creating a stark juxtaposition between physical reality and subjective experience.
Cruz's family gathers around his deathbed, their presence more obligation than comfort. His daughter Teresa reads newspapers, his wife Catalina offers belated tenderness that feels hollow after decades of mutual resentment. Even as he dies, business continues-his secretary Padilla discusses succession plans, positioning someone named Campanela to take over a union. This continuation of business amid personal extinction underscores the novel's existential theme: the institutions Cruz built will outlast him, but without the meaning he sought to derive from them.
The priest's administration of last rites provides the final confrontation between Cruz's secular power and spiritual reckoning. As incense fills the room, Cruz mentally challenges the priest: "That heaven represents power over men... That's really being God, right? Tell me how I save all that and I'll let you go through with your ceremonies." This defiance reveals Cruz's fundamental misunderstanding-he sees even religion through the lens of power and possession, unable to grasp concepts of grace or redemption.
In his final moments, Cruz's thoughts become increasingly philosophical. He reflects on how humans invent and measure time that doesn't exist, how we survive through adaptation and intelligence rather than strength, and how we must choose one path while sacrificing all others. These reflections suggest a belated wisdom, an understanding that comes too late to change the course of his life.
The novel's most profound insight emerges through Cruz's fragmented consciousness: we are not single, unified selves but collections of choices made and not made. On his deathbed, Cruz imagines all the different lives he could have lived-embracing the wounded soldier, saying yes to Laura, refusing the fat man in the blue room, staying with Bernal and Tobias, speaking to Catalina that night, remaining with Lunero on the hacienda. This cascade of alternative possibilities underscores the existentialist theme: we are defined by our choices, and each choice eliminates countless other lives we might have lived.
As Cruz's consciousness fades, he leaves behind a complex legacy-a fortune built on corruption, a family united only by financial interest, a country shaped by his generation's moral compromises. Yet through his fragmented narrative, Fuentes achieves something remarkable: a character who, despite his moral failings, attains a kind of tragic dignity through self-awareness. In confronting his mortality, Artemio Cruz finally faces the truth of his existence-not as the powerful man he pretended to be, but as a human being shaped by choices, circumstances, and the inescapable flow of time.