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diff --git a/old/10676-0.txt b/old/10676-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..72046a6 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/10676-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,13521 @@ +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 10676 *** + + + + + THE REIGN OF GREED + + A Complete English Version of + El Filibusterismo from the Spanish of + + José Rizal + + By + + Charles Derbyshire + + + Manila + Philippine Education Company + 1912 + + + + + + + + +TRANSLATOR’S INTRODUCTION + + +El Filibusterismo, the second of José Rizal’s novels of Philippine +life, is a story of the last days of the Spanish régime in the +Philippines. Under the name of The Reign of Greed it is for the first +time translated into English. Written some four or five years after +Noli Me Tangere, the book represents Rizal’s more mature judgment on +political and social conditions in the islands, and in its graver and +less hopeful tone reflects the disappointments and discouragements +which he had encountered in his efforts to lead the way to reform. +Rizal’s dedication to the first edition is of special interest, as the +writing of it was one of the grounds of accusation against him when he +was condemned to death in 1896. It reads: + + + “To the memory of the priests, Don Mariano Gomez (85 years old), + Don José Burgos (30 years old), and Don Jacinto Zamora (35 years + old). Executed in Bagumbayan Field on the 28th of February, 1872. + + “The Church, by refusing to degrade you, has placed in doubt the + crime that has been imputed to you; the Government, by surrounding + your trials with mystery and shadows, causes the belief that there + was some error, committed in fatal moments; and all the + Philippines, by worshiping your memory and calling you martyrs, in + no sense recognizes your culpability. In so far, therefore, as your + complicity in the Cavite mutiny is not clearly proved, as you may + or may not have been patriots, and as you may or may not have + cherished sentiments for justice and for liberty, I have the right + to dedicate my work to you as victims of the evil which I undertake + to combat. And while we await expectantly upon Spain some day to + restore your good name and cease to be answerable for your death, + let these pages serve as a tardy wreath of dried leaves over your + unknown tombs, and let it be understood that every one who without + clear proofs attacks your memory stains his hands in your blood! + + J. Rizal.” + + +A brief recapitulation of the story in Noli Me Tangere (The Social +Cancer) is essential to an understanding of such plot as there is in +the present work, which the author called a “continuation” of the first +story. + +Juan Crisostomo Ibarra is a young Filipino, who, after studying for +seven years in Europe, returns to his native land to find that his +father, a wealthy landowner, has died in prison as the result of a +quarrel with the parish curate, a Franciscan friar named Padre Damaso. +Ibarra is engaged to a beautiful and accomplished girl, Maria Clara, +the supposed daughter and only child of the rich Don Santiago de los +Santos, commonly known as “Capitan Tiago,” a typical Filipino cacique, +the predominant character fostered by the friar régime. + +Ibarra resolves to forego all quarrels and to work for the betterment +of his people. To show his good intentions, he seeks to establish, at +his own expense, a public school in his native town. He meets with +ostensible support from all, especially Padre Damaso’s successor, a +young and gloomy Franciscan named Padre Salvi, for whom Maria Clara +confesses to an instinctive dread. + +At the laying of the corner-stone for the new schoolhouse a suspicious +accident, apparently aimed at Ibarra’s life, occurs, but the +festivities proceed until the dinner, where Ibarra is grossly and +wantonly insulted over the memory of his father by Fray Damaso. The +young man loses control of himself and is about to kill the friar, who +is saved by the intervention of Maria Clara. + +Ibarra is excommunicated, and Capitan Tiago, through his fear of the +friars, is forced to break the engagement and agree to the marriage of +Maria Clara with a young and inoffensive Spaniard provided by Padre +Damaso. Obedient to her reputed father’s command and influenced by her +mysterious dread of Padre Salvi, Maria Clara consents to this +arrangement, but becomes seriously ill, only to be saved by medicines +sent secretly by Ibarra and clandestinely administered by a girl +friend. + +Ibarra succeeds in having the excommunication removed, but before he +can explain matters an uprising against the Civil Guard is secretly +brought about through agents of Padre Salvi, and the leadership is +ascribed to Ibarra to ruin him. He is warned by a mysterious friend, an +outlaw called Elias, whose life he had accidentally saved; but desiring +first to see Maria Clara, he refuses to make his escape, and when the +outbreak occurs he is arrested as the instigator of it and thrown into +prison in Manila. + +On the evening when Capitan Tiago gives a ball in his Manila house to +celebrate his supposed daughter’s engagement, Ibarra makes his escape +from prison and succeeds in seeing Maria Clara alone. He begins to +reproach her because it is a letter written to her before he went to +Europe which forms the basis of the charge against him, but she clears +herself of treachery to him. The letter had been secured from her by +false representations and in exchange for two others written by her +mother just before her birth, which prove that Padre Damaso is her real +father. These letters had been accidentally discovered in the convento +by Padre Salvi, who made use of them to intimidate the girl and get +possession of Ibarra’s letter, from which he forged others to +incriminate the young man. She tells him that she will marry the young +Spaniard, sacrificing herself thus to save her mother’s name and +Capitan Tiago’s honor and to prevent a public scandal, but that she +will always remain true to him. + +Ibarra’s escape had been effected by Elias, who conveys him in a banka +up the Pasig to the Lake, where they are so closely beset by the Civil +Guard that Elias leaps into the water and draws the pursuers away from +the boat, in which Ibarra lies concealed. + +On Christmas Eve, at the tomb of the Ibarras in a gloomy wood, Elias +appears, wounded and dying, to find there a boy named Basilio beside +the corpse of his mother, a poor woman who had been driven to insanity +by her husband’s neglect and abuses on the part of the Civil Guard, her +younger son having disappeared some time before in the convento, where +he was a sacristan. Basilio, who is ignorant of Elias’s identity, helps +him to build a funeral pyre, on which his corpse and the madwoman’s are +to be burned. + +Upon learning of the reported death of Ibarra in the chase on the Lake, +Maria Clara becomes disconsolate and begs her supposed godfather, Fray +Damaso, to put her in a nunnery. Unconscious of her knowledge of their +true relationship, the friar breaks down and confesses that all the +trouble he has stirred up with the Ibarras has been to prevent her from +marrying a native, which would condemn her and her children to the +oppressed and enslaved class. He finally yields to her entreaties and +she enters the nunnery of St. Clara, to which Padre Salvi is soon +assigned in a ministerial capacity. + + + + + + + + + O masters, lords, and rulers in all lands, + Is this the handiwork you give to God, + This monstrous thing distorted and soul-quenched? + How will you ever straighten up this shape-; + Touch it again with immortality; + Give back the upward looking and the light; + Rebuild in it the music and the dream; + Make right the immemorial infamies, + Perfidious wrongs, immedicable woes? + + O masters, lords, and rulers in all lands, + How will the future reckon with this man? + How answer his brute question in that hour + When whirlwinds of rebellion shake the world? + How will it be with kingdoms and with kings— + With those who shaped him to the thing he is— + When this dumb terror shall reply to God, + After the silence of the centuries? + + Edwin Markham + + + + + + + + +CONTENTS + + + I. On the Upper Deck + II. On the Lower Deck + III. Legends + IV. Cabesang Tales + V. A Cochero’s Christmas Eve + VI. Basilio + VII. Simoun + VIII. Merry Christmas + IX. Pilates + X. Wealth and Want + XI. Los Baños + XII. Placido Penitente + XIII. The Class in Physics + XIV. In the House of the Students + XV. Señor Pasta + XVI. The Tribulations of a Chinese + XVII. The Quiapo Pair + XVIII. Legerdemain + XIX. The Fuse + XX. The Arbiter + XXI. Manila Types + XXII. The Performance + XXIII. A Corpse + XXIV. Dreams + XXV. Smiles and Tears + XXVI. Pasquinades + XXVII. The Friar and the Filipino + XXVIII. Tatakut + XXIX. Exit Capitan Tiago + XXX. Juli + XXXI. The High Official + XXXII. Effect of the Pasquinades + XXXIII. La Ultima Razón + XXXIV. The Wedding + XXXV. The Fiesta + XXXVI. Ben-Zayb’s Afflictions + XXXVII. The Mystery + XXXVIII. Fatality + XXXIX. Conclusion + + + + + + + + +CHAPTER I + +ON THE UPPER DECK + + Sic itur ad astra. + + +One morning in December the steamer Tabo was laboriously ascending the +tortuous course of the Pasig, carrying a large crowd of passengers +toward the province of La Laguna. She was a heavily built steamer, +almost round, like the tabú from which she derived her name, quite +dirty in spite of her pretensions to whiteness, majestic and grave from +her leisurely motion. Altogether, she was held in great affection in +that region, perhaps from her Tagalog name, or from the fact that she +bore the characteristic impress of things in the country, representing +something like a triumph over progress, a steamer that was not a +steamer at all, an organism, stolid, imperfect yet unimpeachable, +which, when it wished to pose as being rankly progressive, proudly +contented itself with putting on a fresh coat of paint. Indeed, the +happy steamer was genuinely Filipino! If a person were only reasonably +considerate, she might even have been taken for the Ship of State, +constructed, as she had been, under the inspection of Reverendos and +Ilustrísimos.... + +Bathed in the sunlight of a morning that made the waters of the river +sparkle and the breezes rustle in the bending bamboo on its banks, +there she goes with her white silhouette throwing out great clouds of +smoke—the Ship of State, so the joke runs, also has the vice of +smoking! The whistle shrieks at every moment, hoarse and commanding +like a tyrant who would rule by shouting, so that no one on board can +hear his own thoughts. She menaces everything she meets: now she looks +as though she would grind to bits the salambaw, insecure fishing +apparatus which in their movements resemble skeletons of giants +saluting an antediluvian tortoise; now she speeds straight toward the +clumps of bamboo or against the amphibian structures, karihan, or +wayside lunch-stands, which, amid gumamelas and other flowers, look +like indecisive bathers who with their feet already in the water cannot +bring themselves to make the final plunge; at times, following a sort +of channel marked out in the river by tree-trunks, she moves along with +a satisfied air, except when a sudden shock disturbs the passengers and +throws them off their balance, all the result of a collision with a +sand-bar which no one dreamed was there. + +Moreover, if the comparison with the Ship of State is not yet complete, +note the arrangement of the passengers. On the lower deck appear brown +faces and black heads, types of Indians, [1] Chinese, and mestizos, +wedged in between bales of merchandise and boxes, while there on the +upper deck, beneath an awning that protects them from the sun, are +seated in comfortable chairs a few passengers dressed in the fashion of +Europeans, friars, and government clerks, each with his puro cigar, and +gazing at the landscape apparently without heeding the efforts of the +captain and the sailors to overcome the obstacles in the river. + +The captain was a man of kindly aspect, well along in years, an old +sailor who in his youth had plunged into far vaster seas, but who now +in his age had to exercise much greater attention, care, and vigilance +to avoid dangers of a trivial character. And they were the same for +each day: the same sand-bars, the same hulk of unwieldy steamer wedged +into the same curves, like a corpulent dame in a jammed throng. So, at +each moment, the good man had to stop, to back up, to go forward at +half speed, sending—now to port, now to starboard—the five sailors +equipped with long bamboo poles to give force to the turn the rudder +had suggested. He was like a veteran who, after leading men through +hazardous campaigns, had in his age become the tutor of a capricious, +disobedient, and lazy boy. + +Doña Victorina, the only lady seated in the European group, could say +whether the Tabo was not lazy, disobedient, and capricious—Doña +Victorina, who, nervous as ever, was hurling invectives against the +cascos, bankas, rafts of coconuts, the Indians paddling about, and even +the washerwomen and bathers, who fretted her with their mirth and +chatter. Yes, the Tabo would move along very well if there were no +Indians in the river, no Indians in the country, yes, if there were not +a single Indian in the world—regardless of the fact that the helmsmen +were Indians, the sailors Indians, Indians the engineers, Indians +ninety-nine per cent, of the passengers, and she herself also an Indian +if the rouge were scratched off and her pretentious gown removed. That +morning Doña Victorina was more irritated than usual because the +members of the group took very little notice of her, reason for which +was not lacking; for just consider—there could be found three friars, +convinced that the world would move backwards the very day they should +take a single step to the right; an indefatigable Don Custodio who was +sleeping peacefully, satisfied with his projects; a prolific writer +like Ben-Zayb (anagram of Ibañez), who believed that the people of +Manila thought because he, Ben-Zayb, was a thinker; a canon like Padre +Irene, who added luster to the clergy with his rubicund face, carefully +shaven, from which towered a beautiful Jewish nose, and his silken +cassock of neat cut and small buttons; and a wealthy jeweler like +Simoun, who was reputed to be the adviser and inspirer of all the acts +of his Excellency, the Captain-General—just consider the presence there +of these pillars sine quibus non of the country, seated there in +agreeable discourse, showing little sympathy for a renegade Filipina +who dyed her hair red! Now wasn’t this enough to exhaust the patience +of a female Job—a sobriquet Doña Victorina always applied to herself +when put out with any one! + +The ill-humor of the señora increased every time the captain shouted +“Port,” “Starboard” to the sailors, who then hastily seized their poles +and thrust them against the banks, thus with the strength of their legs +and shoulders preventing the steamer from shoving its hull ashore at +that particular point. Seen under these circumstances the Ship of State +might be said to have been converted from a tortoise into a crab every +time any danger threatened. + +“But, captain, why don’t your stupid steersmen go in that direction?” +asked the lady with great indignation. + +“Because it’s very shallow in the other, señora,” answered the captain, +deliberately, slowly winking one eye, a little habit which he had +cultivated as if to say to his words on their way out, “Slowly, +slowly!” + +“Half speed! Botheration, half speed!” protested Doña Victorina +disdainfully. “Why not full?” + +“Because we should then be traveling over those ricefields, señora,” +replied the imperturbable captain, pursing his lips to indicate the +cultivated fields and indulging in two circumspect winks. + +This Doña Victorina was well known in the country for her caprices and +extravagances. She was often seen in society, where she was tolerated +whenever she appeared in the company of her niece, Paulita Gomez, a +very beautiful and wealthy orphan, to whom she was a kind of guardian. +At a rather advanced age she had married a poor wretch named Don +Tiburcio de Espadaña, and at the time we now see her, carried upon +herself fifteen years of wedded life, false frizzes, and a +half-European costume—for her whole ambition had been to Europeanize +herself, with the result that from the ill-omened day of her wedding +she had gradually, thanks to her criminal attempts, succeeded in so +transforming herself that at the present time Quatrefages and Virchow +together could not have told where to classify her among the known +races. + +Her husband, who had borne all her impositions with the resignation of +a fakir through so many years of married life, at last on one luckless +day had had his bad half-hour and administered to her a superb whack +with his crutch. The surprise of Madam Job at such an inconsistency of +character made her insensible to the immediate effects, and only after +she had recovered from her astonishment and her husband had fled did +she take notice of the pain, then remaining in bed for several days, to +the great delight of Paulita, who was very fond of joking and laughing +at her aunt. As for her husband, horrified at the impiety of what +appeared to him to be a terrific parricide, he took to flight, pursued +by the matrimonial furies (two curs and a parrot), with all the speed +his lameness permitted, climbed into the first carriage he encountered, +jumped into the first banka he saw on the river, and, a Philippine +Ulysses, began to wander from town to town, from province to province, +from island to island, pursued and persecuted by his bespectacled +Calypso, who bored every one that had the misfortune to travel in her +company. She had received a report of his being in the province of La +Laguna, concealed in one of the towns, so thither she was bound to +seduce him back with her dyed frizzes. + +Her fellow travelers had taken measures of defense by keeping up among +themselves a lively conversation on any topic whatsoever. At that +moment the windings and turnings of the river led them to talk about +straightening the channel and, as a matter of course, about the port +works. Ben-Zayb, the journalist with the countenance of a friar, was +disputing with a young friar who in turn had the countenance of an +artilleryman. Both were shouting, gesticulating, waving their arms, +spreading out their hands, stamping their feet, talking of levels, +fish-corrals, the San Mateo River, [2] of cascos, of Indians, and so +on, to the great satisfaction of their listeners and the undisguised +disgust of an elderly Franciscan, remarkably thin and withered, and a +handsome Dominican about whose lips flitted constantly a scornful +smile. + +The thin Franciscan, understanding the Dominican’s smile, decided to +intervene and stop the argument. He was undoubtedly respected, for with +a wave of his hand he cut short the speech of both at the moment when +the friar-artilleryman was talking about experience and the +journalist-friar about scientists. + +“Scientists, Ben-Zayb—do you know what they are?” asked the Franciscan +in a hollow voice, scarcely stirring in his seat and making only a +faint gesture with his skinny hand. “Here you have in the province a +bridge, constructed by a brother of ours, which was not completed +because the scientists, relying on their theories, condemned it as weak +and scarcely safe—yet look, it is the bridge that has withstood all the +floods and earthquakes!” [3] + +“That’s it, puñales, that very thing, that was exactly what I was going +to say!” exclaimed the friar-artilleryman, thumping his fists down on +the arms of his bamboo chair. “That’s it, that bridge and the +scientists! That was just what I was going to mention, Padre +Salvi—puñales!” + +Ben-Zayb remained silent, half smiling, either out of respect or +because he really did not know what to reply, and yet his was the only +thinking head in the Philippines! Padre Irene nodded his approval as he +rubbed his long nose. + +Padre Salvi, the thin and withered cleric, appeared to be satisfied +with such submissiveness and went on in the midst of the silence: “But +this does not mean that you may not be as near right as Padre Camorra” +(the friar-artilleryman). “The trouble is in the lake—” + +“The fact is there isn’t a single decent lake in this country,” +interrupted Doña Victorina, highly indignant, and getting ready for a +return to the assault upon the citadel. + +The besieged gazed at one another in terror, but with the promptitude +of a general, the jeweler Simoun rushed in to the rescue. “The remedy +is very simple,” he said in a strange accent, a mixture of English and +South American. “And I really don’t understand why it hasn’t occurred +to somebody.” + +All turned to give him careful attention, even the Dominican. The +jeweler was a tall, meager, nervous man, very dark, dressed in the +English fashion and wearing a pith helmet. Remarkable about him was his +long white hair contrasted with a sparse black beard, indicating a +mestizo origin. To avoid the glare of the sun he wore constantly a pair +of enormous blue goggles, which completely hid his eyes and a portion +of his cheeks, thus giving him the aspect of a blind or weak-sighted +person. He was standing with his legs apart as if to maintain his +balance, with his hands thrust into the pockets of his coat. + +“The remedy is very simple,” he repeated, “and wouldn’t cost a cuarto.” + +The attention now redoubled, for it was whispered in Manila that this +man controlled the Captain-General, and all saw the remedy in process +of execution. Even Don Custodio himself turned to listen. + +“Dig a canal straight from the source to the mouth of the river, +passing through Manila; that is, make a new river-channel and fill up +the old Pasig. That would save land, shorten communication, and prevent +the formation of sandbars.” + +The project left all his hearers astounded, accustomed as they were to +palliative measures. + +“It’s a Yankee plan!” observed Ben-Zayb, to ingratiate himself with +Simoun, who had spent a long time in North America. + +All considered the plan wonderful and so indicated by the movements of +their heads. Only Don Custodio, the liberal Don Custodio, owing to his +independent position and his high offices, thought it his duty to +attack a project that did not emanate from himself—that was a +usurpation! He coughed, stroked the ends of his mustache, and with a +voice as important as though he were at a formal session of the +Ayuntamiento, said, “Excuse me, Señor Simoun, my respected friend, if I +should say that I am not of your opinion. It would cost a great deal of +money and might perhaps destroy some towns.” + +“Then destroy them!” rejoined Simoun coldly. + +“And the money to pay the laborers?” + +“Don’t pay them! Use the prisoners and convicts!” + +“But there aren’t enough, Señor Simoun!” + +“Then, if there aren’t enough, let all the villagers, the old men, the +youths, the boys, work. Instead of the fifteen days of obligatory +service, let them work three, four, five months for the State, with the +additional obligation that each one provide his own food and tools.” + +The startled Don Custodio turned his head to see if there was any +Indian within ear-shot, but fortunately those nearby were rustics, and +the two helmsmen seemed to be very much occupied with the windings of +the river. + +“But, Señor Simoun—” + +“Don’t fool yourself, Don Custodio,” continued Simoun dryly, “only in +this way are great enterprises carried out with small means. Thus were +constructed the Pyramids, Lake Moeris, and the Colosseum in Rome. +Entire provinces came in from the desert, bringing their tubers to feed +on. Old men, youths, and boys labored in transporting stones, hewing +them, and carrying them on their shoulders under the direction of the +official lash, and afterwards, the survivors returned to their homes or +perished in the sands of the desert. Then came other provinces, then +others, succeeding one another in the work during years. Thus the task +was finished, and now we admire them, we travel, we go to Egypt and to +Home, we extol the Pharaohs and the Antonines. Don’t fool yourself—the +dead remain dead, and might only is considered right by posterity.” + +“But, Señor Simoun, such measures might provoke uprisings,” objected +Don Custodio, rather uneasy over the turn the affair had taken. + +“Uprisings, ha, ha! Did the Egyptian people ever rebel, I wonder? Did +the Jewish prisoners rebel against the pious Titus? Man, I thought you +were better informed in history!” + +Clearly Simoun was either very presumptuous or disregarded +conventionalities! To say to Don Custodio’s face that he did not know +history! It was enough to make any one lose his temper! So it seemed, +for Don Custodio forgot himself and retorted, “But the fact is that +you’re not among Egyptians or Jews!” + +“And these people have rebelled more than once,” added the Dominican, +somewhat timidly. “In the times when they were forced to transport +heavy timbers for the construction of ships, if it hadn’t been for the +clerics—” + +“Those times are far away,” answered Simoun, with a laugh even drier +than usual. “These islands will never again rebel, no matter how much +work and taxes they have. Haven’t you lauded to me, Padre Salvi,” he +added, turning to the Franciscan, “the house and hospital at Los Baños, +where his Excellency is at present?” + +Padre Salvi gave a nod and looked up, evading the question. + +“Well, didn’t you tell me that both buildings were constructed by +forcing the people to work on them under the whip of a lay-brother? +Perhaps that wonderful bridge was built in the same way. Now tell me, +did these people rebel?” + +“The fact is—they have rebelled before,” replied the Dominican, “and ab +actu ad posse valet illatio!” + +“No, no, nothing of the kind,” continued Simoun, starting down a +hatchway to the cabin. “What’s said, is said! And you, Padre Sibyla, +don’t talk either Latin or nonsense. What are you friars good for if +the people can rebel?” + +Taking no notice of the replies and protests, Simoun descended the +small companionway that led below, repeating disdainfully, “Bosh, +bosh!” + +Padre Sibyla turned pale; this was the first time that he, Vice-Rector +of the University, had ever been credited with nonsense. Don Custodio +turned green; at no meeting in which he had ever found himself had he +encountered such an adversary. + +“An American mulatto!” he fumed. + +“A British Indian,” observed Ben-Zayb in a low tone. + +“An American, I tell you, and shouldn’t I know?” retorted Don Custodio +in ill-humor. “His Excellency has told me so. He’s a jeweler whom the +latter knew in Havana, and, as I suspect, the one who got him +advancement by lending him money. So to repay him he has had him come +here to let him have a chance and increase his fortune by selling +diamonds—imitations, who knows? And he’s so ungrateful, that, after +getting money from the Indians, he wishes—huh!” The sentence was +concluded by a significant wave of the hand. + +No one dared to join in this diatribe. Don Custodio could discredit +himself with his Excellency, if he wished, but neither Ben-Zayb, nor +Padre Irene, nor Padre Salvi, nor the offended Padre Sibyla had any +confidence in the discretion of the others. + +“The fact is that this man, being an American, thinks no doubt that we +are dealing with the redskins. To talk of these matters on a steamer! +Compel, force the people! And he’s the very person who advised the +expedition to the Carolines and the campaign in Mindanao, which is +going to bring us to disgraceful ruin. He’s the one who has offered to +superintend the building of the cruiser, and I say, what does a +jeweler, no matter how rich and learned he may be, know about naval +construction?” + +All this was spoken by Don Custodio in a guttural tone to his neighbor +Ben-Zayb, while he gesticulated, shrugged his shoulders, and from time +to time with his looks consulted the others, who were nodding their +heads ambiguously. The Canon Irene indulged in a rather equivocal +smile, which he half hid with his hand as he rubbed his nose. + +“I tell you, Ben-Zayb,” continued Don Custodio, slapping the journalist +on the arm, “all the trouble comes from not consulting the old-timers +here. A project in fine words, and especially with a big appropriation, +with an appropriation in round numbers, dazzles, meets with acceptance +at once, for this!” Here, in further explanation, he rubbed the tip of +his thumb against his middle and forefinger. [4] + +“There’s something in that, there’s something in that,” Ben-Zayb +thought it his duty to remark, since in his capacity of journalist he +had to be informed about everything. + +“Now look here, before the port works I presented a project, original, +simple, useful, economical, and practicable, for clearing away the bar +in the lake, and it hasn’t been accepted because there wasn’t any of +that in it.” He repeated the movement of his fingers, shrugged his +shoulders, and gazed at the others as though to say, “Have you ever +heard of such a misfortune?” + +“May we know what it was?” asked several, drawing nearer and giving him +their attention. The projects of Don Custodio were as renowned as +quacks’ specifics. + +Don Custodio was on the point of refusing to explain it from resentment +at not having found any supporters in his diatribe against Simoun. +“When there’s no danger, you want me to talk, eh? And when there is, +you keep quiet!” he was going to say, but that would cause the loss of +a good opportunity, and his project, now that it could not be carried +out, might at least be known and admired. + +After blowing out two or three puffs of smoke, coughing, and spitting +through a scupper, he slapped Ben-Zayb on the thigh and asked, “You’ve +seen ducks?” + +“I rather think so—we’ve hunted them on the lake,” answered the +surprised journalist. + +“No, I’m not talking about wild ducks, I’m talking of the domestic +ones, of those that are raised in Pateros and Pasig. Do you know what +they feed on?” + +Ben-Zayb, the only thinking head, did not know—he was not engaged in +that business. + +“On snails, man, on snails!” exclaimed Padre Camorra. “One doesn’t have +to be an Indian to know that; it’s sufficient to have eyes!” + +“Exactly so, on snails!” repeated Don Custodio, flourishing his +forefinger. “And do you know where they get them?” + +Again the thinking head did not know. + +“Well, if you had been in the country as many years as I have, you +would know that they fish them out of the bar itself, where they +abound, mixed with the sand.” + +“Then your project?” + +“Well, I’m coming to that. My idea was to compel all the towns round +about, near the bar, to raise ducks, and you’ll see how they, all by +themselves, will deepen the channel by fishing for the snails—no more +and no less, no more and no less!” + +Here Don Custodio extended his arms and gazed triumphantly at the +stupefaction of his hearers—to none of them had occurred such an +original idea. + +“Will you allow me to write an article about that?” asked Ben-Zayb. “In +this country there is so little thinking done—” + +“But, Don Custodio,” exclaimed Doña Victorina with smirks and grimaces, +“if everybody takes to raising ducks the balot [5] eggs will become +abundant. Ugh, how nasty! Rather, let the bar close up entirely!” + + + + + + + + +CHAPTER II + +ON THE LOWER DECK + + +There, below, other scenes were being enacted. Seated on benches or +small wooden stools among valises, boxes, and baskets, a few feet from +the engines, in the heat of the boilers, amid the human smells and the +pestilential odor of oil, were to be seen the great majority of the +passengers. Some were silently gazing at the changing scenes along the +banks, others were playing cards or conversing in the midst of the +scraping of shovels, the roar of the engine, the hiss of escaping +steam, the swash of disturbed waters, and the shrieks of the whistle. +In one corner, heaped up like corpses, slept, or tried to sleep, a +number of Chinese pedlers, seasick, pale, frothing through half-opened +lips, and bathed in their copious perspiration. Only a few youths, +students for the most part, easily recognizable from their white +garments and their confident bearing, made bold to move about from +stern to bow, leaping over baskets and boxes, happy in the prospect of +the approaching vacation. Now they commented on the movements of the +engines, endeavoring to recall forgotten notions of physics, now they +surrounded the young schoolgirl or the red-lipped buyera with her +collar of sampaguitas, whispering into their ears words that made them +smile and cover their faces with their fans. + +Nevertheless, two of them, instead of engaging in these fleeting +gallantries, stood in the bow talking with a man, advanced in years, +but still vigorous and erect. Both these youths seemed to be well known +and respected, to judge from the deference shown them by their fellow +passengers. The elder, who was dressed in complete black, was the +medical student, Basilio, famous for his successful cures and +extraordinary treatments, while the other, taller and more robust, +although much younger, was Isagani, one of the poets, or at least +rimesters, who that year came from the Ateneo, [6] a curious character, +ordinarily quite taciturn and uncommunicative. The man talking with +them was the rich Capitan Basilio, who was returning from a business +trip to Manila. + +“Capitan Tiago is getting along about the same as usual, yes, sir,” +said the student Basilio, shaking his head. “He won’t submit to any +treatment. At the advice of a certain person he is sending me to San +Diego under the pretext of looking after his property, but in reality +so that he may be left to smoke his opium with complete liberty.” + +When the student said a certain person, he really meant Padre Irene, a +great friend and adviser of Capitan Tiago in his last days. + +“Opium is one of the plagues of modern times,” replied the capitan with +the disdain and indignation of a Roman senator. “The ancients knew +about it but never abused it. While the addiction to classical studies +lasted—mark this well, young men—opium was used solely as a medicine; +and besides, tell me who smoke it the most?—Chinamen, Chinamen who +don’t understand a word of Latin! Ah, if Capitan Tiago had only devoted +himself to Cicero—” Here the most classical disgust painted itself on +his carefully-shaven Epicurean face. Isagani regarded him with +attention: that gentleman was suffering from nostalgia for antiquity. + +“But to get back to this academy of Castilian,” Capitan Basilio +continued, “I assure you, gentlemen, that you won’t materialize it.” + +“Yes, sir, from day to day we’re expecting the permit,” replied +Isagani. “Padre Irene, whom you may have noticed above, and to whom +we’ve presented a team of bays, has promised it to us. He’s on his way +now to confer with the General.” + +“That doesn’t matter. Padre Sibyla is opposed to it.” + +“Let him oppose it! That’s why he’s here on the steamer, in order to—at +Los Baños before the General.” + +And the student Basilio filled out his meaning by going through the +pantomime of striking his fists together. + +“That’s understood,” observed Capitan Basilio, smiling. “But even +though you get the permit, where’ll you get the funds?” + +“We have them, sir. Each student has contributed a real.” + +“But what about the professors?” + +“We have them: half Filipinos and half Peninsulars.” [7] + +“And the house?” + +“Makaraig, the wealthy Makaraig, has offered one of his.” + +Capitan Basilio had to give in; these young men had everything +arranged. + +“For the rest,” he said with a shrug of his shoulders, “it’s not +altogether bad, it’s not a bad idea, and now that you can’t know Latin +at least you may know Castilian. Here you have another instance, +namesake, of how we are going backwards. In our times we learned Latin +because our books were in Latin; now you study Latin a little but have +no Latin books. On the other hand, your books are in Castilian and that +language is not taught—aetas parentum pejor avis tulit nos nequiores! +as Horace said.” With this quotation he moved away majestically, like a +Roman emperor. + +The youths smiled at each other. “These men of the past,” remarked +Isagani, “find obstacles for everything. Propose a thing to them and +instead of seeing its advantages they only fix their attention on the +difficulties. They want everything to come smooth and round as a +billiard ball.” + +“He’s right at home with your uncle,” observed Basilio. + +“They talk of past times. But listen—speaking of uncles, what does +yours say about Paulita?” + +Isagani blushed. “He preached me a sermon about the choosing of a wife. +I answered him that there wasn’t in Manila another like her—beautiful, +well-bred, an orphan—” + +“Very wealthy, elegant, charming, with no defect other than a +ridiculous aunt,” added Basilio, at which both smiled. + +“In regard to the aunt, do you know that she has charged me to look for +her husband?” + +“Doña Victorina? And you’ve promised, in order to keep your +sweetheart.” + +“Naturally! But the fact is that her husband is actually hidden—in my +uncle’s house!” + +Both burst into a laugh at this, while Isagani continued: “That’s why +my uncle, being a conscientious man, won’t go on the upper deck, +fearful that Doña Victorina will ask him about Don Tiburcio. Just +imagine, when Doña Victorina learned that I was a steerage passenger +she gazed at me with a disdain that—” + +At that moment Simoun came down and, catching sight of the two young +men, greeted Basilio in a patronizing tone: “Hello, Don Basilio, you’re +off for the vacation? Is the gentleman a townsman of yours?” + +Basilio introduced Isagani with the remark that he was not a townsman, +but that their homes were not very far apart. Isagani lived on the +seashore of the opposite coast. Simoun examined him with such marked +attention that he was annoyed, turned squarely around, and faced the +jeweler with a provoking stare. + +“Well, what is the province like?” the latter asked, turning again to +Basilio. + +“Why, aren’t you familiar with it?” + +“How the devil am I to know it when I’ve never set foot in it? I’ve +been told that it’s very poor and doesn’t buy jewels.” + +“We don’t buy jewels, because we don’t need them,” rejoined Isagani +dryly, piqued in his provincial pride. + +A smile played over Simoun’s pallid lips. “Don’t be offended, young +man,” he replied. “I had no bad intentions, but as I’ve been assured +that nearly all the money is in the hands of the native priests, I said +to myself: the friars are dying for curacies and the Franciscans are +satisfied with the poorest, so when they give them up to the native +priests the truth must be that the king’s profile is unknown there. But +enough of that! Come and have a beer with me and we’ll drink to the +prosperity of your province.” + +The youths thanked him, but declined the offer. + +“You do wrong,” Simoun said to them, visibly taken aback. “Beer is a +good thing, and I heard Padre Camorra say this morning that the lack of +energy noticeable in this country is due to the great amount of water +the inhabitants drink.” + +Isagani was almost as tall as the jeweler, and at this he drew himself +up. + +“Then tell Padre Camorra,” Basilio hastened to say, while he nudged +Isagani slyly, “tell him that if he would drink water instead of wine +or beer, perhaps we might all be the gainers and he would not give rise +to so much talk.” + +“And tell him, also,” added Isagani, paying no attention to his +friend’s nudges, “that water is very mild and can be drunk, but that it +drowns out the wine and beer and puts out the fire, that heated it +becomes steam, and that ruffled it is the ocean, that it once destroyed +mankind and made the earth tremble to its foundations!” [8] + +Simoun raised his head. Although his looks could not be read through +the blue goggles, on the rest of his face surprise might be seen. +“Rather a good answer,” he said. “But I fear that he might get +facetious and ask me when the water will be converted into steam and +when into an ocean. Padre Camorra is rather incredulous and is a great +wag.” + +“When the fire heats it, when the rivulets that are now scattered +through the steep valleys, forced by fatality, rush together in the +abyss that men are digging,” replied Isagani. + +“No, Señor Simoun,” interposed Basilio, changing to a jesting tone, +“rather keep in mind the verses of my friend Isagani himself: + + + ‘Fire you, you say, and water we, + Then as you wish, so let it be; + But let us live in peace and right, + Nor shall the fire e’er see us fight; + So joined by wisdom’s glowing flame, + That without anger, hate, or blame, + We form the steam, the fifth element, + Progress and light, life and movement.’” + + +“Utopia, Utopia!” responded Simoun dryly. “The engine is about to +meet—in the meantime, I’ll drink my beer.” So, without any word of +excuse, he left the two friends. + +“But what’s the matter with you today that you’re so quarrelsome?” +asked Basilio. + +“Nothing. I don’t know why, but that man fills me with horror, fear +almost.” + +“I was nudging you with my elbow. Don’t you know that he’s called the +Brown Cardinal?” + +“The Brown Cardinal?” + +“Or Black Eminence, as you wish.” + +“I don’t understand.” + +“Richelieu had a Capuchin adviser who was called the Gray Eminence; +well, that’s what this man is to the General.” + +“Really?” + +“That’s what I’ve heard from a certain person,—who always speaks ill of +him behind his back and flatters him to his face.” + +“Does he also visit Capitan Tiago?” + +“From the first day after his arrival, and I’m sure that a certain +person looks upon him as a rival—in the inheritance. I believe that +he’s going to see the General about the question of instruction in +Castilian.” + +At that moment Isagani was called away by a servant to his uncle. + +On one of the benches at the stern, huddled in among the other +passengers, sat a native priest gazing at the landscapes that were +successively unfolded to his view. His neighbors made room for him, the +men on passing taking off their hats, and the gamblers not daring to +set their table near where he was. He said little, but neither smoked +nor assumed arrogant airs, nor did he disdain to mingle with the other +men, returning the salutes with courtesy and affability as if he felt +much honored and very grateful. Although advanced in years, with hair +almost completely gray, he appeared to be in vigorous health, and even +when seated held his body straight and his head erect, but without +pride or arrogance. He differed from the ordinary native priests, few +enough indeed, who at that period served merely as coadjutors or +administered some curacies temporarily, in a certain self-possession +and gravity, like one who was conscious of his personal dignity and the +sacredness of his office. A superficial examination of his appearance, +if not his white hair, revealed at once that he belonged to another +epoch, another generation, when the better young men were not afraid to +risk their dignity by becoming priests, when the native clergy looked +any friar at all in the face, and when their class, not yet degraded +and vilified, called for free men and not slaves, superior +intelligences and not servile wills. In his sad and serious features +was to be read the serenity of a soul fortified by study and +meditation, perhaps tried out by deep moral suffering. This priest was +Padre Florentino, Isagani’s uncle, and his story is easily told. + +Scion of a wealthy and influential family of Manila, of agreeable +appearance and cheerful disposition, suited to shine in the world, he +had never felt any call to the sacerdotal profession, but by reason of +some promises or vows, his mother, after not a few struggles and +violent disputes, compelled him to enter the seminary. She was a great +friend of the Archbishop, had a will of iron, and was as inexorable as +is every devout woman who believes that she is interpreting the will of +God. Vainly the young Florentine offered resistance, vainly he begged, +vainly he pleaded his love affairs, even provoking scandals: priest he +had to become at twenty-five years of age, and priest he became. The +Archbishop ordained him, his first mass was celebrated with great pomp, +three days were given over to feasting, and his mother died happy and +content, leaving him all her fortune. + +But in that struggle Florentine received a wound from which he never +recovered. Weeks before his first mass the woman he loved, in +desperation, married a nobody—a blow the rudest he had ever +experienced. He lost his moral energy, life became dull and +insupportable. If not his virtue and the respect for his office, that +unfortunate love affair saved him from the depths into which the +regular orders and secular clergymen both fall in the Philippines. He +devoted himself to his parishioners as a duty, and by inclination to +the natural sciences. + +When the events of seventy-two occurred, [9] he feared that the large +income his curacy yielded him would attract attention to him, so, +desiring peace above everything, he sought and secured his release, +living thereafter as a private individual on his patrimonial estate +situated on the Pacific coast. He there adopted his nephew, Isagani, +who was reported by the malicious to be his own son by his old +sweetheart when she became a widow, and by the more serious and better +informed, the natural child of a cousin, a lady in Manila. + +The captain of the steamer caught sight of the old priest and insisted +that he go to the upper deck, saying, “If you don’t do so, the friars +will think that you don’t want to associate with them.” + +Padre Florentino had no recourse but to accept, so he summoned his +nephew in order to let him know where he was going, and to charge him +not to come near the upper deck while he was there. “If the captain +notices you, he’ll invite you also, and we should then be abusing his +kindness.” + +“My uncle’s way!” thought Isagani. “All so that I won’t have any reason +for talking with Doña Victorina.” + + + + + + + + +CHAPTER III + +LEGENDS + + Ich weiss nicht was soil es bedeuten + Dass ich so traurig bin! + + +When Padre Florentino joined the group above, the bad humor provoked by +the previous discussion had entirely disappeared. Perhaps their spirits +had been raised by the attractive houses of the town of Pasig, or the +glasses of sherry they had drunk in preparation for the coming meal, or +the prospect of a good breakfast. Whatever the cause, the fact was that +they were all laughing and joking, even including the lean Franciscan, +although he made little noise and his smiles looked like death-grins. + +“Evil times, evil times!” said Padre Sibyla with a laugh. + +“Get out, don’t say that, Vice-Rector!” responded the Canon Irene, +giving the other’s chair a shove. “In Hongkong you’re doing a fine +business, putting up every building that—ha, ha!” + +“Tut, tut!” was the reply; “you don’t see our expenses, and the tenants +on our estates are beginning to complain—” + +“Here, enough of complaints, puñales, else I’ll fall to weeping!” cried +Padre Camorra gleefully. “We’re not complaining, and we haven’t either +estates or banking-houses. You know that my Indians are beginning to +haggle over the fees and to flash schedules on me! Just look how they +cite schedules to me now, and none other than those of the Archbishop +Basilio Sancho, [10] as if from his time up to now prices had not +risen. Ha, ha, ha! Why should a baptism cost less than a chicken? But I +play the deaf man, collect what I can, and never complain. We’re not +avaricious, are we, Padre Salvi?” + +At that moment Simoun’s head appeared above the hatchway. + +“Well, where’ve you been keeping yourself?” Don Custodio called to him, +having forgotten all about their dispute. “You’re missing the prettiest +part of the trip!” + +“Pshaw!” retorted Simoun, as he ascended, “I’ve seen so many rivers and +landscapes that I’m only interested in those that call up legends.” + +“As for legends, the Pasig has a few,” observed the captain, who did +not relish any depreciation of the river where he navigated and earned +his livelihood. “Here you have that of Malapad-na-bato, a rock sacred +before the coming of the Spaniards as the abode of spirits. Afterwards, +when the superstition had been dissipated and the rock profaned, it was +converted into a nest of tulisanes, since from its crest they easily +captured the luckless bankas, which had to contend against both the +currents and men. Later, in our time, in spite of human interference, +there are still told stories about wrecked bankas, and if on rounding +it I didn’t steer with my six senses, I’d be smashed against its sides. +Then you have another legend, that of Doña Jeronima’s cave, which Padre +Florentino can relate to you.” + +“Everybody knows that,” remarked Padre Sibyla disdainfully. + +But neither Simoun, nor Ben-Zayb, nor Padre Irene, nor Padre Camorra +knew it, so they begged for the story, some in jest and others from +genuine curiosity. The priest, adopting the tone of burlesque with +which some had made their request, began like an old tutor relating a +story to children. + +“Once upon a time there was a student who had made a promise of +marriage to a young woman in his country, but it seems that he failed +to remember her. She waited for him faithfully year after year, her +youth passed, she grew into middle age, and then one day she heard a +report that her old sweetheart was the Archbishop of Manila. Disguising +herself as a man, she came round the Cape and presented herself before +his grace, demanding the fulfilment of his promise. What she asked was +of course impossible, so the Archbishop ordered the preparation of the +cave that you may have noticed with its entrance covered and decorated +with a curtain of vines. There she lived and died and there she is +buried. The legend states that Doña Jeronima was so fat that she had to +turn sidewise to get into it. Her fame as an enchantress sprung from +her custom of throwing into the river the silver dishes which she used +in the sumptuous banquets that were attended by crowds of gentlemen. A +net was spread under the water to hold the dishes and thus they were +cleaned. It hasn’t been twenty years since the river washed the very +entrance of the cave, but it has gradually been receding, just as the +memory of her is dying out among the people.” + +“A beautiful legend!” exclaimed Ben-Zayb. “I’m going to write an +article about it. It’s sentimental!” + +Doña Victorina thought of dwelling in such a cave and was about to say +so, when Simoun took the floor instead. + +“But what’s your opinion about that, Padre Salvi?” he asked the +Franciscan, who seemed to be absorbed in thought. “Doesn’t it seem to +you as though his Grace, instead of giving her a cave, ought to have +placed her in a nunnery—in St. Clara’s, for example? What do you say?” + +There was a start of surprise on Padre Sibyla’s part to notice that +Padre Salvi shuddered and looked askance at Simoun. + +“Because it’s not a very gallant act,” continued Simoun quite +naturally, “to give a rocky cliff as a home to one with whose hopes we +have trifled. It’s hardly religious to expose her thus to temptation, +in a cave on the banks of a river—it smacks of nymphs and dryads. It +would have been more gallant, more pious, more romantic, more in +keeping with the customs of this country, to shut her up in St. +Clara’s, like a new Eloise, in order to visit and console her from time +to time.” + +“I neither can nor should pass judgment upon the conduct of +archbishops,” replied the Franciscan sourly. + +“But you, who are the ecclesiastical governor, acting in the place of +our Archbishop, what would you do if such a case should arise?” + +Padre Salvi shrugged his shoulders and calmly responded, “It’s not +worth while thinking about what can’t happen. But speaking of legends, +don’t overlook the most beautiful, since it is the truest: that of the +miracle of St. Nicholas, the ruins of whose church you may have +noticed. I’m going to relate it to Señor Simoun, as he probably hasn’t +heard it. It seems that formerly the river, as well as the lake, was +infested with caymans, so huge and voracious that they attacked bankas +and upset them with a slap of the tail. Our chronicles relate that one +day an infidel Chinaman, who up to that time had refused to be +converted, was passing in front of the church, when suddenly the devil +presented himself to him in the form of a cayman and upset the banka, +in order to devour him and carry him off to hell. Inspired by God, the +Chinaman at that moment called upon St. Nicholas and instantly the +cayman was changed into a stone. The old people say that in their time +the monster could easily be recognized in the pieces of stone that were +left, and, for my part, I can assure you that I have clearly made out +the head, to judge from which the monster must have been enormously +large.” + +“Marvelous, a marvelous legend!” exclaimed Ben-Zayb. “It’s good for an +article—the description of the monster, the terror of the Chinaman, the +waters of the river, the bamboo brakes. Also, it’ll do for a study of +comparative religions; because, look you, an infidel Chinaman in great +distress invoked exactly the saint that he must know only by hearsay +and in whom he did not believe. Here there’s no room for the proverb +that ‘a known evil is preferable to an unknown good.’ If I should find +myself in China and get caught in such a difficulty, I would invoke the +obscurest saint in the calendar before Confucius or Buddha. Whether +this is due to the manifest superiority of Catholicism or to the +inconsequential and illogical inconsistency in the brains of the yellow +race, a profound study of anthropology alone will be able to +elucidate.” + +Ben-Zayb had adopted the tone of a lecturer and was describing circles +in the air with his forefinger, priding himself on his imagination, +which from the most insignificant facts could deduce so many +applications and inferences. But noticing that Simoun was preoccupied +and thinking that he was pondering over what he, Ben-Zayb, had just +said, he inquired what the jeweler was meditating about. + +“About two very important questions,” answered Simoun; “two questions +that you might add to your article. First, what may have become of the +devil on seeing himself suddenly confined within a stone? Did he +escape? Did he stay there? Was he crushed? Second, if the petrified +animals that I have seen in various European museums may not have been +the victims of some antediluvian saint?” + +The tone in which the jeweler spoke was so serious, while he rested his +forehead on the tip of his forefinger in an attitude of deep +meditation, that Padre Camorra responded very gravely, “Who knows, who +knows?” + +“Since we’re busy with legends and are now entering the lake,” remarked +Padre Sibyla, “the captain must know many—” + +At that moment the steamer crossed the bar and the panorama spread out +before their eyes was so truly magnificent that all were impressed. In +front extended the beautiful lake bordered by green shores and blue +mountains, like a huge mirror, framed in emeralds and sapphires, +reflecting the sky in its glass. On the right were spread out the low +shores, forming bays with graceful curves, and dim there in the +distance the crags of Sungay, while in the background rose Makiling, +imposing and majestic, crowned with fleecy clouds. On the left lay +Talim Island with its curious sweep of hills. A fresh breeze rippled +over the wide plain of water. + +“By the way, captain,” said Ben-Zayb, turning around, “do you know in +what part of the lake a certain Guevara, Navarra, or Ibarra, was +killed?” + +The group looked toward the captain, with the exception of Simoun, who +had turned away his head as though to look for something on the shore. + +“Ah, yes!” exclaimed Doña Victorina. “Where, captain? Did he leave any +tracks in the water?” + +The good captain winked several times, an indication that he was +annoyed, but reading the request in the eyes of all, took a few steps +toward the bow and scanned the shore. + +“Look over there,” he said in a scarcely audible voice, after making +sure that no strangers were near. “According to the officer who +conducted the pursuit, Ibarra, upon finding himself surrounded, jumped +out of his banka there near the Kinabutasan [11] and, swimming under +water, covered all that distance of more than two miles, saluted by +bullets every time that he raised his head to breathe. Over yonder is +where they lost track of him, and a little farther on near the shore +they discovered something like the color of blood. And now I think of +it, it’s just thirteen years, day for day, since this happened.” + +“So that his corpse—” began Ben-Zayb. + +“Went to join his father’s,” replied Padre Sibyla. “Wasn’t he also +another filibuster, Padre Salvi?” + +“That’s what might be called cheap funerals, Padre Camorra, eh?” +remarked Ben-Zayb. + +“I’ve always said that those who won’t pay for expensive funerals are +filibusters,” rejoined the person addressed, with a merry laugh. + +“But what’s the matter with you, Señor Simoun?” inquired Ben-Zayb, +seeing that the jeweler was motionless and thoughtful. “Are you +seasick—an old traveler like you? On such a drop of water as this!” + +“I want to tell you,” broke in the captain, who had come to hold all +those places in great affection, “that you can’t call this a drop of +water. It’s larger than any lake in Switzerland and all those in Spain +put together. I’ve seen old sailors who got seasick here.” + + + + + + + + +CHAPTER IV + +CABESANG TALES + + +Those who have read the first part of this story will perhaps remember +an old wood-cutter who lived in the depths of the forest. [12] Tandang +Selo is still alive, and though his hair has turned completely white, +he yet preserves his good health. He no longer hunts or cuts firewood, +for his fortunes have improved and he works only at making brooms. + +His son Tales (abbreviation of Telesforo) had worked at first on shares +on the lands of a capitalist, but later, having become the owner of two +carabaos and several hundred pesos, determined to work on his own +account, aided by his father, his wife, and his three children. So they +cut down and cleared away some thick woods which were situated on the +borders of the town and which they believed belonged to no one. During +the labors of cleaning and cultivating the new land, the whole family +fell ill with malaria and the mother died, along with the eldest +daughter, Lucia, in the flower of her age. This, which was the natural +consequence of breaking up new soil infested with various kinds of +bacteria, they attributed to the anger of the woodland spirit, so they +were resigned and went on with their labor, believing him pacified. + +But when they began to harvest their first crop a religious +corporation, which owned land in the neighboring town, laid claim to +the fields, alleging that they fell within their boundaries, and to +prove it they at once started to set up their marks. However, the +administrator of the religious order left to them, for humanity’s sake, +the usufruct of the land on condition that they pay a small sum +annually—a mere bagatelle, twenty or thirty pesos. Tales, as peaceful a +man as could be found, was as much opposed to lawsuits as any one and +more submissive to the friars than most people; so, in order not to +smash a palyok against a kawali (as he said, for to him the friars were +iron pots and he a clay jar), he had the weakness to yield to their +claim, remembering that he did not know Spanish and had no money to pay +lawyers. + +Besides, Tandang Selo said to him, “Patience! You would spend more in +one year of litigation than in ten years of paying what the white +padres demand. And perhaps they’ll pay you back in masses! Pretend that +those thirty pesos had been lost in gambling or had fallen into the +water and been swallowed by a cayman.” + +The harvest was abundant and sold well, so Tales planned to build a +wooden house in the barrio of Sagpang, of the town of Tiani, which +adjoined San Diego. + +Another year passed, bringing another good crop, and for this reason +the friars raised the rent to fifty pesos, which Tales paid in order +not to quarrel and because he expected to sell his sugar at a good +price. + +“Patience! Pretend that the cayman has grown some,” old Selo consoled +him. + +That year he at last saw his dream realized: to live in the barrio of +Sagpang in a wooden house. The father and grandfather then thought of +providing some education for the two children, especially the daughter +Juliana, or Juli, as they called her, for she gave promise of being +accomplished and beautiful. A boy who was a friend of the family, +Basilio, was studying in Manila, and he was of as lowly origin as they. + +But this dream seemed destined not to be realized. The first care the +community took when they saw the family prospering was to appoint as +cabeza de barangay its most industrious member, which left only Tano, +the son, who was only fourteen years old. The father was therefore +called Cabesang Tales and had to order a sack coat, buy a felt hat, and +prepare to spend his money. In order to avoid any quarrel with the +curate or the government, he settled from his own pocket the shortages +in the tax-lists, paying for those who had died or moved away, and he +lost considerable time in making the collections and on his trips to +the capital. + +“Patience! Pretend that the cayman’s relatives have joined him,” +advised Tandang Selo, smiling placidly. + +“Next year you’ll put on a long skirt and go to Manila to study like +the young ladies of the town,” Cabesang Tales told his daughter every +time he heard her talking of Basilio’s progress. + +But that next year did not come, and in its stead there was another +increase in the rent. Cabesang Tales became serious and scratched his +head. The clay jar was giving up all its rice to the iron pot. + +When the rent had risen to two hundred pesos, Tales was not content +with scratching his head and sighing; he murmured and protested. The +friar-administrator then told him that if he could not pay, some one +else would be assigned to cultivate that land—many who desired it had +offered themselves. + +He thought at first that the friar was joking, but the friar was +talking seriously, and indicated a servant of his to take possession of +the land. Poor Tales turned pale, he felt a buzzing in his ears, he saw +in the red mist that rose before his eyes his wife and daughter, +pallid, emaciated, dying, victims of the intermittent fevers—then he +saw the thick forest converted into productive fields, he saw the +stream of sweat watering its furrows, he saw himself plowing under the +hot sun, bruising his feet against the stones and roots, while this +friar had been driving about in his carriage with the wretch who was to +get the land following like a slave behind his master. No, a thousand +times, no! First let the fields sink into the depths of the earth and +bury them all! Who was this intruder that he should have any right to +his land? Had he brought from his own country a single handful of that +soil? Had he crooked a single one of his fingers to pull up the roots +that ran through it? + +Exasperated by the threats of the friar, who tried to uphold his +authority at any cost in the presence of the other tenants, Cabesang +Tales rebelled and refused to pay a single cuarto, having ever before +himself that red mist, saying that he would give up his fields to the +first man who could irrigate it with blood drawn from his own veins. + +Old Selo, on looking at his son’s face, did not dare to mention the +cayman, but tried to calm him by talking of clay jars, reminding him +that the winner in a lawsuit was left without a shirt to his back. + +“We shall all be turned to clay, father, and without shirts we were +born,” was the reply. + +So he resolutely refused to pay or to give up a single span of his land +unless the friars should first prove the legality of their claim by +exhibiting a title-deed of some kind. As they had none, a lawsuit +followed, and Cabesang Tales entered into it, confiding that some at +least, if not all, were lovers of justice and respecters of the law. + +“I serve and have been serving the King with my money and my services,” +he said to those who remonstrated with him. “I’m asking for justice and +he is obliged to give it to me.” + +Drawn on by fatality, and as if he had put into play in the lawsuit the +whole future of himself and his children, he went on spending his +savings to pay lawyers, notaries, and solicitors, not to mention the +officials and clerks who exploited his ignorance and his needs. He +moved to and fro between the village and the capital, passed his days +without eating and his nights without sleeping, while his talk was +always about briefs, exhibits, and appeals. There was then seen a +struggle such as was never before carried on under the skies of the +Philippines: that of a poor Indian, ignorant and friendless, confiding +in the justness and righteousness of his cause, fighting against a +powerful corporation before which Justice bowed her head, while the +judges let fall the scales and surrendered the sword. He fought as +tenaciously as the ant which bites when it knows that it is going to be +crushed, as does the fly which looks into space only through a pane of +glass. Yet the clay jar defying the iron pot and smashing itself into a +thousand pieces bad in it something impressive—it had the sublimeness +of desperation! + +On the days when his journeys left him free he patrolled his fields +armed with a shotgun, saying that the tulisanes were hovering around +and he had need of defending himself in order not to fall into their +hands and thus lose his lawsuit. As if to improve his marksmanship, he +shot at birds and fruits, even the butterflies, with such accurate aim +that the friar-administrator did not dare to go to Sagpang without an +escort of civil-guards, while the friar’s hireling, who gazed from afar +at the threatening figure of Tales wandering over the fields like a +sentinel upon the walls, was terror stricken and refused to take the +property away from him. + +But the local judges and those at the capital, warned by the experience +of one of their number who had been summarily dismissed, dared not give +him the decision, fearing their own dismissal. Yet they were not really +bad men, those judges, they were upright and conscientious, good +citizens, excellent fathers, dutiful sons—and they were able to +appreciate poor Tales’ situation better than Tales himself could. Many +of them were versed in the scientific and historical basis of property, +they knew that the friars by their own statutes could not own property, +but they also knew that to come from far across the sea with an +appointment secured with great difficulty, to undertake the duties of +the position with the best intentions, and now to lose it because an +Indian fancied that justice had to be done on earth as in heaven—that +surely was an idea! They had their families and greater needs surely +than that Indian: one had a mother to provide for, and what duty is +more sacred than that of caring for a mother? Another had sisters, all +of marriageable age; that other there had many little children who +expected their daily bread and who, like fledglings in a nest, would +surely die of hunger the day he was out of a job; even the very least +of them had there, far away, a wife who would be in distress if the +monthly remittance failed. All these moral and conscientious judges +tried everything in their power in the way of counsel, advising +Cabesang Tales to pay the rent demanded. But Tales, like all simple +souls, once he had seen what was just, went straight toward it. He +demanded proofs, documents, papers, title-deeds, but the friars had +none of these, resting their case on his concessions in the past. + +Cabesang Tales’ constant reply was: “If every day I give alms to a +beggar to escape annoyance, who will oblige me to continue my gifts if +he abuses my generosity?” + +From this stand no one could draw him, nor were there any threats that +could intimidate him. In vain Governor M—— made a trip expressly to +talk to him and frighten him. His reply to it all was: “You may do what +you like, Mr. Governor, I’m ignorant and powerless. But I’ve cultivated +those fields, my wife and daughter died while helping me clear them, +and I won’t give them up to any one but him who can do more with them +than I’ve done. Let him first irrigate them with his blood and bury in +them his wife and daughter!” + +The upshot of this obstinacy was that the honorable judges gave the +decision to the friars, and everybody laughed at him, saying that +lawsuits are not won by justice. But Cabesang Tales appealed, loaded +his shotgun, and patrolled his fields with deliberation. + +During this period his life seemed to be a wild dream. His son, Tano, a +youth as tall as his father and as good as his sister, was conscripted, +but he let the boy go rather than purchase a substitute. + +“I have to pay the lawyers,” he told his weeping daughter. “If I win +the case I’ll find a way to get him back, and if I lose it I won’t have +any need for sons.” + +So the son went away and nothing more was heard of him except that his +hair had been cropped and that he slept under a cart. Six months later +it was rumored that he had been seen embarking for the Carolines; +another report was that he had been seen in the uniform of the Civil +Guard. + +“Tano in the Civil Guard! ’Susmariosep!” exclaimed several, clasping +their hands. “Tano, who was so good and so honest! Requimternam!” + +The grandfather went many days without speaking to the father, Juli +fell sick, but Cabesang Tales did not shed a single tear, although for +two days he never left the house, as if he feared the looks of reproach +from the whole village or that he would be called the executioner of +his son. But on the third day he again sallied forth with his shotgun. + +Murderous intentions were attributed to him, and there were +well-meaning persons who whispered about that he had been heard to +threaten that he would bury the friar-administrator in the furrows of +his fields, whereat the friar was frightened at him in earnest. As a +result of this, there came a decree from the Captain-General forbidding +the use of firearms and ordering that they be taken up. Cabesang Tales +had to hand over his shotgun but he continued his rounds armed with a +long bolo. + +“What are you going to do with that bolo when the tulisanes have +firearms?” old Selo asked him. + +“I must watch my crops,” was the answer. “Every stalk of cane growing +there is one of my wife’s bones.” + +The bolo was taken up on the pretext that it was too long. He then took +his father’s old ax and with it on his shoulder continued his sullen +rounds. + +Every time he left the house Tandang Selo and Juli trembled for his +life. The latter would get up from her loom, go to the window, pray, +make vows to the saints, and recite novenas. The grandfather was at +times unable to finish the handle of a broom and talked of returning to +the forest—life in that house was unbearable. + +At last their fears were realized. As the fields were some distance +from the village, Cabesang Tales, in spite of his ax, fell into the +hands of tulisanes who had revolvers and rifles. They told him that +since he had money to pay judges and lawyers he must have some also for +the outcasts and the hunted. They therefore demanded a ransom of five +hundred pesos through the medium of a rustic, with the warning that if +anything happened to their messenger, the captive would pay for it with +his life. Two days of grace were allowed. + +This news threw the poor family into the wildest terror, which was +augmented when they learned that the Civil Guard was going out in +pursuit of the bandits. In case of an encounter, the first victim would +be the captive—this they all knew. The old man was paralyzed, while the +pale and frightened daughter tried often to talk but could not. Still, +another thought more terrible, an idea more cruel, roused them from +their stupor. The rustic sent by the tulisanes said that the band would +probably have to move on, and if they were slow in sending the ransom +the two days would elapse and Cabesang Tales would have his throat cut. + +This drove those two beings to madness, weak and powerless as they +were. Tandang Selo got up, sat down, went outside, came back again, +knowing not where to go, where to seek aid. Juli appealed to her +images, counted and recounted her money, but her two hundred pesos did +not increase or multiply. Soon she dressed herself, gathered together +all her jewels, and asked the advice of her grandfather, if she should +go to see the gobernadorcillo, the judge, the notary, the lieutenant of +the Civil Guard. The old man said yes to everything, or when she said +no, he too said no. At length came the neighbors, their relatives and +friends, some poorer than others, in their simplicity magnifying the +fears. The most active of all was Sister Bali, a great panguinguera, +who had been to Manila to practise religious exercises in the nunnery +of the Sodality. + +Juli was willing to sell all her jewels, except a locket set with +diamonds and emeralds which Basilio had given her, for this locket had +a history: a nun, the daughter of Capitan Tiago, had given it to a +leper, who, in return for professional treatment, had made a present of +it to Basilio. So she could not sell it without first consulting him. + +Quickly the shell-combs and earrings were sold, as well as Juli’s +rosary, to their richest neighbor, and thus fifty pesos were added, but +two hundred and fifty were still lacking. The locket might be pawned, +but Juli shook her head. A neighbor suggested that the house be sold +and Tandang Selo approved the idea, satisfied to return to the forest +and cut firewood as of old, but Sister Bali observed that this could +not be done because the owner was not present. + +“The judge’s wife once sold me her tapis for a peso, but her husband +said that the sale did not hold because it hadn’t received his +approval. Abá! He took back the tapis and she hasn’t returned the peso +yet, but I don’t pay her when she wins at panguingui, abá! In that way +I’ve collected twelve cuartos, and for that alone I’m going to play +with her. I can’t bear to have people fail to pay what they owe me, +abá!” + +Another neighbor was going to ask Sister Bali why then did not she +settle a little account with her, but the quick panguinguera suspected +this and added at once: “Do you know, Juli, what you can do? Borrow two +hundred and fifty pesos on the house, payable when the lawsuit is won.” + +This seemed to be the best proposition, so they decided to act upon it +that same day. Sister Bali offered to accompany her, and together they +visited the houses of all the rich folks in Tiani, but no one would +accept the proposal. The case, they said, was already lost, and to show +favors to an enemy of the friars was to expose themselves to their +vengeance. At last a pious woman took pity on the girl and lent the +money on condition that Juli should remain with her as a servant until +the debt was paid. Juli would not have so very much to do: sew, pray, +accompany her to mass, and fast for her now and then. The girl accepted +with tears in her eyes, received the money, and promised to enter her +service on the following day, Christmas. + +When the grandfather heard of that sale he fell to weeping like a +child. What, that granddaughter whom he had not allowed to walk in the +sun lest her skin should be burned, Juli, she of the delicate fingers +and rosy feet! What, that girl, the prettiest in the village and +perhaps in the whole town, before whose window many gallants had vainly +passed the night playing and singing! What, his only granddaughter, the +sole joy of his fading eyes, she whom he had dreamed of seeing dressed +in a long skirt, talking Spanish, and holding herself erect waving a +painted fan like the daughters of the wealthy—she to become a servant, +to be scolded and reprimanded, to ruin her fingers, to sleep anywhere, +to rise in any manner whatsoever! + +So the old grandfather wept and talked of hanging or starving himself +to death. “If you go,” he declared, “I’m going back to the forest and +will never set foot in the town.” + +Juli soothed him by saying that it was necessary for her father to +return, that the suit would be won, and they could then ransom her from +her servitude. + +The night was a sad one. Neither of the two could taste a bite and the +old man refused to lie down, passing the whole night seated in a +corner, silent and motionless. Juli on her part tried to sleep, but for +a long time could not close her eyes. Somewhat relieved about her +father’s fate, she now thought of herself and fell to weeping, but +stifled her sobs so that the old man might not hear them. The next day +she would be a servant, and it was the very day Basilio was accustomed +to come from Manila with presents for her. Henceforward she would have +to give up that love; Basilio, who was going to be a doctor, couldn’t +marry a pauper. In fancy she saw him going to the church in company +with the prettiest and richest girl in the town, both well-dressed, +happy and smiling, while she, Juli, followed her mistress, carrying +novenas, buyos, and the cuspidor. Here the girl felt a lump rise in her +throat, a sinking at her heart, and begged the Virgin to let her die +first. + +But—said her conscience—he will at least know that I preferred to pawn +myself rather than the locket he gave me. + +This thought consoled her a little and brought on empty dreams. Who +knows but that a miracle might happen? She might find the two hundred +and fifty pesos under the image of the Virgin—she had read of many +similar miracles. The sun might not rise nor morning come, and +meanwhile the suit would be won. Her father might return, or Basilio +put in his appearance, she might find a bag of gold in the garden, the +tulisanes would send the bag of gold, the curate, Padre Camorra, who +was always teasing her, would come with the tulisanes. So her ideas +became more and more confused, until at length, worn out by fatigue and +sorrow, she went to sleep with dreams of her childhood in the depths of +the forest: she was bathing in the torrent along with her two brothers, +there were little fishes of all colors that let themselves be caught +like fools, and she became impatient because she found no pleasure in +catchnig such foolish little fishes! Basilio was under the water, but +Basilio for some reason had the face of her brother Tano. Her new +mistress was watching them from the bank. + + + + + + + + +CHAPTER V + +A COCHERO’S CHRISTMAS EVE + + +Basilio reached San Diego just as the Christmas Eve procession was +passing through the streets. He had been delayed on the road for +several hours because the cochero, having forgotten his cedula, was +held up by the Civil Guard, had his memory jogged by a few blows from a +rifle-butt, and afterwards was taken before the commandant. Now the +carromata was again detained to let the procession pass, while the +abused cochero took off his hat reverently and recited a paternoster to +the first image that came along, which seemed to be that of a great +saint. It was the figure of an old man with an exceptionally long +beard, seated at the edge of a grave under a tree filled with all kinds +of stuffed birds. A kalan with a clay jar, a mortar, and a kalikut for +mashing buyo were his only utensils, as if to indicate that he lived on +the border of the tomb and was doing his cooking there. This was the +Methuselah of the religious iconography of the Philippines; his +colleague and perhaps contemporary is called in Europe Santa Claus, and +is still more smiling and agreeable. + +“In the time of the saints,” thought the cochero, “surely there were no +civil-guards, because one can’t live long on blows from rifle-butts.” + +Behind the great old man came the three Magian Kings on ponies that +were capering about, especially that of the negro Melchior, which +seemed to be about to trample its companions. + +“No, there couldn’t have been any civil-guards,” decided the cochero, +secretly envying those fortunate times, “because if there had been, +that negro who is cutting up such capers beside those two +Spaniards”—Gaspar and Balthazar—“would have gone to jail.” + +Then, observing that the negro wore a crown and was a king, like the +other two, the Spaniards, his thoughts naturally turned to the king of +the Indians, and he sighed. “Do you know, sir,” he asked Basilio +respectfully, “if his right foot is loose yet?” + +Basilio had him repeat the question. “Whose right foot?” + +“The King’s!” whispered the cochero mysteriously. + +“What King’s?” + +“Our King’s, the King of the Indians.” + +Basilio smiled and shrugged his shoulders, while the cochero again +sighed. The Indians in the country places preserve the legend that +their king, imprisoned and chained in the cave of San Mateo, will come +some day to free them. Every hundredth year he breaks one of his +chains, so that he now has his hands and his left foot loose—only the +right foot remains bound. This king causes the earthquakes when he +struggles or stirs himself, and he is so strong that in shaking hands +with him it is necessary to extend to him a bone, which he crushes in +his grasp. For some unexplainable reason the Indians call him King +Bernardo, perhaps by confusing him with Bernardo del Carpio. [13] + +“When he gets his right foot loose,” muttered the cochero, stifling +another sigh, “I’ll give him my horses, and offer him my services even +to death, for he’ll free us from the Civil Guard.” With a melancholy +gaze he watched the Three Kings move on. + +The boys came behind in two files, sad and serious as though they were +there under compulsion. They lighted their way, some with torches, +others with tapers, and others with paper lanterns on bamboo poles, +while they recited the rosary at the top of their voices, as though +quarreling with somebody. Afterwards came St. Joseph on a modest float, +with a look of sadness and resignation on his face, carrying his stalk +of lilies, as he moved along between two civil-guards as though he were +a prisoner. This enabled the cochero to understand the expression on +the saint’s face, but whether the sight of the guards troubled him or +he had no great respect for a saint who would travel in such company, +he did not recite a single requiem. + +Behind St. Joseph came the girls bearing lights, their heads covered +with handkerchiefs knotted under their chins, also reciting the rosary, +but with less wrath than the boys. In their midst were to be seen +several lads dragging along little rabbits made of Japanese paper, +lighted by red candles, with their short paper tails erect. The lads +brought those toys into the procession to enliven the birth of the +Messiah. The little animals, fat and round as eggs, seemed to be so +pleased that at times they would take a leap, lose their balance, fall, +and catch fire. The owner would then hasten to extinguish such burning +enthusiasm, puffing and blowing until he finally beat out the fire, and +then, seeing his toy destroyed, would fall to weeping. The cochero +observed with sadness that the race of little paper animals disappeared +each year, as if they had been attacked by the pest like the living +animals. He, the abused Sinong, remembered his two magnificent horses, +which, at the advice of the curate, he had caused to be blessed to save +them from plague, spending therefor ten pesos—for neither the +government nor the curates have found any better remedy for the +epizootic—and they had died after all. Yet he consoled himself by +remembering also that after the shower of holy water, the Latin phrases +of the padre, and the ceremonies, the horses had become so vain and +self-important that they would not even allow him, Sinong, a good +Christian, to put them in harness, and he had not dared to whip them, +because a tertiary sister had said that they were sanctified. + +The procession was closed by the Virgin dressed as the Divine Shepherd, +with a pilgrim’s hat of wide brim and long plumes to indicate the +journey to Jerusalem. That the birth might be made more explicable, the +curate had ordered her figure to be stuffed with rags and cotton under +her skirt, so that no one could be in any doubt as to her condition. It +was a very beautiful image, with the same sad expression of all the +images that the Filipinos make, and a mien somewhat ashamed, doubtless +at the way in which the curate had arranged her. In front came several +singers and behind, some musicians with the usual civil-guards. The +curate, as was to be expected after what he had done, was not in his +place, for that year he was greatly displeased at having to use all his +diplomacy and shrewdness to convince the townspeople that they should +pay thirty pesos for each Christmas mass instead of the usual twenty. +“You’re turning filibusters!” he had said to them. + +The cochero must have been greatly preoccupied with the sights of the +procession, for when it had passed and Basilio ordered him to go on, he +did not notice that the lamp on his carromata had gone out. Neither did +Basilio notice it, his attention being devoted to gazing at the houses, +which were illuminated inside and out with little paper lanterns of +fantastic shapes and colors, stars surrounded by hoops with long +streamers which produced a pleasant murmur when shaken by the wind, and +fishes of movable heads and tails, having a glass of oil inside, +suspended from the eaves of the windows in the delightful fashion of a +happy and homelike fiesta. But he also noticed that the lights were +flickering, that the stars were being eclipsed, that this year had +fewer ornaments and hangings than the former, which in turn had had +even fewer than the year preceding it. There was scarcely any music in +the streets, while the agreeable noises of the kitchen were not to be +heard in all the houses, which the youth ascribed to the fact that for +some time things had been going badly, the sugar did not bring a good +price, the rice crops had failed, over half the live stock had died, +but the taxes rose and increased for some inexplicable reason, while +the abuses of the Civil Guard became more frequent to kill off the +happiness of the people in the towns. + +He was just pondering over this when an energetic “Halt!” resounded. +They were passing in front of the barracks and one of the guards had +noticed the extinguished lamp of the carromata, which could not go on +without it. A hail of insults fell about the poor cochero, who vainly +excused himself with the length of the procession. He would be arrested +for violating the ordinances and afterwards advertised in the +newspapers, so the peaceful and prudent Basilio left the carromata and +went his way on foot, carrying his valise. This was San Diego, his +native town, where he had not a single relative. + +The only, house wherein there seemed to be any mirth was Capitan +Basilio’s. Hens and chickens cackled their death chant to the +accompaniment of dry and repeated strokes, as of meat pounded on a +chopping-block, and the sizzling of grease in the frying-pans. A feast +was going on in the house, and even into the street there passed a +certain draught of air, saturated with the succulent odors of stews and +confections. In the entresol Basilio saw Sinang, as small as when our +readers knew her before, [14] although a little rounder and plumper +since her marriage. Then to his great surprise he made out, further in +at the back of the room, chatting with Capitan Basilio, the curate, and +the alferez of the Civil Guard, no less than the jeweler Simoun, as +ever with his blue goggles and his nonchalant air. + +“It’s understood, Señor Simoun,” Capitan Basilio was saying, “that +we’ll go to Tiani to see your jewels.” + +“I would also go,” remarked the alferez, “because I need a watch-chain, +but I’m so busy—if Capitan Basilio would undertake—” + +Capitan Basilio would do so with the greatest pleasure, and as he +wished to propitiate the soldier in order that he might not be molested +in the persons of his laborers, he refused to accept the money which +the alferez was trying to get out of his pocket. + +“It’s my Christmas gift!” + +“I can’t allow you, Capitan, I can’t permit it!” + +“All right! We’ll settle up afterwards,” replied Capitan Basilio with a +lordly gesture. + +Also, the curate wanted a pair of lady’s earrings and requested the +capitan to buy them for him. “I want them first class. Later we’ll fix +up the account.” + +“Don’t worry about that, Padre,” said the good man, who wished to be at +peace with the Church also. An unfavorable report on the curate’s part +could do him great damage and cause him double the expense, for those +earrings were a forced present. Simoun in the meantime was praising his +jewels. + +“That fellow is fierce!” mused the student. “He does business +everywhere. And if I can believe a certain person, he buys from some +gentlemen for a half of their value the same jewels that he himself has +sold for presents. Everybody in this country prospers but us!” + +He made his way to his house, or rather Capitan Tiago’s, now occupied +by a trustworthy man who had held him in great esteem since the day +when he had seen him perform a surgical operation with the same +coolness that he would cut up a chicken. This man was now waiting to +give him the news. Two of the laborers were prisoners, one was to be +deported, and a number of carabaos had died. + +“The same old story,” exclaimed Basilio, in a bad humor. “You always +receive me with the same complaints.” The youth was not overbearing, +but as he was at times scolded by Capitan Tiago, he liked in his turn +to chide those under his orders. + +The old man cast about for something new. “One of our tenants has died, +the old fellow who took care of the woods, and the curate refused to +bury him as a pauper, saying that his master is a rich man.” + +“What did he die of?” + +“Of old age.” + +“Get out! To die of old age! It must at least have been some disease.” +Basilio in his zeal for making autopsies wanted diseases. + +“Haven’t you anything new to tell me? You take away my appetite +relating the same old things. Do you know anything of Sagpang?” + +The old man then told him about the kidnapping of Cabesang Tales. +Basilio became thoughtful and said nothing more—his appetite had +completely left him. + + + + + + + + +CHAPTER VI + +BASILIO + + +When the bells began their chimes for the midnight mass and those who +preferred a good sleep to fiestas and ceremonies arose grumbling at the +noise and movement, Basilio cautiously left the house, took two or +three turns through the streets to see that he was not watched or +followed, and then made his way by unfrequented paths to the road that +led to the ancient wood of the Ibarras, which had been acquired by +Capitan Tiago when their property was confiscated and sold. As +Christmas fell under the waning moon that year, the place was wrapped +in darkness. The chimes had ceased, and only the tolling sounded +through the darkness of the night amid the murmur of the breeze-stirred +branches and the measured roar of the waves on the neighboring lake, +like the deep respiration of nature sunk in profound sleep. + +Awed by the time and place, the youth moved along with his head down, +as if endeavoring to see through the darkness. But from time to time he +raised it to gaze at the stars through the open spaces between the +treetops and went forward parting the bushes or tearing away the lianas +that obstructed his path. At times he retraced his steps, his foot +would get caught among the plants, he stumbled over a projecting root +or a fallen log. At the end of a half-hour he reached a small brook on +the opposite side of which arose a hillock, a black and shapeless mass +that in the darkness took on the proportions of a mountain. Basilio +crossed the brook on the stones that showed black against the shining +surface of the water, ascended the hill, and made his way to a small +space enclosed by old and crumbling walls. He approached the balete +tree that rose in the center, huge, mysterious, venerable, formed of +roots that extended up and down among the confusedly-interlaced trunks. + +Pausing before a heap of stones he took off his hat and seemed to be +praying. There his mother was buried, and every time he came to the +town his first visit was to that neglected and unknown grave. Since he +must visit Cabesang Tales’ family the next day, he had taken advantage +of the night to perform this duty. Seated on a stone, he seemed to fall +into deep thought. His past rose before him like a long black film, +rosy at first, then shadowy with spots of blood, then black, black, +gray, and then light, ever lighter. The end could not be seen, hidden +as it was by a cloud through which shone lights and the hues of dawn. + +Thirteen years before to the day, almost to the hour, his mother had +died there in the deepest distress, on a glorious night when the moon +shone brightly and the Christians of the world were engaged in +rejoicing. Wounded and limping, he had reached there in pursuit of +her—she mad and terrified, fleeing from her son as from a ghost. There +she had died, and there had come a stranger who had commanded him to +build a funeral pyre. He had obeyed mechanically and when he returned +he found a second stranger by the side of the other’s corpse. What a +night and what a morning those were! The stranger helped him raise the +pyre, whereon they burned the corpse of the first, dug the grave in +which they buried his mother, and then after giving him some pieces of +money told him to leave the place. It was the first time that he had +seen that man—tall, with blood-shot eyes, pale lips, and a sharp nose. + +Entirely alone in the world, without parents or brothers and sisters, +he left the town whose authorities inspired in him such great fear and +went to Manila to work in some rich house and study at the same time, +as many do. His journey was an Odyssey of sleeplessness and startling +surprises, in which hunger counted for little, for he ate the fruits in +the woods, whither he retreated whenever he made out from afar the +uniform of the Civil Guard, a sight that recalled the origin of all his +misfortunes. Once in Manila, ragged and sick, he went from door to door +offering his services. A boy from the provinces who knew not a single +word of Spanish, and sickly besides! Discouraged, hungry, and +miserable, he wandered about the streets, attracting attention by the +wretchedness of his clothing. How often was he tempted to throw himself +under the feet of the horses that flashed by, drawing carriages shining +with silver and varnish, thus to end his misery at once! Fortunately, +he saw Capitan Tiago, accompanied by Aunt Isabel. He had known them +since the days in San Diego, and in his joy believed that in them he +saw almost fellow-townsfolk. He followed the carriage until he lost +sight of it, and then made inquiries for the house. As it was the very +day that Maria Clara entered the nunnery and Capitan Tiago was +accordingly depressed, he was admitted as a servant, without pay, but +instead with leave to study, if he so wished, in San Juan de Letran. +[15] + +Dirty, poorly dressed, with only a pair of clogs for footwear, at the +end of several months’ stay in Manila, he entered the first year of +Latin. On seeing his clothes, his classmates drew away from him, and +the professor, a handsome Dominican, never asked him a question, but +frowned every time he looked at him. In the eight months that the class +continued, the only words that passed between them were his name read +from the roll and the daily adsum with which the student responded. +With what bitterness he left the class each day, and, guessing the +reason for the treatment accorded him, what tears sprang into his eyes +and what complaints were stifled in his heart! How he had wept and +sobbed over the grave of his mother, relating to her his hidden +sorrows, humiliations, and affronts, when at the approach of Christmas +Capitan Tiago had taken him back to San Diego! Yet he memorized the +lessons without omitting a comma, although he understood scarcely any +part of them. But at length he became resigned, noticing that among the +three or four hundred in his class only about forty merited the honor +of being questioned, because they attracted the professor’s attention +by their appearance, some prank, comicality, or other cause. The +greater part of the students congratulated themselves that they thus +escaped the work of thinking and understanding the subject. “One goes +to college, not to learn and study, but to gain credit for the course, +so if the book can be memorized, what more can be asked—the year is +thus gained.” [16] + +Basilio passed the examinations by answering the solitary question +asked him, like a machine, without stopping or breathing, and in the +amusement of the examiners won the passing certificate. His nine +companions—they were examined in batches of ten in order to save +time—did not have such good luck, but were condemned to repeat the year +of brutalization. + +In the second year the game-cock that he tended won a large sum and he +received from Capitan Tiago a big tip, which he immediately invested in +the purchase of shoes and a felt hat. With these and the clothes given +him by his employer, which he made over to fit his person, his +appearance became more decent, but did not get beyond that. In such a +large class a great deal was needed to attract the professor’s +attention, and the student who in the first year did not make himself +known by some special quality, or did not capture the good-will of the +professors, could with difficulty make himself known in the rest of his +school-days. But Basilio kept on, for perseverance was his chief trait. + +His fortune seemed to change somewhat when he entered the third year. +His professor happened to be a very jolly fellow, fond of jokes and of +making the students laugh, complacent enough in that he almost always +had his favorites recite the lessons—in fact, he was satisfied with +anything. At this time Basilio now wore shoes and a clean and +well-ironed camisa. As his professor noticed that he laughed very +little at the jokes and that his large eyes seemed to be asking +something like an eternal question, he took him for a fool, and one day +decided to make him conspicuous by calling on him for the lesson. +Basilio recited it from beginning to end, without hesitating over a +single letter, so the professor called him a parrot and told a story to +make the class laugh. Then to increase the hilarity and justify the +epithet he asked several questions, at the same time winking to his +favorites, as if to say to them, “You’ll see how we’re going to amuse +ourselves.” + +Basilio now understood Spanish and answered the questions with the +plain intention of making no one laugh. This disgusted everybody, the +expected absurdity did not materialize, no one could laugh, and the +good friar never pardoned him for having defrauded the hopes of the +class and disappointed his own prophecies. But who would expect +anything worth while to come from a head so badly combed and placed on +an Indian poorly shod, classified until recently among the arboreal +animals? As in other centers of learning, where the teachers are +honestly desirous that the students should learn, such discoveries +usually delight the instructors, so in a college managed by men +convinced that for the most part knowledge is an evil, at least for the +students, the episode of Basilio produced a bad impression and he was +not questioned again during the year. Why should he be, when he made no +one laugh? + +Quite discouraged and thinking of abandoning his studies, he passed to +the fourth year of Latin. Why study at all, why not sleep like the +others and trust to luck? + +One of the two professors was very popular, beloved by all, passing for +a sage, a great poet, and a man of advanced ideas. One day when he +accompanied the collegians on their walk, he had a dispute with some +cadets, which resulted in a skirmish and a challenge. No doubt +recalling his brilliant youth, the professor preached a crusade and +promised good marks to all who during the promenade on the following +Sunday would take part in the fray. The week was a lively one—there +were occasional encounters in which canes and sabers were crossed, and +in one of these Basilio distinguished himself. Borne in triumph by the +students and presented to the professor, he thus became known to him +and came to be his favorite. Partly for this reason and partly from his +diligence, that year he received the highest marks, medals included, in +view of which Capitan Tiago, who, since his daughter had become a nun, +exhibited some aversion to the friars, in a fit of good humor induced +him to transfer to the Ateneo Municipal, the fame of which was then in +its apogee. + +Here a new world opened before his eyes—a system of instruction that he +had never dreamed of. Except for a few superfluities and some childish +things, he was filled with admiration for the methods there used and +with gratitude for the zeal of the instructors. His eyes at times +filled with tears when he thought of the four previous years during +which, from lack of means, he had been unable to study at that center. +He had to make extraordinary efforts to get himself to the level of +those who had had a good preparatory course, and it might be said that +in that one year he learned the whole five of the secondary curricula. +He received his bachelor’s degree, to the great satisfaction of his +instructors, who in the examinations showed themselves to be proud of +him before the Dominican examiners sent there to inspect the school. +One of these, as if to dampen such great enthusiasm a little, asked him +where he had studied the first years of Latin. + +“In San Juan de Letran, Padre,” answered Basilio. + +“Aha! Of course! He’s not bad,—in Latin,” the Dominican then remarked +with a slight smile. + +From choice and temperament he selected the course in medicine. Capitan +Tiago preferred the law, in order that he might have a lawyer free, but +knowledge of the laws is not sufficient to secure clientage in the +Philippines—it is necessary to win the cases, and for this friendships +are required, influence in certain spheres, a good deal of astuteness. +Capitan Tiago finally gave in, remembering that medical students get on +intimate terms with corpses, and for some time he had been seeking a +poison to put on the gaffs of his game-cocks, the best he had been able +to secure thus far being the blood of a Chinaman who had died of +syphilis. + +With equal diligence, or more if possible, the young man continued this +course, and after the third year began to render medical services with +such great success that he was not only preparing a brilliant future +for himself but also earning enough to dress well and save some money. +This was the last year of the course and in two months he would be a +physician; he would come back to the town, he would marry Juliana, and +they would be happy. The granting of his licentiateship was not only +assured, but he expected it to be the crowning act of his school-days, +for he had been designated to deliver the valedictory at the +graduation, and already he saw himself in the rostrum, before the whole +faculty, the object of public attention. All those heads, leaders of +Manila science, half-hidden in their colored capes; all the women who +came there out of curiosity and who years before had gazed at him, if +not with disdain, at least with indifference; all those men whose +carriages had once been about to crush him down in the mud like a dog: +they would listen attentively, and he was going to say something to +them that would not be trivial, something that had never before +resounded in that place, he was going to forget himself in order to aid +the poor students of the future—and he would make his entrance on his +work in the world with that speech. + + + + + + + + +CHAPTER VII + +SIMOUN + + +Over these matters Basilio was pondering as he visited his mother’s +grave. He was about to start back to the town when he thought he saw a +light flickering among the trees and heard the snapping of twigs, the +sound of feet, and rustling of leaves. The light disappeared but the +noises became more distinct, coming directly toward where he was. +Basilio was not naturally superstitious, especially after having carved +up so many corpses and watched beside so many death-beds, but the old +legends about that ghostly spot, the hour, the darkness, the melancholy +sighing of the wind, and certain tales heard in his childhood, asserted +their influence over his mind and made his heart beat violently. + +The figure stopped on the other side of the balete, but the youth could +see it through an open space between two roots that had grown in the +course of time to the proportions of tree-trunks. It produced from +under its coat a lantern with a powerful reflecting lens, which it +placed on the ground, thereby lighting up a pair of riding-boots, the +rest of the figure remaining concealed in the darkness. The figure +seemed to search its pockets and then bent over to fix a shovel-blade +on the end of a stout cane. To his great surprise Basilio thought he +could make out some of the features of the jeweler Simoun, who indeed +it was. + +The jeweler dug in the ground and from time to time the lantern +illuminated his face, on which were not now the blue goggles that so +completely disguised him. Basilio shuddered: that was the same stranger +who thirteen years before had dug his mother’s grave there, only now he +had aged somewhat, his hair had turned white, he wore a beard and a +mustache, but yet his look was the same, the bitter expression, the +same cloud on his brow, the same muscular arms, though somewhat thinner +now, the same violent energy. Old impressions were stirred in the boy: +he seemed to feel the heat of the fire, the hunger, the weariness of +that time, the smell of freshly turned earth. Yet his discovery +terrified him—that jeweler Simoun, who passed for a British Indian, a +Portuguese, an American, a mulatto, the Brown Cardinal, his Black +Eminence, the evil genius of the Captain-General as many called him, +was no other than the mysterious stranger whose appearance and +disappearance coincided with the death of the heir to that land! But of +the two strangers who had appeared, which was Ibarra, the living or the +dead? + +This question, which he had often asked himself whenever Ibarra’s death +was mentioned, again came into his mind in the presence of the human +enigma he now saw before him. The dead man had had two wounds, which +must have been made by firearms, as he knew from what he had since +studied, and which would be the result of the chase on the lake. Then +the dead man must have been Ibarra, who had come to die at the tomb of +his forefathers, his desire to be cremated being explained by his +residence in Europe, where cremation is practised. Then who was the +other, the living, this jeweler Simoun, at that time with such an +appearance of poverty and wretchedness, but who had now returned loaded +with gold and a friend of the authorities? There was the mystery, and +the student, with his characteristic cold-bloodedness, determined to +clear it up at the first opportunity. + +Simoun dug away for some time, but Basilio noticed that his old vigor +had declined—he panted and had to rest every few moments. Fearing that +he might be discovered, the boy made a sudden resolution. Rising from +his seat and issuing from his hiding-place, he asked in the most +matter-of-fact tone, “Can I help you, sir?” + +Simoun straightened up with the spring of a tiger attacked at his prey, +thrust his hand in his coat pocket, and stared at the student with a +pale and lowering gaze. + +“Thirteen years ago you rendered me a great service, sir,” went on +Basilio unmoved, “in this very place, by burying my mother, and I +should consider myself happy if I could serve you now.” + +Without taking his eyes off the youth Simoun drew a revolver from his +pocket and the click of a hammer being cocked was heard. “For whom do +you take me?” he asked, retreating a few paces. + +“For a person who is sacred to me,” replied Basilio with some emotion, +for he thought his last moment had come. “For a person whom all, except +me, believe to be dead, and whose misfortunes I have always lamented.” + +An impressive silence followed these words, a silence that to the youth +seemed to suggest eternity. But Simoun, after some hesitation, +approached him and placing a hand on his shoulder said in a moving +tone: “Basilio, you possess a secret that can ruin me and now you have +just surprised me in another, which puts me completely in your hands, +the divulging of which would upset all my plans. For my own security +and for the good of the cause in which I labor, I ought to seal your +lips forever, for what is the life of one man compared to the end I +seek? The occasion is fitting; no one knows that I have come here; I am +armed; you are defenceless; your death would be attributed to the +outlaws, if not to more supernatural causes—yet I’ll let you live and +trust that I shall not regret it. You have toiled, you have struggled +with energetic perseverance, and like myself, you have your scores to +settle with society. Your brother was murdered, your mother driven to +insanity, and society has prosecuted neither the assassin nor the +executioner. You and I are the dregs of justice and instead of +destroying we ought to aid each other.” + +Simoun paused with a repressed sigh, and then slowly resumed, while his +gaze wandered about: “Yes, I am he who came here thirteen years ago, +sick and wretched, to pay the last tribute to a great and noble soul +that was willing to die for me. The victim of a vicious system, I have +wandered over the world, working night and day to amass a fortune and +carry out my plan. Now I have returned to destroy that system, to +precipitate its downfall, to hurl it into the abyss toward which it is +senselessly rushing, even though I may have to shed oceans of tears and +blood. It has condemned itself, it stands condemned, and I don’t want +to die before I have seen it in fragments at the foot of the +precipice!” + +Simoun extended both his arms toward the earth, as if with that gesture +he would like to hold there the broken remains. His voice took on a +sinister, even lugubrious tone, which made the student shudder. + +“Called by the vices of the rulers, I have returned to these islands, +and under the cloak of a merchant have visited the towns. My gold has +opened a way for me and wheresoever I have beheld greed in the most +execrable forms, sometimes hypocritical, sometimes shameless, sometimes +cruel, fatten on the dead organism, like a vulture on a corpse, I have +asked myself—why was there not, festering in its vitals, the +corruption, the ptomaine, the poison of the tombs, to kill the foul +bird? The corpse was letting itself be consumed, the vulture was +gorging itself with meat, and because it was not possible for me to +give it life so that it might turn against its destroyer, and because +the corruption developed slowly, I have stimulated greed, I have +abetted it. The cases of injustice and the abuses multiplied +themselves; I have instigated crime and acts of cruelty, so that the +people might become accustomed to the idea of death. I have stirred up +trouble so that to escape from it some remedy might be found; I have +placed obstacles in the way of trade so that the country, impoverished +and reduced to misery, might no longer be afraid of anything; I have +excited desires to plunder the treasury, and as this has not been +enough to bring about a popular uprising, I have wounded the people in +their most sensitive fiber; I have made the vulture itself insult the +very corpse that it feeds upon and hasten the corruption. + +“Now, when I was about to get the supreme rottenness, the supreme +filth, the mixture of such foul products brewing poison, when the greed +was beginning to irritate, in its folly hastening to seize whatever +came to hand, like an old woman caught in a conflagration, here you +come with your cries of Hispanism, with chants of confidence in the +government, in what cannot come to pass, here you have a body +palpitating with heat and life, young, pure, vigorous, throbbing with +blood, with enthusiasm, suddenly come forth to offer itself again as +fresh food! + +“Ah, youth is ever inexperienced and dreamy, always running after the +butterflies and flowers! You have united, so that by your efforts you +may bind your fatherland to Spain with garlands of roses when in +reality you are forging upon it chains harder than the diamond! You ask +for equal rights, the Hispanization of your customs, and you don’t see +that what you are begging for is suicide, the destruction of your +nationality, the annihilation of your fatherland, the consecration of +tyranny! What will you be in the future? A people without character, a +nation without liberty—everything you have will be borrowed, even your +very defects! You beg for Hispanization, and do not pale with shame +when they deny it you! And even if they should grant it to you, what +then—what have you gained? At best, a country of pronunciamentos, a +land of civil wars, a republic of the greedy and the malcontents, like +some of the republics of South America! To what are you tending now, +with your instruction in Castilian, a pretension that would be +ridiculous were it not for its deplorable consequences! You wish to add +one more language to the forty odd that are spoken in the islands, so +that you may understand one another less and less.” + +“On the contrary,” replied Basilio, “if the knowledge of Castilian may +bind us to the government, in exchange it may also unite the islands +among themselves.” + +“A gross error!” rejoined Simoun. “You are letting yourselves be +deceived by big words and never go to the bottom of things to examine +the results in their final analysis. Spanish will never be the general +language of the country, the people will never talk it, because the +conceptions of their brains and the feelings of their hearts cannot be +expressed in that language—each people has its own tongue, as it has +its own way of thinking! What are you going to do with Castilian, the +few of you who will speak it? Kill off your own originality, +subordinate your thoughts to other brains, and instead of freeing +yourselves, make yourselves slaves indeed! Nine-tenths of those of you +who pretend to be enlightened are renegades to your country! He among +you who talks that language neglects his own in such a way that he +neither writes nor understands it, and how many have I not seen who +pretended not to know a single word of it! But fortunately, you have an +imbecile government! While Russia enslaves Poland by forcing the +Russian language upon it, while Germany prohibits French in the +conquered provinces, your government strives to preserve yours, and you +in return, a remarkable people under an incredible government, you are +trying to despoil yourselves of your own nationality! One and all you +forget that while a people preserves its language, it preserves the +marks of its liberty, as a man preserves his independence while he +holds to his own way of thinking. Language is the thought of the +peoples. Luckily, your independence is assured; human passions are +looking out for that!” + +Simoun paused and rubbed his hand over his forehead. The waning moon +was rising and sent its faint light down through the branches of the +trees, and with his white locks and severe features, illuminated from +below by the lantern, the jeweler appeared to be the fateful spirit of +the wood planning some evil. + +Basilio was silent before such bitter reproaches and listened with +bowed head, while Simoun resumed: “I saw this movement started and have +passed whole nights of anguish, because I understood that among those +youths there were exceptional minds and hearts, sacrificing themselves +for what they thought to be a good cause, when in reality they were +working against their own country. How many times have I wished to +speak to you young men, to reveal myself and undeceive you! But in view +of the reputation I enjoy, my words would have been wrongly interpreted +and would perhaps have had a counter effect. How many times have I not +longed to approach your Makaraig, your Isagani! Sometimes I thought of +their death, I wished to destroy them—” + +Simoun checked himself. + +“Here’s why I let you live, Basilio, and by such imprudence I expose +myself to the risk of being some day betrayed by you. But you know who +I am, you know how much I must have suffered—then believe in me! You +are not of the common crowd, which sees in the jeweler Simoun the +trader who incites the authorities to commit abuses in order that the +abused may buy jewels. I am the Judge who wishes to castigate this +system by making use of its own defects, to make war on it by +flattering it. I need your help, your influence among the youth, to +combat these senseless desires for Hispanization, for assimilation, for +equal rights. By that road you will become only a poor copy, and the +people should look higher. It is madness to attempt to influence the +thoughts of the rulers—they have their plan outlined, the bandage +covers their eyes, and besides losing time uselessly, you are deceiving +the people with vain hopes and are helping to bend their necks before +the tyrant. What you should do is to take advantage of their prejudices +to serve your needs. Are they unwilling that you be assimilated with +the Spanish people? Good enough! Distinguish yourselves then by +revealing yourselves in your own character, try to lay the foundations +of the Philippine fatherland! Do they deny you hope? Good! Don’t depend +on them, depend upon yourselves and work! Do they deny you +representation in their Cortes? So much the better! Even should you +succeed in sending representatives of your own choice, what are you +going to accomplish there except to be overwhelmed among so many +voices, and sanction with your presence the abuses and wrongs that are +afterwards perpetrated? The fewer rights they allow you, the more +reason you will have later to throw off the yoke, and return evil for +evil. If they are unwilling to teach you their language, cultivate your +own, extend it, preserve to the people their own way of thinking, and +instead of aspiring to be a province, aspire to be a nation! Instead of +subordinate thoughts, think independently, to the end that neither by +right, nor custom, nor language, the Spaniard can be considered the +master here, nor even be looked upon as a part of the country, but ever +as an invader, a foreigner, and sooner or later you will have your +liberty! Here’s why I let you live!” + +Basilio breathed freely, as though a great weight had been lifted from +him, and after a brief pause, replied: “Sir, the honor you do me in +confiding your plans to me is too great for me not to be frank with +you, and tell you that what you ask of me is beyond my power. I am no +politician, and if I have signed the petition for instruction in +Castilian it has been because I saw in it an advantage to our studies +and nothing more. My destiny is different; my aspiration reduces itself +to alleviating the physical sufferings of my fellow men.” + +The jeweler smiled. “What are physical sufferings compared to moral +tortures? What is the death of a man in the presence of the death of a +society? Some day you will perhaps be a great physician, if they let +you go your way in peace, but greater yet will be he who can inject a +new idea into this anemic people! You, what are you doing for the land +that gave you existence, that supports your life, that affords you +knowledge? Don’t you realize that that is a useless life which is not +consecrated to a great idea? It is a stone wasted in the fields without +becoming a part of any edifice.” + +“No, no, sir!” replied Basilio modestly, “I’m not folding my arms, I’m +working like all the rest to raise up from the ruins of the past a +people whose units will be bound together—that each one may feel in +himself the conscience and the life of the whole. But however +enthusiastic our generation may be, we understand that in this great +social fabric there must be a division of labor. I have chosen my task +and will devote myself to science.” + +“Science is not the end of man,” declared Simoun. + +“The most civilized nations are tending toward it.” + +“Yes, but only as a means of seeking their welfare.” + +“Science is more eternal, it’s more human, it’s more universal!” +exclaimed the youth in a transport of enthusiasm. “Within a few +centuries, when humanity has become redeemed and enlightened, when +there are no races, when all peoples are free, when there are neither +tyrants nor slaves, colonies nor mother countries, when justice rules +and man is a citizen of the world, the pursuit of science alone will +remain, the word patriotism will be equivalent to fanaticism, and he +who prides himself on patriotic ideas will doubtless be isolated as a +dangerous disease, as a menace to the social order.” + +Simoun smiled sadly. “Yes, yes,” he said with a shake of his head, “yet +to reach that condition it is necessary that there be no tyrannical and +no enslaved peoples, it is necessary that man go about freely, that he +know how to respect the rights of others in their own individuality, +and for this there is yet much blood to be shed, the struggle forces +itself forward. To overcome the ancient fanaticism that bound +consciences it was necessary that many should perish in the holocausts, +so that the social conscience in horror declared the individual +conscience free. It is also necessary that all answer the question +which with each day the fatherland asks them, with its fettered hands +extended! Patriotism can only be a crime in a tyrannical people, +because then it is rapine under a beautiful name, but however perfect +humanity may become, patriotism will always be a virtue among oppressed +peoples, because it will at all times mean love of justice, of liberty, +of personal dignity—nothing of chimerical dreams, of effeminate idyls! +The greatness of a man is not in living before his time, a thing almost +impossible, but in understanding its desires, in responding to its +needs, and in guiding it on its forward way. The geniuses that are +commonly believed to have existed before their time, only appear so +because those who judge them see from a great distance, or take as +representative of the age the line of stragglers!” + +Simoun fell silent. Seeing that he could awake no enthusiasm in that +unresponsive mind, he turned to another subject and asked with a change +of tone: “And what are you doing for the memory of your mother and your +brother? Is it enough that you come here every year, to weep like a +woman over a grave?” And he smiled sarcastically. + +The shot hit the mark. Basilio changed color and advanced a step. + +“What do you want me to do?” he asked angrily. + +“Without means, without social position, how may I bring their +murderers to justice? I would merely be another victim, shattered like +a piece of glass hurled against a rock. Ah, you do ill to recall this +to me, since it is wantonly reopening a wound!” + +“But what if I should offer you my aid?” + +Basilio shook his head and remained pensive. “All the tardy +vindications of justice, all the revenge in the world, will not restore +a single hair of my mother’s head, or recall a smile to my brother’s +lips. Let them rest in peace—what should I gain now by avenging them?” + +“Prevent others from suffering what you have suffered, that in the +future there be no brothers murdered or mothers driven to madness. +Resignation is not always a virtue; it is a crime when it encourages +tyrants: there are no despots where there are no slaves! Man is in his +own nature so wicked that he always abuses complaisance. I thought as +you do, and you know what my fate was. Those who caused your +misfortunes are watching you day and night, they suspect that you are +only biding your time, they take your eagerness to learn, your love of +study, your very complaisance, for burning desires for revenge. The day +they can get rid of you they will do with you as they did with me, and +they will not let you grow to manhood, because they fear and hate you!” + +“Hate me? Still hate me after the wrong they have done me?” asked the +youth in surprise. + +Simoun burst into a laugh. “‘It is natural for man to hate those whom +he has wronged,’ said Tacitus, confirming the quos laeserunt et oderunt +of Seneca. When you wish to gauge the evil or the good that one people +has done to another, you have only to observe whether it hates or +loves. Thus is explained the reason why many who have enriched +themselves here in the high offices they have filled, on their return +to the Peninsula relieve themselves by slanders and insults against +those who have been their victims. Proprium humani ingenii est odisse +quern laeseris!” + +“But if the world is large, if one leaves them to the peaceful +enjoyment of power, if I ask only to be allowed to work, to live—” + +“And to rear meek-natured sons to send them afterwards to submit to the +yoke,” continued Simoun, cruelly mimicking Basilio’s tone. “A fine +future you prepare for them, and they have to thank you for a life of +humiliation and suffering! Good enough, young man! When a body is +inert, it is useless to galvanize it. Twenty years of continuous +slavery, of systematic humiliation, of constant prostration, finally +create in the mind a twist that cannot be straightened by the labor of +a day. Good and evil instincts are inherited and transmitted from +father to son. Then let your idylic ideas live, your dreams of a slave +who asks only for a bandage to wrap the chain so that it may rattle +less and not ulcerate his skin! You hope for a little home and some +ease, a wife and a handful of rice—here is your ideal man of the +Philippines! Well, if they give it to you, consider yourself +fortunate.” + +Basilio, accustomed to obey and bear with the caprices and humors of +Capitan Tiago. was now dominated by Simoun, who appeared to him +terrible and sinister on a background bathed in tears and blood. He +tried to explain himself by saying that he did not consider himself fit +to mix in politics, that he had no political opinions because he had +never studied the question, but that he was always ready to lend his +services the day they might be needed, that for the moment he saw only +one need, the enlightenment of the people. + +Simoun stopped him with a gesture, and, as the dawn was coming, said to +him: “Young man, I am not warning you to keep my secret, because I know +that discretion is one of your good qualities, and even though you +might wish to sell me, the jeweler Simoun, the friend of the +authorities and of the religious corporations, will always be given +more credit than the student Basilio, already suspected of +filibusterism, and, being a native, so much the more marked and +watched, and because in the profession you are entering upon you will +encounter powerful rivals. After all, even though you have not +corresponded to my hopes, the day on which you change your mind, look +me up at my house in the Escolta, and I’ll be glad to help you.” + +Basilio thanked him briefly and went away. + +“Have I really made a mistake?” mused Simoun, when he found himself +alone. “Is it that he doubts me and meditates his plan of revenge so +secretly that he fears to tell it even in the solitude of the night? Or +can it be that the years of servitude have extinguished in his heart +every human sentiment and there remain only the animal desires to live +and reproduce? In that case the type is deformed and will have to be +cast over again. Then the hecatomb is preparing: let the unfit perish +and only the strongest survive!” + +Then he added sadly, as if apostrophizing some one: “Have patience, you +who left me a name and a home, have patience! I have lost all—country, +future, prosperity, your very tomb, but have patience! And thou, noble +spirit, great soul, generous heart, who didst live with only one +thought and didst sacrifice thy life without asking the gratitude or +applause of any one, have patience, have patience! The methods that I +use may perhaps not be thine, but they are the most direct. The day is +coming, and when it brightens I myself will come to announce it to you +who are now indifferent. Have patience!” + + + + + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + +MERRY CHRISTMAS! + + +When Juli opened her sorrowing eyes, she saw that the house was still +dark, but the cocks were crowing. Her first thought was that perhaps +the Virgin had performed the miracle and the sun was not going to rise, +in spite of the invocations of the cocks. She rose, crossed herself, +recited her morning prayers with great devotion, and with as little +noise as possible went out on the batalan. + +There was no miracle—the sun was rising and promised a magnificent +morning, the breeze was delightfully cool, the stars were paling in the +east, and the cocks were crowing as if to see who could crow best and +loudest. That had been too much to ask—it were much easier to request +the Virgin to send the two hundred and fifty pesos. What would it cost +the Mother of the Lord to give them? But underneath the image she found +only the letter of her father asking for the ransom of five hundred +pesos. There was nothing to do but go, so, seeing that her grandfather +was not stirring, she thought him asleep and began to prepare +breakfast. Strange, she was calm, she even had a desire to laugh! What +had she had last night to afflict her so? She was not going very far, +she could come every second day to visit the house, her grandfather +could see her, and as for Basilio, he had known for some time the bad +turn her father’s affairs had taken, since he had often said to her, +“When I’m a physician and we are married, your father won’t need his +fields.” + +“What a fool I was to cry so much,” she said to herself as she packed +her tampipi. Her fingers struck against the locket and she pressed it +to her lips, but immediately wiped them from fear of contagion, for +that locket set with diamonds and emeralds had come from a leper. Ah, +then, if she should catch that disease she could not get married. + +As it became lighter, she could see her grandfather seated in a corner, +following all her movements with his eyes, so she caught up her tampipi +of clothes and approached him smilingly to kiss his hand. The old man +blessed her silently, while she tried to appear merry. “When father +comes back, tell him that I have at last gone to college—my mistress +talks Spanish. It’s the cheapest college I could find.” + +Seeing the old man’s eyes fill with tears, she placed the tampipi on +her head and hastily went downstairs, her slippers slapping merrily on +the wooden steps. But when she turned her head to look again at the +house, the house wherein had faded her childhood dreams and her maiden +illusions, when she saw it sad, lonely, deserted, with the windows half +closed, vacant and dark like a dead man’s eyes, when she heard the low +rustling of the bamboos, and saw them nodding in the fresh morning +breeze as though bidding her farewell, then her vivacity disappeared; +she stopped, her eyes filled with tears, and letting herself fall in a +sitting posture on a log by the wayside she broke out into disconsolate +tears. + +Juli had been gone several hours and the sun was quite high overhead +when Tandang Selo gazed from the window at the people in their festival +garments going to the town to attend the high mass. Nearly all led by +the hand or carried in their arms a little boy or girl decked out as if +for a fiesta. + +Christmas day in the Philippines is, according to the elders, a fiesta +for the children, who are perhaps not of the same opinion and who, it +may be supposed, have for it an instinctive dread. They are roused +early, washed, dressed, and decked out with everything new, dear, and +precious that they possess—high silk shoes, big hats, woolen or velvet +suits, without overlooking four or five scapularies, which contain +texts from St. John, and thus burdened they are carried to the high +mass, where for almost an hour they are subjected to the heat and the +human smells from so many crowding, perspiring people, and if they are +not made to recite the rosary they must remain quiet, bored, or asleep. +At each movement or antic that may soil their clothing they are pinched +and scolded, so the fact is that they do not laugh or feel happy, while +in their round eyes can be read a protest against so much embroidery +and a longing for the old shirt of week-days. + +Afterwards, they are dragged from house to house to kiss their +relatives’ hands. There they have to dance, sing, and recite all the +amusing things they know, whether in the humor or not, whether +comfortable or not in their fine clothes, with the eternal pinchings +and scoldings if they play any of their tricks. Their relatives give +them cuartos which their parents seize upon and of which they hear +nothing more. The only positive results they are accustomed to get from +the fiesta are the marks of the aforesaid pinchings, the vexations, and +at best an attack of indigestion from gorging themselves with candy and +cake in the houses of kind relatives. But such is the custom, and +Filipino children enter the world through these ordeals, which +afterwards prove the least sad, the least hard, of their lives. + +Adult persons who live independently also share in this fiesta, by +visiting their parents and their parents’ relatives, crooking their +knees, and wishing them a merry Christmas. Their Christmas gift +consists of a sweetmeat, some fruit, a glass of water, or some +insignificant present. + +Tandang Selo saw all his friends pass and thought sadly that this year +he had no Christmas gift for anybody, while his granddaughter had gone +without hers, without wishing him a merry Christinas. Was it delicacy +on Juli’s part or pure forgetfulness? + +When he tried to greet the relatives who called on him, bringing their +children, he found to his great surprise that he could not articulate a +word. Vainly he tried, but no sound could he utter. He placed his hands +on his throat, shook his head, but without effect. When he tried to +laugh, his lips trembled convulsively and the only noise produced was a +hoarse wheeze like the blowing of bellows. + +The women gazed at him in consternation. “He’s dumb, he’s dumb!” they +cried in astonishment, raising at once a literal pandemonium. + + + + + + + + +CHAPTER IX + +PILATES + + +When the news of this misfortune became known in the town, some +lamented it and others shrugged their shoulders. No one was to blame, +and no one need lay it on his conscience. + +The lieutenant of the Civil Guard gave no sign: he had received an +order to take up all the arms and he had performed his duty. He had +chased the tulisanes whenever he could, and when they captured Cabesang +Tales he had organized an expedition and brought into the town, with +their arms bound behind them, five or six rustics who looked +suspicious, so if Cabesang Tales did not show up it was because he was +not in the pockets or under the skins of the prisoners, who were +thoroughly shaken out. + +The friar-administrator shrugged his shoulders: he had nothing to do +with it, it was a matter of tulisanes and he had merely done his duty. +True it was that if he had not entered the complaint, perhaps the arms +would not have been taken up, and poor Tales would not have been +captured; but he, Fray Clemente, had to look after his own safety, and +that Tales had a way of staring at him as if picking out a good target +in some part of his body. Self-defense is natural. If there are +tulisanes, the fault is not his, it is not his duty to run them +down—that belongs to the Civil Guard. If Cabesang Tales, instead of +wandering about his fields, had stayed at home, he would not have been +captured. In short, that was a punishment from heaven upon those who +resisted the demands of his corporation. + +When Sister Penchang, the pious old woman in whose service Juli had +entered, learned of it, she ejaculated several ’Susmarioseps, crossed +herself, and remarked, “Often God sends these trials because we are +sinners or have sinning relatives, to whom we should have taught piety +and we haven’t done so.” + +Those sinning relatives referred to Juliana, for to this pious woman +Juli was a great sinner. “Think of a girl of marriageable age who +doesn’t yet know how to pray! Jesús, how scandalous! If the wretch +doesn’t say the Diós te salve María without stopping at es contigo, and +the Santa María without a pause after pecadores, as every good +Christian who fears God ought to do! She doesn’t know the oremus +gratiam, and says mentíbus for méntibus. Anybody hearing her would +think she was talking about something else. ’Susmariosep!” + +Greatly scandalized, she made the sign of the cross and thanked God, +who had permitted the capture of the father in order that the daughter +might be snatched from sin and learn the virtues which, according to +the curates, should adorn every Christian woman. She therefore kept the +girl constantly at work, not allowing her to return to the village to +look after her grandfather. Juli had to learn how to pray, to read the +books distributed by the friars, and to work until the two hundred and +fifty pesos should be paid. + +When she learned that Basilio had gone to Manila to get his savings and +ransom Juli from her servitude, the good woman believed that the girl +was forever lost and that the devil had presented himself in the guise +of the student. Dreadful as it all was, how true was that little book +the curate had given her! Youths who go to Manila to study are ruined +and then ruin the others. Thinking to rescue Juli, she made her read +and re-read the book called Tandang Basio Macunat, [17] charging her +always to go and see the curate in the convento, [18] as did the +heroine, who is so praised by the author, a friar. + +Meanwhile, the friars had gained their point. They had certainly won +the suit, so they took advantage of Cabesang Tales’ captivity to turn +the fields over to the one who had asked for them, without the least +thought of honor or the faintest twinge of shame. When the former owner +returned and learned what had happened, when he saw his fields in +another’s possession,—those fields that had cost the lives of his wife +and daughter,—when he saw his father dumb and his daughter working as a +servant, and when he himself received an order from the town council, +transmitted through the headman of the village, to move out of the +house within three days, he said nothing; he sat down at his father’s +side and spoke scarcely once during the whole day. + + + + + + + + +CHAPTER X + +WEALTH AND WANT + + +On the following day, to the great surprise of the village, the jeweler +Simoun, followed by two servants, each carrying a canvas-covered chest, +requested the hospitality of Cabesang Tales, who even in the midst of +his wretchedness did not forget the good Filipino customs—rather, he +was troubled to think that he had no way of properly entertaining the +stranger. But Simoun brought everything with him, servants and +provisions, and merely wished to spend the day and night in the house +because it was the largest in the village and was situated between San +Diego and Tiani, towns where he hoped to find many customers. + +Simoun secured information about the condition of the roads and asked +Cabesang Tales if his revolver was a sufficient protection against the +tulisanes. + +“They have rifles that shoot a long way,” was the rather absent-minded +reply. + +“This revolver does no less,” remarked Simoun, firing at an areca-palm +some two hundred paces away. + +Cabesang Tales noticed that some nuts fell, but remained silent and +thoughtful. + +Gradually the families, drawn by the fame of the jeweler’s wares, began +to collect. They wished one another merry Christmas, they talked of +masses, saints, poor crops, but still were there to spend their savings +for jewels and trinkets brought from Europe. It was known that the +jeweler was the friend of the Captain-General, so it wasn’t lost labor +to get on good terms with him, and thus be prepared for contingencies. + +Capitan Basilio came with his wife, daughter, and son-in-law, prepared +to spend at least three thousand pesos. Sister Penchang was there to +buy a diamond ring she had promised to the Virgin of Antipolo. She had +left Juli at home memorizing a booklet the curate had sold her for four +cuartos, with forty days of indulgence granted by the Archbishop to +every one who read it or listened to it read. + +“Jesús!” said the pious woman to Capitana Tika, “that poor girl has +grown up like a mushroom planted by the tikbalang. I’ve made her read +the book at the top of her voice at least fifty times and she doesn’t +remember a single word of it. She has a head like a sieve—full when +it’s in the water. All of us hearing her, even the dogs and cats, have +won at least twenty years of indulgence.” + +Simoun arranged his two chests on the table, one being somewhat larger +than the other. “You don’t want plated jewelry or imitation gems. This +lady,” turning to Sinang, “wants real diamonds.” + +“That’s it, yes, sir, diamonds, old diamonds, antique stones, you +know,” she responded. “Papa will pay for them, because he likes antique +things, antique stones.” Sinang was accustomed to joke about the great +deal of Latin her father understood and the little her husband knew. + +“It just happens that I have some antique jewels,” replied Simoun, +taking the canvas cover from the smaller chest, a polished steel case +with bronze trimmings and stout locks. “I have necklaces of +Cleopatra’s, real and genuine, discovered in the Pyramids; rings of +Roman senators and knights, found in the ruins of Carthage.” + +“Probably those that Hannibal sent back after the battle of Cannae!” +exclaimed Capitan Basilio seriously, while he trembled with pleasure. +The good man, thought he had read much about the ancients, had never, +by reason of the lack of museums in Filipinas, seen any of the objects +of those times. + +“I have brought besides costly earrings of Roman ladies, discovered in +the villa of Annius Mucius Papilinus in Pompeii.” + +Capitan Easilio nodded to show that he understood and was eager to see +such precious relics. The women remarked that they also wanted things +from Rome, such as rosaries blessed by the Pope, holy relics that would +take away sins without the need of confessions, and so on. + +When the chest was opened and the cotton packing removed, there was +exposed a tray filled with rings, reliquaries, lockets, crucifixes, +brooches, and such like. The diamonds set in among variously colored +stones flashed out brightly and shimmered among golden flowers of +varied hues, with petals of enamel, all of peculiar designs and rare +Arabesque workmanship. + +Simoun lifted the tray and exhibited another filled with quaint jewels +that would have satisfied the imaginations of seven débutantes on the +eves of the balls in their honor. Designs, one more fantastic than the +other, combinations of precious stones and pearls worked into the +figures of insects with azure backs and transparent forewings, +sapphires, emeralds, rubies, turquoises, diamonds, joined to form +dragon-flies, wasps, bees, butterflies, beetles, serpents, lizards, +fishes, sprays of flowers. There were diadems, necklaces of pearls and +diamonds, so that some of the girls could not withhold a nakú of +admiration, and Sinang gave a cluck with her tongue, whereupon her +mother pinched her to prevent her from encouraging the jeweler to raise +his prices, for Capitana Tika still pinched her daughter even after the +latter was married. + +“Here you have some old diamonds,” explained the jeweler. “This ring +belonged to the Princess Lamballe and those earrings to one of Marie +Antoinette’s ladies.” They consisted of some beautiful solitaire +diamonds, as large as grains of corn, with somewhat bluish lights, and +pervaded with a severe elegance, as though they still reflected in +their sparkles the shuddering of the Reign of Terror. + +“Those two earrings!” exclaimed Sinang, looking at her father and +instinctively covering the arm next to her mother. + +“Something more ancient yet, something Roman,” said Capitan Basilio +with a wink. + +The pious Sister Penchang thought that with such a gift the Virgin of +Antipolo would be softened and grant her her most vehement desire: for +some time she had begged for a wonderful miracle to which her name +would be attached, so that her name might be immortalized on earth and +she then ascend into heaven, like the Capitana Ines of the curates. She +inquired the price and Simoun asked three thousand pesos, which made +the good woman cross herself—’Susmariosep! + +Simoun now exposed the third tray, which was filled with watches, +cigar- and match-cases decorated with the rarest enamels, reliquaries +set with diamonds and containing the most elegant miniatures. + +The fourth tray, containing loose gems, stirred a murmur of admiration. +Sinang again clucked with her tongue, her mother again pinched her, +although at the same time herself emitting a ’Susmaría of wonder. + +No one there had ever before seen so much wealth. In that chest lined +with dark-blue velvet, arranged in trays, were the wonders of the +Arabian Nights, the dreams of Oriental fantasies. Diamonds as large as +peas glittered there, throwing out attractive rays as if they were +about to melt or burn with all the hues of the spectrum; emeralds from +Peru, of varied forms and shapes; rubies from India, red as drops of +blood; sapphires from Ceylon, blue and white; turquoises from Persia; +Oriental pearls, some rosy, some lead-colored, others black. Those who +have at night seen a great rocket burst in the azure darkness of the +sky into thousands of colored lights, so bright that they make the +eternal stars look dim, can imagine the aspect the tray presented. + +As if to increase the admiration of the beholders, Simoun took the +stones out with his tapering brown fingers, gloating over their +crystalline hardness, their luminous stream, as they poured from his +hands like drops of water reflecting the tints of the rainbow. The +reflections from so many facets, the thought of their great value, +fascinated the gaze of every one. + +Cabesang Tales, who had approached out of curiosity, closed his eyes +and drew back hurriedly, as if to drive away an evil thought. Such +great riches were an insult to his misfortunes; that man had come there +to make an exhibition of his immense wealth on the very day that he, +Tales, for lack of money, for lack of protectors, had to abandon the +house raised by his own hands. + +“Here you have two black diamonds, among the largest in existence,” +explained the jeweler. “They’re very difficult to cut because they’re +the very hardest. This somewhat rosy stone is also a diamond, as is +this green one that many take for an emerald. Quiroga the Chinaman +offered me six thousand pesos for it in order to present it to a very +influential lady, and yet it is not the green ones that are the most +valuable, but these blue ones.” + +He selected three stones of no great size, but thick and well-cut, of a +delicate azure tint. + +“For all that they are smaller than the green,” he continued, “they +cost twice as much. Look at this one, the smallest of all, weighing not +more than two carats, which cost me twenty thousand pesos and which I +won’t sell for less than thirty. I had to make a special trip to buy +it. This other one, from the mines of Golconda, weighs three and a half +carats and is worth over seventy thousand. The Viceroy of India, in a +letter I received the day before yesterday, offers me twelve thousand +pounds sterling for it.” + +Before such great wealth, all under the power of that man who talked so +unaffectedly, the spectators felt a kind of awe mingled with dread. +Sinang clucked several times and her mother did not pinch her, perhaps +because she too was overcome, or perhaps because she reflected that a +jeweler like Simoun was not going to try to gain five pesos more or +less as a result of an exclamation more or less indiscreet. All gazed +at the gems, but no one showed any desire to handle them, they were so +awe-inspiring. Curiosity was blunted by wonder. Cabesang Tales stared +out into the field, thinking that with a single diamond, perhaps the +very smallest there, he could recover his daughter, keep his house, and +perhaps rent another farm. Could it be that those gems were worth more +than a man’s home, the safety of a maiden, the peace of an old man in +his declining days? + +As if he guessed the thought, Simoun remarked to those about him: “Look +here—with one of these little blue stones, which appear so innocent and +inoffensive, pure as sparks scattered over the arch of heaven, with one +of these, seasonably presented, a man was able to have his enemy +deported, the father of a family, as a disturber of the peace; and with +this other little one like it, red as one’s heart-blood, as the feeling +of revenge, and bright as an orphan’s tears, he was restored to +liberty, the man was returned to his home, the father to his children, +the husband to the wife, and a whole family saved from a wretched +future.” + +He slapped the chest and went on in a loud tone in bad Tagalog: “Here I +have, as in a medicine-chest, life and death, poison and balm, and with +this handful I can drive to tears all the inhabitants of the +Philippines!” + +The listeners gazed at him awe-struck, knowing him to be right. In his +voice there could be detected a strange ring, while sinister flashes +seemed to issue from behind the blue goggles. + +Then as if to relieve the strain of the impression made by the gems on +such simple folk, he lifted up the tray and exposed at the bottom the +sanctum sanctorum. Cases of Russian leather, separated by layers of +cotton, covered a bottom lined with gray velvet. All expected wonders, +and Sinang’s husband thought he saw carbuncles, gems that flashed fire +and shone in the midst of the shadows. Capitan Basilio was on the +threshold of immortality: he was going to behold something real, +something beyond his dreams. + +“This was a necklace of Cleopatra’s,” said Simoun, taking out carefully +a flat case in the shape of a half-moon. “It’s a jewel that can’t be +appraised, an object for a museum, only for a rich government.” + +It was a necklace fashioned of bits of gold representing little idols +among green and blue beetles, with a vulture’s head made from a single +piece of rare jasper at the center between two extended wings—the +symbol and decoration of Egyptian queens. + +Sinang turned up her nose and made a grimace of childish depreciation, +while Capitan Basilio, with all his love for antiquity, could not +restrain an exclamation of disappointment. + +“It’s a magnificent jewel, well-preserved, almost two thousand years +old.” + +“Pshaw!” Sinang made haste to exclaim, to prevent her father’s falling +into temptation. + +“Fool!” he chided her, after overcoming his first disappointment. “How +do you know but that to this necklace is due the present condition of +the world? With this Cleopatra may have captivated Caesar, Mark Antony! +This has heard the burning declarations of love from the greatest +warriors of their time, it has listened to speeches in the purest and +most elegant Latin, and yet you would want to wear it!” + +“I? I wouldn’t give three pesos for it.” + +“You could give twenty, silly,” said Capitana Tika in a judicial tone. +“The gold is good and melted down would serve for other jewelry.” + +“This is a ring that must have belonged to Sulla,” continued Simoun, +exhibiting a heavy ring of solid gold with a seal on it. + +“With that he must have signed the death-wrarrants during his +dictatorship!” exclaimed Capitan Basilio, pale with emotion. He +examined it and tried to decipher the seal, but though he turned it +over and over he did not understand paleography, so he could not read +it. + +“What a finger Sulla had!” he observed finally. “This would fit two of +ours—as I’ve said, we’re degenerating!” + +“I still have many other jewels—” + +“If they’re all that kind, never mind!” interrupted Sinang. “I think I +prefer the modern.” + +Each one selected some piece of jewelry, one a ring, another a watch, +another a locket. Capitana Tika bought a reliquary that contained a +fragment of the stone on which Our Saviour rested at his third fall; +Sinang a pair of earrings; and Capitan Basilio the watch-chain for the +alferez, the lady’s earrings for the curate, and other gifts. The +families from the town of Tiani, not to be outdone by those of San +Diego, in like manner emptied their purses. + +Simoun bought or exchanged old jewelry, brought there by economical +mothers, to whom it was no longer of use. + +“You, haven’t you something to sell?” he asked Cabesang Tales, noticing +the latter watching the sales and exchanges with covetous eyes, but the +reply was that all his daughter’s jewels had been sold, nothing of +value remained. + +“What about Maria Clara’s locket?” inquired Sinang. + +“True!” the man exclaimed, and his eyes blazed for a moment. + +“It’s a locket set with diamonds and emeralds,” Sinang told the +jeweler. “My old friend wore it before she became a nun.” + +Simoun said nothing, but anxiously watched Cabesang Tales, who, after +opening several boxes, found the locket. He examined it carefully, +opening and shutting it repeatedly. It was the same locket that Maria +Clara had worn during the fiesta in San Diego and which she had in a +moment of compassion given to a leper. + +“I like the design,” said Simoun. “How much do you want for it?” + +Cabesang Tales scratched his head in perplexity, then his ear, then +looked at the women. + +“I’ve taken a fancy to this locket,” Simoun went on. “Will you take a +hundred, five hundred pesos? Do you want to exchange it for something +else? Take your choice here!” + +Tales stared foolishly at Simoun, as if in doubt of what he heard. +“Five hundred pesos?” he murmured. + +“Five hundred,” repeated the jeweler in a voice shaking with emotion. + +Cabesang Tales took the locket and made several turns about the room, +with his heart beating violently and his hands trembling. Dared he ask +more? That locket could save him, this was an excellent opportunity, +such as might not again present itself. + +The women winked at him to encourage him to make the sale, excepting +Penchang, who, fearing that Juli would be ransomed, observed piously: +“I would keep it as a relic. Those who have seen Maria Clara in the +nunnery say she has got so thin and weak that she can scarcely talk and +it’s thought that she’ll die a saint. Padre Salvi speaks very highly of +her and he’s her confessor. That’s why Juli didn’t want ito give it up, +but rather preferred to pawn herself.” + +This speech had its effect—the thought of his daughter restrained +Tales. “If you will allow me,” he said, “I’ll go to the town to consult +my daughter. I’ll be back before night.” + +This was agreed upon and Tales set out at once. But when he found +himself outside of the village, he made out at a distance, on a path, +that entered the woods, the friar-administrator and a man whom he +recognized as the usurper of his land. A husband seeing his wife enter +a private room with another man could not feel more wrath or jealousy +than Cabesang Tales experienced when he saw them moving over his +fields, the fields cleared by him, which he had thought to leave to his +children. It seemed to him that they were mocking him, laughing at his +powerlessness. There flashed into his memory what he had said about +never giving up his fields except to him who irrigated them with his +own blood and buried in them his wife and daughter. + +He stopped, rubbed his hand over his forehead, and shut his eyes. When +he again opened them, he saw that the man had turned to laugh and that +the friar had caught his sides as though to save himself from bursting +with merriment, then he saw them point toward his house and laugh +again. + +A buzz sounded in his ears, he felt the crack of a whip around his +chest, the red mist reappeared before his eyes, he again saw the +corpses of his wife and daughter, and beside them the usurper with the +friar laughing and holding his sides. Forgetting everything else, he +turned aside into the path they had taken, the one leading to his +fields. + +Simoun waited in vain for Cabesang Tales to return that night. But the +next morning when he arose he noticed that the leather holster of his +revolver was empty. Opening it he found inside a scrap of paper wrapped +around the locket set with emeralds and diamonds, with these few lines +written on it in Tagalog: + + + “Pardon, sir, that in my own house I relieve you of what belongs to + you, but necessity drives me to it. In exchange for your revolver I + leave the locket you desired so much. I need the weapon, for I am + going out to join the tulisanes. + + “I advise you not to keep on your present road, because if you fall + into our power, not then being my guest, we will require of you a + large ransom. + + Telesforo Juan de Dios.” + + +“At last I’ve found my man!” muttered Simoun with a deep breath. “He’s +somewhat scrupulous, but so much the better—he’ll keep his promises.” + +He then ordered a servant to go by boat over the lake to Los Baños with +the larger chest and await him there. He would go on overland, taking +the smaller chest, the one containing his famous jewels. The arrival of +four civil-guards completed his good humor. They came to arrest +Cabesang Tales and not finding him took Tandang Selo away instead. + +Three murders had been committed during the night. The +friar-administrator and the new tenant of Cabesang Tales’ land had been +found dead, with their heads split open and their mouths full of earth, +on the border of the fields. In the town the wife of the usurper was +found dead at dawn, her mouth also filled with earth and her throat +cut, with a fragment of paper beside her, on which was the name Tales, +written in blood as though traced by a finger. + +Calm yourselves, peaceful inhabitants of Kalamba! None of you are named +Tales, none of you have committed any crime! You are called Luis +Habaña, Matías Belarmino, Nicasio Eigasani, Cayetano de Jesús, Mateo +Elejorde, Leandro Lopez, Antonino Lopez, Silvestre Ubaldo, Manuel +Hidalgo, Paciano Mercado, your name is the whole village of Kalamba. +[19] You cleared your fields, on them you have spent the labor of your +whole lives, your savings, your vigils and privations, and you have +been despoiled of them, driven from your homes, with the rest forbidden +to show you hospitality! Not content with outraging justice, they [20] +have trampled upon the sacred traditions of your country! You have +served Spain and the King, and when in their name you have asked for +justice, you were banished without trial, torn from your wives’ arms +and your children’s caresses! Any one of you has suffered more than +Cabesang Tales, and yet none, not one of you, has received justice! +Neither pity nor humanity has been shown you—you have been persecuted +beyond the tomb, as was Mariano Herbosa! [21] Weep or laugh, there in +those lonely isles where you wander vaguely, uncertain of the future! +Spain, the generous Spain, is watching over you, and sooner or later +you will have justice! + + + + + + + + +CHAPTER XI + +LOS BAÑOS + + +His Excellency, the Captain-General and Governor of the Philippine +Islands, had been hunting in Bosoboso. But as he had to be accompanied +by a band of music,—since such an exalted personage was not to be +esteemed less than the wooden images carried in the processions,—and as +devotion to the divine art of St. Cecilia has not yet been popularized +among the deer and wild boars of Bosoboso, his Excellency, with the +band of music and train of friars, soldiers, and clerks, had not been +able to catch a single rat or a solitary bird. + +The provincial authorities foresaw dismissals and transfers, the poor +gobernadorcillos and cabezas de barangay were restless and sleepless, +fearing that the mighty hunter in his wrath might have a notion to make +up with their persons for the lack of submissiveness on the part of the +beasts of the forest, as had been done years before by an alcalde who +had traveled on the shoulders of impressed porters because he found no +horses gentle enough to guarantee his safety. There was not lacking an +evil rumor that his Excellency had decided to take some action, since +in this he saw the first symptoms of a rebellion which should be +strangled in its infancy, that a fruitless hunt hurt the prestige of +the Spanish name, that he already had his eye on a wretch to be dressed +up as a deer, when his Excellency, with clemency that Ben-Zayb lacked +words to extol sufficiently, dispelled all the fears by declaring that +it pained him to sacrifice to his pleasure the beasts of the forest. + +But to tell the truth, his Excellency was secretly very well satisfied, +for what would have happened had he missed a shot at a deer, one of +those not familiar with political etiquette? What would the prestige of +the sovereign power have come to then? A Captain-General of the +Philippines missing a shot, like a raw hunter? What would have been +said by the Indians, among whom there were some fair huntsmen? The +integrity of the fatherland would have been endangered. + +So it was that his Excellency, with a sheepish smile, and posing as a +disappointed hunter, ordered an immediate return to Los Baños. During +the journey he related with an indifferent air his hunting exploits in +this or that forest of the Peninsula, adopting a tone somewhat +depreciative, as suited the case, toward hunting in Filipinas. The bath +in Dampalit, the hot springs on the shore of the lake, card-games in +the palace, with an occasional excursion to some neighboring waterfall, +or the lake infested with caymans, offered more attractions and fewer +risks to the integrity of the fatherland. + +Thus on one of the last days of December, his Excellency found himself +in the sala, taking a hand at cards while he awaited the breakfast +hour. He had come from the bath, with the usual glass of coconut-milk +and its soft meat, so he was in the best of humors for granting favors +and privileges. His good humor was increased by his winning a good many +hands, for Padre Irene and Padre Sibyla, with whom he was playing, were +exercising all their skill in secretly trying to lose, to the great +irritation of Padre Camorra, who on account of his late arrival only +that morning was not informed as to the game they were playing on the +General. The friar-artilleryman was playing in good faith and with +great care, so he turned red and bit his lip every time Padre Sibyla +seemed inattentive or blundered, but he dared not say a word by reason +of the respect he felt for the Dominican. In exchange he took his +revenge out on Padre Irene, whom he looked upon as a base fawner and +despised for his coarseness. Padre Sibyla let him scold, while the +humbler Padre Irene tried to excuse himself by rubbing his long nose. +His Excellency was enjoying it and took advantage, like the good +tactician that the Canon hinted he was, of all the mistakes of his +opponents. Padre Camorra was ignorant of the fact that across the table +they were playing for the intellectual development of the Filipinos, +the instruction in Castilian, but had he known it he would doubtless +have joyfully entered into that game. + +The open balcony admitted the fresh, pure breeze and revealed the lake, +whose waters murmured sweetly around the base of the edifice, as if +rendering homage. On the right, at a distance, appeared Talim Island, a +deep blue in the midst of the lake, while almost in front lay the green +and deserted islet of Kalamba, in the shape of a half-moon. To the left +the picturesque shores were fringed with clumps of bamboo, then a hill +overlooking the lake, with wide ricefields beyond, then red roofs amid +the deep green of the trees,—the town of Kalamba,—and beyond the +shore-line fading into the distance, with the horizon at the back +closing down over the water, giving the lake the appearance of a sea +and justifying the name the Indians give it of dagat na tabang, or +fresh-water sea. + +At the end of the sala, seated before a table covered with documents, +was the secretary. His Excellency was a great worker and did not like +to lose time, so he attended to business in the intervals of the game +or while dealing the cards. Meanwhile, the bored secretary yawned and +despaired. That morning he had worked, as usual, over transfers, +suspensions of employees, deportations, pardons, and the like, but had +not yet touched the great question that had stirred so much +interest—the petition of the students requesting permission to +establish an academy of Castilian. Pacing from one end of the room to +the other and conversing animatedly but in low tones were to be seen +Don Custodio, a high official, and a friar named Padre Fernandez, who +hung his head with an air either of meditation or annoyance. From an +adjoining room issued the click of balls striking together and bursts +of laughter, amid which might be heard the sharp, dry voice of Simoun, +who was playing billiards with Ben-Zayb. + +Suddenly Padre Camorra arose. “The devil with this game, puñales!” he +exclaimed, throwing his cards at Padre Irene’s head. “Puñales, that +trick, if not all the others, was assured and we lost by default! +Puñales! The devil with this game!” + +He explained the situation angrily to all the occupants of the sala, +addressing himself especially to the three walking about, as if he had +selected them for judges. The general played thus, he replied with such +a card, Padre Irene had a certain card; he led, and then that fool of a +Padre Irene didn’t play his card! Padre Irene was giving the game away! +It was a devil of a way to play! His mother’s son had not come here to +rack his brains for nothing and lose his money! + +Then he added, turning very red, “If the booby thinks my money grows on +every bush!... On top of the fact that my Indians are beginning to +haggle over payments!” Fuming, and disregarding the excuses of Padre +Irene, who tried to explain while he rubbed the tip of his beak in +order to conceal his sly smile, he went into the billiardroom. + +“Padre Fernandez, would you like to take a hand?” asked Fray Sibyla. + +“I’m a very poor player,” replied the friar with a grimace. + +“Then get Simoun,” said the General. “Eh, Simoun! Eh, Mister, won’t you +try a hand?” + +“What is your disposition concerning the arms for sporting purposes?” +asked the secretary, taking advantage of the pause. + +Simoun thrust his head through the doorway. + +“Don’t you want to take Padre Camorra’s place, Señor Sindbad?” inquired +Padre Irene. “You can bet diamonds instead of chips.” + +“I don’t care if I do,” replied Simoun, advancing while he brushed the +chalk from his hands. “What will you bet?” + +“What should we bet?” returned Padre Sibyla. “The General can bet what +he likes, but we priests, clerics—” + +“Bah!” interrupted Simoun ironically. “You and Padre Irene can pay with +deeds of charity, prayers, and virtues, eh?” + +“You know that the virtues a person may possess,” gravely argued Padre +Sibyla, “are not like the diamonds that may pass from hand to hand, to +be sold and resold. They are inherent in the being, they are essential +attributes of the subject—” + +“I’ll be satisfied then if you pay me with promises,” replied Simoun +jestingly. “You, Padre Sibyla, instead of paying me five something or +other in money, will say, for example: for five days I renounce +poverty, humility, and obedience. You, Padre Irene: I renounce +chastity, liberality, and so on. Those are small matters, and I’m +putting up my diamonds.” + +“What a peculiar man this Simoun is, what notions he has!” exclaimed +Padre Irene with a smile. + +“And he,” continued Simoun, slapping his Excellency familiarly on the +shoulder, “he will pay me with an order for five days in prison, or +five months, or an order of deportation made out in blank, or let us +say a summary execution by the Civil Guard while my man is being +conducted from one town to another.” + +This was a strange proposition, so the three who had been pacing about +gathered around. + +“But, Señor Simoun,” asked the high official, “what good will you get +out of winning promises of virtues, or lives and deportations and +summary executions?” + +“A great deal! I’m tired of hearing virtues talked about and would like +to have the whole of them, all there are in the world, tied up in a +sack, in order to throw them into the sea, even though I had to use my +diamonds for sinkers.” + +“What an idea!” exclaimed Padre Irene with another smile. “And the +deportations and executions, what of them?” + +“Well, to clean the country and destroy every evil seed.” + +“Get out! You’re still sore at the tulisanes. But you were lucky that +they didn’t demand a larger ransom or keep all your jewels. Man, don’t +be ungrateful!” + +Simoun proceeded to relate how he had been intercepted by a band of +tulisanes, who, after entertaining him for a day, had let him go on his +way without exacting other ransom than his two fine revolvers and the +two boxes of cartridges he carried with him. He added that the +tulisanes had charged him with many kind regards for his Excellency, +the Captain-General. + +As a result of this, and as Simoun reported that the tulisanes were +well provided with shotguns, rifles, and revolvers, and against such +persons one man alone, no matter how well armed, could not defend +himself, his Excellency, to prevent the tulisanes from getting weapons +in the future, was about to dictate a new decree forbidding the +introduction of sporting arms. + +“On the contrary, on the contrary!” protested Simoun, “for me the +tulisanes are the most respectable men in the country, they’re the only +ones who earn their living honestly. Suppose I had fallen into the +hands—well, of you yourselves, for example, would you have let me +escape without taking half of my jewels, at least?” + +Don Custodio was on the point of protesting; that Simoun was really a +rude American mulatto taking advantage of his friendship with the +Captain-General to insult Padre Irene, although it may be true also +that Padre Irene would hardly have set him free for so little. + +“The evil is not,” went on Simoun, “in that there are tulisanes in the +mountains and uninhabited parts—the evil lies in the tulisanes in the +towns and cities.” + +“Like yourself,” put in the Canon with a smile. + +“Yes, like myself, like all of us! Let’s be frank, for no Indian is +listening to us here,” continued the jeweler. “The evil is that we’re +not all openly declared tulisanes. When that happens and we all take to +the woods, on that day the country will be saved, on that day will rise +a new social order which will take care of itself, and his Excellency +will be able to play his game in peace, without the necessity of having +his attention diverted by his secretary.” + +The person mentioned at that moment yawned, extending his folded arms +above his head and stretching his crossed legs under the table as far +as possible, upon noticing which all laughed. His Excellency wished to +change the course of the conversation, so, throwing down the cards he +had been shuffling, he said half seriously: “Come, come, enough of +jokes and cards! Let’s get to work, to work in earnest, since we still +have a half-hour before breakfast. Are there many matters to be got +through with?” + +All now gave their attention. That was the day for joining battle over +the question of instruction in Castilian, for which purpose Padre +Sibyla and Padre Irene had been there several days. It was known that +the former, as Vice-Rector, was opposed to the project and that the +latter supported it, and his activity was in turn supported by the +Countess. + +“What is there, what is there?” asked his Excellency impatiently. + +“The petition about sporting arms,” replied the secretary with a +stifled yawn. + +“Forbidden!” + +“Pardon, General,” said the high official gravely, “your Excellency +will permit me to invite your attention to the fact that the use of +sporting arms is permitted in all the countries of the world.” + +The General shrugged his shoulders and remarked dryly, “We are not +imitating any nation in the world.” + +Between his Excellency and the high official there was always a +difference of opinion, so it was sufficient that the latter offer any +suggestion whatsoever to have the former remain stubborn. + +The high official tried another tack. “Sporting arms can harm only rats +and chickens. They’ll say—” + +“But are we chickens?” interrupted the General, again shrugging his +shoulders. “Am I? I’ve demonstrated that I’m not.” + +“But there’s another thing,” observed the secretary. “Four months ago, +when the possession of arms was prohibited, the foreign importers were +assured that sporting arms would be admitted.” + +His Excellency knitted his brows. + +“That can be arranged,” suggested Simoun. + +“How?” + +“Very simply. Sporting arms nearly all have a caliber of six +millimeters, at least those now in the market. Authorize only the sale +of those that haven’t these six millimeters.” + +All approved this idea of Simoun’s, except the high official, who +muttered into Padre Fernandez’s ear that this was not dignified, nor +was it the way to govern. + +“The schoolmaster of Tiani,” proceeded the secretary, shuffling some +papers about, “asks for a better location for—” + +“What better location can he want than the storehouse that he has all +to himself?” interrupted Padre Camorra, who had returned, having +forgotten about the card-game. + +“He says that it’s roofless,” replied the secretary, “and that having +purchased out of his own pocket some maps and pictures, he doesn’t want +to expose them to the weather.” + +“But I haven’t anything to do with that,” muttered his Excellency. “He +should address the head secretary, [22] the governor of the province, +or the nuncio.” + +“I want to tell you,” declared Padre Camorra, “that this little +schoolmaster is a discontented filibuster. Just imagine—the heretic +teaches that corpses rot just the same, whether buried with great pomp +or without any! Some day I’m going to punch him!” Here he doubled up +his fists. + +“To tell the truth,” observed Padre Sibyla, as if speaking only to +Padre Irene, “he who wishes to teach, teaches everywhere, in the open +air. Socrates taught in the public streets, Plato in the gardens of the +Academy, even Christ among the mountains and lakes.” + +“I’ve heard several complaints against this schoolmaster,” said his +Excellency, exchanging a glance with Simoun. “I think the best thing +would be to suspend him.” + +“Suspended!” repeated the secretary. + +The luck of that unfortunate, who had asked for help and received his +dismissal, pained the high official and he tried to do something for +him. + +“It’s certain,” he insinuated rather timidly, “that education is not at +all well provided for—” + +“I’ve already decreed large sums for the purchase of supplies,” +exclaimed his Excellency haughtily, as if to say, “I’ve done more than +I ought to have done.” + +“But since suitable locations are lacking, the supplies purchased get +ruined.” + +“Everything can’t be done at once,” said his Excellency dryly. “The +schoolmasters here are doing wrong in asking for buildings when those +in Spain starve to death. It’s great presumption to be better off here +than in the mother country itself!” + +“Filibusterism—” + +“Before everything the fatherland! Before everything else we are +Spaniards!” added Ben-Zayb, his eyes glowing with patriotism, but he +blushed somewhat when he noticed that he was speaking alone. + +“In the future,” decided the General, “all who complain will be +suspended.” + +“If my project were accepted—” Don Custodio ventured to remark, as if +talking to himself. + +“For the construction of schoolhouses?” + +“It’s simple, practical, economical, and, like all my projects, derived +from long experience and knowledge of the country. The towns would have +schools without costing the government a cuarto.” + +“That’s easy,” observed the secretary sarcastically. “Compel the towns +to construct them at their own expense,” whereupon all laughed. + +“No, sir! No, sir!” cried the exasperated Don Custodio, turning very +red. “The buildings are already constructed and only wait to be +utilized. Hygienic, unsurpassable, spacious—” + +The friars looked at one another uneasily. Would Don Custodio propose +that the churches and conventos be converted into schoolhouses? + +“Let’s hear it,” said the General with a frown. + +“Well, General, it’s very simple,” replied Don Custodio, drawing +himself up and assuming his hollow voice of ceremony. “The schools are +open only on week-days and the cockpits on holidays. Then convert these +into schoolhouses, at least during the week.” + +“Man, man, man!” + +“What a lovely idea!” + +“What’s the matter with you, Don Custodio?” + +“That’s a grand suggestion!” + +“That beats them all!” + +“But, gentlemen,” cried Don Custodio, in answer to so many +exclamations, “let’s be practical—what places are more suitable than +the cockpits? They’re large, well constructed, and under a curse for +the use to which they are put during the week-days. From a moral +standpoint my project would be acceptable, by serving as a kind of +expiation and weekly purification of the temple of chance, as we might +say.” + +“But the fact remains that sometimes there are cockfights during the +week,” objected Padre Camorra, “and it wouldn’t be right when the +contractors of the cockpits pay the government—” [23] + +“Well, on those days close the school!” + +“Man, man!” exclaimed the scandalized Captain-General. “Such an outrage +shall never be perpetrated while I govern! To close the schools in +order to gamble! Man, man, I’ll resign first!” His Excellency was +really horrified. + +“But, General, it’s better to close them for a few days than for +months.” + +“It would be immoral,” observed Padre Irene, more indignant even than +his Excellency. + +“It’s more immoral that vice has good buildings and learning none. +Let’s be practical, gentlemen, and not be carried away by sentiment. In +politics there’s nothing worse than sentiment. While from humane +considerations we forbid the cultivation of opium in our colonies, we +tolerate the smoking of it, and the result is that we do not combat the +vice but impoverish ourselves.” + +“But remember that it yields to the government, without any effort, +more than four hundred and fifty thousand pesos,” objected Padre Irene, +who was getting more and more on the governmental side. + +“Enough, enough, enough!” exclaimed his Excellency, to end the +discussion. “I have my own plans in this regard and will devote special +attention to the matter of public instruction. Is there anything else?” + +The secretary looked uneasily toward Padre Sibyla and Padre Irene. The +cat was about to come out of the bag. Both prepared themselves. + +“The petition of the students requesting authorization to open an +academy of Castilian,” answered the secretary. + +A general movement was noted among those in the room. After glancing at +one another they fixed their eyes on the General to learn what his +disposition would be. For six months the petition had lain there +awaiting a decision and had become converted into a kind of casus belli +in certain circles. His Excellency had lowered his eyes, as if to keep +his thoughts from being read. + +The silence became embarrassing, as the General understood, so he asked +the high official, “What do you think?” + +“What should I think, General?” responded the person addressed, with a +shrug of his shoulders and a bitter smile. “What should I think but +that the petition is just, very just, and that I am surprised that six +months should have been taken to consider it.” + +“The fact is that it involves other considerations,” said Padre Sibyla +coldly, as he half closed his eyes. + +The high official again shrugged his shoulders, like one who did not +comprehend what those considerations could be. + +“Besides the intemperateness of the demand,” went on the Dominican, +“besides the fact that it is in the nature of an infringement on our +prerogatives—” + +Padre Sibyla dared not go on, but looked at Simoun. + +“The petition has a somewhat suspicious character,” corroborated that +individual, exchanging a look with the Dominican, who winked several +times. + +Padre Irene noticed these things and realized that his cause was almost +lost—Simoun was against him. + +“It’s a peaceful rebellion, a revolution on stamped paper,” added Padre +Sibyla. + +“Revolution? Rebellion?” inquired the high official, staring from one +to the other as if he did not understand what they could mean. + +“It’s headed by some young men charged with being too radical and too +much interested in reforms, not to use stronger terms,” remarked the +secretary, with a look at the Dominican. “Among them is a certain +Isagani, a poorly balanced head, nephew of a native priest—” + +“He’s a pupil of mine,” put in Padre Fernandez, “and I’m much pleased +with him.” + +“Puñales, I like your taste!” exclaimed Padre Camorra. “On the steamer +we nearly had a fight. He’s so insolent that when I gave him a shove +aside he returned it.” + +“There’s also one Makaragui or Makarai—” + +“Makaraig,” Padre Irene joined in. “A very pleasant and agreeable young +man.” + +Then he murmured into the General’s ear, “He’s the one I’ve talked to +you about, he’s very rich. The Countess recommends him strongly.” + +“Ah!” + +“A medical student, one Basilio—” + +“Of that Basilio, I’ll say nothing,” observed Padre Irene, raising his +hands and opening them, as if to say Dominus vobiscum. “He’s too deep +for me. I’ve never succeeded in fathoming what he wants or what he is +thinking about. It’s a pity that Padre Salvi isn’t present to tell us +something about his antecedents. I believe that I’ve heard that when a +boy he got into trouble with the Civil Guard. His father was killed +in—I don’t remember what disturbance.” + +Simoun smiled faintly, silently, showing his sharp white teeth. + +“Aha! Aha!” said his Excellency nodding. “That’s the kind we have! Make +a note of that name.” + +“But, General,” objected the high official, seeing that the matter was +taking a bad turn, “up to now nothing positive is known against these +young men. Their position is a very just one, and we have no right to +deny it on the ground of mere conjectures. My opinion is that the +government, by exhibiting confidence in the people and in its own +stability, should grant what is asked, then it could freely revoke the +permission when it saw that its kindness was being abused—reasons and +pretexts would not be wanting, we can watch them. Why cause +disaffection among some young men, who later on may feel resentment, +when what they ask is commanded by royal decrees?” + +Padre Irene, Don Custodio, and Padre Fernandez nodded in agreement. + +“But the Indians must not understand Castilian, you know,” cried Padre +Camorra. “They mustn’t learn it, for then they’ll enter into arguments +with us, and the Indians must not argue, but obey and pay. They mustn’t +try to interpret the meaning of the laws and the books, they’re so +tricky and pettifogish! Just as soon as they learn Castilian they +become enemies of God and of Spain. Just read the Tandang Basio +Macunat—that’s a book! It tells truths like this!” And he held up his +clenched fists. + +Padre Sibyla rubbed his hand over his tonsure in sign of impatience. +“One word,” he began in the most conciliatory tone, though fuming with +irritation, “here we’re not dealing with the instruction in Castilian +alone. Here there is an underhand fight between the students and the +University of Santo Tomas. If the students win this, our prestige will +be trampled in the dirt, they will say that they’ve beaten us and will +exult accordingly. Then, good-by to moral strength, good-by to +everything! The first dike broken down, who will restrain this youth? +With our fall we do no more than signal your own. After us, the +government!” + +“Puñales, that’s not so!” exclaimed Padre Camorra. “We’ll see first who +has the biggest fists!” + +At this point Padre Fernandez, who thus far in the discussion had +merely contented himself with smiling, began to talk. All gave him +their attention, for they knew him to be a thoughtful man. + +“Don’t take it ill of me, Padre Sibyla, if I differ from your view of +the affair, but it’s my peculiar fate to be almost always in opposition +to my brethren. I say, then, that we ought not to be so pessimistic. +The instruction in Castilian can be allowed without any risk whatever, +and in order that it may not appear to be a defeat of the University, +we Dominicans ought to put forth our efforts and be the first to +rejoice over it—that should be our policy. To what end are we to be +engaged in an everlasting struggle with the people, when after all we +are the few and they are the many, when we need them and they do not +need us? Wait, Padre Camorra, wait! Admit that now the people may be +weak and ignorant—I also believe that—but it will not be true tomorrow +or the day after. Tomorrow and the next day they will be the stronger, +they will know what is good for them, and we cannot keep it from them, +just as it is not possible to keep from children the knowledge of many +things when they reach a certain age. I say, then, why should we not +take advantage of this condition of ignorance to change our policy +completely, to place it upon a basis solid and enduring—on the basis of +justice, for example, instead of on the basis of ignorance? There’s +nothing like being just; that I’ve always said to my brethren, but they +won’t believe me. The Indian idolizes justice, like every race in its +youth; he asks for punishment when he has done wrong, just as he is +exasperated when he has not deserved it. Is theirs a just desire? Then +grant it! Let’s give them all the schools they want, until they are +tired of them. Youth is lazy, and what urges them to activity is our +opposition. Our bond of prestige, Padre Sibyla, is about worn out, so +let’s prepare another, the bond of gratitude, for example. Let’s not be +fools, let’s do as the crafty Jesuits—” + +“Padre Fernandez!” Anything could be tolerated by Padre Sibyla except +to propose the Jesuits to him as a model. Pale and trembling, he broke +out into bitter recrimination. “A Franciscan first! Anything before a +Jesuit!” He was beside himself. + +“Oh, oh!” + +“Eh, Padre—” + +A general discussion broke out, regardless of the Captain-General. All +talked at once, they yelled, they misunderstood and contradicted one +another. Ben-Zayb and Padre Camorra shook their fists in each other’s +faces, one talking of simpletons and the other of ink-slingers, Padre +Sibyla kept harping on the Capitulum, and Padre Fernandez on the Summa +of St. Thomas, until the curate of Los Baños entered to announce that +breakfast was served. + +His Excellency arose and so ended the discussion. “Well, gentlemen,” he +said, “we’ve worked like niggers and yet we’re on a vacation. Some one +has said that grave matters should be considered at dessert. I’m +entirely of that opinion.” + +“We might get indigestion,” remarked the secretary, alluding to the +heat of the discussion. + +“Then we’ll lay it aside until tomorrow.” + +As they rose the high official whispered to the General, “Your +Excellency, the daughter of Cabesang Tales has been here again begging +for the release of her sick grandfather, who was arrested in place of +her father.” + +His Excellency looked at him with an expression of impatience and +rubbed his hand across his broad forehead. “Carambas! Can’t one be left +to eat his breakfast in peace?” + +“This is the third day she has come. She’s a poor girl—” + +“Oh, the devil!” exclaimed Padre Camorra. “I’ve just thought of it. I +have something to say to the General about that—that’s what I came over +for—to support that girl’s petition.” + +The General scratched the back of his ear and said, “Oh, go along! Have +the secretary make out an order to the lieutenant of the Civil Guard +for the old man’s release. They sha’n’t say that we’re not clement and +merciful.” + +He looked at Ben-Zayb. The journalist winked. + + + + + + + + +CHAPTER XII + +PLACIDO PENITENTE + + +Reluctantly, and almost with tearful eyes, Placido Penitente was going +along the Escolta on his way to the University of Santo Tomas. It had +hardly been a week since he had come from his town, yet he had already +written to his mother twice, reiterating his desire to abandon his +studies and go back there to work. His mother answered that he should +have patience, that at the least he must be graduated as a bachelor of +arts, since it would be unwise to desert his books after four years of +expense and sacrifices on both their parts. + +Whence came to Penitente this aversion to study, when he had been one +of the most diligent in the famous college conducted by Padre Valerio +in Tanawan? There Penitente had been considered one of the best +Latinists and the subtlest disputants, one who could tangle or untangle +the simplest as well as the most abstruse questions. His townspeople +considered him very clever, and his curate, influenced by that opinion, +already classified him as a filibuster—a sure proof that he was neither +foolish nor incapable. His friends could not explain those desires for +abandoning his studies and returning: he had no sweethearts, was not a +gambler, hardly knew anything about hunkían and rarely tried his luck +at the more familiar revesino. He did not believe in the advice of the +curates, laughed at Tandang Basio Macunat, had plenty of money and good +clothes, yet he went to school reluctantly and looked with repugnance +on his books. + +On the Bridge of Spain, a bridge whose name alone came from Spain, +since even its ironwork came from foreign countries, he fell in with +the long procession of young men on their way to the Walled City to +their respective schools. Some were dressed in the European fashion and +walked rapidly, carrying books and notes, absorbed in thoughts of their +lessons and essays—these were the students of the Ateneo. Those from +San Juan de Letran were nearly all dressed in the Filipino costume, but +were more numerous and carried fewer books. Those from the University +are dressed more carefully and elegantly and saunter along carrying +canes instead of books. The collegians of the Philippines are not very +noisy or turbulent. They move along in a preoccupied manner, such that +upon seeing them one would say that before their eyes shone no hope, no +smiling future. Even though here and there the line is brightened by +the attractive appearance of the schoolgirls of the Escuela Municipal, +[24] with their sashes across their shoulders and their books in their +hands, followed by their servants, yet scarcely a laugh resounds or a +joke can be heard—nothing of song or jest, at best a few heavy jokes or +scuffles among the smaller boys. The older ones nearly always proceed +seriously and composedly, like the German students. + +Placido was proceeding along the Paseo de Magallanes toward the +breach—formerly the gate—of Santo Domingo, when he suddenly felt a slap +on the shoulder, which made him turn quickly in ill humor. + +“Hello, Penitente! Hello, Penitente!” + +It was his schoolmate Juanito Pelaez, the barbero or pet of the +professors, as big a rascal as he could be, with a roguish look and a +clownish smile. The son of a Spanish mestizo—a rich merchant in one of +the suburbs, who based all his hopes and joys on the boy’s talent—he +promised well with his roguery, and, thanks to his custom of playing +tricks on every one and then hiding behind his companions, he had +acquired a peculiar hump, which grew larger whenever he was laughing +over his deviltry. + +“What kind of time did you have, Penitente?” was his question as he +again slapped him on the shoulder. + +“So, so,” answered Placido, rather bored. “And you?” + +“Well, it was great! Just imagine—the curate of Tiani invited me to +spend the vacation in his town, and I went. Old man, you know Padre +Camorra, I suppose? Well, he’s a liberal curate, very jolly, frank, +very frank, one of those like Padre Paco. As there were pretty girls, +we serenaded them all, he with his guitar and songs and I with my +violin. I tell you, old man, we had a great time—there wasn’t a house +we didn’t try!” + +He whispered a few words in Placido’s ear and then broke out into +laughter. As the latter exhibited some surprise, he resumed: “I’ll +swear to it! They can’t help themselves, because with a governmental +order you get rid of the father, husband, or brother, and then—merry +Christmas! However, we did run up against a little fool, the +sweetheart, I believe, of Basilio, you know? Look, what a fool this +Basilio is! To have a sweetheart who doesn’t know a word of Spanish, +who hasn’t any money, and who has been a servant! She’s as shy as she +can be, but pretty. Padre Camorra one night started to club two fellows +who were serenading her and I don’t know how it was he didn’t kill +them, yet with all that she was just as shy as ever. But it’ll result +for her as it does with all the women, all of them!” + +Juanito Pelaez laughed with a full mouth, as though he thought this a +glorious thing, while Placido stared at him in disgust. + +“Listen, what did the professor explain yesterday?” asked Juanito, +changing the conversation. + +“Yesterday there was no class.” + +“Oho, and the day before yesterday?” + +“Man, it was Thursday!” + +“Right! What an ass I am! Don’t you know, Placido, that I’m getting to +be a regular ass? What about Wednesday?” + +“Wednesday? Wait—Wednesday, it was a little wet.” + +“Fine! What about Tuesday, old man?” + +“Tuesday was the professor’s nameday and we went to entertain him with +an orchestra, present him flowers and some gifts.” + +“Ah, carambas!” exclaimed Juanito, “that I should have forgotten about +it! What an ass I am! Listen, did he ask for me?” + +Penitente shrugged his shoulders. “I don’t know, but they gave him a +list of his entertainers.” + +“Carambas! Listen—Monday, what happened?” + +“As it was the first school-day, he called the roll and assigned the +lesson—about mirrors. Look, from here to here, by memory, word for +word. We jump all this section, we take that.” He was pointing out with +his finger in the “Physics” the portions that were to be learned, when +suddenly the book flew through the air, as a result of the slap Juanito +gave it from below. + +“Thunder, let the lessons go! Let’s have a dia pichido!” + +The students in Manila call dia pichido a school-day that falls between +two holidays and is consequently suppressed, as though forced out by +their wish. + +“Do you know that you really are an ass?” exclaimed Placido, picking up +his book and papers. + +“Let’s have a dia pichido!” repeated Juanito. + +Placido was unwilling, since for only two the authorities were hardly +going to suspend a class of more than a hundred and fifty. He recalled +the struggles and privations his mother was suffering in order to keep +him in Manila, while she went without even the necessities of life. + +They were just passing through the breach of Santo Domingo, and +Juanito, gazing across the little plaza [25] in front of the old +Customs building, exclaimed, “Now I think of it, I’m appointed to take +up the collection.” + +“What collection?” + +“For the monument.” + +“What monument?” + +“Get out! For Padre Balthazar, you know.” + +“And who was Padre Balthazar?” + +“Fool! A Dominican, of course—that’s why the padres call on the +students. Come on now, loosen up with three or four pesos, so that they +may see we are sports. Don’t let them say afterwards that in order to +erect a statue they had to dig down into their own pockets. Do, +Placido, it’s not money thrown away.” + +He accompanied these words with a significant wink. Placido recalled +the case of a student who had passed through the entire course by +presenting canary-birds, so he subscribed three pesos. + +“Look now, I’ll write your name plainly so that the professor will read +it, you see—Placido Penitente, three pesos. Ah, listen! In a couple of +weeks comes the nameday of the professor of natural history. You know +that he’s a good fellow, never marks absences or asks about the lesson. +Man, we must show our appreciation!” + +“That’s right!” + +“Then don’t you think that we ought to give him a celebration? The +orchestra must not be smaller than the one you had for the professor of +physics.” + +“That’s right!” + +“What do you think about making the contribution two pesos? Come, +Placido, you start it, so you’ll be at the head of the list.” + +Then, seeing that Placido gave the two pesos without hesitation, he +added, “Listen, put up four, and afterwards I’ll return you two. +They’ll serve as a decoy.” + +“Well, if you’re going to return them to me, why give them to you? +It’ll be sufficient, for you to write four.” + +“Ah, that’s right! What an ass I am! Do you know, I’m getting to be a +regular ass! But let me have them anyhow, so that I can show them.” + +Placido, in order not to give the lie to the priest who christened him, +gave what was asked, just as they reached the University. + +In the entrance and along the walks on each side of it were gathered +the students, awaiting the appearance of the professors. Students of +the preparatory year of law, of the fifth of the secondary course, of +the preparatory in medicine, formed lively groups. The latter were +easily distinguished by their clothing and by a certain air that was +lacking in the others, since the greater part of them came from the +Ateneo Municipal. Among them could be seen the poet Isagani, explaining +to a companion the theory of the refraction of light. In another group +they were talking, disputing, citing the statements of the professor, +the text-books, and scholastic principles; in yet another they were +gesticulating and waving their books in the air or making +demonstrations with their canes by drawing diagrams on the ground; +farther on, they were entertaining themselves in watching the pious +women go into the neighboring church, all the students making facetious +remarks. An old woman leaning on a young girl limped piously, while the +girl moved along with downcast eyes, timid and abashed to pass before +so many curious eyes. The old lady, catching up her coffee-colored +skirt, of the Sisterhood of St. Rita, to reveal her big feet and white +stockings, scolded her companion and shot furious glances at the +staring bystanders. + +“The rascals!” she grunted. “Don’t look at them, keep your eyes down.” + +Everything was noticed; everything called forth jokes and comments. Now +it was a magnificent victoria which stopped at the door to set down a +family of votaries on their way to visit the Virgin of the Rosary [26] +on her favorite day, while the inquisitive sharpened their eyes to get +a glimpse of the shape and size of the young ladies’ feet as they got +out of the carriages; now it was a student who came out of the door +with devotion still shining in his eyes, for he had passed through the +church to beg the Virgin’s help in understanding his lesson and to see +if his sweetheart was there, to exchange a few glances with her and go +on to his class with the recollection of her loving eyes. + +Soon there was noticed some movement in the groups, a certain air of +expectancy, while Isagani paused and turned pale. A carriage drawn by a +pair of well-known white horses had stopped at the door. It was that of +Paulita Gomez, and she had already jumped down, light as a bird, +without giving the rascals time to see her foot. With a bewitching +whirl of her body and a sweep of her hand she arranged the folds of her +skirt, shot a rapid and apparently careless glance toward Isagani, +spoke to him and smiled. Doña Victorina descended in her turn, gazed +over her spectacles, saw Juanito Pelaez, smiled, and bowed to him +affably. + +Isagani, flushed with excitement, returned a timid salute, while +Juanito bowed profoundly, took off his hat, and made the same gesture +as the celebrated clown and caricaturist Panza when he received +applause. + +“Heavens, what a girl!” exclaimed one of the students, starting +forward. “Tell the professor that I’m seriously ill.” So Tadeo, as this +invalid youth was known, entered the church to follow the girl. + +Tadeo went to the University every day to ask if the classes would be +held and each time seemed to be more and more astonished that they +would. He had a fixed idea of a latent and eternal holiday, and +expected it to come any day. So each morning, after vainly proposing +that they play truant, he would go away alleging important business, an +appointment, or illness, just at the very moment when his companions +were going to their classes. But by some occult, thaumaturgic art Tadeo +passed the examinations, was beloved by the professors, and had before +him a promising future. + +Meanwhile, the groups began to move inside, for the professor of +physics and chemistry had put in his appearance. The students appeared +to be cheated in their hopes and went toward the interior of the +building with exclamations of discontent. Placido went along with the +crowd. + +“Penitente, Penitente!” called a student with a certain mysterious air. +“Sign this!” + +“What is it?” + +“Never mind—sign it!” + +It seemed to Placido that some one was twitching his ears. He recalled +the story of a cabeza de barangay in his town who, for having signed a +document that he did not understand, was kept a prisoner for months and +months, and came near to deportation. An uncle of Placido’s, in order +to fix the lesson in his memory, had given him a severe ear-pulling, so +that always whenever he heard signatures spoken of, his ears reproduced +the sensation. + +“Excuse me, but I can’t sign anything without first understanding what +it’s about.” + +“What a fool you are! If two celestial carbineers have signed it, what +have you to fear?” + +The name of celestial carbineers inspired confidence, being, as it was, +a sacred company created to aid God in the warfare against the evil +spirit and to prevent the smuggling of heretical contraband into the +markets of the New Zion. [27] + +Placido was about to sign to make an end of it, because he was in a +hurry,—already his classmates were reciting the O Thoma,—but again his +ears twitched, so he said, “After the class! I want to read it first.” + +“It’s very long, don’t you see? It concerns the presentation of a +counter-petition, or rather, a protest. Don’t you understand? Makaraig +and some others have asked that an academy of Castilian be opened, +which is a piece of genuine foolishness—” + +“All right, all right, after awhile. They’re already beginning,” +answered Placido, trying to get away. + +“But your professor may not call the roll—” + +“Yes, yes; but he calls it sometimes. Later on, later on! Besides, I +don’t want to put myself in opposition to Makaraig.” + +“But it’s not putting yourself in opposition, it’s only—” + +Placido heard no more, for he was already far away, hurrying to his +class. He heard the different voices—adsum, adsum—the roll was being +called! Hastening his steps he got to the door just as the letter Q was +reached. + +“Tinamáan ñg—!” [28] he muttered, biting his lips. + +He hesitated about entering, for the mark was already down against him +and was not to be erased. One did not go to the class to learn but in +order not to get this absence mark, for the class was reduced to +reciting the lesson from memory, reading the book, and at the most +answering a few abstract, profound, captious, enigmatic questions. +True, the usual preachment was never lacking—the same as ever, about +humility, submission, and respect to the clerics, and he, Placido, was +humble, submissive, and respectful. So he was about to turn away when +he remembered that the examinations were approaching and his professor +had not yet asked him a question nor appeared to notice him—this would +be a good opportunity to attract his attention and become known! To be +known was to gain a year, for if it cost nothing to suspend one who was +not known, it required a hard heart not to be touched by the sight of a +youth who by his daily presence was a reproach over a year of his life +wasted. + +So Placido went in, not on tiptoe as was his custom, but noisily on his +heels, and only too well did he succeed in his intent! The professor +stared at him, knitted his brows, and shook his head, as though to say, +“Ah, little impudence, you’ll pay for that!” + + + + + + + + +CHAPTER XIII + +THE CLASS IN PHYSICS + + +The classroom was a spacious rectangular hall with large grated windows +that admitted an abundance of light and air. Along the two sides +extended three wide tiers of stone covered with wood, filled with +students arranged in alphabetical order. At the end opposite the +entrance, under a print of St. Thomas Aquinas, rose the professor’s +chair on an elevated platform with a little stairway on each side. With +the exception of a beautiful blackboard in a narra frame, scarcely ever +used, since there was still written on it the viva that had appeared on +the opening day, no furniture, either useful or useless, was to be +seen. The walls, painted white and covered with glazed tiles to prevent +scratches, were entirely bare, having neither a drawing nor a picture, +nor even an outline of any physical apparatus. The students had no need +of any, no one missed the practical instruction in an extremely +experimental science; for years and years it has been so taught and the +country has not been upset, but continues just as ever. Now and then +some little instrument descended from heaven and was exhibited to the +class from a distance, like the monstrance to the prostrate +worshipers—look, but touch not! From time to time, when some complacent +professor appeared, one day in the year was set aside for visiting the +mysterious laboratory and gazing from without at the puzzling apparatus +arranged in glass cases. No one could complain, for on that day there +were to be seen quantities of brass and glassware, tubes, disks, +wheels, bells, and the like—the exhibition did not get beyond that, and +the country was not upset. + +Besides, the students were convinced that those instruments had not +been purchased for them—the friars would be fools! The laboratory was +intended to be shown to the visitors and the high officials who came +from the Peninsula, so that upon seeing it they would nod their heads +with satisfaction, while their guide would smile, as if to say, “Eh, +you thought you were going to find some backward monks! Well, we’re +right up with the times—we have a laboratory!” + +The visitors and high officials, after being handsomely entertained, +would then write in their Travels or Memoirs: “The Royal and Pontifical +University of Santo Tomas of Manila, in charge of the enlightened +Dominican Order, possesses a magnificent physical laboratory for the +instruction of youth. Some two hundred and fifty students annually +study this subject, but whether from apathy, indolence, the limited +capacity of the Indian, or some other ethnological or incomprehensible +reason, up to now there has not developed a Lavoisier, a Secchi, or a +Tyndall, not even in miniature, in the Malay-Filipino race.” + +Yet, to be exact, we will say that in this laboratory are held the +classes of thirty or forty advanced students, under the direction of an +instructor who performs his duties well enough, but as the greater part +of these students come from the Ateneo of the Jesuits, where science is +taught practically in the laboratory itself, its utility does not come +to be so great as it would be if it could be utilized by the two +hundred and fifty who pay their matriculation fees, buy their books, +memorize them, and waste a year to know nothing afterwards. As a +result, with the exception of some rare usher or janitor who has had +charge of the museum for years, no one has ever been known to get any +advantage from the lessons memorized with so great effort. + +But let us return to the class. The professor was a young Dominican, +who had filled several chairs in San Juan de Letran with zeal and good +repute. He had the reputation of being a great logician as well as a +profound philosopher, and was one of the most promising in his clique. +His elders treated him with consideration, while the younger men envied +him, for there were also cliques among them. This was the third year of +his professorship and, although the first in which he had taught +physics and chemistry, he already passed for a sage, not only with the +complaisant students but also among the other nomadic professors. Padre +Millon did not belong to the common crowd who each year change their +subject in order to acquire scientific knowledge, students among other +students, with the difference only that they follow a single course, +that they quiz instead of being quizzed, that they have a better +knowledge of Castilian, and that they are not examined at the +completion of the course. Padre Millon went deeply into science, knew +the physics of Aristotle and Padre Amat, read carefully his “Ramos,” +and sometimes glanced at “Ganot.” With all that, he would often shake +his head with an air of doubt, as he smiled and murmured: “transeat.” +In regard to chemistry, no common knowledge was attributed to him after +he had taken as a premise the statement of St. Thomas that water is a +mixture and proved plainly that the Angelic Doctor had long forestalled +Berzelius, Gay-Lussac, Bunsen, and other more or less presumptuous +materialists. Moreover, in spite of having been an instructor in +geography, he still entertained certain doubts as to the rotundity of +the earth and smiled maliciously when its rotation and revolution +around the sun were mentioned, as he recited the verses + + + “El mentir de las estrellas + Es un cómodo mentir.” [29] + + +He also smiled maliciously in the presence of certain physical theories +and considered visionary, if not actually insane, the Jesuit Secchi, to +whom he imputed the making of triangulations on the host as a result of +his astronomical mania, for which reason it was said that he had been +forbidden to celebrate mass. Many persons also noticed in him some +aversion to the sciences that he taught, but these vagaries were +trifles, scholarly and religious prejudices that were easily explained, +not only by the fact that the physical sciences were eminently +practical, of pure observation and deduction, while his forte was +philosophy, purely speculative, of abstraction and induction, but also +because, like any good Dominican, jealous of the fame of his order, he +could hardly feel any affection for a science in which none of his +brethren had excelled—he was the first who did not accept the chemistry +of St. Thomas Aquinas—and in which so much renown had been acquired by +hostile, or rather, let us say, rival orders. + +This was the professor who that morning called the roll and directed +many of the students to recite the lesson from memory, word for word. +The phonographs got into operation, some well, some ill, some +stammering, and received their grades. He who recited without an error +earned a good mark and he who made more than three mistakes a bad mark. + +A fat boy with a sleepy face and hair as stiff and hard as the bristles +of a brush yawned until he seemed to be about to dislocate his jaws, +and stretched himself with his arms extended as though he were in his +bed. The professor saw this and wished to startle him. + +“Eh, there, sleepy-head! What’s this? Lazy, too, so it’s sure you [30] +don’t know the lesson, ha?” + +Padre Millon not only used the depreciative tu with the students, like +a good friar, but he also addressed them in the slang of the markets, a +practise that he had acquired from the professor of canonical law: +whether that reverend gentleman wished to humble the students or the +sacred decrees of the councils is a question not yet settled, in spite +of the great attention that has been given to it. + +This question, instead of offending the class, amused them, and many +laughed—it was a daily occurrence. But the sleeper did not laugh; he +arose with a bound, rubbed his eyes, and, as though a steam-engine were +turning the phonograph, began to recite. + +“The name of mirror is applied to all polished surfaces intended to +produce by the reflection of light the images of the objects placed +before said surfaces. From the substances that form these surfaces, +they are divided into metallic mirrors and glass mirrors—” + +“Stop, stop, stop!” interrupted the professor. “Heavens, what a rattle! +We are at the point where the mirrors are divided into metallic and +glass, eh? Now if I should present to you a block of wood, a piece of +kamagon for instance, well polished and varnished, or a slab of black +marble well burnished, or a square of jet, which would reflect the +images of objects placed before them, how would you classify those +mirrors?” + +Whether he did not know what to answer or did not understand the +question, the student tried to get out of the difficulty by +demonstrating that he knew the lesson, so he rushed on like a torrent. + +“The first are composed of brass or an alloy of different metals and +the second of a sheet of glass, with its two sides well polished, one +of which has an amalgam of tin adhering to it.” + +“Tut, tut, tut! That’s not it! I say to you ‘Dominus vobiscum,’ and you +answer me with ‘Requiescat in pace!’ ” + +The worthy professor then repeated the question in the vernacular of +the markets, interspersed with cosas and abás at every moment. + +The poor youth did not know how to get out of the quandary: he doubted +whether to include the kamagon with the metals, or the marble with +glasses, and leave the jet as a neutral substance, until Juanito Pelaez +maliciously prompted him: + +“The mirror of kamagon among the wooden mirrors.” + +The incautious youth repeated this aloud and half the class was +convulsed with laughter. + +“A good sample of wood you are yourself!” exclaimed the professor, +laughing in spite of himself. “Let’s see from what you would define a +mirror—from a surface per se, in quantum est superficies, or from a +substance that forms the surface, or from the substance upon which the +surface rests, the raw material, modified by the attribute ‘surface,’ +since it is clear that, surface being an accidental property of bodies, +it cannot exist without substance. Let’s see now—what do you say?” + +“I? Nothing!” the wretched boy was about to reply, for he did not +understand what it was all about, confused as he was by so many +surfaces and so many accidents that smote cruelly on his ears, but a +sense of shame restrained him. Filled with anguish and breaking into a +cold perspiration, he began to repeat between his teeth: “The name of +mirror is applied to all polished surfaces—” + +“Ergo, per te, the mirror is the surface,” angled the professor. “Well, +then, clear up this difficulty. If the surface is the mirror, it must +be of no consequence to the ‘essence’ of the mirror what may be found +behind this surface, since what is behind it does not affect the +‘essence’ that is before it, id est, the surface, quae super faciem +est, quia vocatur superficies, facies ea quae supra videtur. Do you +admit that or do you not admit it?” + +The poor youth’s hair stood up straighter than ever, as though acted +upon by some magnetic force. + +“Do you admit it or do you not admit it?” + +“Anything! Whatever you wish, Padre,” was his thought, but he did not +dare to express it from fear of ridicule. That was a dilemma indeed, +and he had never been in a worse one. He had a vague idea that the most +innocent thing could not be admitted to the friars but that they, or +rather their estates and curacies, would get out of it all the results +and advantages imaginable. So his good angel prompted him to deny +everything with all the energy of his soul and refractoriness of his +hair, and he was about to shout a proud nego, for the reason that he +who denies everything does not compromise himself in anything, as a +certain lawyer had once told him; but the evil habit of disregarding +the dictates of one’s own conscience, of having little faith in legal +folk, and of seeking aid from others where one is sufficient unto +himself, was his undoing. His companions, especially Juanito Pelaez, +were making signs to him to admit it, so he let himself be carried away +by his evil destiny and exclaimed, “Concedo, Padre,” in a voice as +faltering as though he were saying, “In manus tuas commendo spiritum +meum.” + +“Concedo antecedentum,” echoed the professor, smiling maliciously. +“Ergo, I can scratch the mercury off a looking-glass, put in its place +a piece of bibinka, and we shall still have a mirror, eh? Now what +shall we have?” + +The youth gazed at his prompters, but seeing them surprised and +speechless, contracted his features into an expression of bitterest +reproach. “Deus meus, Deus meus, quare dereliquiste me,” said his +troubled eyes, while his lips muttered “Linintikan!” Vainly he coughed, +fumbled at his shirt-bosom, stood first on one foot and then on the +other, but found no answer. + +“Come now, what have we?” urged the professor, enjoying the effect of +his reasoning. + +“Bibinka!” whispered Juanito Pelaez. “Bibinka!” + +“Shut up, you fool!” cried the desperate youth, hoping to get out of +the difficulty by turning it into a complaint. + +“Let’s see, Juanito, if you can answer the question for me,” the +professor then said to Pelaez, who was one of his pets. + +The latter rose slowly, not without first giving Penitente, who +followed him on the roll, a nudge that meant, “Don’t forget to prompt +me.” + +“Nego consequentiam, Padre,” he replied resolutely. + +“Aha, then probo consequentiam! Per te, the polished surface +constitutes the ‘essence’ of the mirror—” + +“Nego suppositum!” interrupted Juanito, as he felt Placido pulling at +his coat. + +“How? Per te—” + +“Nego!” + +“Ergo, you believe that what is behind affects what is in front?” + +“Nego!” the student cried with still more ardor, feeling another jerk +at his coat. + +Juanito, or rather Placido, who was prompting him, was unconsciously +adopting Chinese tactics: not to admit the most inoffensive foreigner +in order not to be invaded. + +“Then where are we?” asked the professor, somewhat disconcerted, and +looking uneasily at the refractory student. “Does the substance behind +affect, or does it not affect, the surface?” + +To this precise and categorical question, a kind of ultimatum, Juanito +did not know what to reply and his coat offered no suggestions. In vain +he made signs to Placido, but Placido himself was in doubt. Juanito +then took advantage of a moment in which the professor was staring at a +student who was cautiously and secretly taking off the shoes that hurt +his feet, to step heavily on Placido’s toes and whisper, “Tell me, +hurry up, tell me!” + +“I distinguish—Get out! What an ass you are!” yelled Placido +unreservedly, as he stared with angry eyes and rubbed his hand over his +patent-leather shoe. + +The professor heard the cry, stared at the pair, and guessed what had +happened. + +“Listen, you meddler,” he addressed Placido, “I wasn’t questioning you, +but since you think you can save others, let’s see if you can save +yourself, salva te ipsum, and decide this question.” + +Juanito sat down in content, and as a mark of gratitude stuck out his +tongue at his prompter, who had arisen blushing with shame and +muttering incoherent excuses. + +For a moment Padre Millon regarded him as one gloating over a favorite +dish. What a good thing it would be to humiliate and hold up to +ridicule that dudish boy, always smartly dressed, with head erect and +serene look! It would be a deed of charity, so the charitable professor +applied himself to it with all his heart, slowly repeating the +question. + +“The book says that the metallic mirrors are made of brass and an alloy +of different metals—is that true or is it not true?” + +“So the book says, Padre.” + +“Liber dixit, ergo ita est. Don’t pretend that you know more than the +book does. It then adds that the glass mirrors are made of a sheet of +glass whose two surfaces are well polished, one of them having applied +to it an amalgam of tin, nota bene, an amalgam of tin! Is that true?” + +“If the book says so, Padre.” + +“Is tin a metal?” + +“It seems so, Padre. The book says so.” + +“It is, it is, and the word amalgam means that it is compounded with +mercury, which is also a metal. Ergo, a glass mirror is a metallic +mirror; ergo, the terms of the distinction are confused; ergo, the +classification is imperfect—how do you explain that, meddler?” + +He emphasized the ergos and the familiar “you’s” with indescribable +relish, at the same time winking, as though to say, “You’re done for.” + +“It means that, it means that—” stammered Placido. + +“It means that you haven’t learned the lesson, you petty meddler, you +don’t understand it yourself, and yet you prompt your neighbor!” + +The class took no offense, but on the contrary many thought the epithet +funny and laughed. Placido bit his lips. + +“What’s your name?” the professor asked him. + +“Placido,” was the curt reply. + +“Aha! Placido Penitente, although you look more like Placido the +Prompter—or the Prompted. But, Penitent, I’m going to impose some +penance on you for your promptings.” + +Pleased with his play on words, he ordered the youth to recite the +lesson, and the latter, in the state of mind to which he was reduced, +made more than three mistakes. Shaking his head up and down, the +professor slowly opened the register and slowly scanned it while he +called off the names in a low voice. + +“Palencia—Palomo—Panganiban—Pedraza—Pelado—Pelaez—Penitents, aha! +Placido Penitente, fifteen unexcused absences—” + +Placido started up. “Fifteen absences, Padre?” + +“Fifteen unexcused absences,” continued the professor, “so that you +only lack one to be dropped from the roll.” + +“Fifteen absences, fifteen absences,” repeated Placido in amazement. +“I’ve never been absent more than four times, and with today, perhaps +five.” + +“Jesso, jesso, monseer,” [31] replied the professor, examining the +youth over his gold eye-glasses. “You confess that you have missed five +times, and God knows if you may have missed oftener. Atqui, as I rarely +call the roll, every time I catch any one I put five marks against him; +ergo, how many are five times five? Have you forgotten the +multiplication table? Five times five?” + +“Twenty-five.” + +“Correct, correct! Thus you’ve still got away with ten, because I have +caught you only three times. Huh, if I had caught you every time—Now, +how many are three times five?” + +“Fifteen.” + +“Fifteen, right you are!” concluded the professor, closing the +register. “If you miss once more—out of doors with you, get out! Ah, +now a mark for the failure in the daily lesson.” + +He again opened the register, sought out the name, and entered the +mark. “Come, only one mark,” he said, “since you hadn’t any before.” + +“But, Padre,” exclaimed Placido, restraining himself, “if your +Reverence puts a mark against me for failing in the lesson, your +Reverence owes it to me to erase the one for absence that you have put +against me for today.” + +His Reverence made no answer. First he slowly entered the mark, then +contemplated it with his head on one side,—the mark must be +artistic,—closed the register, and asked with great sarcasm, “Abá, and +why so, sir?” + +“Because I can’t conceive, Padre, how one can be absent from the class +and at the same time recite the lesson in it. Your Reverence is saying +that to be is not to be.” + +“Nakú, a metaphysician, but a rather premature one! So you can’t +conceive of it, eh? Sed patet experientia and contra experientiam +negantem, fusilibus est arguendum, do you understand? And can’t you +conceive, with your philosophical head, that one can be absent from the +class and not know the lesson at the same time? Is it a fact that +absence necessarily implies knowledge? What do you say to that, +philosophaster?” + +This last epithet was the drop of water that made the full cup +overflow. Placido enjoyed among his friends the reputation of being a +philosopher, so he lost his patience, threw down his book, arose, and +faced the professor. + +“Enough, Padre, enough! Your Reverence can put all the marks against me +that you wish, but you haven’t the right to insult me. Your Reverence +may stay with the class, I can’t stand any more.” Without further +farewell, he stalked away. + +The class was astounded; such an assumption of dignity had scarcely +ever been seen, and who would have thought it of Placido Penitente? The +surprised professor bit his lips and shook his head threateningly as he +watched him depart. Then in a trembling voice he began his preachment +on the same old theme, delivered however with more energy and more +eloquence. It dealt with the growing arrogance, the innate ingratitude, +the presumption, the lack of respect for superiors, the pride that the +spirit of darkness infused in the young, the lack of manners, the +absence of courtesy, and so on. From this he passed to coarse jests and +sarcasm over the presumption which some good-for-nothing “prompters” +had of teaching their teachers by establishing an academy for +instruction in Castilian. + +“Aha, aha!” he moralized, “those who the day before yesterday scarcely +knew how to say, ‘Yes, Padre,’ ‘No, Padre,’ now want to know more than +those who have grown gray teaching them. He who wishes to learn, will +learn, academies or no academies! Undoubtedly that fellow who has just +gone out is one of those in the project. Castilian is in good hands +with such guardians! When are you going to get the time to attend the +academy if you have scarcely enough to fulfill your duties in the +regular classes? We wish that you may all know Spanish and that you +pronounce it well, so that you won’t split our ear-drums with your +twist of expression and your ‘p’s’; [32] but first business and then +pleasure: finish your studies first, and afterwards learn Castilian, +and all become clerks, if you so wish.” + +So he went on with his harangue until the bell rang and the class was +over. The two hundred and thirty-four students, after reciting their +prayers, went out as ignorant as when they went in, but breathing more +freely, as if a great weight had been lifted from them. Each youth had +lost another hour of his life and with it a portion of his dignity and +self-respect, and in exchange there was an increase of discontent, of +aversion to study, of resentment in their hearts. After all this ask +for knowledge, dignity, gratitude! + +De nobis, post haec, tristis sententia fertur! + +Just as the two hundred and thirty-four spent their class hours, so the +thousands of students who preceded them have spent theirs, and, if +matters do not mend, so will those yet to come spend theirs, and be +brutalized, while wounded dignity and youthful enthusiasm will be +converted into hatred and sloth, like the waves that become polluted +along one part of the shore and roll on one after another, each in +succession depositing a larger sediment of filth. But yet He who from +eternity watches the consequences of a deed develop like a thread +through the loom of the centuries, He who weighs the value of a second +and has ordained for His creatures as an elemental law progress and +development, He, if He is just, will demand a strict accounting from +those who must render it, of the millions of intelligences darkened and +blinded, of human dignity trampled upon in millions of His creatures, +and of the incalculable time lost and effort wasted! And if the +teachings of the Gospel are based on truth, so also will these have to +answer—the millions and millions who do not know how to preserve the +light of their intelligences and their dignity of mind, as the master +demanded an accounting from the cowardly servant for the talent that he +let be taken from him. + + + + + + + + +CHAPTER XIV + +IN THE HOUSE OF THE STUDENTS + + +The house where Makaraig lived was worth visiting. Large and spacious, +with two entresols provided with elegant gratings, it seemed to be a +school during the first hours of the morning and pandemonium from ten +o’clock on. During the boarders’ recreation hours, from the lower +hallway of the spacious entrance up to the main floor, there was a +bubbling of laughter, shouts, and movement. Boys in scanty clothing +played sipa or practised gymnastic exercises on improvised trapezes, +while on the staircase a fight was in progress between eight or nine +armed with canes, sticks, and ropes, but neither attackers nor attacked +did any great damage, their blows generally falling sidewise upon the +shoulders of the Chinese pedler who was there selling his outlandish +mixtures and indigestible pastries. Crowds of boys surrounded him, +pulled at his already disordered queue, snatched pies from him, haggled +over the prices, and committed a thousand deviltries. The Chinese +yelled, swore, forswore, in all the languages he could jabber, not +omitting his own; he whimpered, laughed, pleaded, put on a smiling face +when an ugly one would not serve, or the reverse. + +He cursed them as devils, savages, no kilistanos [33] but that mattered +nothing. A whack would bring his face around smiling, and if the blow +fell only upon his shoulders he would calmly continue his business +transactions, contenting himself with crying out to them that he was +not in the game, but if it struck the flat basket on which were placed +his wares, then he would swear never to come again, as he poured out +upon them all the imprecations and anathemas imaginable. Then the boys +would redouble their efforts to make him rage the more, and when at +last his vocabulary was exhausted and they were satiated with his +fearful mixtures, they paid him religiously, and sent him away happy, +winking, chuckling to himself, and receiving as caresses the light +blows from their canes that the students gave him as tokens of +farewell. + +Concerts on the piano and violin, the guitar, and the accordion, +alternated with the continual clashing of blades from the fencing +lessons. Around a long, wide table the students of the Ateneo prepared +their compositions or solved their problems by the side of others +writing to their sweethearts on pink perforated note-paper covered with +drawings. Here one was composing a melodrama at the side of another +practising on the flute, from which he drew wheezy notes. Over there, +the older boys, students in professional courses, who affected silk +socks and embroidered slippers, amused themselves in teasing the +smaller boys by pulling their ears, already red from repeated fillips, +while two or three held down a little fellow who yelled and cried, +defending himself with his feet against being reduced to the condition +in which he was born, kicking and howling. In one room, around a small +table, four were playing revesino with laughter and jokes, to the great +annoyance of another who pretended to be studying his lesson but who +was in reality waiting his turn to play. + +Still another came in with exaggerated wonder, scandalized as he +approached the table. “How wicked you are! So early in the morning and +already gambling! Let’s see, let’s see! You fool, take it with the +three of spades!” Closing his book, he too joined in the game. + +Cries and blows were heard. Two boys were fighting in the adjoining +room—a lame student who was very sensitive about his infirmity and an +unhappy newcomer from the provinces who was just commencing his +studies. He was working over a treatise on philosophy and reading +innocently in a loud voice, with a wrong accent, the Cartesian +principle: “Cogito, ergo sum!” + +The little lame boy (el cojito) took this as an insult and the others +intervened to restore peace, but in reality only to sow discord and +come to blows themselves. + +In the dining-room a young man with a can of sardines, a bottle of +wine, and the provisions that he had just brought from his town, was +making heroic efforts to the end that his friends might participate in +his lunch, while they were offering in their turn heroic resistance to +his invitation. Others were bathing on the azotea, playing firemen with +the water from the well, and joining in combats with pails of water, to +the great delight of the spectators. + +But the noise and shouts gradually died away with the coming of leading +students, summoned by Makaraig to report to them the progress of the +academy of Castilian. Isagani was cordially greeted, as was also the +Peninsular, Sandoval, who had come to Manila as a government employee +and was finishing his studies, and who had completely identified +himself with the cause of the Filipino students. The barriers that +politics had established between the races had disappeared in the +schoolroom as though dissolved by the zeal of science and youth. + +From lack of lyceums and scientific, literary, or political centers, +Sandoval took advantage of all the meetings to cultivate his great +oratorical gifts, delivering speeches and arguing on any subject, to +draw forth applause from his friends and listeners. At that moment the +subject of conversation was the instruction in Castilian, but as +Makaraig had not yet arrived conjecture was still the order of the day. + +“What can have happened?” + +“What has the General decided?” + +“Has he refused the permit?” + +“Has Padre Irene or Padre Sibyla won?” + +Such were the questions they asked one another, questions that could be +answered only by Makaraig. + +Among the young men gathered together there were optimists like Isagani +and Sandoval, who saw the thing already accomplished and talked of +congratulations and praise from the government for the patriotism of +the students—outbursts of optimism that led Juanito Pelaez to claim for +himself a large part of the glory of founding the society. + +All this was answered by the pessimist Pecson, a chubby youth with a +wide, clownish grin, who spoke of outside influences, whether the +Bishop A., the Padre B., or the Provincial C., had been consulted or +not, whether or not they had advised that the whole association should +be put in jail—a suggestion that made Juanito Pelaez so uneasy that he +stammered out, “Carambas, don’t you drag me into—” + +Sandoval, as a Peninsular and a liberal, became furious at this. “But +pshaw!” he exclaimed, “that is holding a bad opinion of his Excellency! +I know that he’s quite a friar-lover, but in such a matter as this he +won’t let the friars interfere. Will you tell me, Pecson, on what you +base your belief that the General has no judgment of his own?” + +“I didn’t say that, Sandoval,” replied Pecson, grinning until he +exposed his wisdom-tooth. “For me the General has his own judgment, +that is, the judgment of all those within his reach. That’s plain!” + +“You’re dodging—cite me a fact, cite me a fact!” cried Sandoval. “Let’s +get away from hollow arguments, from empty phrases, and get on the +solid ground of facts,”—this with an elegant gesture. “Facts, +gentlemen, facts! The rest is prejudice—I won’t call it filibusterism.” + +Pecson smiled like one of the blessed as he retorted, “There comes the +filibusterism. But can’t we enter into a discussion without resorting +to accusations?” + +Sandoval protested in a little extemporaneous speech, again demanding +facts. + +“Well, not long ago there was a dispute between some private persons +and certain friars, and the acting Governor rendered a decision that it +should be settled by the Provincial of the Order concerned,” replied +Pecson, again breaking out into a laugh, as though he were dealing with +an insignificant matter, he cited names and dates, and promised +documents that would prove how justice was dispensed. + +“But, on what ground, tell me this, on what ground can they refuse +permission for what plainly appears to be extremely useful and +necessary?” asked Sandoval. + +Pecson shrugged his shoulders. “It’s that it endangers the integrity of +the fatherland,” he replied in the tone of a notary reading an +allegation. + +“That’s pretty good! What has the integrity of the fatherland to do +with the rules of syntax?” + +“The Holy Mother Church has learned doctors—what do I know? Perhaps it +is feared that we may come to understand the laws so that we can obey +them. What will become of the Philippines on the day when we understand +one another?” + +Sandoval did not relish the dialectic and jesting turn of the +conversation; along that path could rise no speech worth the while. +“Don’t make a joke of things!” he exclaimed. “This is a serious +matter.” + +“The Lord deliver me from joking when there are friars concerned!” + +“But, on what do you base—” + +“On the fact that, the hours for the classes having to come at night,” +continued Pecson in the same tone, as if he were quoting known and +recognized formulas, “there may be invoked as an obstacle the +immorality of the thing, as was done in the case of the school at +Malolos.” + +“Another! But don’t the classes of the Academy of Drawing, and the +novenaries and the processions, cover themselves with the mantle of +night?” + +“The scheme affects the dignity of the University,” went on the chubby +youth, taking no notice of the question. + +“Affects nothing! The University has to accommodate itself to the needs +of the students. And granting that, what is a university then? Is it an +institution to discourage study? Have a few men banded themselves +together in the name of learning and instruction in order to prevent +others from becoming enlightened?” + +“The fact is that movements initiated from below are regarded as +discontent—” + +“What about projects that come from above?” interpolated one of the +students. “There’s the School of Arts and Trades!” + +“Slowly, slowly, gentlemen,” protested Sandoval. “I’m not a +friar-lover, my liberal views being well known, but render unto Caesar +that which is Caesar’s. Of that School of Arts and Trades, of which I +have been the most enthusiastic supporter and the realization of which +I shall greet as the first streak of dawn for these fortunate islands, +of that School of Arts and Trades the friars have taken charge—” + +“Or the cat of the canary, which amounts to the same thing,” added +Pecson, in his turn interrupting the speech. + +“Get out!” cried Sandoval, enraged at the interruption, which had +caused him to lose the thread of his long, well-rounded sentence. “As +long as we hear nothing bad, let’s not be pessimists, let’s not be +unjust, doubting the liberty and independence of the government.” + +Here he entered upon a defense in beautiful phraseology of the +government and its good intentions, a subject that Pecson dared not +break in upon. + +“The Spanish government,” he said among other things, “has given you +everything, it has denied you nothing! We had absolutism in Spain and +you had absolutism here; the friars covered our soil with conventos, +and conventos occupy a third part of Manila; in Spain the garrote +prevails and here the garrote is the extreme punishment; we are +Catholics and we have made you Catholics; we were scholastics and +scholasticism sheds its light in your college halls; in short, +gentlemen, we weep when you weep, we suffer when you suffer, we have +the same altars, the same courts, the same punishments, and it is only +just that we should give you our rights and our joys.” + +As no one interrupted him, he became more and more enthusiastic, until +he came to speak of the future of the Philippines. + +“As I have said, gentlemen, the dawn is not far distant. Spain is now +breaking the eastern sky for her beloved Philippines, and the times are +changing, as I positively know, faster than we imagine. This +government, which, according to you, is vacillating and weak, should be +strengthened by our confidence, that we may make it see that it is the +custodian of our hopes. Let us remind it by our conduct (should it ever +forget itself, which I do not believe can happen) that we have faith in +its good intentions and that it should be guided by no other standard +than justice and the welfare of all the governed. No, gentlemen,” he +went on in a tone more and more declamatory, “we must not admit at all +in this matter the possibility of a consultation with other more or +less hostile entities, as such a supposition would imply our +resignation to the fact. Your conduct up to the present has been frank, +loyal, without vacillation, above suspicion; you have addressed it +simply and directly; the reasons you have presented could not be more +sound; your aim is to lighten the labor of the teachers in the first +years and to facilitate study among the hundreds of students who fill +the college halls and for whom one solitary professor cannot suffice. +If up to the present the petition has not been granted, it has been for +the reason, as I feel sure, that there has been a great deal of +material accumulated, but I predict that the campaign is won, that the +summons of Makaraig is to announce to us the victory, and tomorrow we +shall see our efforts crowned with the applause and appreciation of the +country, and who knows, gentlemen, but that the government may confer +upon you some handsome decoration of merit, benefactors as you are of +the fatherland!” + +Enthusiastic applause resounded. All immediately believed in the +triumph, and many in the decoration. + +“Let it be remembered, gentlemen,” observed Juanito, “that I was one of +the first to propose it.” + +The pessimist Pecson was not so enthusiastic. “Just so we don’t get +that decoration on our ankles,” he remarked, but fortunately for Pelaez +this comment was not heard in the midst of the applause. + +When they had quieted down a little, Pecson replied, “Good, good, very +good, but one supposition: if in spite of all that, the General +consults and consults and consults, and afterwards refuses the permit?” + +This question fell like a dash of cold water. All turned to Sandoval, +who was taken aback. “Then—” he stammered. + +“Then?” + +“Then,” he exclaimed in a burst of enthusiasm, still excited by the +applause, “seeing that in writing and in printing it boasts of desiring +your enlightenment, and yet hinders and denies it when called upon to +make it a reality—then, gentlemen, your efforts will not have been in +vain, you will have accomplished what no one else has been able to do. +Make them drop the mask and fling down the gauntlet to you!” + +“Bravo, bravo!” cried several enthusiastically. + +“Good for Sandoval! Hurrah for the gauntlet!” added others. + +“Let them fling down the gauntlet to us!” repeated Pecson disdainfully. +“But afterwards?” + +Sandoval seemed to be cut short in his triumph, but with the vivacity +peculiar to his race and his oratorical temperament he had an immediate +reply. + +“Afterwards?” he asked. “Afterwards, if none of the Filipinos dare to +accept the challenge, then I, Sandoval, in the name of Spain, will take +up the gauntlet, because such a policy would give the lie to the good +intentions that she has always cherished toward her provinces, and +because he who is thus faithless to the trust reposed in him and abuses +his unlimited authority deserves neither the protection of the +fatherland nor the support of any Spanish citizen!” + +The enthusiasm of his hearers broke all bounds. Isagani embraced him, +the others following his example. They talked of the fatherland, of +union, of fraternity, of fidelity. The Filipinos declared that if there +were only Sandovals in Spain all would be Sandovals in the Philippines. +His eyes glistened, and it might well be believed that if at that +moment any kind of gauntlet had been flung at him he would have leaped +upon any kind of horse to ride to death for the Philippines. + +The “cold water” alone replied: “Good, that’s very good, Sandoval. I +could also say the same if I were a Peninsular, but not being one, if I +should say one half of what you have, you yourself would take me for a +filibuster.” + +Sandoval began a speech in protest, but was interrupted. + +“Rejoice, friends, rejoice! Victory!” cried a youth who entered at that +moment and began to embrace everybody. + +“Rejoice, friends! Long live the Castilian tongue!” + +An outburst of applause greeted this announcement. They fell to +embracing one another and their eyes filled with tears. Pecson alone +preserved his skeptical smile. + +The bearer of such good news was Makaraig, the young man at the head of +the movement. This student occupied in that house, by himself, two +rooms, luxuriously furnished, and had his servant and a cochero to look +after his carriage and horses. He was of robust carriage, of refined +manners, fastidiously dressed, and very rich. Although studying law +only that he might have an academic degree, he enjoyed a reputation for +diligence, and as a logician in the scholastic way had no cause to envy +the most frenzied quibblers of the University faculty. Nevertheless he +was not very far behind in regard to modern ideas and progress, for his +fortune enabled him to have all the books and magazines that a watchful +censor was unable to keep out. With these qualifications and his +reputation for courage, his fortunate associations in his earlier +years, and his refined and delicate courtesy, it was not strange that +he should exercise such great influence over his associates and that he +should have been chosen to carry out such a difficult undertaking as +that of the instruction in Castilian. + +After the first outburst of enthusiasm, which in youth always takes +hold in such exaggerated forms, since youth finds everything beautiful, +they wanted to be informed how the affair had been managed. + +“I saw Padre Irene this morning,” said Makaraig with a certain air of +mystery. + +“Hurrah for Padre Irene!” cried an enthusiastic student. + +“Padre Irene,” continued Makaraig, “has told me about everything that +took place at Los Baños. It seems that they disputed for at least a +week, he supporting and defending our case against all of them, against +Padre Sibyla, Padre Fernandez, Padre Salvi, the General, the jeweler +Simoun—” + +“The jeweler Simoun!” interrupted one of his listeners. “What has that +Jew to do with the affairs of our country? We enrich him by buying—” + +“Keep quiet!” admonished another impatiently, anxious to learn how +Padre Irene had been able to overcome such formidable opponents. + +“There were even high officials who were opposed to our project, the +Head Secretary, the Civil Governor, Quiroga the Chinaman—” + +“Quiroga the Chinaman! The pimp of the—” + +“Shut up!” + +“At last,” resumed Makaraig, “they were going to pigeonhole the +petition and let it sleep for months and months, when Padre Irene +remembered the Superior Commission of Primary Instruction and proposed, +since the matter concerned the teaching of the Castilian tongue, that +the petition be referred to that body for a report upon it.” + +“But that Commission hasn’t been in operation for a long time,” +observed Pecson. + +“That’s exactly what they replied to Padre Irene, and he answered that +this was a good opportunity to revive it, and availing himself of the +presence of Don Custodio, one of its members, he proposed on the spot +that a committee should be appointed. Don Custodio’s activity being +known and recognized, he was named as arbiter and the petition is now +in his hands. He promised that he would settle it this month.” + +“Hurrah for Don Custodio!” + +“But suppose Don Custodio should report unfavorably upon it?” inquired +the pessimist Pecson. + +Upon this they had not reckoned, being intoxicated with the thought +that the matter would not be pigeonholed, so they all turned to +Makaraig to learn how it could be arranged. + +“The same objection I presented to Padre Irene, but with his sly smile +he said to me: ‘We’ve won a great deal, we have succeeded in getting +the matter on the road to a decision, the opposition sees itself forced +to join battle.’ If we can bring some influence to bear upon Don +Custodio so that he, in accordance with his liberal tendencies, may +report favorably, all is won, for the General showed himself to be +absolutely neutral.” + +Makaraig paused, and an impatient listener asked, “How can we influence +him?” + +“Padre Irene pointed out to me two ways—” + +“Quiroga,” some one suggested. + +“Pshaw, great use Quiroga—” + +“A fine present.” + +“No, that won’t do, for he prides himself upon being incorruptible.” + +“Ah, yes, I know!” exclaimed Pecson with a laugh. “Pepay the dancing +girl.” + +“Ah, yes, Pepay the dancing girl,” echoed several. + +This Pepay was a showy girl, supposed to be a great friend of Don +Custodio. To her resorted the contractors, the employees, the +intriguers, when they wanted to get something from the celebrated +councilor. Juanito Pelaez, who was also a great friend of the dancing +girl, offered to look after the matter, but Isagani shook his head, +saying that it was sufficient that they had made use of Padre Irene and +that it would be going too far to avail themselves of Pepay in such an +affair. + +“Show us the other way.” + +“The other way is to apply to his attorney and adviser, Señor Pasta, +the oracle before whom Don Custodio bows.” + +“I prefer that,” said Isagani. “Señor Pasta is a Filipino, and was a +schoolmate of my uncle’s. But how can we interest him?” + +“There’s the quid,” replied Makaraig, looking earnestly at Isagani. +“Señor Pasta has a dancing girl—I mean, a seamstress.” + +Isagani again shook his head. + +“Don’t be such a puritan,” Juanito Pelaez said to him. “The end +justifies the means! I know the seamstress, Matea, for she has a shop +where a lot of girls work.” + +“No, gentlemen,” declared Isagani, “let’s first employ decent methods. +I’ll go to Señor Pasta and, if I don’t accomplish anything, then you +can do what you wish with the dancing girls and seamstresses.” + +They had to accept this proposition, agreeing that Isagani should talk +to Señor Pasta that very day, and in the afternoon report to his +associates at the University the result of the interview. + + + + + + + + +CHAPTER XV + +SEÑOR PASTA + + +Isagani presented himself in the house of the lawyer, one of the most +talented minds in Manila, whom the friars consulted in their great +difficulties. The youth had to wait some time on account of the +numerous clients, but at last his turn came and he entered the office, +or bufete, as it is generally called in the Philippines. The lawyer +received him with a slight cough, looking down furtively at his feet, +but he did not rise or offer a seat, as he went on writing. This gave +Isagani an opportunity for observation and careful study of the lawyer, +who had aged greatly. His hair was gray and his baldness extended over +nearly the whole crown of his head. His countenance was sour and +austere. + +There was complete silence in the study, except for the whispers of the +clerks and understudies who were at work in an adjoining room. Their +pens scratched as though quarreling with the paper. + +At length the lawyer finished what he was writing, laid down his pen, +raised his head, and, recognizing the youth, let his face light up with +a smile as he extended his hand affectionately. + +“Welcome, young man! But sit down, and excuse me, for I didn’t know +that it was you. How is your uncle?” + +Isagani took courage, believing that his case would get on well. He +related briefly what had been done, the while studying the effect of +his words. Señor Pasta listened impassively at first and, although he +was informed of the efforts of the students, pretended ignorance, as if +to show that he had nothing to do with such childish matters, but when +he began to suspect what was wanted of him and heard mention of the +Vice-Rector, friars, the Captain-General, a project, and so on, his +face slowly darkened and he finally exclaimed, “This is the land of +projects! But go on, go on!” + +Isagani was not yet discouraged. He spoke of the manner in which a +decision was to be reached and concluded with an expression of the +confidence which the young men entertained that he, Señor Pasta, would +intercede in their behalf in case Don Custodio should consult him, as +was to be expected. He did not dare to say would advise, deterred by +the wry face the lawyer put on. + +But Señor Pasta had already formed his resolution, and it was not to +mix at all in the affair, either as consulter or consulted. He was +familiar with what had occurred at Los Baños, he knew that there +existed two factions, and that Padre Irene was not the only champion on +the side of the students, nor had he been the one who proposed +submitting the petition to the Commission of Primary Instruction, but +quite the contrary. Padre Irene, Padre Fernandez, the Countess, a +merchant who expected to sell the materials for the new academy, and +the high official who had been citing royal decree after royal decree, +were about to triumph, when Padre Sibyla, wishing to gain time, had +thought of the Commission. All these facts the great lawyer had present +in his mind, so that when Isagani had finished speaking, he determined +to confuse him with evasions, tangle the matter up, and lead the +conversation to other subjects. + +“Yes,” he said, pursing his lips and scratching his head, “there is no +one who surpasses me in love for the country and in aspirations toward +progress, but—I can’t compromise myself, I don’t know whether you +clearly understand my position, a position that is very delicate, I +have so many interests, I have to labor within the limits of strict +prudence, it’s a risk—” + +The lawyer sought to bewilder the youth with an exuberance of words, so +he went on speaking of laws and decrees, and talked so much that +instead of confusing the youth, he came very near to entangling himself +in a labyrinth of citations. + +“In no way do we wish to compromise you,” replied Isagani with great +calmness. “God deliver us from injuring in the least the persons whose +lives are so useful to the rest of the Filipinos! But, as little versed +as I may be in the laws, royal decrees, writs, and resolutions that +obtain in this country, I can’t believe that there can be any harm in +furthering the high purposes of the government, in trying to secure a +proper interpretation of these purposes. We are seeking the same end +and differ only about the means.” + +The lawyer smiled, for the youth had allowed himself to wander away +from the subject, and there where the former was going to entangle him +he had already entangled himself. + +“That’s exactly the quid, as is vulgarly said. It’s clear that it is +laudable to aid the government, when one aids it submissively, +following out its desires and the true spirit of the laws in agreement +with the just beliefs of the governing powers, and when not in +contradiction to the fundamental and general way of thinking of the +persons to whom is intrusted the common welfare of the individuals that +form a social organism. Therefore, it is criminal, it is punishable, +because it is offensive to the high principle of authority, to attempt +any action contrary to its initiative, even supposing it to be better +than the governmental proposition, because such action would injure its +prestige, which is the elementary basis upon which all colonial +edifices rest.” + +Confident that this broadside had at least stunned Isagani, the old +lawyer fell back in his armchair, outwardly very serious, but laughing +to himself. + +Isagani, however, ventured to reply. “I should think that governments, +the more they are threatened, would be all the more careful to seek +bases that are impregnable. The basis of prestige for colonial +governments is the weakest of all, since it does not depend upon +themselves but upon the consent of the governed, while the latter are +willing to recognize it. The basis of justice or reason would seem to +be the most durable.” + +The lawyer raised his head. How was this—did that youth dare to reply +and argue with him, him, Señor Pasta? Was he not yet bewildered with +his big words? + +“Young man, you must put those considerations aside, for they are +dangerous,” he declared with a wave of his hand. “What I advise is that +you let the government attend to its own business.” + +“Governments are established for the welfare of the peoples, and in +order to accomplish this purpose properly they have to follow the +suggestions of the citizens, who are the ones best qualified to +understand their own needs.” + +“Those who constitute the government are also citizens, and among the +most enlightened.” + +“But, being men, they are fallible, and ought not to disregard the +opinions of others.” + +“They must be trusted, they have to attend to everything.” + +“There is a Spanish proverb which says, ‘No tears, no milk,’ in other +words, ‘To him who does not ask, nothing is given.’ ” + +“Quite the reverse,” replied the lawyer with a sarcastic smile; “with +the government exactly the reverse occurs—” + +But he suddenly checked himself, as if he had said too much and wished +to correct his imprudence. “The government has given us things that we +have not asked for, and that we could not ask for, because to ask—to +ask, presupposes that it is in some way incompetent and consequently is +not performing its functions. To suggest to it a course of action, to +try to guide it, when not really antagonizing it, is to presuppose that +it is capable of erring, and as I have already said to you such +suppositions are menaces to the existence of colonial governments. The +common crowd overlooks this and the young men who set to work +thoughtlessly do not know, do not comprehend, do not try to comprehend +the counter-effect of asking, the menace to order there is in that +idea—” + +“Pardon me,” interrupted Isagani, offended by the arguments the jurist +was using with him, “but when by legal methods people ask a government +for something, it is because they think it good and disposed to grant a +blessing, and such action, instead of irritating it, should flatter it +—to the mother one appeals, never to the stepmother. The government, in +my humble opinion, is not an omniscient being that can see and +anticipate everything, and even if it could, it ought not to feel +offended, for here you have the church itself doing nothing but asking +and begging of God, who sees and knows everything, and you yourself ask +and demand many things in the courts of this same government, yet +neither God nor the courts have yet taken offense. Every one realizes +that the government, being the human institution that it is, needs the +support of all the people, it needs to be made to see and feel the +reality of things. You yourself are not convinced of the truth of your +objection, you yourself know that it is a tyrannical and despotic +government which, in order to make a display of force and independence, +denies everything through fear or distrust, and that the tyrannized and +enslaved peoples are the only ones whose duty it is never to ask for +anything. A people that hates its government ought to ask for nothing +but that it abdicate its power.” + +The old lawyer grimaced and shook his head from side to side, in sign +of discontent, while he rubbed his hand over his bald pate and said in +a tone of condescending pity: “Ahem! those are bad doctrines, bad +theories, ahem! How plain it is that you are young and inexperienced in +life. Look what is happening with the inexperienced young men who in +Madrid are asking for so many reforms. They are accused of +filibusterism, many of them don’t dare return here, and yet, what are +they asking for? Things holy, ancient, and recognized as quite +harmless. But there are matters that can’t be explained, they’re so +delicate. Let’s see—I confess to you that there are other reasons +besides those expressed that might lead a sensible government to deny +systematically the wishes of the people—no—but it may happen that we +find ourselves under rulers so fatuous and ridiculous—but there are +always other reasons, even though what is asked be quite just—different +governments encounter different conditions—” + +The old man hesitated, stared fixedly at Isagani, and then with a +sudden resolution made a sign with his hand as though he would dispel +some idea. + +“I can guess what you mean,” said Isagani, smiling sadly. “You mean +that a colonial government, for the very reason that it is imperfectly +constituted and that it is based on premises—” + +“No, no, not that, no!” quickly interrupted the old lawyer, as he +sought for something among his papers. “No, I meant—but where are my +spectacles?” + +“There they are,” replied Isagani. + +The old man put them on and pretended to look over some papers, but +seeing that the youth was waiting, he mumbled, “I wanted to tell you +something, I wanted to say—but it has slipped from my mind. You +interrupted me in your eagerness—but it was an insignificant matter. If +you only knew what a whirl my head is in, I have so much to do!” + +Isagani understood that he was being dismissed. “So,” he said, rising, +“we—” + +“Ah, you will do well to leave the matter in the hands of the +government, which will settle it as it sees fit. You say that the +Vice-Rector is opposed to the teaching of Castilian. Perhaps he may be, +not as to the fact but as to the form. It is said that the Rector who +is on his way will bring a project for reform in education. Wait a +while, give time a chance, apply yourself to your studies as the +examinations are near, and—carambas!—you who already speak Castilian +and express yourself easily, what are you bothering yourself about? +What interest have you in seeing it specially taught? Surely Padre +Florentino thinks as I do! Give him my regards.” + +“My uncle,” replied Isagani, “has always admonished me to think of +others as much as of myself. I didn’t come for myself, I came in the +name of those who are in worse condition.” + +“What the devil! Let them do as you have done, let them singe their +eyebrows studying and come to be bald like myself, stuffing whole +paragraphs into their memories! I believe that if you talk Spanish it +is because you have studied it—you’re not of Manila or of Spanish +parents! Then let them learn it as you have, and do as I have done: +I’ve been a servant to all the friars, I’ve prepared their chocolate, +and while with my right hand I stirred it, with the left I held a +grammar, I learned, and, thank God! have never needed other teachers or +academies or permits from the government. Believe me, he who wishes to +learn, learns and becomes wise!” + +“But how many among those who wish to learn come to be what you are? +One in ten thousand, and more!” + +“Pish! Why any more?” retorted the old man, shrugging his shoulders. +“There are too many lawyers now, many of them become mere clerks. +Doctors? They insult and abuse one another, and even kill each other in +competition for a patient. Laborers, sir, laborers, are what we need, +for agriculture!” + +Isagani realized that he was losing time, but still could not forbear +replying: “Undoubtedly, there are many doctors and lawyers, but I won’t +say there are too many, since we have towns that lack them entirely, +and if they do abound in quantity, perhaps they are deficient in +quality. Since the young men can’t be prevented from studying, and no +other professions are open to us, why let them waste their time and +effort? And if the instruction, deficient as it is, does not keep many +from becoming lawyers and doctors, if we must finally have them, why +not have good ones? After all, even if the sole wish is to make the +country a country of farmers and laborers, and condemn in it all +intellectual activity, I don’t see any evil in enlightening those same +farmers and laborers, in giving them at least an education that will +aid them in perfecting themselves and in perfecting their work, in +placing them in a condition to understand many things of which they are +at present ignorant.” + +“Bah, bah, bah!” exclaimed the lawyer, drawing circles in the air with +his hand to dispel the ideas suggested. “To be a good farmer no great +amount of rhetoric is needed. Dreams, illusions, fancies! Eh, will you +take a piece of advice?” + +He arose and placed his hand affectionately on the youth’s shoulder, as +he continued: “I’m going to give you one, and a very good one, because +I see that you are intelligent and the advice will not be wasted. +You’re going to study medicine? Well, confine yourself to learning how +to put on plasters and apply leeches, and don’t ever try to improve or +impair the condition of your kind. When you become a licentiate, marry +a rich and devout girl, try to make cures and charge well, shun +everything that has any relation to the general state of the country, +attend mass, confession, and communion when the rest do, and you will +see afterwards how you will thank me, and I shall see it, if I am still +alive. Always remember that charity begins at home, for man ought not +to seek on earth more than the greatest amount of happiness for +himself, as Bentham says. If you involve yourself in quixotisms you +will have no career, nor will you get married, nor will you ever amount +to anything. All will abandon you, your own countrymen will be the +first to laugh at your simplicity. Believe me, you will remember me and +see that I am right, when you have gray hairs like myself, gray hairs +such as these!” + +Here the old lawyer stroked his scanty white hair, as he smiled sadly +and shook his head. + +“When I have gray hairs like those, sir,” replied Isagani with equal +sadness, “and turn my gaze back over my past and see that I have worked +only for myself, without having done what I plainly could and should +have done for the country that has given me everything, for the +citizens that have helped me to live—then, sir, every gray hair will be +a thorn, and instead of rejoicing, they will shame me!” + +So saying, he took his leave with a profound bow. The lawyer remained +motionless in his place, with an amazed look on his face. He listened +to the footfalls that gradually died away, then resumed his seat. + +“Poor boy!” he murmured, “similar thoughts also crossed my mind once! +What more could any one desire than to be able to say: ‘I have done +this for the good of the fatherland, I have consecrated my life to the +welfare of others!’ A crown of laurel, steeped in aloes, dry leaves +that cover thorns and worms! That is not life, that does not get us our +daily bread, nor does it bring us honors— the laurel would hardly serve +for a salad, nor produce ease, nor aid us in winning lawsuits, but +quite the reverse! Every country has its code of ethics, as it has its +climate and its diseases, different from the climate and the diseases +of other countries.” + +After a pause, he added: “Poor boy! If all should think and act as he +does, I don’t say but that—Poor boy! Poor Florentino!” + + + + + + + + +CHAPTER XVI + +THE TRIBULATIONS OF A CHINESE + + +In the evening of that same Saturday, Quiroga, the Chinese, who aspired +to the creation of a consulate for his nation, gave a dinner in the +rooms over his bazaar, located in the Escolta. His feast was well +attended: friars, government employees, soldiers, merchants, all of +them his customers, partners or patrons, were to be seen there, for his +store supplied the curates and the conventos with all their +necessities, he accepted the chits of all the employees, and he had +servants who were discreet, prompt, and complaisant. The friars +themselves did not disdain to pass whole hours in his store, sometimes +in view of the public, sometimes in the chambers with agreeable +company. + +That night, then, the sala presented a curious aspect, being filled +with friars and clerks seated on Vienna chairs, stools of black wood, +and marble benches of Cantonese origin, before little square tables, +playing cards or conversing among themselves, under the brilliant glare +of the gilt chandeliers or the subdued light of the Chinese lanterns, +which were brilliantly decorated with long silken tassels. On the walls +there was a lamentable medley of landscapes in dim and gaudy colors, +painted in Canton or Hongkong, mingled with tawdry chromos of odalisks, +half-nude women, effeminate lithographs of Christ, the deaths of the +just and of the sinners—made by Jewish houses in Germany to be sold in +the Catholic countries. Nor were there lacking the Chinese prints on +red paper representing a man seated, of venerable aspect, with a calm, +smiling face, behind whom stood a servant, ugly, horrible, diabolical, +threatening, armed with a lance having a wide, keen blade. Among the +Indians some call this figure Mohammed, others Santiago, [34] we do not +know why, nor do the Chinese themselves give a very clear explanation +of this popular pair. The pop of champagne corks, the rattle of +glasses, laughter, cigar smoke, and that odor peculiar to a Chinese +habitation—a mixture of punk, opium, and dried fruits—completed the +collection. + +Dressed as a Chinese mandarin in a blue-tasseled cap, Quiroga moved +from room to room, stiff and straight, but casting watchful glances +here and there as though to assure himself that nothing was being +stolen. Yet in spite of this natural distrust, he exchanged handshakes +with each guest, greeted some with a smile sagacious and humble, others +with a patronizing air, and still others with a certain shrewd look +that seemed to say, “I know! You didn’t come on my account, you came +for the dinner!” + +And Quiroga was right! That fat gentleman who is now praising him and +speaking of the advisability of a Chinese consulate in Manila, +intimating that to manage it there could be no one but Quiroga, is the +Señor Gonzalez who hides behind the pseudonym Pitilí when he attacks +Chinese immigration through the columns of the newspapers. That other, +an elderly man who closely examines the lamps, pictures, and other +furnishings with grimaces and ejaculations of disdain, is Don Timoteo +Pelaez, Juanito’s father, a merchant who inveighs against the Chinese +competition that is ruining his business. The one over there, that +thin, brown individual with a sharp look and a pale smile, is the +celebrated originator of the dispute over Mexican pesos, which so +troubled one of Quiroga’s protéges: that government clerk is regarded +in Manila as very clever. That one farther on, he of the frowning look +and unkempt mustache, is a government official who passes for a most +meritorious fellow because he has the courage to speak ill of the +business in lottery tickets carried on between Quiroga and an exalted +dame in Manila society. The fact is that two thirds of the tickets go +to China and the few that are left in Manila are sold at a premium of a +half-real. The honorable gentleman entertains the conviction that some +day he will draw the first prize, and is in a rage at finding himself +confronted with such tricks. + +The dinner, meanwhile, was drawing to an end. From the dining-room +floated into the sala snatches of toasts, interruptions, bursts and +ripples of laughter. The name of Quiroga was often heard mingled with +the words “consul,” “equality,” “justice.” The amphitryon himself did +not eat European dishes, so he contented himself with drinking a glass +of wine with his guests from time to time, promising to dine with those +who were not seated at the first table. + +Simoun, who was present, having already dined, was in the sala talking +with some merchants, who were complaining of business conditions: +everything was going wrong, trade was paralyzed, the European exchanges +were exorbitantly high. They sought information from the jeweler or +insinuated to him a few ideas, with the hope that these would be +communicated to the Captain-General. To all the remedies suggested +Simoun responded with a sarcastic and unfeeling exclamation about +nonsense, until one of them in exasperation asked him for his opinion. + +“My opinion?” he retorted. “Study how other nations prosper, and then +do as they do.” + +“And why do they prosper, Señor Simoun?” + +Simoun replied with a shrug of his shoulders. + +“The port works, which weigh so heavily upon commerce, and the port not +yet completed!” sighed Don Timoteo Pelaez. “A Penelope’s web, as my son +says, that is spun and unspun. The taxes—” + +“You complaining!” exclaimed another. “Just as the General has decreed +the destruction of houses of light materials! [35] And you with a +shipment of galvanized iron!” + +“Yes,” rejoined Don Timoteo, “but look what that decree cost me! Then, +the destruction will not be carried out for a month, not until Lent +begins, and other shipments may arrive. I would have wished them +destroyed right away, but—Besides, what are the owners of those houses +going to buy from me if they are all poor, all equally beggars?” + +“You can always buy up their shacks for a trifle.” + +“And afterwards have the decree revoked and sell them back at double +the price—that’s business!” + +Simoun smiled his frigid smile. Seeing Quiroga approach, he left the +querulous merchants to greet the future consul, who on catching sight +of him lost his satisfied expression and assigned a countenance like +those of the merchants, while he bent almost double. + +Quiroga respected the jeweler greatly, not only because he knew him to +be very wealthy, but also on account of his rumored influence with the +Captain-General. It was reported that Simoun favored Quiroga’s +ambitions, that he was an advocate for the consulate, and a certain +newspaper hostile to the Chinese had alluded to him in many +paraphrases, veiled allusions, and suspension points, in the celebrated +controversy with another sheet that was favorable to the queued folk. +Some prudent persons added with winks and half-uttered words that his +Black Eminence was advising the General to avail himself of the Chinese +in order to humble the tenacious pride of the natives. + +“To hold the people in subjection,” he was reported to have said, +“there’s nothing like humiliating them and humbling them in their own +eyes.” + +To this end an opportunity had soon presented itself. The guilds of +mestizos and natives were continually watching one another, venting +their bellicose spirits and their activities in jealousy and distrust. +At mass one day the gobernadorcillo of the natives was seated on a +bench to the right, and, being extremely thin, happened to cross one of +his legs over the other, thus adopting a nonchalant attitude, in order +to expose his thighs more and display his pretty shoes. The +gobernadorcillo of the guild of mestizos, who was seated on the +opposite bench, as he had bunions, and could not cross his legs on +account of his obesity, spread his legs wide apart to expose a plain +waistcoat adorned with a beautiful gold chain set with diamonds. The +two cliques comprehended these maneuvers and joined battle. On the +following Sunday all the mestizos, even the thinnest, had large +paunches and spread their legs wide apart as though on horseback, while +the natives placed one leg over the other, even the fattest, there +being one cabeza de barangay who turned a somersault. Seeing these +movements, the Chinese all adopted their own peculiar attitude, that of +sitting as they do in their shops, with one leg drawn back and upward, +the other swinging loose. There resulted protests and petitions, the +police rushed to arms ready to start a civil war, the curates rejoiced, +the Spaniards were amused and made money out of everybody, until the +General settled the quarrel by ordering that every one should sit as +the Chinese did, since they were the heaviest contributors, even though +they were not the best Catholics. The difficulty for the mestizos and +natives then was that their trousers were too tight to permit of their +imitating the Chinese. But to make the intention of humiliating them +the more evident, the measure was carried out with great pomp and +ceremony, the church being surrounded by a troop of cavalry, while all +those within were sweating. The matter was carried to the Cortes, but +it was repeated that the Chinese, as the ones who paid, should have +their way in the religious ceremonies, even though they apostatized and +laughed at Christianity immediately after. The natives and the mestizos +had to be content, learning thus not to waste time over such fatuity. +[36] + +Quiroga, with his smooth tongue and humble smile, was lavishly and +flatteringly attentive to Simoun. His voice was caressing and his bows +numerous, but the jeweler cut his blandishments short by asking +brusquely: + +“Did the bracelets suit her?” + +At this question all Quiroga’s liveliness vanished like a dream. His +caressing voice became plaintive; he bowed lower, gave the Chinese +salutation of raising his clasped hands to the height of his face, and +groaned: “Ah, Señor Simoun! I’m lost, I’m ruined!” [37] + +“How, Quiroga, lost and ruined when you have so many bottles of +champagne and so many guests?” + +Quiroga closed his eyes and made a grimace. Yes, the affair of that +afternoon, that affair of the bracelets, had ruined him. Simoun smiled, +for when a Chinese merchant complains it is because all is going well, +and when he makes a show that things are booming it is quite certain +that he is planning an assignment or flight to his own country. + +“You didn’t know that I’m lost, I’m ruined? Ah, Señor Simoun, I’m +busted!” To make his condition plainer, he illustrated the word by +making a movement as though he were falling in collapse. + +Simoun wanted to laugh, but restrained himself and said that he knew +nothing, nothing at all, as Quiroga led him to a room and closed the +door. He then explained the cause of his misfortune. + +Three diamond bracelets that he had secured from Simoun on pretense of +showing them to his wife were not for her, a poor native shut up in her +room like a Chinese woman, but for a beautiful and charming lady, the +friend of a powerful man, whose influence was needed by him in a +certain deal in which he could clear some six thousand pesos. As he did +not understand feminine tastes and wished to be gallant, the Chinese +had asked for the three finest bracelets the jeweler had, each priced +at three to four thousand pesos. With affected simplicity and his most +caressing smile, Quiroga had begged the lady to select the one she +liked best, and the lady, more simple and caressing still, had declared +that she liked all three, and had kept them. + +Simoun burst out into laughter. + +“Ah, sir, I’m lost, I’m ruined!” cried the Chinese, slapping himself +lightly with his delicate hands; but the jeweler continued his +laughter. + +“Ugh, bad people, surely not a real lady,” went on the Chinaman, +shaking his head in disgust. “What! She has no decency, while me, a +Chinaman, me always polite! Ah, surely she not a real lady—a cigarrera +has more decency!” + +“They’ve caught you, they’ve caught you!” exclaimed Simoun, poking him +in the chest. + +“And everybody’s asking for loans and never pays—what about that? +Clerks, officials, lieutenants, soldiers—” he checked them off on his +long-nailed fingers—“ah, Señor Simoun, I’m lost, I’m busted!” + +“Get out with your complaints,” said Simoun. “I’ve saved you from many +officials that wanted money from you. I’ve lent it to them so that they +wouldn’t bother you, even when I knew that they couldn’t pay.” + +“But, Señor Simoun, you lend to officials; I lend to women, sailors, +everybody.” + +“I bet you get your money back.” + +“Me, money back? Ah, surely you don’t understand! When it’s lost in +gambling they never pay. Besides, you have a consul, you can force +them, but I haven’t.” + +Simoun became thoughtful. “Listen, Quiroga,” he said, somewhat +abstractedly, “I’ll undertake to collect what the officers and sailors +owe you. Give me their notes.” + +Quiroga again fell to whining: they had never given him any notes. + +“When they come to you asking for money, send them to me. I want to +help you.” + +The grateful Quiroga thanked him, but soon fell to lamenting again +about the bracelets. “A cigarrera wouldn’t be so shameless!” he +repeated. + +“The devil!” exclaimed Simoun, looking askance at the Chinese, as +though studying him. “Exactly when I need the money and thought that +you could pay me! But it can all be arranged, as I don’t want you to +fail for such a small amount. Come, a favor, and I’ll reduce to seven +the nine thousand pesos you owe me. You can get anything you wish +through the Customs—boxes of lamps, iron, copper, glassware, Mexican +pesos—you furnish arms to the conventos, don’t you?” + +The Chinese nodded affirmation, but remarked that he had to do a good +deal of bribing. “I furnish the padres everything!” + +“Well, then,” added Simoun in a low voice, “I need you to get in for me +some boxes of rifles that arrived this evening. I want you to keep them +in your warehouse; there isn’t room for all of them in my house.” + +Quiroga began to show symptoms of fright. + +“Don’t get scared, you don’t run any risk. These rifles are to be +concealed, a few at a time, in various dwellings, then a search will be +instituted, and many people will be sent to prison. You and I can make +a haul getting them set free. Understand me?” + +Quiroga wavered, for he was afraid of firearms. In his desk he had an +empty revolver that he never touched without turning his head away and +closing his eyes. + +“If you can’t do it, I’ll have to apply to some one else, but then I’ll +need the nine thousand pesos to cross their palms and shut their eyes.” + +“All right, all right!” Quiroga finally agreed. “But many people will +be arrested? There’ll be a search, eh?” + +When Quiroga and Simoun returned to the sala they found there, in +animated conversation, those who had finished their dinner, for the +champagne had loosened their tongues and stirred their brains. They +were talking rather freely. + +In a group where there were a number of government clerks, some ladies, +and Don Custodio, the topic was a commission sent to India to make +certain investigations about footwear for the soldiers. + +“Who compose it?” asked an elderly lady. + +“A colonel, two other officers, and his Excellency’s nephew.” + +“Four?” rejoined a clerk. “What a commission! Suppose they disagree—are +they competent?” + +“That’s what I asked,” replied a clerk. “It’s said that one civilian +ought to go, one who has no military prejudices—a shoemaker, for +instance.” + +“That’s right,” added an importer of shoes, “but it wouldn’t do to send +an Indian or a Chinaman, and the only Peninsular shoemaker demanded +such large fees—” + +“But why do they have to make any investigations about footwear?” +inquired the elderly lady. “It isn’t for the Peninsular artillerymen. +The Indian soldiers can go barefoot, as they do in their towns.” [38] + +“Exactly so, and the treasury would save more,” corroborated another +lady, a widow who was not satisfied with her pension. + +“But you must remember,” remarked another in the group, a friend of the +officers on the commission, “that while it’s true they go barefoot in +the towns, it’s not the same as moving about under orders in the +service. They can’t choose the hour, nor the road, nor rest when they +wish. Remember, madam, that, with the noonday sun overhead and the +earth below baking like an oven, they have to march over sandy +stretches, where there are stones, the sun above and fire below, +bullets in front—” + +“It’s only a question of getting used to it!” + +“Like the donkey that got used to not eating! In our present campaign +the greater part of our losses have been due to wounds on the soles of +the feet. Remember the donkey, madam, remember the donkey!” + +“But, my dear sir,” retorted the lady, “look how much money is wasted +on shoe-leather. There’s enough to pension many widows and orphans in +order to maintain our prestige. Don’t smile, for I’m not talking about +myself, and I have my pension, even though a very small one, +insignificant considering the services my husband rendered, but I’m +talking of others who are dragging out miserable lives! It’s not right +that after so much persuasion to come and so many hardships in crossing +the sea they should end here by dying of hunger. What you say about the +soldiers may be true, but the fact is that I’ve been in the country +more than three years, and I haven’t seen any soldier limping.” + +“In that I agree with the lady,” said her neighbor. “Why issue them +shoes when they were born without them?” + +“And why shirts?” + +“And why trousers?” + +“Just calculate what we should economize on soldiers clothed only in +their skins!” concluded he who was defending the army. + +In another group the conversation was more heated. Ben-Zayb was talking +and declaiming, while Padre Camorra, as usual, was constantly +interrupting him. The friar-journalist, in spite of his respect for the +cowled gentry, was always at loggerheads with Padre Camorra, whom he +regarded as a silly half-friar, thus giving himself the appearance of +being independent and refuting the accusations of those who called him +Fray Ibañez. Padre Camorra liked his adversary, as the latter was the +only person who would take seriously what he styled his arguments. They +were discussing magnetism, spiritualism, magic, and the like. Their +words flew through the air like the knives and balls of jugglers, +tossed back and forth from one to the other. + +That year great attention had been attracted in the Quiapo fair by a +head, wrongly called a sphinx, exhibited by Mr. Leeds, an American. +Glaring advertisements covered the walls of the houses, mysterious and +funereal, to excite the curiosity of the public. Neither Ben-Zayb nor +any of the padres had yet seen it; Juanito Pelaez was the only one who +had, and he was describing his wonderment to the party. + +Ben-Zayb, as a journalist, looked for a natural explanation. Padre +Camorra talked of the devil, Padre Irene smiled, Padre Salvi remained +grave. + +“But, Padre, the devil doesn’t need to come—we are sufficient to damn +ourselves—” + +“It can’t be explained any other way.” + +“If science—” + +“Get out with science, puñales!” + +“But, listen to me and I’ll convince you. It’s all a question of +optics. I haven’t yet seen the head nor do I know how it looks, but +this gentleman”—indicating Juanito Pelaez—“tells us that it does not +look like the talking heads that are usually exhibited. So be it! But +the principle is the same—it’s all a question of optics. Wait! A mirror +is placed thus, another mirror behind it, the image is reflected—I say, +it is purely a problem in physics.” + +Taking down from the walls several mirrors, he arranged them, turned +them round and round, but, not getting the desired result, concluded: +“As I say, it’s nothing more or less than a question of optics.” + +“But what do you want mirrors for, if Juanito tells us that the head is +inside a box placed on the table? I see in it spiritualism, because the +spiritualists always make use of tables, and I think that Padre Salvi, +as the ecclesiastical governor, ought to prohibit the exhibition.” + +Padre Salvi remained silent, saying neither yes nor no. + +“In order to learn if there are devils or mirrors inside it,” suggested +Simoun, “the best thing would be for you to go and see the famous +sphinx.” + +The proposal was a good one, so it was accepted, although Padre Salvi +and Don Custodio showed some repugnance. They at a fair, to rub +shoulders with the public, to see sphinxes and talking heads! What +would the natives say? These might take them for mere men, endowed with +the same passions and weaknesses as others. But Ben-Zayb, with his +journalistic ingenuity, promised to request Mr. Leeds not to admit the +public while they were inside. They would be honoring him sufficiently +by the visit not to admit of his refusal, and besides he would not +charge any admission fee. To give a show of probability to this, he +concluded: “Because, remember, if I should expose the trick of the +mirrors to the public, it would ruin the poor American’s business.” +Ben-Zayb was a conscientious individual. + +About a dozen set out, among them our acquaintances, Padres Salvi, +Camorra, and Irene, Don Custodio, Ben-Zayb, and Juanito Pelaez. Their +carriages set them down at the entrance to the Quiapo Plaza. + + + + + + + + +CHAPTER XVII + +THE QUIAPO FAIR + + +It was a beautiful night and the plaza presented a most animated +aspect. Taking advantage of the freshness of the breeze and the +splendor of the January moon, the people filled the fair to see, be +seen, and amuse themselves. The music of the cosmoramas and the lights +of the lanterns gave life and merriment to every one. Long rows of +booths, brilliant with tinsel and gauds, exposed to view clusters of +balls, masks strung by the eyes, tin toys, trains, carts, mechanical +horses, carriages, steam-engines with diminutive boilers, Lilliputian +tableware of porcelain, pine Nativities, dolls both foreign and +domestic, the former red and smiling, the latter sad and pensive like +little ladies beside gigantic children. The beating of drums, the roar +of tin horns, the wheezy music of the accordions and the hand-organs, +all mingled in a carnival concert, amid the coming and going of the +crowd, pushing, stumbling over one another, with their faces turned +toward the booths, so that the collisions were frequent and often +amusing. The carriages were forced to move slowly, with the tabí of the +cocheros repeated every moment. Met and mingled government clerks, +soldiers, friars, students, Chinese, girls with their mammas or aunts, +all greeting, signaling, calling to one another merrily. + +Padre Camorra was in the seventh heaven at the sight of so many pretty +girls. He stopped, looked back, nudged Ben-Zayb, chuckled and swore, +saying, “And that one, and that one, my ink-slinger? And that one over +there, what say you?” In his contentment he even fell to using the +familiar tu toward his friend and adversary. Padre Salvi stared at him +from time to time, but he took little note of Padre Salvi. On the +contrary, he pretended to stumble so that he might brush against the +girls, he winked and made eyes at them. + +“Puñales!” he kept saying to himself. “When shall I be the curate of +Quiapo?” + +Suddenly Ben-Zayb let go an oath, jumped aside, and slapped his hand on +his arm; Padre Camorra in his excess of enthusiasm had pinched him. +They were approaching a dazzling señorita who was attracting the +attention of the whole plaza, and Padre Camorra, unable to restrain his +delight, had taken Ben-Zayb’s arm as a substitute for the girl’s. + +It was Paulita Gomez, the prettiest of the pretty, in company with +Isagani, followed by Doña Victorina. The young woman was resplendent in +her beauty: all stopped and craned their necks, while they ceased their +conversation and followed her with their eyes—even Doña Victorina was +respectfully saluted. + +Paulita was arrayed in a rich camisa and pañuelo of embroidered piña, +different from those she had worn that morning to the church. The gauzy +texture of the piña set off her shapely head, and the Indians who saw +her compared her to the moon surrounded by fleecy clouds. A silk +rose-colored skirt, caught up in rich and graceful folds by her little +hand, gave majesty to her erect figure, the movement of which, +harmonizing with her curving neck, displayed all the triumphs of vanity +and satisfied coquetry. Isagani appeared to be rather disgusted, for so +many curious eyes fixed upon the beauty of his sweetheart annoyed him. +The stares seemed to him robbery and the girl’s smiles faithlessness. + +Juanito saw her and his hump increased when he spoke to her. Paulita +replied negligently, while Doña Victorina called to him, for Juanito +was her favorite, she preferring him to Isagani. + +“What a girl, what a girl!” muttered the entranced Padre Camorra. + +“Come, Padre, pinch yourself and let me alone,” said Ben-Zayb +fretfully. + +“What a girl, what a girl!” repeated the friar. “And she has for a +sweetheart a pupil of mine, the boy I had the quarrel with.” + +“Just my luck that she’s not of my town,” he added, after turning his +head several times to follow her with his looks. He was even tempted to +leave his companions to follow the girl, and Ben-Zayb had difficulty in +dissuading him. Paulita’s beautiful figure moved on, her graceful +little head nodding with inborn coquetry. + +Our promenaders kept on their way, not without sighs on the part of the +friar-artilleryman, until they reached a booth surrounded by +sightseers, who quickly made way for them. It was a shop of little +wooden figures, of local manufacture, representing in all shapes and +sizes the costumes, races, and occupations of the country: Indians, +Spaniards, Chinese, mestizos, friars, clergymen, government clerks, +gobernadorcillos, students, soldiers, and so on. + +Whether the artists had more affection for the priests, the folds of +whose habits were better suited to their esthetic purposes, or whether +the friars, holding such an important place in Philippine life, engaged +the attention of the sculptor more, the fact was that, for one cause or +another, images of them abounded, well-turned and finished, +representing them in the sublimest moments of their lives—the opposite +of what is done in Europe, where they are pictured as sleeping on casks +of wine, playing cards, emptying tankards, rousing themselves to +gaiety, or patting the cheeks of a buxom girl. No, the friars of the +Philippines were different: elegant, handsome, well-dressed, their +tonsures neatly shaven, their features symmetrical and serene, their +gaze meditative, their expression saintly, somewhat rosy-cheeked, cane +in hand and patent-leather shoes on their feet, inviting adoration and +a place in a glass case. Instead of the symbols of gluttony and +incontinence of their brethren in Europe, those of Manila carried the +book, the crucifix, and the palm of martyrdom; instead of kissing the +simple country lasses, those of Manila gravely extended the hand to be +kissed by children and grown men doubled over almost to kneeling; +instead of the full refectory and dining-hall, their stage in Europe, +in Manila they had the oratory, the study-table; instead of the +mendicant friar who goes from door to door with his donkey and sack, +begging alms, the friars of the Philippines scattered gold from full +hands among the miserable Indians. + +“Look, here’s Padre Camorra!” exclaimed Ben-Zayb, upon whom the effect +of the champagne still lingered. He pointed to a picture of a lean +friar of thoughtful mien who was seated at a table with his head +resting on the palm of his hand, apparently writing a sermon by the +light of a lamp. The contrast suggested drew laughter from the crowd. + +Padre Camorra, who had already forgotten about Paulita, saw what was +meant and laughing his clownish laugh, asked in turn, “Whom does this +other figure resemble, Ben-Zayb?” + +It was an old woman with one eye, with disheveled hair, seated on the +ground like an Indian idol, ironing clothes. The sad-iron was carefully +imitated, being of copper with coals of red tinsel and smoke-wreaths of +dirty twisted cotton. + +“Eh, Ben-Zayb, it wasn’t a fool who designed that” asked Padre Camorra +with a laugh. + +“Well, I don’t see the point,” replied the journalist. + +“But, puñales, don’t you see the title, The Philippine Press? That +utensil with which the old woman is ironing is here called the press!” + +All laughed at this, Ben-Zayb himself joining in good-naturedly. + +Two soldiers of the Civil Guard, appropriately labeled, were placed +behind a man who was tightly bound and had his face covered by his hat. +It was entitled The Country of Abaka, [39] and from appearances they +were going to shoot him. + +Many of our visitors were displeased with the exhibition. They talked +of rules of art, they sought proportion—one said that this figure did +not have seven heads, that the face lacked a nose, having only three, +all of which made Padre Camorra somewhat thoughtful, for he did not +comprehend how a figure, to be correct, need have four noses and seven +heads. Others said, if they were muscular, that they could not be +Indians; still others remarked that it was not sculpture, but mere +carpentry. Each added his spoonful of criticism, until Padre Camorra, +not to be outdone, ventured to ask for at least thirty legs for each +doll, because, if the others wanted noses, couldn’t he require feet? So +they fell to discussing whether the Indian had or had not any aptitude +for sculpture, and whether it would be advisable to encourage that art, +until there arose a general dispute, which was cut short by Don +Custodio’s declaration that the Indians had the aptitude, but that they +should devote themselves exclusively to the manufacture of saints. + +“One would say,” observed Ben-Zayb, who was full of bright ideas that +night, “that this Chinaman is Quiroga, but on close examination it +looks like Padre Irene. And what do you say about that British Indian? +He looks like Simoun!” + +Fresh peals of laughter resounded, while Padre Irene rubbed his nose. + +“That’s right!” + +“It’s the very image of him!” + +“But where is Simoun? Simoun should buy it.” + +But the jeweler had disappeared, unnoticed by any one. + +“Puñales!” exclaimed Padre Camorra, “how stingy the American is! He’s +afraid we would make him pay the admission for all of us into Mr. +Leeds’ show.” + +“No!” rejoined Ben-Zayb, “what he’s afraid of is that he’ll compromise +himself. He may have foreseen the joke in store for his friend Mr. +Leeds and has got out of the way.” + +Thus, without purchasing the least trifle, they continued on their way +to see the famous sphinx. Ben-Zayb offered to manage the affair, for +the American would not rebuff a journalist who could take revenge in an +unfavorable article. “You’ll see that it’s all a question of mirrors,” +he said, “because, you see—” Again he plunged into a long +demonstration, and as he had no mirrors at hand to discredit his theory +he tangled himself up in all kinds of blunders and wound up by not +knowing himself what he was saying. “In short, you’ll see how it’s all +a question of optics.” + + + + + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII + +LEGERDEMAIN + + +Mr. Leeds, a genuine Yankee, dressed completely in black, received his +visitors with great deference. He spoke Spanish well, from having been +for many years in South America, and offered no objection to their +request, saying that they might examine everything, both before and +after the exhibition, but begged that they remain quiet while it was in +progress. Ben-Zayb smiled in pleasant anticipation of the vexation he +had prepared for the American. + +The room, hung entirely in black, was lighted by ancient lamps burning +alcohol. A rail wrapped in black velvet divided it into two almost +equal parts, one of which was filled with seats for the spectators and +the other occupied by a platform covered with a checkered carpet. In +the center of this platform was placed a table, over which was spread a +piece of black cloth adorned with skulls and cabalistic signs. The mise +en scène was therefore lugubrious and had its effect upon the merry +visitors. The jokes died away, they spoke in whispers, and however much +some tried to appear indifferent, their lips framed no smiles. All felt +as if they had entered a house where there was a corpse, an illusion +accentuated by an odor of wax and incense. Don Custodio and Padre Salvi +consulted in whispers over the expediency of prohibiting such shows. + +Ben-Zayb, in order to cheer the dispirited group and embarrass Mr. +Leeds, said to him in a familiar tone: “Eh, Mister, since there are +none but ourselves here and we aren’t Indians who can be fooled, won’t +you let us see the trick? We know of course that it’s purely a question +of optics, but as Padre Camorra won’t be convinced—” + +Here he started to jump over the rail, instead of going through the +proper opening, while Padre Camorra broke out into protests, fearing +that Ben-Zayb might be right. + +“And why not, sir?” rejoined the American. “But don’t break anything, +will you?” + +The journalist was already on the platform. “You will allow me, then?” +he asked, and without waiting for the permission, fearing that it might +not be granted, raised the cloth to look for the mirrors that he +expected should be between the legs of the table. Ben-Zayb uttered an +exclamation and stepped back, again placed both hands under the table +and waved them about; he encountered only empty space. The table had +three thin iron legs, sunk into the floor. + +The journalist looked all about as though seeking something. + +“Where are the mirrors?” asked Padre Camorra. + +Ben-Zayb looked and looked, felt the table with his fingers, raised the +cloth again, and rubbed his hand over his forehead from time to time, +as if trying to remember something. + +“Have you lost anything?” inquired Mr. Leeds. + +“The mirrors, Mister, where are the mirrors?” + +“I don’t know where yours are—mine are at the hotel. Do you want to +look at yourself? You’re somewhat pale and excited.” + +Many laughed, in spite of their weird impressions, on seeing the +jesting coolness of the American, while Ben-Zayb retired, quite +abashed, to his seat, muttering, “It can’t be. You’ll see that he +doesn’t do it without mirrors. The table will have to be changed +later.” + +Mr. Leeds placed the cloth on the table again and turning toward his +illustrious audience, asked them, “Are you satisfied? May we begin?” + +“Hurry up! How cold-blooded he is!” said the widow. + +“Then, ladies and gentlemen, take your seats and get your questions +ready.” + +Mr. Leeds disappeared through a doorway and in a few moments returned +with a black box of worm-eaten wood, covered with inscriptions in the +form of birds, beasts, and human heads. + +“Ladies and gentlemen,” he began solemnly, “once having had occasion to +visit the great pyramid of Khufu, a Pharaoh of the fourth dynasty, I +chanced upon a sarcophagus of red granite in a forgotten chamber. My +joy was great, for I thought that I had found a royal mummy, but what +was my disappointment on opening the coffin, at the cost of infinite +labor, to find nothing more than this box, which you may examine.” + +He handed the box to those in the front row. Padre Camorra drew back in +loathing, Padre Salvi looked at it closely as if he enjoyed sepulchral +things, Padre Irene smiled a knowing smile, Don Custodio affected +gravity and disdain, while Ben-Zayb hunted for his mirrors—there they +must be, for it was a question of mirrors. + +“It smells like a corpse,” observed one lady, fanning herself +furiously. “Ugh!” + +“It smells of forty centuries,” remarked some one with emphasis. + +Ben-Zayb forgot about his mirrors to discover who had made this remark. +It was a military official who had read the history of Napoleon. + +Ben-Zayb felt jealous and to utter another epigram that might annoy +Padre Camorra a little said, “It smells of the Church.” + +“This box, ladies and gentlemen,” continued the American, “contained a +handful of ashes and a piece of papyrus on which were written some +words. Examine them yourselves, but I beg of you not to breathe +heavily, because if any of the dust is lost my sphinx will appear in a +mutilated condition.” + +The humbug, described with such seriousness and conviction, was +gradually having its effect, so much so that when the box was passed +around, no one dared to breathe. Padre Camorra, who had so often +depicted from the pulpit of Tiani the torments and sufferings of hell, +while he laughed in his sleeves at the terrified looks of the sinners, +held his nose, and Padre Salvi—the same Padre Salvi who had on All +Souls’ Day prepared a phantasmagoria of the souls in purgatory with +flames and transparencies illuminated with alcohol lamps and covered +with tinsel, on the high altar of the church in a suburb, in order to +get alms and orders for masses—the lean and taciturn Padre Salvi held +his breath and gazed suspiciously at that handful of ashes. + +“Memento, homo, quia pulvis es!” muttered Padre Irene with a smile. + +“Pish!” sneered Ben-Zayb—the same thought had occurred to him, and the +Canon had taken the words out of his mouth. + +“Not knowing what to do,” resumed Mr. Leeds, closing the box carefully, +“I examined the papyrus and discovered two words whose meaning was +unknown to me. I deciphered them, and tried to pronounce them aloud. +Scarcely had I uttered the first word when I felt the box slipping from +my hands, as if pressed down by an enormous weight, and it glided along +the floor, whence I vainly endeavored to remove it. But my surprise was +converted into terror when it opened and I found within a human head +that stared at me fixedly. Paralyzed with fright and uncertain what to +do in the presence of such a phenomenon, I remained for a time +stupefied, trembling like a person poisoned with mercury, but after a +while recovered myself and, thinking that it was a vain illusion, tried +to divert my attention by reading the second word. Hardly had I +pronounced it when the box closed, the head disappeared, and in its +place I again found the handful of ashes. Without suspecting it I had +discovered the two most potent words in nature, the words of creation +and destruction, of life and of death!” + +He paused for a few moments to note the effect of his story, then with +grave and measured steps approached the table and placed the mysterious +box upon it. + +“The cloth, Mister!” exclaimed the incorrigible Ben-Zayb. + +“Why not?” rejoined Mr. Leeds, very complaisantly. + +Lifting the box with his right hand, he caught up the cloth with his +left, completely exposing the table sustained by its three legs. Again +he placed the box upon the center and with great gravity turned to his +audience. + +“Here’s what I want to see,” said Ben-Zayb to his neighbor. “You notice +how he makes some excuse.” + +Great attention was depicted on all countenances and silence reigned. +The noise and roar of the street could be distinctly heard, but all +were so affected that a snatch of dialogue which reached them produced +no effect. + +“Why can’t we go in?” asked a woman’s voice. + +“Abá, there’s a lot of friars and clerks in there,” answered a man. +“The sphinx is for them only.” + +“The friars are inquisitive too,” said the woman’s voice, drawing away. +“They don’t want us to know how they’re being fooled. Why, is the head +a friar’s querida?” + +In the midst of a profound silence the American announced in a tone of +emotion: “Ladies and gentlemen, with a word I am now going to reanimate +the handful of ashes, and you will talk with a being that knows the +past, the present, and much of the future!” + +Here the prestidigitator uttered a soft cry, first mournful, then +lively, a medley of sharp sounds like imprecations and hoarse notes +like threats, which made Ben-Zayb’s hair stand on end. + +“Deremof!” cried the American. + +The curtains on the wall rustled, the lamps burned low, the table +creaked. A feeble groan responded from the interior of the box. Pale +and uneasy, all stared at one another, while one terrified señora +caught hold of Padre Salvi. + +The box then opened of its own accord and presented to the eyes of the +audience a head of cadaverous aspect, surrounded by long and abundant +black hair. It slowly opened its eyes and looked around the whole +audience. Those eyes had a vivid radiance, accentuated by their +cavernous sockets, and, as if deep were calling unto deep, fixed +themselves upon the profound, sunken eyes of the trembling Padre Salvi, +who was staring unnaturally, as though he saw a ghost. + +“Sphinx,” commanded Mr. Leeds, “tell the audience who you are.” + +A deep silence prevailed, while a chill wind blew through the room and +made the blue flames of the sepulchral lamps flicker. The most +skeptical shivered. + +“I am Imuthis,” declared the head in a funereal, but strangely +menacing, voice. “I was born in the time of Amasis and died under the +Persian domination, when Cambyses was returning from his disastrous +expedition into the interior of Libya. I had come to complete my +education after extensive travels through Greece, Assyria, and Persia, +and had returned to my native laud to dwell in it until Thoth should +call me before his terrible tribunal. But to my undoing, on passing +through Babylonia, I discovered an awful secret—the secret of the false +Smerdis who usurped the throne, the bold Magian Gaumata who governed as +an impostor. Fearing that I would betray him to Cambyses, he determined +upon my ruin through the instrumentality of the Egyptian priests, who +at that time ruled my native country. They were the owners of +two-thirds of the land, the monopolizers of learning, they held the +people down in ignorance and tyranny, they brutalized them, thus making +them fit to pass without resistance from one domination to another. The +invaders availed themselves of them, and knowing their usefulness, +protected and enriched them. The rulers not only depended on their +will, but some were reduced to mere instruments of theirs. The Egyptian +priests hastened to execute Gaumata’s orders, with greater zeal from +their fear of me, because they were afraid that I would reveal their +impostures to the people. To accomplish their purpose, they made use of +a young priest of Abydos, who passed for a saint.” + +A painful silence followed these words. That head was talking of +priestly intrigues and impostures, and although referring to another +age and other creeds, all the friars present were annoyed, possibly +because they could see in the general trend of the speech some analogy +to the existing situation. Padre Salvi was in the grip of convulsive +shivering; he worked his lips and with bulging eyes followed the gaze +of the head as though fascinated. Beads of sweat began to break out on +his emaciated face, but no one noticed this, so deeply absorbed and +affected were they. + +“What was the plot concocted by the priests of your country against +you?” asked Mr. Leeds. + +The head uttered a sorrowful groan, which seemed to come from the +bottom of the heart, and the spectators saw its eyes, those fiery eyes, +clouded and filled with tears. Many shuddered and felt their hair rise. +No, that was not an illusion, it was not a trick: the head was the +victim and what it told was its own story. + +“Ay!” it moaned, shaking with affliction, “I loved a maiden, the +daughter of a priest, pure as light, like the freshly opened lotus! The +young priest of Abydos also desired her and planned a rebellion, using +my name and some papyri that he had secured from my beloved. The +rebellion broke out at the time when Cambyses was returning in rage +over the disasters of his unfortunate campaign. I was accused of being +a rebel, was made a prisoner, and having effected my escape was killed +in the chase on Lake Moeris. From out of eternity I saw the imposture +triumph. I saw the priest of Abydos night and day persecuting the +maiden, who had taken refuge in a temple of Isis on the island of +Philae. I saw him persecute and harass her, even in the subterranean +chambers, I saw him drive her mad with terror and suffering, like a +huge bat pursuing a white dove. Ah, priest, priest of Abydos, I have +returned to life to expose your infamy, and after so many years of +silence, I name thee murderer, hypocrite, liar!” + +A dry, hollow laugh accompanied these words, while a choked voice +responded, “No! Mercy!” + +It was Padre Salvi, who had been overcome with terror and with arms +extended was slipping in collapse to the floor. + +“What’s the matter with your Reverence? Are you ill?” asked Padre +Irene. + +“The heat of the room—” + +“This odor of corpses we’re breathing here—” + +“Murderer, slanderer, hypocrite!” repeated the head. “I accuse +you—murderer, murderer, murderer!” + +Again the dry laugh, sepulchral and menacing, resounded, as though that +head were so absorbed in contemplation of its wrongs that it did not +see the tumult that prevailed in the room. + +“Mercy! She still lives!” groaned Padre Salvi, and then lost +consciousness. He was as pallid as a corpse. Some of the ladies thought +it their duty to faint also, and proceeded to do so. + +“He is out of his head! Padre Salvi!” + +“I told him not to eat that bird’s-nest soup,” said Padre Irene. “It +has made him sick.” + +“But he didn’t eat anything,” rejoined Don Custodio shivering. “As the +head has been staring at him fixedly, it has mesmerized him.” + +So disorder prevailed, the room seemed to be a hospital or a +battlefield. Padre Salvi looked like a corpse, and the ladies, seeing +that no one was paying them any attention, made the best of it by +recovering. + +Meanwhile, the head had been reduced to ashes, and Mr. Leeds, having +replaced the cloth on the table, bowed his audience out. + +“This show must be prohibited,” said Don Custodio on leaving. “It’s +wicked and highly immoral.” + +“And above all, because it doesn’t use mirrors,” added Ben-Zayb, who +before going out of the room tried to assure himself finally, so he +leaped over the rail, went up to the table, and raised the cloth: +nothing, absolutely nothing! [40] On the following day he wrote an +article in which he spoke of occult sciences, spiritualism, and the +like. + +An order came immediately from the ecclesiastical governor prohibiting +the show, but Mr. Leeds had already disappeared, carrying his secret +with him to Hongkong. + + + + + + + + +CHAPTER XIX + +THE FUSE + + +Placido Penitente left the class with his heart overflowing with +bitterness and sullen gloom in his looks. He was worthy of his name +when not driven from his usual course, but once irritated he was a +veritable torrent, a wild beast that could only be stopped by the death +of himself or his foe. So many affronts, so many pinpricks, day after +day, had made his heart quiver, lodging in it to sleep the sleep of +lethargic vipers, and they now were awaking to shake and hiss with +fury. The hisses resounded in his ears with the jesting epithets of the +professor, the phrases in the slang of the markets, and he seemed to +hear blows and laughter. A thousand schemes for revenge rushed into his +brain, crowding one another, only to fade immediately like phantoms in +a dream. His vanity cried out to him with desperate tenacity that he +must do something. + +“Placido Penitente,” said the voice, “show these youths that you have +dignity, that you are the son of a valiant and noble province, where +wrongs are washed out with blood. You’re a Batangan, Placido Penitente! +Avenge yourself, Placido Penitente!” + +The youth groaned and gnashed his teeth, stumbling against every one in +the street and on the Bridge of Spain, as if he were seeking a quarrel. +In the latter place he saw a carriage in which was the Vice-Rector, +Padre Sibyla, accompanied by Don Custodio, and he had a great mind to +seize the friar and throw him into the river. + +He proceeded along the Escolta and was tempted to assault two +Augustinians who were seated in the doorway of Quiroga’s bazaar, +laughing and joking with other friars who must have been inside in +joyous conversation, for their merry voices and sonorous laughter could +be heard. Somewhat farther on, two cadets blocked up the sidewalk, +talking with the clerk of a warehouse, who was in his shirtsleeves. +Penitents moved toward them to force a passage and they, perceiving his +dark intention, good-humoredly made way for him. Placido was by this +time under the influence of the amok, as the Malayists say. + +As he approached his home—the house of a silversmith where he lived as +a boarder—he tried to collect his thoughts and make a plan—to return to +his town and avenge himself by showing the friars that they could not +with impunity insult a youth or make a joke of him. He decided to write +a letter immediately to his mother, Cabesang Andang, to inform her of +what had happened and to tell her that the schoolroom had closed +forever for him. Although there was the Ateneo of the Jesuits, where he +might study that year, yet it was not very likely that the Dominicans +would grant him the transfer, and, even though he should secure it, in +the following year he would have to return to the University. + +“They say that we don’t know how to avenge ourselves!” he muttered. +“Let the lightning strike and we’ll see!” + +But Placido was not reckoning upon what awaited him in the house of the +silversmith. Cabesang Andang had just arrived from Batangas, having +come to do some shopping, to visit her son, and to bring him money, +jerked venison, and silk handkerchiefs. + +The first greetings over, the poor woman, who had at once noticed her +son’s gloomy look, could no longer restrain her curiosity and began to +ask questions. His first explanations Cabesang Andang regarded as some +subterfuge, so she smiled and soothed her son, reminding him of their +sacrifices and privations. She spoke of Capitana Simona’s son, who, +having entered the seminary, now carried himself in the town like a +bishop, and Capitana Simona already considered herself a Mother of God, +clearly so, for her son was going to be another Christ. + +“If the son becomes a priest,” said she, “the mother won’t have to pay +us what she owes us. Who will collect from her then?” + +But on seeing that Placido was speaking seriously and reading in his +eyes the storm that raged within him, she realized that what he was +telling her was unfortunately the strict truth. She remained silent for +a while and then broke out into lamentations. + +“Ay!” she exclaimed. “I promised your father that I would care for you, +educate you, and make a lawyer of you! I’ve deprived myself of +everything so that you might go to school! Instead of joining the +panguingui where the stake is a half peso, I Ve gone only where it’s a +half real, enduring the bad smells and the dirty cards. Look at my +patched camisa; for instead of buying new ones I’ve spent the money in +masses and presents to St. Sebastian, even though I don’t have great +confidence in his power, because the curate recites the masses fast and +hurriedly, he’s an entirely new saint and doesn’t yet know how to +perform miracles, and isn’t made of batikulin but of lanete. Ay, what +will your father say to me when I die and see him again!” + +So the poor woman lamented and wept, while Placido became gloomier and +let stifled sighs escape from his breast. + +“What would I get out of being a lawyer?” was his response. + +“What will become of you?” asked his mother, clasping her hands. +“They’ll call you a filibuster and garrote you. I’ve told you that you +must have patience, that you must be humble. I don’t tell you that you +must kiss the hands of the curates, for I know that you have a delicate +sense of smell, like your father, who couldn’t endure European cheese. +[41] But we have to suffer, to be silent, to say yes to everything. +What are we going to do? The friars own everything, and if they are +unwilling, no one will become a lawyer or a doctor. Have patience, my +son, have patience!” + +“But I’ve had a great deal, mother, I’ve suffered for months and +months.” + +Cabesang Andang then resumed her lamentations. She did not ask that he +declare himself a partizan of the friars, she was not one herself—it +was enough to know that for one good friar there were ten bad, who took +the money from the poor and deported the rich. But one must be silent, +suffer, and endure—there was no other course. She cited this man and +that one, who by being patient and humble, even though in the bottom of +his heart he hated his masters, had risen from servant of the friars to +high office; and such another who was rich and could commit abuses, +secure of having patrons who would protect him from the law, yet who +had been nothing more than a poor sacristan, humble and obedient, and +who had married a pretty girl whose son had the curate for a godfather. +So Cabesang Andang continued her litany of humble and patient +Filipinos, as she called them, and was about to cite others who by not +being so had found themselves persecuted and exiled, when Placido on +some trifling pretext left the house to wander about the streets. + +He passed through Sibakong, [42] Tondo, San Nicolas, and Santo Cristo, +absorbed in his ill-humor, without taking note of the sun or the hour, +and only when he began to feel hungry and discovered that he had no +money, having given it all for celebrations and contributions, did he +return to the house. He had expected that he would not meet his mother +there, as she was in the habit, when in Manila, of going out at that +hour to a neighboring house where panguingui was played, but Cabesang +Andang was waiting to propose her plan. She would avail herself of the +procurator of the Augustinians to restore her son to the good graces of +the Dominicans. + +Placido stopped her with a gesture. “I’ll throw myself into the sea +first,” he declared. “I’ll become a tulisan before I’ll go back to the +University.” + +Again his mother began her preachment about patience and humility, so +he went away again without having eaten anything, directing his steps +toward the quay where the steamers tied up. The sight of a steamer +weighing anchor for Hongkong inspired him with an idea—to go to +Hongkong, to run away, get rich there, and make war on the friars. + +The thought of Hongkong awoke in his mind the recollection of a story +about frontals, cirials, and candelabra of pure silver, which the piety +of the faithful had led them to present to a certain church. The +friars, so the silversmith told, had sent to Hongkong to have duplicate +frontals, cirials, and candelabra made of German silver, which they +substituted for the genuine ones, these being melted down and coined +into Mexican pesos. Such was the story he had heard, and though it was +no more than a rumor or a story, his resentment gave it the color of +truth and reminded him of other tricks of theirs in that same style. +The desire to live free, and certain half-formed plans, led him to +decide upon Hongkong. If the corporations sent all their money there, +commerce must be flourishing and he could enrich himself. + +“I want to be free, to live free!” + +Night surprised him wandering along San Fernando, but not meeting any +sailor he knew, he decided to return home. As the night was beautiful, +with a brilliant moon transforming the squalid city into a fantastic +fairy kingdom, he went to the fair. There he wandered back and forth, +passing booths without taking any notice of the articles in them, ever +with the thought of Hongkong, of living free, of enriching himself. + +He was about to leave the fair when he thought he recognized the +jeweler Simoun bidding good-by to a foreigner, both of them speaking in +English. To Placido every language spoken in the Philippines by +Europeans, when not Spanish, had to be English, and besides, he caught +the name Hongkong. If only the jeweler would recommend him to that +foreigner, who must be setting out for Hongkong! + +Placido paused. He was acquainted with the jeweler, as the latter had +been in his town peddling his wares, and he had accompanied him on one +of his trips, when Simoun had made himself very amiable indeed, telling +him of the life in the universities of the free countries—what a +difference! + +So he followed the jeweler. “Señor Simoun, Señor Simoun!” he called. + +The jeweler was at that moment entering his carriage. Recognizing +Placido, he checked himself. + +“I want to ask a favor of you, to say a few words to you.” + +Simoun made a sign of impatience which Placido in his perturbation did +not observe. In a few words the youth related what had happened and +made known his desire to go to Hongkong. + +“Why?” asked Simoun, staring fixedly at Placido through his blue +goggles. + +Placido did not answer, so Simoun threw back his head, smiled his cold, +silent smile and said, “All right! Come with me. To Calle Iris!” he +directed the cochero. + +Simoun remained silent throughout the whole drive, apparently absorbed +in meditation of a very important nature. Placido kept quiet, waiting +for him to speak first, and entertained himself in watching the +promenaders who were enjoying the clear moonlight: pairs of infatuated +lovers, followed by watchful mammas or aunts; groups of students in +white clothes that the moonlight made whiter still; half-drunken +soldiers in a carriage, six together, on their way to visit some nipa +temple dedicated to Cytherea; children playing their games and Chinese +selling sugar-cane. All these filled the streets, taking on in the +brilliant moonlight fantastic forms and ideal outlines. In one house an +orchestra was playing waltzes, and couples might be seen dancing under +the bright lamps and chandeliers—what a sordid spectacle they presented +in comparison with the sight the streets afforded! Thinking of +Hongkong, he asked himself if the moonlit nights in that island were so +poetical and sweetly melancholy as those of the Philippines, and a deep +sadness settled down over his heart. + +Simoun ordered the carriage to stop and both alighted, just at the +moment when Isagani and Paulita Gomez passed them murmuring sweet +inanities. Behind them came Doña Victorina with Juanito Pelaez, who was +talking in a loud voice, busily gesticulating, and appearing to have a +larger hump than ever. In his preoccupation Pelaez did not notice his +former schoolmate. + +“There’s a fellow who’s happy!” muttered Placido with a sigh, as he +gazed toward the group, which became converted into vaporous +silhouettes, with Juanito’s arms plainly visible, rising and falling +like the arms of a windmill. + +“That’s all he’s good for,” observed Simoun. “It’s fine to be young!” + +To whom did Placido and Simoun each allude? + +The jeweler made a sign to the young man, and they left the street to +pick their way through a labyrinth of paths and passageways among +various houses, at times leaping upon stones to avoid the mudholes or +stepping aside from the sidewalks that were badly constructed and still +more badly tended. Placido was surprised to see the rich jeweler move +through such places as if he were familiar with them. They at length +reached an open lot where a wretched hut stood off by itself surrounded +by banana-plants and areca-palms. Some bamboo frames and sections of +the same material led Placido to suspect that they were approaching the +house of a pyrotechnist. + +Simoun rapped on the window and a man’s face appeared. + +“Ah, sir!” he exclaimed, and immediately came outside. + +“Is the powder here?” asked Simoun. + +“In sacks. I’m waiting for the shells.” + +“And the bombs?” + +“Are all ready.” + +“All right, then. This very night you must go and inform the lieutenant +and the corporal. Then keep on your way, and in Lamayan you will find a +man in a banka. You will say Cabesa and he will answer Tales. It’s +necessary that he be here tomorrow. There’s no time to be lost.” + +Saying this, he gave him some gold coins. + +“How’s this, sir?” the man inquired in very good Spanish. “Is there any +news?” + +“Yes, it’ll be done within the coming week.” + +“The coming week!” exclaimed the unknown, stepping backward. “The +suburbs are not yet ready, they hope that the General will withdraw the +decree. I thought it was postponed until the beginning of Lent.” + +Simoun shook his head. “We won’t need the suburbs,” he said. “With +Cabesang Tales’ people, the ex-carbineers, and a regiment, we’ll have +enough. Later, Maria Clara may be dead. Start at once!” + +The man disappeared. Placido, who had stood by and heard all of this +brief interview, felt his hair rise and stared with startled eyes at +Simoun, who smiled. + +“You’re surprised,” he said with his icy smile, “that this Indian, so +poorly dressed, speaks Spanish well? He was a schoolmaster who +persisted in teaching Spanish to the children and did not stop until he +had lost his position and had been deported as a disturber of the +public peace, and for having been a friend of the unfortunate Ibarra. I +got him back from his deportation, where he had been working as a +pruner of coconut-palms, and have made him a pyrotechnist.” + +They returned to the street and set out for Trozo. Before a wooden +house of pleasant and well-kept appearance was a Spaniard on crutches, +enjoying the moonlight. When Simoun accosted him, his attempt to rise +was accompanied by a stifled groan. + +“You’re ready?” Simoun inquired of him. + +“I always am!” + +“The coming week?” + +“So soon?” + +“At the first cannon-shot!” + +He moved away, followed by Placido, who was beginning to ask himself if +he were not dreaming. + +“Does it surprise you,” Simoun asked him, “to see a Spaniard so young +and so afflicted with disease? Two years ago he was as robust as you +are, but his enemies succeeded in sending him to Balabak to work in a +penal settlement, and there he caught the rheumatism and fever that are +dragging him into the grave. The poor devil had married a very +beautiful woman.” + +As an empty carriage was passing, Simoun hailed it and with Placido +directed it to his house in the Escolta, just at the moment when the +clocks were striking half-past ten. + +Two hours later Placido left the jeweler’s house and walked gravely and +thoughtfully along the Escolta, then almost deserted, in spite of the +fact that the cafés were still quite animated. Now and then a carriage +passed rapidly, clattering noisily over the worn pavement. + +From a room in his house that overlooked the Pasig, Simoun turned his +gaze toward the Walled City, which could be seen through the open +windows, with its roofs of galvanized iron gleaming in the moonlight +and its somber towers showing dull and gloomy in the midst of the +serene night. He laid aside his blue goggles, and his white hair, like +a frame of silver, surrounded his energetic bronzed features, dimly +lighted by a lamp whose flame was dying out from lack of oil. +Apparently wrapped in thought, he took no notice of the fading light +and impending darkness. + +“Within a few days,” he murmured, “when on all sides that accursed city +is burning, den of presumptuous nothingness and impious exploitation of +the ignorant and the distressed, when the tumults break out in the +suburbs and there rush into the terrorized streets my avenging hordes, +engendered by rapacity and wrongs, then will I burst the walls of your +prison, I will tear you from the clutches of fanaticism, and my white +dove, you will be the Phoenix that will rise from the glowing embers! A +revolution plotted by men in darkness tore me from your side—another +revolution will sweep me into your arms and revive me! That moon, +before reaching the apogee of its brilliance, will light the +Philippines cleansed of loathsome filth!” + +Simoun, stopped suddenly, as though interrupted. A voice in his inner +consciousness was asking if he, Simoun, were not also a part of the +filth of that accursed city, perhaps its most poisonous ferment. Like +the dead who are to rise at the sound of the last trumpet, a thousand +bloody specters—desperate shades of murdered men, women violated, +fathers torn from their families, vices stimulated and encouraged, +virtues mocked, now rose in answer to the mysterious question. For the +first time in his criminal career, since in Havana he had by means of +corruption and bribery set out to fashion an instrument for the +execution of his plans—a man without faith, patriotism, or +conscience—for the first time in that life, something within rose up +and protested against his actions. He closed his eyes and remained for +some time motionless, then rubbed his hand over his forehead, tried to +be deaf to his conscience, and felt fear creeping over him. No, he must +not analyze himself, he lacked the courage to turn his gaze toward his +past. The idea of his courage, his conviction, his self-confidence +failing him at the very moment when his work was set before him! As the +ghosts of the wretches in whose misfortunes he had taken a hand +continued to hover before his eyes, as if issuing from the shining +surface of the river to invade the room with appeals and hands extended +toward him, as reproaches and laments seemed to fill the air with +threats and cries for vengeance, he turned his gaze from the window and +for the first time began to tremble. + +“No, I must be ill, I can’t be feeling well,” he muttered. “There are +many who hate me, who ascribe their misfortunes to me, but—” + +He felt his forehead begin to burn, so he arose to approach the window +and inhale the fresh night breeze. Below him the Pasig dragged along +its silvered stream, on whose bright surface the foam glittered, +winding slowly about, receding and advancing, following the course of +the little eddies. The city loomed up on the opposite bank, and its +black walls looked fateful, mysterious, losing their sordidness in the +moonlight that idealizes and embellishes everything. But again Simoun +shivered; he seemed to see before him the severe countenance of his +father, dying in prison, but dying for having done good; then the face +of another man, severer still, who had given his life for him because +he believed that he was going to bring about the regeneration of his +country. + +“No, I can’t turn back,” he exclaimed, wiping the perspiration from his +forehead. “The work is at hand and its success will justify me! If I +had conducted myself as you did, I should have succumbed. Nothing of +idealism, nothing of fallacious theories! Fire and steel to the cancer, +chastisement to vice, and afterwards destroy the instrument, if it be +bad! No, I have planned well, but now I feel feverish, my reason +wavers, it is natural—If I have done ill, it has been that I may do +good, and the end justifies the means. What I will do is not to expose +myself—” + +With his thoughts thus confused he lay down, and tried to fall asleep. + +On the following morning Placido listened submissively, with a smile on +his lips, to his mother’s preachment. When she spoke of her plan of +interesting the Augustinian procurator he did not protest or object, +but on the contrary offered himself to carry it out, in order to save +trouble for his mother, whom he begged to return at once to the +province, that very day, if possible. Cabesang Andang asked him the +reason for such haste. + +“Because—because if the procurator learns that you are here he won’t do +anything until you send him a present and order some masses.” + + + + + + + + +CHAPTER XX + +THE ARBITER + + +True it was that Padre Irene had said: the question of the academy of +Castilian, so long before broached, was on the road to a solution. Don +Custodio, the active Don Custodio, the most active of all the arbiters +in the world, according to Ben-Zayb, was occupied with it, spending his +days reading the petition and falling asleep without reaching any +decision, waking on the following day to repeat the same performance, +dropping off to sleep again, and so on continuously. + +How the good man labored, the most active of all the arbiters in the +world! He wished to get out of the predicament by pleasing +everybody—the friars, the high official, the Countess, Padre Irene, and +his own liberal principles. He had consulted with Señor Pasta, and +Señor Pasta had left him stupefied and confused, after advising him to +do a million contradictory and impossible things. He had consulted with +Pepay the dancing girl, and Pepay, who had no idea what he was talking +about, executed a pirouette and asked him for twenty-five pesos to bury +an aunt of hers who had suddenly died for the fifth time, or the fifth +aunt who had suddenly died, according to fuller explanations, at the +same time requesting that he get a cousin of hers who could read, +write, and play the violin, a job as assistant on the public works—all +things that were far from inspiring Don Custodio with any saving idea. + +Two days after the events in the Quiapo fair, Don Custodio was as usual +busily studying the petition, without hitting upon the happy solution. +While he yawns, coughs, smokes, and thinks about Pepay’s legs and her +pirouettes, let us give some account of this exalted personage, in +order to understand Padre Sibyla’s reason for proposing him as the +arbiter of such a vexatious matter and why the other clique accepted +him. + +Don Custodio de Salazar y Sanchez de Monteredondo, often referred to as +Good Authority, belonged to that class of Manila society which cannot +take a step without having the newspapers heap titles upon them, +calling each indedefatigable, distinguished, zealous, active, profound, +intelligent, well-informed, influential, and so on, as if they feared +that he might be confused with some idle and ignorant possessor of the +same name. Besides, no harm resulted from it, and the watchful censor +was not disturbed. The Good Authority resulted from his friendship with +Ben-Zayb, when the latter, in his two noisiest controversies, which he +carried on for weeks and months in the columns of the newspapers about +whether it was proper to wear a high hat, a derby, or a salakot, and +whether the plural of carácter should be carácteres or caractéres, in +order to strengthen his argument always came out with, “We have this on +good authority,” “We learn this from good authority,” later letting it +be known, for in Manila everything becomes known, that this Good +Authority was no other than Don Custodio de Salazar y Sanchez de +Monteredondo. + +He had come to Manila very young, with a good position that had enabled +him to marry a pretty mestiza belonging to one of the wealthiest +families of the city. As he had natural talent, boldness, and great +self-possession, and knew how to make use of the society in which he +found himself, he launched into business with his wife’s money, filling +contracts for the government, by reason of which he was made alderman, +afterwards alcalde, member of the Economic Society, [43] councilor of +the administration, president of the directory of the Obras Pias, [44] +member of the Society of Mercy, director of the Spanish-Filipino Bank, +etc., etc. Nor are these etceteras to be taken like those ordinarily +placed after a long enumeration of titles: Don Custodio, although never +having seen a treatise on hygiene, came to be vice-chairman of the +Board of Health, for the truth was that of the eight who composed this +board only one had to be a physician and he could not be that one. So +also he was a member of the Vaccination Board, which was composed of +three physicians and seven laymen, among these being the Archbishop and +three Provincials. He was a brother in all the confraternities of the +common and of the most exalted dignity, and, as we have seen, director +of the Superior Commission of Primary Instruction, which usually did +not do anything—all these being quite sufficient reason for the +newspapers to heap adjectives upon him no less when he traveled than +when he sneezed. + +In spite of so many offices, Don Custodio was not among those who slept +through the sessions, contenting themselves, like lazy and timid +delegates, in voting with the majority. The opposite of the numerous +kings of Europe who bear the title of King of Jerusalem, Don Custodio +made his dignity felt and got from it all the benefit possible, often +frowning, making his voice impressive, coughing out his words, often +taking up the whole session telling a story, presenting a project, or +disputing with a colleague who had placed himself in open opposition to +him. Although not past forty, he already talked of acting with +circumspection, of letting the figs ripen (adding under his breath +“pumpkins”), of pondering deeply and of stepping with careful tread, of +the necessity for understanding the country, because the nature of the +Indians, because the prestige of the Spanish name, because they were +first of all Spaniards, because religion—and so on. Remembered yet in +Manila is a speech of his when for the first time it was proposed to +light the city with kerosene in place of the old coconut oil: in such +an innovation, far from seeing the extinction of the coconut-oil +industry, he merely discerned the interests of a certain +alderman—because Don Custodio saw a long way—and opposed it with all +the resonance of his bucal cavity, considering the project too +premature and predicting great social cataclysms. No less celebrated +was his opposition to a sentimental serenade that some wished to tender +a certain governor on the eve of his departure. Don Custodio, who felt +a little resentment over some slight or other, succeeded in insinuating +the idea that the rising star was the mortal enemy of the setting one, +whereat the frightened promoters of the serenade gave it up. + +One day he was advised to return to Spain to be cured of a liver +complaint, and the newspapers spoke of him as an Antaeus who had to set +foot in the mother country to gain new strength. But the Manila Antaeus +found himself a small and insignificant person at the capital. There he +was nobody, and he missed his beloved adjectives. He did not mingle +with the upper set, and his lack of education prevented him from +amounting to much in the academies and scientific centers, while his +backwardness and his parish-house politics drove him from the clubs +disgusted, vexed, seeing nothing clearly but that there they were +forever borrowing money and gambling heavily. He missed the submissive +servants of Manila, who endured all his peevishness, and who now seemed +to be far preferable; when a winter kept him between a fireplace and an +attack of pneumonia, he sighed for the Manila winter during which a +single quilt is sufficient, while in summer he missed the easy-chair +and the boy to fan him. In short, in Madrid he was only one among many, +and in spite of his diamonds he was once taken for a rustic who did not +know how to comport himself and at another time for an Indiano. His +scruples were scoffed at, and he was shamelessly flouted by some +borrowers whom he offended. Disgusted with the conservatives, who took +no great notice of his advice, as well as with the sponges who rifled +his pockets, he declared himself to be of the liberal party and +returned within a year to the Philippines, if not sound in his liver, +yet completely changed in his beliefs. + +The eleven months spent at the capital among café politicians, nearly +all retired half-pay office-holders, the various speeches caught here +and there, this or that article of the opposition, all the political +life that permeates the air, from the barber-shop where amid the +scissors-clips the Figaro announces his program to the banquets where +in harmonious periods and telling phrases the different shades of +political opinion, the divergences and disagreements, are adjusted—all +these things awoke in him the farther he got from Europe, like the +life-giving sap within the sown seed prevented from bursting out by the +thick husk, in such a way that when he reached Manila he believed that +he was going to regenerate it and actually had the holiest plans and +the purest ideals. + +During the first months after his return he was continually talking +about the capital, about his good friends, about Minister So-and-So, +ex-Minister Such-a-One, the delegate C., the author B., and there was +not a political event, a court scandal, of which he was not informed to +the last detail, nor was there a public man the secrets of whose +private life were unknown to him, nor could anything occur that he had +not foreseen, nor any reform be ordered but he had first been +consulted. All this was seasoned with attacks on the conservatives in +righteous indignation, with apologies of the liberal party, with a +little anecdote here, a phrase there from some great man, dropped in as +one who did not wish offices and employments, which same he had refused +in order not to be beholden to the conservatives. Such was his +enthusiasm in these first days that various cronies in the +grocery-store which he visited from time to time affiliated themselves +with the liberal party and began to style themselves liberals: Don +Eulogio Badana, a retired sergeant of carbineers; the honest Armendia, +by profession a pilot, and a rampant Carlist; Don Eusebio Picote, +customs inspector; and Don Bonifacio Tacon, shoe- and harness-maker. +[45] + +But nevertheless, from lack of encouragement and of opposition, his +enthusiasm gradually waned. He did not read the newspapers that came +from Spain, because they arrived in packages, the sight of which made +him yawn. The ideas that he had caught having been all expended, he +needed reinforcement, and his orators were not there, and although in +the casinos of Manila there was enough gambling, and money was borrowed +as in Madrid, no speech that would nourish his political ideas was +permitted in them. But Don Custodio was not lazy, he did more than +wish—he worked. Foreseeing that he was going to leave his bones in the +Philippines, he began to consider that country his proper sphere and to +devote his efforts to its welfare. Thinking to liberalize it, he +commenced to draw up a series of reforms or projects, which were +ingenious, to say the least. It was he who, having heard in Madrid +mention of the wooden street pavements of Paris, not yet adopted in +Spain, proposed the introduction of them in Manila by covering the +streets with boards nailed down as they are on the sides of houses; it +was he who, deploring the accidents to two-wheeled vehicles, planned to +avoid them by putting on at least three wheels; it was also he who, +while acting as vice-president of the Board of Health, ordered +everything fumigated, even the telegrams that came from infected +places; it was also he who, in compassion for the convicts that worked +in the sun and with a desire of saving to the government the cost of +their equipment, suggested that they be clothed in a simple +breech-clout and set to work not by day but at night. He marveled, he +stormed, that his projects should encounter objectors, but consoled +himself with the reflection that the man who is worth enemies has them, +and revenged himself by attacking and tearing to pieces any project, +good or bad, presented by others. + +As he prided himself on being a liberal, upon being asked what he +thought of the Indians he would answer, like one conferring a great +favor, that they were fitted for manual labor and the imitative arts +(meaning thereby music, painting, and sculpture), adding his old +postscript that to know them one must have resided many, many years in +the country. Yet when he heard of any one of them excelling in +something that was not manual labor or an imitative art—in chemistry, +medicine, or philosophy, for example—he would exclaim: “Ah, he promises +fairly, fairly well, he’s not a fool!” and feel sure that a great deal +of Spanish blood must flow in the veins of such an Indian. If unable to +discover any in spite of his good intentions, he then sought a Japanese +origin, for it was at that time the fashion began of attributing to the +Japanese or the Arabs whatever good the Filipinos might have in them. +For him the native songs were Arabic music, as was also the alphabet of +the ancient Filipinos—he was certain of this, although he did not know +Arabic nor had he ever seen that alphabet. + +“Arabic, the purest Arabic,” he said to Ben-Zayb in a tone that +admitted no reply. “At best, Chinese!” + +Then he would add, with a significant wink: “Nothing can be, nothing +ought to be, original with the Indians, you understand! I like them +greatly, but they mustn’t be allowed to pride themselves upon anything, +for then they would take heart and turn into a lot of wretches.” + +At other times he would say: “I love the Indians fondly, I’ve +constituted myself their father and defender, but it’s necessary to +keep everything in its proper place. Some were born to command and +others to serve—plainly, that is a truism which can’t be uttered very +loudly, but it can be put into practise without many words. For look, +the trick depends upon trifles. When you wish to reduce a people to +subjection, assure it that it is in subjection. The first day it will +laugh, the second protest, the third doubt, and the fourth be +convinced. To keep the Filipino docile, he must have repeated to him +day after day what he is, to convince him that he is incompetent. What +good would it do, besides, to have him believe in something else that +would make him wretched? Believe me, it’s an act of charity to hold +every creature in his place—that is order, harmony. That constitutes +the science of government.” + +In referring to his policies, Don Custodio was not satisfied with the +word art, and upon pronouncing the word government, he would extend his +hand downwards to the height of a man bent over on his knees. + +In regard to his religious ideas, he prided himself on being a +Catholic, very much a Catholic—ah, Catholic Spain, the land of María +Santísima! A liberal could be and ought to be a Catholic, when the +reactionaries were setting themselves up as gods or saints, just as a +mulatto passes for a white man in Kaffirland. But with all that, he ate +meat during Lent, except on Good Friday, never went to confession, +believed neither in miracles nor the infallibility of the Pope, and +when he attended mass, went to the one at ten o’clock, or to the +shortest, the military mass. Although in Madrid he had spoken ill of +the religious orders, so as not to be out of harmony with his +surroundings, considering them anachronisms, and had hurled curses +against the Inquisition, while relating this or that lurid or droll +story wherein the habits danced, or rather friars without habits, yet +in speaking of the Philippines, which should be ruled by special laws, +he would cough, look wise, and again extend his hand downwards to that +mysterious altitude. + +“The friars are necessary, they’re a necessary evil,” he would declare. + +But how he would rage when any Indian dared to doubt the miracles or +did not acknowledge the Pope! All the tortures of the Inquisition were +insufficient to punish such temerity. + +When it was objected that to rule or to live at the expense of +ignorance has another and somewhat ugly name and is punished by law +when the culprit is a single person, he would justify his position by +referring to other colonies. “We,” he would announce in his official +tone, “can speak out plainly! We’re not like the British and the Dutch +who, in order to hold people in subjection, make use of the lash. We +avail ourselves of other means, milder and surer. The salutary +influence of the friars is superior to the British lash.” + +This last remark made his fortune. For a long time Ben-Zayb continued +to use adaptations of it, and with him all Manila. The thinking part of +Manila applauded it, and it even got to Madrid, where it was quoted in +the Parliament as from a liberal of long residence there. The friars, +flattered by the comparison and seeing their prestige enhanced, sent +him sacks of chocolate, presents which the incorruptible Don Custodio +returned, so that Ben-Zayb immediately compared him to Epaminondas. +Nevertheless, this modern Epaminondas made use of the rattan in his +choleric moments, and advised its use! + +At that time the conventos, fearful that he would render a decision +favorable to the petition of the students, increased their gifts, so +that on the afternoon when we see him he was more perplexed than ever, +his reputation for energy was being compromised. It had been more than +a fortnight since he had had the petition in his hands, and only that +morning the high official, after praising his zeal, had asked for a +decision. Don Custodio had replied with mysterious gravity, giving him +to understand that it was not yet completed. The high official had +smiled a smile that still worried and haunted him. + +As we were saying, he yawned and yawned. In one of these movements, at +the moment when he opened his eyes and closed his mouth, his attention +was caught by a file of red envelopes, arranged in regular order on a +magnificent kamagon desk. On the back of each could be read in large +letters: PROJECTS. + +For a moment he forgot his troubles and Pepay’s pirouettes, to reflect +upon all that those files contained, which had issued from his prolific +brain in his hours of inspiration. How many original ideas, how many +sublime thoughts, how many means of ameliorating the woes of the +Philippines! Immortality and the gratitude of the country were surely +his! + +Like an old lover who discovers a moldy package of amorous epistles, +Don Custodio arose and approached the desk. The first envelope, thick, +swollen, and plethoric, bore the title: PROJECTS IN PROJECT. + +“No,” he murmured, “they’re excellent things, but it would take a year +to read them over.” + +The second, also quite voluminous, was entitled: PROJECTS UNDER +CONSIDERATION. “No, not those either.” + +Then came the PROJECTS NEARING COMPLETION, PROJECTS PRESENTED, PROJECTS +REJECTED, PROJECTS APPROVED, PROJECTS POSTPONED. These last envelopes +held little, but the least of all was that of the PROJECTS EXECUTED. + +Don Custodio wrinkled up his nose—what did it contain? He had +completely forgotten what was in it. A sheet of yellowish paper showed +from under the flap, as though the envelope were sticking out its +tongue. This he drew out and unfolded: it was the famous project for +the School of Arts and Trades! + +“What the devil!” he exclaimed. “If the Augustinian padres took charge +of it—” + +Suddenly he slapped his forehead and arched his eyebrows, while a look +of triumph overspread his face. “I have reached a decision!” he cried +with an oath that was not exactly eureka. “My decision is made!” + +Repeating his peculiar eureka five or six times, which struck the air +like so many gleeful lashes, he sat down at his desk, radiant with joy, +and began to write furiously. + + + + + + + + +CHAPTER XXI + +MANILA TYPES + + +That night there was a grand function at the Teatro de Variedades. Mr. +Jouay’s French operetta company was giving its initial performance, Les +Cloches de Corneville. To the eyes of the public was to be exhibited +his select troupe, whose fame the newspapers had for days been +proclaiming. It was reported that among the actresses was a very +beautiful voice, with a figure even more beautiful, and if credit could +be given to rumor, her amiability surpassed even her voice and figure. + +At half-past seven in the evening there were no more tickets to be had, +not even though they had been for Padre Salvi himself in his direct +need, and the persons waiting to enter the general admission already +formed a long queue. In the ticket-office there were scuffles and +fights, talk of filibusterism and races, but this did not produce any +tickets, so that by a quarter before eight fabulous prices were being +offered for them. The appearance of the building, profusely +illuminated, with flowers and plants in all the doors and windows, +enchanted the new arrivals to such an extent that they burst out into +exclamations and applause. A large crowd surged about the entrance, +gazing enviously at those going in, those who came early from fear of +missing their seats. Laughter, whispering, expectation greeted the +later arrivals, who disconsolately joined the curious crowd, and now +that they could not get in contented themselves with watching those who +did. + +Yet there was one person who seemed out of place amid such great +eagerness and curiosity. He was a tall, meager man, who dragged one leg +stiffly when he walked, dressed in a wretched brown coat and dirty +checkered trousers that fitted his lean, bony limbs tightly. A straw +sombrero, artistic in spite of being broken, covered an enormous head +and allowed his dirty gray, almost red, hair to straggle out long and +kinky at the end like a poet’s curls. But the most notable thing about +this man was not his clothing or his European features, guiltless of +beard or mustache, but his fiery red face, from which he got the +nickname by which he was known, Camaroncocido. [46] He was a curious +character belonging to a prominent Spanish family, but he lived like a +vagabond and a beggar, scoffing at the prestige which he flouted +indifferently with his rags. He was reputed to be a kind of reporter, +and in fact his gray goggle-eyes, so cold and thoughtful, always showed +up where anything publishable was happening. His manner of living was a +mystery to all, as no one seemed to know where he ate and slept. +Perhaps he had an empty hogshead somewhere. + +But at that moment Camaroncocido lacked his usual hard and indifferent +expression, something like mirthful pity being reflected in his looks. +A funny little man accosted him merrily. + +“Friend!” exclaimed the latter, in a raucous voice, as hoarse as a +frog’s, while he displayed several Mexican pesos, which Camaroncocido +merely glanced at and then shrugged his shoulders. What did they matter +to him? + +The little old man was a fitting contrast to him. Small, very small, he +wore on his head a high hat, which presented the appearance of a huge +hairy worm, and lost himself in an enormous frock coat, too wide and +too long for him, to reappear in trousers too short, not reaching below +his calves. His body seemed to be the grandfather and his legs the +grandchildren, while as for his shoes he appeared to be floating on the +land, for they were of an enormous sailor type, apparently protesting +against the hairy worm worn on his head with all the energy of a +convento beside a World’s Exposition. If Camaroncocido was red, he was +brown; while the former, although of Spanish extraction, had not a +single hair on his face, yet he, an Indian, had a goatee and mustache, +both long, white, and sparse. His expression was lively. He was known +as Tio Quico, [47] and like his friend lived on publicity, advertising +the shows and posting the theatrical announcements, being perhaps the +only Filipino who could appear with impunity in a silk hat and frock +coat, just as his friend was the first Spaniard who laughed at the +prestige of his race. + +“The Frenchman has paid me well,” he said smiling and showing his +picturesque gums, which looked like a street after a conflagration. “I +did a good job in posting the bills.” + +Camaroncocido shrugged his shoulders again. “Quico,” he rejoined in a +cavernous voice, “if they’ve given you six pesos for your work, how +much will they give the friars?” + +Tio Quico threw back his head in his usual lively manner. “To the +friars?” + +“Because you surely know,” continued Camaroncocido, “that all this +crowd was secured for them by the conventos.” + +The fact was that the friars, headed by Padre Salvi, and some lay +brethren captained by Don Custodio, had opposed such shows. Padre +Camorra, who could not attend, watered at the eyes and mouth, but +argued with Ben-Zayb, who defended them feebly, thinking of the free +tickets they would send his newspaper. Don Custodio spoke of morality, +religion, good manners, and the like. + +“But,” stammered the writer, “if our own farces with their plays on +words and phrases of double meaning—” + +“But at least they’re in Castilian!” the virtuous councilor interrupted +with a roar, inflamed to righteous wrath. “Obscenities in French, man, +Ben-Zayb, for God’s sake, in French! Never!” + +He uttered this never with the energy of three Guzmans threatened with +being killed like fleas if they did not surrender twenty Tarifas. Padre +Irene naturally agreed with Don Custodio and execrated French operetta. +Whew, he had been in Paris, but had never set foot in a theater, the +Lord deliver him! + +Yet the French operetta also counted numerous partizans. The officers +of the army and navy, among them the General’s aides, the clerks, and +many society people were anxious to enjoy the delicacies of the French +language from the mouths of genuine Parisiennes, and with them were +affiliated those who had traveled by the M.M. [48] and had jabbered a +little French during the voyage, those who had visited Paris, and all +those who wished to appear learned. + +Hence, Manila society was divided into two factions, operettists and +anti-operettists. The latter were supported by the elderly ladies, +wives jealous and careful of their husbands’ love, and by those who +were engaged, while those who were free and those who were beautiful +declared themselves enthusiastic operettists. Notes and then more notes +were exchanged, there were goings and comings, mutual recriminations, +meetings, lobbyings, arguments, even talk of an insurrection of the +natives, of their indolence, of inferior and superior races, of +prestige and other humbugs, so that after much gossip and more +recrimination, the permit was granted, Padre Salvi at the same time +publishing a pastoral that was read by no one but the proof-reader. +There were questionings whether the General had quarreled with the +Countess, whether she spent her time in the halls of pleasure, whether +His Excellency was greatly annoyed, whether there had been presents +exchanged, whether the French consul—, and so on and on. Many names +were bandied about: Quiroga the Chinaman’s, Simoun’s, and even those of +many actresses. + +Thanks to these scandalous preliminaries, the people’s impatience had +been aroused, and since the evening before, when the troupe arrived, +there was talk of nothing but attending the first performance. From the +hour when the red posters announced Les Cloches de Corneville the +victors prepared to celebrate their triumph. In some offices, instead +of the time being spent in reading newspapers and gossiping, it was +devoted to devouring the synopsis and spelling out French novels, while +many feigned business outside to consult their pocket-dictionaries on +the sly. So no business was transacted, callers were told to come back +the next day, but the public could not take offense, for they +encountered some very polite and affable clerks, who received and +dismissed them with grand salutations in the French style. The clerks +were practising, brushing the dust off their French, and calling to one +another oui, monsieur, s’il vous plait, and pardon! at every turn, so +that it was a pleasure to see and hear them. + +But the place where the excitement reached its climax was the newspaper +office. Ben-Zayb, having been appointed critic and translator of the +synopsis, trembled like a poor woman accused of witchcraft, as he saw +his enemies picking out his blunders and throwing up to his face his +deficient knowledge of French. When the Italian opera was on, he had +very nearly received a challenge for having mistranslated a tenor’s +name, while an envious rival had immediately published an article +referring to him as an ignoramus—him, the foremost thinking head in the +Philippines! All the trouble he had had to defend himself! He had had +to write at least seventeen articles and consult fifteen dictionaries, +so with these salutary recollections, the wretched Ben-Zayb moved about +with leaden hands, to say nothing of his feet, for that would be +plagiarizing Padre Camorra, who had once intimated that the journalist +wrote with them. + +“You see, Quico?” said Camaroncocido. “One half of the people have come +because the friars told them not to, making it a kind of public +protest, and the other half because they say to themselves, ‘Do the +friars object to it? Then it must be instructive!’ Believe me, Quico, +your advertisements are a good thing but the pastoral was better, even +taking into consideration the fact that it was read by no one.” + +“Friend, do you believe,” asked Tio Quico uneasily, “that on account of +the competition with Padre Salvi my business will in the future be +prohibited?” + +“Maybe so, Quico, maybe so,” replied the other, gazing at the sky. +“Money’s getting scarce.” + +Tio Quico muttered some incoherent words: if the friars were going to +turn theatrical advertisers, he would become a friar. After bidding his +friend good-by, he moved away coughing and rattling his silver coins. + +With his eternal indifference Camaroncocido continued to wander about +here and there with his crippled leg and sleepy looks. The arrival of +unfamiliar faces caught his attention, coming as they did from +different parts and signaling to one another with a wink or a cough. It +was the first time that he had ever seen these individuals on such an +occasion, he who knew all the faces and features in the city. Men with +dark faces, humped shoulders, uneasy and uncertain movements, poorly +disguised, as though they had for the first time put on sack coats, +slipped about among the shadows, shunning attention, instead of getting +in the front rows where they could see well. + +“Detectives or thieves?” Camaroncocido asked himself and immediately +shrugged his shoulders. “But what is it to me?” + +The lamp of a carriage that drove up lighted in passing a group of four +or five of these individuals talking with a man who appeared to be an +army officer. + +“Detectives! It must be a new corps,” he muttered with his shrug of +indifference. Soon, however, he noticed that the officer, after +speaking to two or three more groups, approached a carriage and seemed +to be talking vigorously with some person inside. Camaroncocido took a +few steps forward and without surprise thought that he recognized the +jeweler Simoun, while his sharp ears caught this short dialogue. + +“The signal will be a gunshot!” + +“Yes, sir.” + +“Don’t worry—it’s the General who is ordering it, but be careful about +saying so. If you follow my instructions, you’ll get a promotion.” + +“Yes, sir.” + +“So, be ready!” + +The voice ceased and a second later the carriage drove away. In spite +of his indifference Camaroncocido could not but mutter, “Something’s +afoot—hands on pockets!” + +But feeling his own to be empty, he again shrugged his shoulders. What +did it matter to him, even though the heavens should fall? + +So he continued his pacing about. On passing near two persons engaged +in conversation, he caught what one of them, who had rosaries and +scapularies around his neck, was saying in Tagalog: “The friars are +more powerful than the General, don’t be a fool! He’ll go away and +they’ll stay here. So, if we do well, we’ll get rich. The signal is a +gunshot.” + +“Hold hard, hold hard,” murmured Camaroncocido, tightening his fingers. +“On that side the General, on this Padre Salvi. Poor country! But what +is it to me?” + +Again shrugging his shoulders and expectorating at the same time, two +actions that with him were indications of supreme indifference, he +continued his observations. + +Meanwhile, the carriages were arriving in dizzy streams, stopping +directly before the door to set down the members of the select society. +Although the weather was scarcely even cool, the ladies sported +magnificent shawls, silk neckerchiefs, and even light cloaks. Among the +escorts, some who were in frock coats with white ties wore overcoats, +while others carried them on their arms to display the rich silk +linings. + +In a group of spectators, Tadeo, he who was always taken ill the moment +the professor appeared, was accompanied by a fellow townsman of his, +the novice whom we saw suffer evil consequences from reading wrongly +the Cartesian principle. This novice was very inquisitive and addicted +to tiresome questions, and Tadeo was taking advantage of his +ingenuousness and inexperience to relate to him the most stupendous +lies. Every Spaniard that spoke to him, whether clerkling or underling, +was presented as a leading merchant, a marquis, or a count, while on +the other hand any one who passed him by was a greenhorn, a petty +official, a nobody! When pedestrians failed him in keeping up the +novice’s astonishment, he resorted to the resplendent carriages that +came up. Tadeo would bow politely, wave his hand in a friendly manner, +and call out a familiar greeting. + +“Who’s he?” + +“Bah!” was the negligent reply. “The Civil Governor, the Vice-Governor, +Judge ——, Señora ——, all friends of mine!” + +The novice marveled and listened in fascination, taking care to keep on +the left. Tadeo the friend of judges and governors! + +Tadeo named all the persons who arrived, when he did not know them +inventing titles, biographies, and interesting sketches. + +“You see that tall gentleman with dark whiskers, somewhat squint-eyed, +dressed in black—he’s Judge A ——, an intimate friend of the wife of +Colonel B ——. One day if it hadn’t been for me they would have come to +blows. Hello, here comes that Colonel! What if they should fight?” + +The novice held his breath, but the colonel and the judge shook hands +cordially, the soldier, an old bachelor, inquiring about the health of +the judge’s family. + +“Ah, thank heaven!” breathed Tadeo. “I’m the one who made them +friends.” + +“What if they should invite us to go in?” asked the novice timidly. + +“Get out, boy! I never accept favors!” retorted Tadeo majestically. “I +confer them, but disinterestedly.” + +The novice bit his lip and felt smaller than ever, while he placed a +respectful distance between himself and his fellow townsman. + +Tadeo resumed: “That is the musician H——; that one, the lawyer J——, who +delivered as his own a speech printed in all the books and was +congratulated and admired for it; Doctor K——, that man just getting out +of a hansom, is a specialist in diseases of children, so he’s called +Herod; that’s the banker L——, who can talk only of his money and his +hoards; the poet M——, who is always dealing with the stars and the +beyond. There goes the beautiful wife of N——, whom Padre Q——is +accustomed to meet when he calls upon the absent husband; the Jewish +merchant P——, who came to the islands with a thousand pesos and is now +a millionaire. That fellow with the long beard is the physician R——, +who has become rich by making invalids more than by curing them.” + +“Making invalids?” + +“Yes, boy, in the examination of the conscripts. Attention! That finely +dressed gentleman is not a physician but a homeopathist sui generis—he +professes completely the similis similibus. The young cavalry captain +with him is his chosen disciple. That man in a light suit with his hat +tilted back is the government clerk whose maxim is never to be polite +and who rages like a demon when he sees a hat on any one else’s +head—they say that he does it to ruin the German hatters. The man just +arriving with his family is the wealthy merchant C——, who has an income +of over a hundred thousand pesos. But what would you say if I should +tell you that he still owes me four pesos, five reales, and twelve +cuartos? But who would collect from a rich man like him?” + +“That gentleman in debt to you?” + +“Sure! One day I got him out of a bad fix. It was on a Friday at +half-past six in the morning, I still remember, because I hadn’t +breakfasted. That lady who is followed by a duenna is the celebrated +Pepay, the dancing girl, but she doesn’t dance any more now that a very +Catholic gentleman and a great friend of mine has—forbidden it. There’s +the death’s-head Z——, who’s surely following her to get her to dance +again. He’s a good fellow, and a great friend of mine, but has one +defect—he’s a Chinese mestizo and yet calls himself a Peninsular +Spaniard. Sssh! Look at Ben-Zayb, him with the face of a friar, who’s +carrying a pencil and a roll of paper in his hand. He’s the great +writer, Ben-Zayb, a good friend of mine—he has talent!” + +“You don’t say! And that little man with white whiskers?” + +“He’s the official who has appointed his daughters, those three little +girls, assistants in his department, so as to get their names on the +pay-roll. He’s a clever man, very clever! When he makes a mistake he +blames it on somebody else, he buys things and pays for them out of the +treasury. He’s clever, very, very clever!” + +Tadeo was about to say more, but suddenly checked himself. + +“And that gentleman who has a fierce air and gazes at everybody over +his shoulders?” inquired the novice, pointing to a man who nodded +haughtily. + +But Tadeo did not answer. He was craning his neck to see Paulita Gomez, +who was approaching with a friend, Doña Victorina, and Juanito Pelaez. +The latter had presented her with a box and was more humped than ever. + +Carriage after carriage drove up; the actors and actresses arrived and +entered by a separate door, followed by their friends and admirers. + +After Paulita had gone in, Tadeo resumed: “Those are the nieces of the +rich Captain D——, those coming up in a landau; you see how pretty and +healthy they are? Well, in a few years they’ll be dead or crazy. +Captain D—— is opposed to their marrying, and the insanity of the uncle +is appearing in the nieces. That’s the Señorita E——, the rich heiress +whom the world and the conventos are disputing over. Hello, I know that +fellow! It’s Padre Irene, in disguise, with a false mustache. I +recognize him by his nose. And he was so greatly opposed to this!” + +The scandalized novice watched a neatly cut coat disappear behind a +group of ladies. + +“The Three Fates!” went on Tadeo, watching the arrival of three +withered, bony, hollow-eyed, wide-mouthed, and shabbily dressed women. +“They’re called—” + +“Atropos?” ventured the novice, who wished to show that he also knew +somebody, at least in mythology. + +“No, boy, they’re called the Weary Waiters—old, censorious, and dull. +They pretend to hate everybody—men, women, and children. But look how +the Lord always places beside the evil a remedy, only that sometimes it +comes late. There behind the Fates, the frights of the city, come those +three girls, the pride of their friends, among whom I count myself. +That thin young man with goggle-eyes, somewhat stooped, who is wildly +gesticulating because he can’t get tickets, is the chemist S——, author +of many essays and scientific treatises, some of which are notable and +have captured prizes. The Spaniards say of him, ‘There’s some hope for +him, some hope for him.’ The fellow who is soothing him with his +Voltairian smile is the poet T——, a young man of talent, a great friend +of mine, and, for the very reason that he has talent, he has thrown +away his pen. That fellow who is trying to get in with the actors by +the other door is the young physician U——, who has effected some +remarkable cures—it’s also said of him that he promises well. He’s not +such a scoundrel as Pelaez but he’s cleverer and slyer still. I believe +that he’d shake dice with death and win.” + +“And that brown gentleman with a mustache like hog-bristles?” + +“Ah, that’s the merchant F——, who forges everything, even his baptismal +certificate. He wants to be a Spanish mestizo at any cost, and is +making heroic efforts to forget his native language.” + +“But his daughters are very white.” + +“Yes, that’s the reason rice has gone up in price, and yet they eat +nothing but bread.” + +The novice did not understand the connection between the price of rice +and the whiteness of those girls, but he held his peace. + +“There goes the fellow that’s engaged to one of them, that thin brown +youth who is following them with a lingering movement and speaking with +a protecting air to the three friends who are laughing at him. He’s a +martyr to his beliefs, to his consistency.” + +The novice was filled with admiration and respect for the young man. + +“He has the look of a fool, and he is one,” continued Tadeo. “He was +born in San Pedro Makati and has inflicted many privations upon +himself. He scarcely ever bathes or eats pork, because, according to +him, the Spaniards don’t do those things, and for the same reason he +doesn’t eat rice and dried fish, although he may be watering at the +mouth and dying of hunger. Anything that comes from Europe, rotten or +preserved, he considers divine—a month ago Basilio cured him of a +severe attack of gastritis, for he had eaten a jar of mustard to prove +that he’s a European.” + +At that moment the orchestra struck up a waltz. + +“You see that gentleman—that hypochondriac who goes along turning his +head from side to side, seeking salutes? That’s the celebrated governor +of Pangasinan, a good man who loses his appetite whenever any Indian +fails to salute him. He would have died if he hadn’t issued the +proclamation about salutes to which he owes his celebrity. Poor fellow, +it’s only been three days since he came from the province and look how +thin he has become! Oh, here’s the great man, the illustrious—open your +eyes!” + +“Who? That man with knitted brows?” + +“Yes, that’s Don Custodio, the liberal, Don Custodio. His brows are +knit because he’s meditating over some important project. If the ideas +he has in his head were carried out, this would be a different world! +Ah, here comes Makaraig, your housemate.” + +It was in fact Makaraig, with Pecson, Sandoval, and Isagani. Upon +seeing them, Tadeo advanced and spoke to them. + +“Aren’t you coming in?” Makaraig asked him. + +“We haven’t been able to get tickets.” + +“Fortunately, we have a box,” replied Makaraig. “Basilio couldn’t come. +Both of you, come in with us.” + +Tadeo did not wait for the invitation to be repeated, but the novice, +fearing that he would intrude, with the timidity natural to the +provincial Indian, excused himself, nor could he be persuaded to enter. + + + + + + + + +CHAPTER XXII + +THE PERFORMANCE + + +The interior of the theater presented a lively aspect. It was filled +from top to bottom, with people standing in the corridors and in the +aisles, fighting to withdraw a head from some hole where they had +inserted it, or to shove an eye between a collar and an ear. The open +boxes, occupied for the most part by ladies, looked like baskets of +flowers, whose petals—the fans—shook in a light breeze, wherein hummed +a thousand bees. However, just as there are flowers of strong or +delicate fragrance, flowers that kill and flowers that console, so from +our baskets were exhaled like emanations: there were to be heard +dialogues, conversations, remarks that bit and stung. Three or four +boxes, however, were still vacant, in spite of the lateness of the +hour. The performance had been advertised for half-past eight and it +was already a quarter to nine, but the curtain did not go up, as his +Excellency had not yet arrived. The gallery-gods, impatient and +uncomfortable in their seats, started a racket, clapping their hands +and pounding the floor with their canes. + +“Boom—boom—boom! Ring up the curtain! Boom—boom—boom!” + +The artillerymen were not the least noisy. Emulators of Mars, as +Ben-Zayb called them, they were not satisfied with this music; thinking +themselves perhaps at a bullfight, they made remarks at the ladies who +passed before them in words that are euphemistically called flowers in +Madrid, although at times they seem more like foul weeds. Without +heeding the furious looks of the husbands, they bandied from one to +another the sentiments and longings inspired by so many beauties. + +In the reserved seats, where the ladies seemed to be afraid to venture, +as few were to be seen there, a murmur of voices prevailed amid +suppressed laughter and clouds of tobacco smoke. They discussed the +merits of the players and talked scandal, wondering if his Excellency +had quarreled with the friars, if his presence at such a show was a +defiance or mere curiosity. Others gave no heed to these matters, but +were engaged in attracting the attention of the ladies, throwing +themselves into attitudes more or less interesting and statuesque, +flashing diamond rings, especially when they thought themselves the +foci of insistent opera-glasses, while yet another would address a +respectful salute to this or that señora or señorita, at the same time +lowering his head gravely to whisper to a neighbor, “How ridiculous she +is! And such a bore!” + +The lady would respond with one of her most gracious smiles and an +enchanting nod of her head, while murmuring to a friend sitting near, +amid lazy flourishes of her fan, “How impudent he is! He’s madly in +love, my dear.” + +Meanwhile, the noise increased. There remained only two vacant boxes, +besides that of his Excellency, which was distinguished by its curtains +of red velvet. The orchestra played another waltz, the audience +protested, when fortunately there arose a charitable hero to distract +their attention and relieve the manager, in the person of a man who had +occupied a reserved seat and refused to give it up to its owner, the +philosopher Don Primitivo. Finding his own arguments useless, Don +Primitivo had appealed to an usher. “I don’t care to,” the hero +responded to the latter’s protests, placidly puffing at his cigarette. +The usher appealed to the manager. “I don’t care to,” was the response, +as he settled back in the seat. The manager went away, while the +artillerymen in the gallery began to sing out encouragement to the +usurper. + +Our hero, now that he had attracted general attention, thought that to +yield would be to lower himself, so he held on to the seat, while he +repeated his answer to a pair of guards the manager had called in. +These, in consideration of the rebel’s rank, went in search of their +corporal, while the whole house broke out into applause at the firmness +of the hero, who remained seated like a Roman senator. + +Hisses were heard, and the inflexible gentleman turned angrily to see +if they were meant for him, but the galloping of horses resounded and +the stir increased. One might have said that a revolution had broken +out, or at least a riot, but no, the orchestra had suspended the waltz +and was playing the royal march: it was his Excellency, the +Captain-General and Governor of the islands, who was entering. All eyes +sought and followed him, then lost sight of him, until he finally +appeared in his box. After looking all about him and making some +persons happy with a lordly salute, he sat down, as though he were +indeed the man for whom the chair was waiting. The artillerymen then +became silent and the orchestra tore into the prelude. + +Our students occupied a box directly facing that of Pepay, the dancing +girl. Her box was a present from Makaraig, who had already got on good +terms with her in order to propitiate Don Custodio. Pepay had that very +afternoon written a note to the illustrious arbiter, asking for an +answer and appointing an interview in the theater. For this reason, Don +Custodio, in spite of the active opposition he had manifested toward +the French operetta, had gone to the theater, which action won him some +caustic remarks on the part of Don Manuel, his ancient adversary in the +sessions of the Ayuntamiento. + +“I’ve come to judge the operetta,” he had replied in the tone of a Cato +whose conscience was clear. + +So Makaraig was exchanging looks of intelligence with Pepay, who was +giving him to understand that she had something to tell him. As the +dancing girl’s face wore a happy expression, the students augured that +a favorable outcome was assured. Sandoval, who had just returned from +making calls in other boxes, also assured them that the decision had +been favorable, that that very afternoon the Superior Commission had +considered and approved it. Every one was jubilant, even Pecson having +laid aside his pessimism when he saw the smiling Pepay display a note. +Sandoval and Makaraig congratulated one another, Isagani alone +remaining cold and unsmiling. What had happened to this young man? + +Upon entering the theater, Isagani had caught sight of Paulita in a +box, with Juanito Pelaez talking to her. He had turned pale, thinking +that he must be mistaken. But no, it was she herself, she who greeted +him with a gracious smile, while her beautiful eyes seemed to be asking +pardon and promising explanations. The fact was that they had agreed +upon Isagani’s going first to the theater to see if the show contained +anything improper for a young woman, but now he found her there, and in +no other company than that of his rival. What passed in his mind is +indescribable: wrath, jealousy, humiliation, resentment raged within +him, and there were moments even when he wished that the theater would +fall in; he had a violent desire to laugh aloud, to insult his +sweetheart, to challenge his rival, to make a scene, but finally +contented himself with sitting quiet and not looking at her at all. He +was conscious of the beautiful plans Makaraig and Sandoval were making, +but they sounded like distant echoes, while the notes of the waltz +seemed sad and lugubrious, the whole audience stupid and foolish, and +several times he had to make an effort to keep back the tears. Of the +trouble stirred up by the hero who refused to give up the seat, of the +arrival of the Captain-General, he was scarcely conscious. He stared +toward the drop-curtain, on which was depicted a kind of gallery with +sumptuous red hangings, affording a view of a garden in which a +fountain played, yet how sad the gallery looked to him and how +melancholy the painted landscape! A thousand vague recollections surged +into his memory like distant echoes of music heard in the night, like +songs of infancy, the murmur of lonely forests and gloomy rivulets, +moonlit nights on the shore of the sea spread wide before his eyes. So +the enamored youth considered himself very wretched and stared fixedly +at the ceiling so that the tears should not fall from his eyes. + +A burst of applause drew him from these meditations. The curtain had +just risen, and the merry chorus of peasants of Corneville was +presented, all dressed in cotton caps, with heavy wooden sabots on +their feet. Some six or seven girls, well-rouged on the lips and +cheeks, with large black circles around their eyes to increase their +brilliance, displayed white arms, fingers covered with diamonds, round +and shapely limbs. While they were chanting the Norman phrase “Allez, +marchez! Allez, marchez!” they smiled at their different admirers in +the reserved seats with such openness that Don Custodio, after looking +toward Pepay’s box to assure himself that she was not doing the same +thing with some other admirer, set down in his note-book this +indecency, and to make sure of it lowered his head a little to see if +the actresses were not showing their knees. + +“Oh, these Frenchwomen!” he muttered, while his imagination lost itself +in considerations somewhat more elevated, as he made comparisons and +projects. + +“Quoi v’la tous les cancans d’la s’maine!” sang Gertrude, a proud +damsel, who was looking roguishly askance at the Captain-General. + +“We’re going to have the cancan!” exclaimed Tadeo, the winner of the +first prize in the French class, who had managed to make out this word. +“Makaraig, they’re going to dance the cancan!” + +He rubbed his hands gleefully. From the moment the curtain rose, Tadeo +had been heedless of the music. He was looking only for the prurient, +the indecent, the immoral in actions and dress, and with his scanty +French was sharpening his ears to catch the obscenities that the +austere guardians of the fatherland had foretold. + +Sandoval, pretending to know French, had converted himself into a kind +of interpreter for his friends. He knew as much about it as Tadeo, but +the published synopsis helped him and his fancy supplied the rest. +“Yes,” he said, “they’re going to dance the cancan—she’s going to lead +it.” + +Makaraig and Pecson redoubled their attention, smiling in anticipation, +while Isagani looked away, mortified to think that Paulita should be +present at such a show and reflecting that it was his duty to challenge +Juanito Pelaez the next day. + +But the young men waited in vain. Serpolette came on, a charming girl, +in her cotton cap, provoking and challenging. “Hein, qui parle de +Serpolette?” she demanded of the gossips, with her arms akimbo in a +combative attitude. Some one applauded, and after him all those in the +reserved seats. Without changing her girlish attitude, Serpolette gazed +at the person who had started the applause and paid him with a smile, +displaying rows of little teeth that looked like a string of pearls in +a case of red velvet. + +Tadeo followed her gaze and saw a man in a false mustache with an +extraordinarily large nose. “By the monk’s cowl!” he exclaimed. “It’s +Irene!” + +“Yes,” corroborated Sandoval, “I saw him behind the scenes talking with +the actresses.” + +The truth was that Padre Irene, who was a melomaniac of the first +degree and knew French well, had been sent to the theater by Padre +Salvi as a sort of religious detective, or so at least he told the +persons who recognized him. As a faithful critic, who should not be +satisfied with viewing the piece from a distance, he wished to examine +the actresses at first hand, so he had mingled in the groups of +admirers and gallants, had penetrated into the greenroom, where was +whispered and talked a French required by the situation, a market +French, a language that is readily comprehensible for the vender when +the buyer seems disposed to pay well. + +Serpolette was surrounded by two gallant officers, a sailor, and a +lawyer, when she caught sight of him moving about, sticking the tip of +his long nose into all the nooks and corners, as though with it he were +ferreting out all the mysteries of the stage. She ceased her chatter, +knitted her eyebrows, then raised them, opened her lips and with the +vivacity of a Parisienne left her admirers to hurl herself like a +torpedo upon our critic. + +“Tiens, tiens, Toutou! Mon lapin!” she cried, catching Padre Irene’s +arm and shaking it merrily, while the air rang with her silvery laugh. + +“Tut, tut!” objected Padre Irene, endeavoring to conceal himself. + +“Mais, comment! Toi ici, grosse bête! Et moi qui t’croyais—” + +“’Tais pas d’tapage, Lily! Il faut m’respecter! ’Suis ici l’Pape!” + +With great difficulty Padre Irene made her listen to reason, for Lily +was enchanteé to meet in Manila an old friend who reminded her of the +coulisses of the Grand Opera House. So it was that Padre Irene, +fulfilling at the same time his duties as a friend and a critic, had +initiated the applause to encourage her, for Serpolette deserved it. + +Meanwhile, the young men were waiting for the cancan. Pecson became all +eyes, but there was everything except cancan. There was presented the +scene in which, but for the timely arrival of the representatives of +the law, the women would have come to blows and torn one another’s hair +out, incited thereto by the mischievous peasants, who, like our +students, hoped to see something more than the cancan. + + + Scit, scit, scit, scit, scit, scit, + Disputez-vous, battez-vous, + Scit, scit, scit, scit, scit, scit, + Nous allons compter les coups. + + +The music ceased, the men went away, the women returned, a few at a +time, and started a conversation among themselves, of which our friends +understood nothing. They were slandering some absent person. + +“They look like the Chinamen of the pansiteria!” whispered Pecson. + +“But, the cancan?” asked Makaraig. + +“They’re talking about the most suitable place to dance it,” gravely +responded Sandoval. + +“They look like the Chinamen of the pansiteria,” repeated Pecson in +disgust. + +A lady accompanied by her husband entered at that moment and took her +place in one of the two vacant boxes. She had the air of a queen and +gazed disdainfully at the whole house, as if to say, “I’ve come later +than all of you, you crowd of upstarts and provincials, I’ve come later +than you!” There are persons who go to the theater like the contestants +in a mule-race: the last one in, wins, and we know very sensible men +who would ascend the scaffold rather than enter a theater before the +first act. But the lady’s triumph was of short duration—she caught +sight of the other box that was still empty, and began to scold her +better half, thus starting such a disturbance that many were annoyed. + +“Ssh! Ssh!” + +“The blockheads! As if they understood French!” remarked the lady, +gazing with supreme disdain in all directions, finally fixing her +attention on Juanito’s box, whence she thought she had heard an +impudent hiss. + +Juanito was in fact guilty, for he had been pretending to understand +everything, holding himself up proudly and applauding at times as +though nothing that was said escaped him, and this too without guiding +himself by the actors’ pantomime, because he scarcely looked toward the +stage. The rogue had intentionally remarked to Paulita that, as there +was so much more beautiful a woman close at hand, he did not care to +strain his eyes looking beyond her. Paulita had blushed, covered her +face with her fan, and glanced stealthily toward where Isagani, silent +and morose, was abstractedly watching the show. + +Paulita felt nettled and jealous. Would Isagani fall in love with any +of those alluring actresses? The thought put her in a bad humor, so she +scarcely heard the praises that Doña Victorina was heaping upon her own +favorite. + +Juanito was playing his part well: he shook his head at times in sign +of disapproval, and then there could be heard coughs and murmurs in +some parts, at other times he smiled in approbation, and a second later +applause resounded. Doña Victorina was charmed, even conceiving some +vague ideas of marrying the young man the day Don Tiburcio should +die—Juanito knew French and De Espadaña didn’t! Then she began to +flatter him, nor did he perceive the change in the drift of her talk, +so occupied was he in watching a Catalan merchant who was sitting next +to the Swiss consul. Having observed that they were conversing in +French, Juanito was getting his inspiration from their countenances, +and thus grandly giving the cue to those about him. + +Scene followed scene, character succeeded character, comic and +ridiculous like the bailiff and Grenicheux, imposing and winsome like +the marquis and Germaine. The audience laughed heartily at the slap +delivered by Gaspard and intended for the coward Grenicheux, which was +received by the grave bailiff, whose wig went flying through the air, +producing disorder and confusion as the curtain dropped. + +“Where’s the cancan?” inquired Tadeo. + +But the curtain rose again immediately, revealing a scene in a servant +market, with three posts on which were affixed signs bearing the +announcements: servantes, cochers, and domestiques. Juanito, to improve +the opportunity, turned to Doña Victorina and said in a loud voice, so +that Paulita might hear and be convinced of his learning: + +“Servantes means servants, domestiques domestics.” + +“And in what way do the servantes differ from the domestiques?” asked +Paulita. + +Juanito was not found wanting. “Domestiques are those that are +domesticated—haven’t you noticed that some of them have the air of +savages? Those are the servantes.” + +“That’s right,” added Doña Victorina, “some have very bad manners—and +yet I thought that in Europe everybody was cultivated. But as it +happens in France,—well, I see!” + +“Ssh! Ssh!” + +But what was Juanito’s predicament when the time came for the opening +of the market and the beginning of the sale, and the servants who were +to be hired placed themselves beside the signs that indicated their +class! The men, some ten or twelve rough characters in livery, carrying +branches in their hands, took their place under the sign domestiques! + +“Those are the domestics,” explained Juanito. + +“Really, they have the appearance of being only recently domesticated,” +observed Doña Victorina. “Now let’s have a look at the savages.” + +Then the dozen girls headed by the lively and merry Serpolette, decked +out in their best clothes, each wearing a big bouquet of flowers at the +waist, laughing, smiling, fresh and attractive, placed themselves, to +Juanito’s great desperation, beside the post of the servantes. + +“How’s this?” asked Paulita guilelessly. “Are those the savages that +you spoke of?” + +“No,” replied the imperturbable Juanito, “there’s a mistake—they’ve got +their places mixed—those coming behind—” + +“Those with the whips?” + +Juanito nodded assent, but he was rather perplexed and uneasy. + +“So those girls are the cochers?” + +Here Juanito was attacked by such a violent fit of coughing that some +of the spectators became annoyed. + +“Put him out! Put the consumptive out!” called a voice. + +Consumptive! To be called a consumptive before Paulita! Juanito wanted +to find the blackguard and make him swallow that “consumptive.” +Observing that the women were trying to hold him back, his bravado +increased, and he became more conspicuously ferocious. But fortunately +it was Don Custodio who had made the diagnosis, and he, fearful of +attracting attention to himself, pretended to hear nothing, apparently +busy with his criticism of the play. + +“If it weren’t that I am with you,” remarked Juanito, rolling his eyes +like some dolls that are moved by clockwork, and to make the +resemblance more real he stuck out his tongue occasionally. + +Thus that night he acquired in Doña Victorina’s eyes the reputation of +being brave and punctilious, so she decided in her heart that she would +marry him just as soon as Don Tiburcio was out of the way. Paulita +became sadder and sadder in thinking about how the girls called cochers +could occupy Isagani’s attention, for the name had certain disagreeable +associations that came from the slang of her convent school-days. + +At length the first act was concluded, the marquis taking away as +servants Serpolette and Germaine, the representative of timid beauty in +the troupe, and for coachman the stupid Grenicheux. A burst of applause +brought them out again holding hands, those who five seconds before had +been tormenting one another and were about to come to blows, bowing and +smiling here and there to the gallant Manila public and exchanging +knowing looks with various spectators. + +While there prevailed the passing tumult occasioned by those who +crowded one another to get into the greenroom and felicitate the +actresses and by those who were going to make calls on the ladies in +the boxes, some expressed their opinions of the play and the players. + +“Undoubtedly, Serpolette is the best,” said one with a knowing air. + +“I prefer Germaine, she’s an ideal blonde.” + +“But she hasn’t any voice.” + +“What do I care about the voice?” + +“Well, for shape, the tall one.” + +“Pshaw,” said Ben-Zayb, “not a one is worth a straw, not a one is an +artist!” + +Ben-Zayb was the critic for El Grito de la Integridad, and his +disdainful air gave him great importance in the eyes of those who were +satisfied with so little. + +“Serpolette hasn’t any voice, nor Germaine grace, nor is that music, +nor is it art, nor is it anything!” he concluded with marked contempt. +To set oneself up as a great critic there is nothing like appearing to +be discontented with everything. Besides, the management had sent only +two seats for the newspaper staff. + +In the boxes curiosity was aroused as to who could be the possessor of +the empty one, for that person, would surpass every one in chic, since +he would be the last to arrive. The rumor started somewhere that it +belonged to Simoun, and was confirmed: no one had seen the jeweler in +the reserved seats, the greenroom, or anywhere else. + +“Yet I saw him this afternoon with Mr. Jouay,” some one said. “He +presented a necklace to one of the actresses.” + +“To which one?” asked some of the inquisitive ladies. + +“To the finest of all, the one who made eyes at his Excellency.” + +This information was received with looks of intelligence, winks, +exclamations of doubt, of confirmation, and half-uttered commentaries. + +“He’s trying to play the Monte Cristo,” remarked a lady who prided +herself on being literary. + +“Or purveyor to the Palace!” added her escort, jealous of Simoun. + +In the students’ box, Pecson, Sandoval, and Isagani had remained, while +Tadeo had gone to engage Don Custodio in conversation about his +projects, and Makaraig to hold an interview with Pepay. + +“In no way, as I have observed to you before, friend Isagani,” declared +Sandoval with violent gestures and a sonorous voice, so that the ladies +near the box, the daughters of the rich man who was in debt to Tadeo, +might hear him, “in no way does the French language possess the rich +sonorousness or the varied and elegant cadence of the Castilian tongue. +I cannot conceive, I cannot imagine, I cannot form any idea of French +orators, and I doubt that they have ever had any or can have any now in +the strict construction of the term orator, because we must not confuse +the name orator with the words babbler and charlatan, for these can +exist in any country, in all the regions of the inhabited world, among +the cold and curt Englishmen as among the lively and impressionable +Frenchmen.” + +Thus he delivered a magnificent review of the nations, with his +poetical characterizations and most resounding epithets. Isagani nodded +assent, with his thoughts fixed on Paulita, whom he had surprised +gazing at him with an expressive look which contained a wealth of +meaning. He tried to divine what those eyes were expressing—those eyes +that were so eloquent and not at all deceptive. + +“Now you who are a poet, a slave to rhyme and meter, a son of the +Muses,” continued Sandoval, with an elegant wave of his hand, as though +he were saluting, on the horizon, the Nine Sisters, “do you comprehend, +can you conceive, how a language so harsh and unmusical as French can +give birth to poets of such gigantic stature as our Garcilasos, our +Herreras, our Esproncedas, our Calderons?” + +“Nevertheless,” objected Pecson, “Victor Hugo—” + +“Victor Hugo, my friend Pecson, if Victor Hugo is a poet, it is because +he owes it to Spain, because it is an established fact, it is a matter +beyond all doubt, a thing admitted even by the Frenchmen themselves, so +envious of Spain, that if Victor Hugo has genius, if he really is a +poet, it is because his childhood was spent in Madrid; there he drank +in his first impressions, there his brain was molded, there his +imagination was colored, his heart modeled, and the most beautiful +concepts of his mind born. And after all, who is Victor Hugo? Is he to +be compared at all with our modern—” + +This peroration was cut short by the return of Makaraig with a +despondent air and a bitter smile on his lips, carrying in his hand a +note, which he offered silently to Sandoval, who read: + + + “MY DOVE: Your letter has reached me late, for I have already + handed in my decision, and it has been approved. However, as if I + had guessed your wish, I have decided the matter according to the + desires of your protégés. I’ll be at the theater and wait for you + after the performance. + + “Your duckling, + + “CUSTODINING.” + + +“How tender the man is!” exclaimed Tadeo with emotion. + +“Well?” said Sandoval. “I don’t see anything wrong about this—quite the +reverse!” + +“Yes,” rejoined Makaraig with his bitter smile, “decided favorably! +I’ve just seen Padre Irene.” + +“What does Padre Irene say?” inquired Pecson. + +“The same as Don Custodio, and the rascal still had the audacity to +congratulate me. The Commission, which has taken as its own the +decision of the arbiter, approves the idea and felicitates the students +on their patriotism and their thirst for knowledge—” + +“Well?” + +“Only that, considering our duties—in short, it says that in order that +the idea may not be lost, it concludes that the direction and execution +of the plan should be placed in charge of one of the religious +corporations, in case the Dominicans do not wish to incorporate the +academy with the University.” + +Exclamations of disappointment greeted the announcement. Isagani rose, +but said nothing. + +“And in order that we may participate in the management of the +academy,” Makaraig went on, “we are intrusted with the collection of +contributions and dues, with the obligation of turning them over to the +treasurer whom the corporation may designate, which treasurer will +issue us receipts.” + +“Then we’re tax-collectors!” remarked Tadeo. + +“Sandoval,” said Pecson, “there’s the gauntlet—take it up!” + +“Huh! That’s not a gauntlet—from its odor it seems more like a sock.” + +“The funniest, part of it,” Makaraig added, “is that Padre Irene has +advised us to celebrate the event with a banquet or a torchlight +procession—a public demonstration of the students en masse to render +thanks to all the persons who have intervened in the affair.” + +“Yes, after the blow, let’s sing and give thanks. Super flumina +Babylonis sedimus!” + +“Yes, a banquet like that of the convicts,” said Tadeo. + +“A banquet at which we all wear mourning and deliver funeral orations,” +added Sandoval. + +“A serenade with the Marseillaise and funeral marches,” proposed +Isagani. + +“No, gentlemen,” observed Pecson with his clownish grin, “to celebrate +the event there’s nothing like a banquet in a pansitería, served by the +Chinamen without camisas. I insist, without camisas!” + +The sarcasm and grotesqueness of this idea won it ready acceptance, +Sandoval being the first to applaud it, for he had long wished to see +the interior of one of those establishments which at night appeared to +be so merry and cheerful. + +Just as the orchestra struck up for the second act, the young men arose +and left the theater, to the scandal of the whole house. + + + + + + + + +CHAPTER XXIII + +A CORPSE + + +Simoun had not, in fact, gone to the theater. Already, at seven o’clock +in the evening, he had left his house looking worried and gloomy. His +servants saw him return twice, accompanied by different individuals, +and at eight o’clock Makaraig encountered him pacing along Calle +Hospital near the nunnery of St. Clara, just when the bells of its +church were ringing a funeral knell. At nine Camaroncocido saw him +again, in the neighborhood of the theater, speak with a person who +seemed to be a student, pay the latter’s admission to the show, and +again disappear among the shadows of the trees. + +“What is it to me?” again muttered Camaroncocido. “What do I get out of +watching over the populace?” + +Basilio, as Makaraig said, had not gone to the show. The poor student, +after returning from San Diego, whither he had gone to ransom Juli, his +future bride, from her servitude, had turned again to his studies, +spending his time in the hospital, in studying, or in nursing Capitan +Tiago, whose affliction he was trying to cure. + +The invalid had become an intolerable character. During his bad spells, +when he felt depressed from lack of opium, the doses of which Basilio +was trying to reduce, he would scold, mistreat, and abuse the boy, who +bore it resignedly, conscious that he was doing good to one to whom he +owed so much, and yielded only in the last extremity. His vicious +appetite satisfied, Capitan Tiago would fall into a good humor, become +tender, and call him his son, tearfully recalling the youth’s services, +how well he administered the estates, and would even talk of making him +his heir. Basilio would smile bitterly and reflect that in this world +complaisance with vice is rewarded better than fulfilment of duty. Not +a few times did he feel tempted to give free rein to the craving and +conduct his benefactor to the grave by a path of flowers and smiling +illusions rather than lengthen his life along a road of sacrifice. + +“What a fool I am!” he often said to himself. “People are stupid and +then pay for it.” + +But he would shake his head as he thought of Juli, of the wide future +before him. He counted upon living without a stain on his conscience, +so he continued the treatment prescribed, and bore everything +patiently. + +Yet with all his care the sick man, except for short periods of +improvement, grew worse. Basilio had planned gradually to reduce the +amount of the dose, or at least not to let him injure himself by +increasing it, but on returning from the hospital or some visit he +would find his patient in the heavy slumber produced by the opium, +driveling, pale as a corpse. The young man could not explain whence the +drug came: the only two persons who visited the house were Simoun and +Padre Irene, the former rarely, while the latter never ceased exhorting +him to be severe and inexorable with the treatment, to take no notice +of the invalid’s ravings, for the main object was to save him. + +“Do your duty, young man,” was Padre Irene’s constant admonition. “Do +your duty.” Then he would deliver a sermon on this topic with such +great conviction and enthusiasm that Basilio would begin to feel kindly +toward the preacher. Besides, Padre Irene promised to get him a fine +assignment, a good province, and even hinted at the possibility of +having him appointed a professor. Without being carried away by +illusions, Basilio pretended to believe in them and went on obeying the +dictates of his own conscience. + +That night, while Les Cloches de Corneville was being presented, +Basilio was studying at an old table by the light of an oil-lamp, whose +thick glass globe partly illuminated his melancholy features. An old +skull, some human bones, and a few books carefully arranged covered the +table, whereon there was also a pan of water with a sponge. The smell +of opium that proceeded from the adjoining bedroom made the air heavy +and inclined him to sleep, but he overcame the desire by bathing his +temples and eyes from time to time, determined not to go to sleep until +he had finished the book, which he had borrowed and must return as soon +as possible. It was a volume of the Medicina Legal y Toxicología of Dr. +Friata, the only book that the professor would use, and Basilio lacked +money to buy a copy, since, under the pretext of its being forbidden by +the censor in Manila and the necessity for bribing many government +employees to get it in, the booksellers charged a high price for it. + +So absorbed was the youth in his studies that he had not given any +attention at all to some pamphlets that had been sent to him from some +unknown source, pamphlets that treated of the Philippines, among which +figured those that were attracting the greatest notice at the time +because of their harsh and insulting manner of referring to the natives +of the country. Basilio had no time to open them, and he was perhaps +restrained also by the thought that there is nothing pleasant about +receiving an insult or a provocation without having any means of +replying or defending oneself. The censorship, in fact, permitted +insults to the Filipinos but prohibited replies on their part. + +In the midst of the silence that reigned in the house, broken only by a +feeble snore that issued now and then from the adjoining bedroom, +Basilio heard light footfalls on the stairs, footfalls that soon +crossed the hallway and approached the room where he was. Raising his +head, he saw the door open and to his great surprise appeared the +sinister figure of the jeweler Simoun, who since the scene in San Diego +had not come to visit either himself or Capitan Tiago. + +“How is the sick man?” he inquired, throwing a rapid glance about the +room and fixing his attention on the pamphlets, the leaves of which +were still uncut. + +“The beating of his heart is scarcely perceptible, his pulse is very +weak, his appetite entirely gone,” replied Basilio in a low voice with +a sad smile. “He sweats profusely in the early morning.” + +Noticing that Simoun kept his face turned toward the pamphlets and +fearing that he might reopen the subject of their conversation in the +wood, he went on: “His system is saturated with poison. He may die any +day, as though struck by lightning. The least irritation, any +excitement may kill him.” + +“Like the Philippines!” observed Simoun lugubriously. + +Basilio was unable to refrain from a gesture of impatience, but he was +determined not to recur to the old subject, so he proceeded as if he +had heard nothing: “What weakens him the most is the nightmares, his +terrors—” + +“Like the government!” again interrupted Simoun. + +“Several nights ago he awoke in the dark and thought that he had gone +blind. He raised a disturbance, lamenting and scolding me, saying that +I had put his eyes out. When I entered his room with a light he mistook +me for Padre Irene and called me his saviour.” + +“Like the government, exactly!” + +“Last night,” continued Basilio, paying no attention, “he got up +begging for his favorite game-cock, the one that died three years ago, +and I had to give him a chicken. Then he heaped blessings upon me and +promised me many thousands—” + +At that instant a clock struck half-past ten. Simoun shuddered and +stopped the youth with a gesture. + +“Basilio,” he said in a low, tense voice, “listen to me carefully, for +the moments are precious. I see that you haven’t opened the pamphlets +that I sent you. You’re not interested in your country.” + +The youth started to protest. + +“It’s useless,” went on Simoun dryly. “Within an hour the revolution is +going to break out at a signal from me, and tomorrow there’ll be no +studies, there’ll be no University, there’ll be nothing but fighting +and butchery. I have everything ready and my success is assured. When +we triumph, all those who could have helped us and did not do so will +be treated as enemies. Basilio, I’ve come to offer you death or a +future!” + +“Death or a future!” the boy echoed, as though he did not understand. + +“With us or with the government,” rejoined Simoun. “With your country +or with your oppressors. Decide, for time presses! I’ve come to save +you because of the memories that unite us!” + +“With my country or with the oppressors!” repeated Basilio in a low +tone. The youth was stupefied. He gazed at the jeweler with eyes in +which terror was reflected, he felt his limbs turn cold, while a +thousand confused ideas whirled about in his mind. He saw the streets +running blood, he heard the firing, he found himself among the dead and +wounded, and by the peculiar force of his inclinations fancied himself +in an operator’s blouse, cutting off legs and extracting bullets. + +“The will of the government is in my hands,” said Simoun. “I’ve +diverted and wasted its feeble strength and resources on foolish +expeditions, dazzling it with the plunder it might seize. Its heads are +now in the theater, calm and unsuspecting, thinking of a night of +pleasure, but not one shall again repose upon a pillow. I have men and +regiments at my disposition: some I have led to believe that the +uprising is ordered by the General; others that the friars are bringing +it about; some I have bought with promises, with employments, with +money; many, very many, are acting from revenge, because they are +oppressed and see it as a matter of killing or being killed. Cabesang +Tales is below, he has come with me here! Again I ask you—will you come +with us or do you prefer to expose yourself to the resentment of my +followers? In critical moments, to declare oneself neutral is to be +exposed to the wrath of both the contending parties.” + +Basilio rubbed his hand over his face several times, as if he were +trying to wake from a nightmare. He felt that his brow was cold. + +“Decide!” repeated Simoun. + +“And what—what would I have to do?” asked the youth in a weak and +broken voice. + +“A very simple thing,” replied Simoun, his face lighting up with a ray +of hope. “As I have to direct the movement, I cannot get away from the +scene of action. I want you, while the attention of the whole city is +directed elsewhere, at the head of a company to force the doors of the +nunnery of St. Clara and take from there a person whom only you, +besides myself and Capitan Tiago, can recognize. You’ll run no risk at +all.” + +“Maria Clara!” exclaimed Basilio. + +“Yes, Maria Clara,” repeated Simoun, and for the first time his voice +became human and compassionate. “I want to save her; to save her I have +wished to live, I have returned. I am starting the revolution, because +only a revolution can open the doors of the nunneries.” + +“Ay!” sighed Basilio, clasping his hands. “You’ve come late, too late!” + +“Why?” inquired Simoun with a frown. + +“Maria Clara is dead!” + +Simoun arose with a bound and stood over the youth. “She’s dead?” he +demanded in a terrible voice. + +“This afternoon, at six. By now she must be—” + +“It’s a lie!” roared Simoun, pale and beside himself. “It’s false! +Maria Clara lives, Maria Clara must live! It’s a cowardly excuse! She’s +not dead, and this night I’ll free her or tomorrow you die!” + +Basilio shrugged his shoulders. “Several days ago she was taken ill and +I went to the nunnery for news of her. Look, here is Padre Salvi’s +letter, brought by Padre Irene. Capitan Tiago wept all the evening, +kissing his daughter’s picture and begging her forgiveness, until at +last he smoked an enormous quantity of opium. This evening her knell +was tolled.” + +“Ah!” exclaimed Simoun, pressing his hands to his head and standing +motionless. He remembered to have actually heard the knell while he was +pacing about in the vicinity of the nunnery. + +“Dead!” he murmured in a voice so low that it seemed to be a ghost +whispering. “Dead! Dead without my having seen her, dead without +knowing that I lived for her—dead!” + +Feeling a terrible storm, a tempest of whirlwind and thunder without a +drop of water, sobs without tears, cries without words, rage in his +breast and threaten to burst out like burning lava long repressed, he +rushed precipitately from the room. Basilio heard him descend the +stairs with unsteady tread, stepping heavily, he heard a stifled cry, a +cry that seemed to presage death, so solemn, deep, and sad that he +arose from his chair pale and trembling, but he could hear the +footsteps die away and the noisy closing of the door to the street. + +“Poor fellow!” he murmured, while his eyes filled with tears. Heedless +now of his studies, he let his gaze wander into space as he pondered +over the fate of those two beings: he—young, rich, educated, master of +his fortunes, with a brilliant future before him; she—fair as a dream, +pure, full of faith and innocence, nurtured amid love and laughter, +destined to a happy existence, to be adored in the family and respected +in the world; and yet of those two beings, filled with love, with +illusions and hopes, by a fatal destiny he wandered over the world, +dragged ceaselessly through a whirl of blood and tears, sowing evil +instead of doing good, undoing virtue and encouraging vice, while she +was dying in the mysterious shadows of the cloister where she had +sought peace and perhaps found suffering, where she entered pure and +stainless and expired like a crushed flower! + +Sleep in peace, ill-starred daughter of my hapless fatherland! Bury in +the grave the enchantments of youth, faded in their prime! When a +people cannot offer its daughters a tranquil home under the protection +of sacred liberty, when a man can only leave to his widow blushes, +tears to his mother, and slavery to his children, you do well to +condemn yourself to perpetual chastity, stifling within you the germ of +a future generation accursed! Well for you that you have not to shudder +in your grave, hearing the cries of those who groan in darkness, of +those who feel that they have wings and yet are fettered, of those who +are stifled from lack of liberty! Go, go with your poet’s dreams into +the regions of the infinite, spirit of woman dim-shadowed in the +moonlight’s beam, whispered in the bending arches of the bamboo-brakes! +Happy she who dies lamented, she who leaves in the heart that loves her +a pure picture, a sacred remembrance, unspotted by the base passions +engendered by the years! Go, we shall remember you! In the clear air of +our native land, under its azure sky, above the billows of the lake set +amid sapphire hills and emerald shores, in the crystal streams shaded +by the bamboos, bordered by flowers, enlivened by the beetles and +butterflies with their uncertain and wavering flight as though playing +with the air, in the silence of our forests, in the singing of our +rivers, in the diamond showers of our waterfalls, in the resplendent +light of our moon, in the sighs of the night breeze, in all that may +call up the vision of the beloved, we must eternally see you as we +dreamed of you, fair, beautiful, radiant with hope, pure as the light, +yet still sad and melancholy in the contemplation of our woes! + + + + + + + + +CHAPTER XXIV + +DREAMS + + Amor, qué astro eres? + + +On the following day, Thursday, at the hour of sunset, Isagani was +walking along the beautiful promenade of Maria Cristina in the +direction of the Malecon to keep an appointment which Paulita had that +morning given him. The young man had no doubt that they were to talk +about what had happened on the previous night, and as he was determined +to ask for an explanation, and knew how proud and haughty she was, he +foresaw an estrangement. In view of this eventuality he had brought +with him the only two letters he had ever received from Paulita, two +scraps of paper, whereon were merely a few hurriedly written lines with +various blots, but in an even handwriting, things that did not prevent +the enamored youth from preserving them with more solicitude than if +they had been the autographs of Sappho and the Muse Polyhymnia. + +This decision to sacrifice his love on the altar of dignity, the +consciousness of suffering in the discharge of duty, did not prevent a +profound melancholy from taking possession of Isagani and brought back +into his mind the beautiful days, and nights more beautiful still, when +they had whispered sweet nothings through the flowered gratings of the +entresol, nothings that to the youth took on such a character of +seriousness and importance that they seemed to him the only matters +worthy of meriting the attention of the most exalted human +understanding. He recalled the walks on moonlit nights, the fair, the +dark December mornings after the mass of Nativity, the holy water that +he used to offer her, when she would thank him with a look charged with +a whole epic of love, both of them trembling as their fingers touched. +Heavy sighs, like small rockets, issued from his breast and brought +back to him all the verses, all the sayings of poets and writers about +the inconstancy of woman. Inwardly he cursed the creation of theaters, +the French operetta, and vowed to get revenge on Pelaez at the first +opportunity. Everything about him appeared under the saddest and +somberest colors: the bay, deserted and solitary, seemed more solitary +still on account of the few steamers that were anchored in it; the sun +was dying behind Mariveles without poetry or enchantment, without the +capricious and richly tinted clouds of happier evenings; the Anda +monument, in bad taste, mean and squat, without style, without +grandeur, looked like a lump of ice-cream or at best a chunk of cake; +the people who were promenading along the Malecon, in spite of their +complacent and contented air, appeared distant, haughty, and vain; +mischievous and bad-mannered, the boys that played on the beach, +skipping flat stones over the surface of the water or searching in the +sand for mollusks and crustaceans which they caught for the mere fun of +catching and killed without benefit to themselves; in short, even the +eternal port works to which he had dedicated more than three odes, +looked to him absurd, ridiculous child’s play. + +The port, ah, the port of Manila, a bastard that since its conception +had brought tears of humiliation and shame to all! If only after so +many tears there were not being brought forth a useless abortion! + +Abstractedly he saluted two Jesuits, former teachers of his, and +scarcely noticed a tandem in which an American rode and excited the +envy of the gallants who were in calesas only. Near the Anda monument +he heard Ben-Zayb talking with another person about Simoun, learning +that the latter had on the previous night been taken suddenly ill, that +he refused to see any one, even the very aides of the General. “Yes!” +exclaimed Isagani with a bitter smile, “for him attentions because he +is rich. The soldiers return from their expeditions sick and wounded, +but no one visits them.” + +Musing over these expeditions, over the fate of the poor soldiers, over +the resistance offered by the islanders to the foreign yoke, he thought +that, death for death, if that of the soldiers was glorious because +they were obeying orders, that of the islanders was sublime because +they were defending their homes. [49] + +“A strange destiny, that of some peoples!” he mused. “Because a +traveler arrives at their shores, they lose their liberty and become +subjects and slaves, not only of the traveler, not only of his heirs, +but even of all his countrymen, and not for a generation, but for all +time! A strange conception of justice! Such a state of affairs gives +ample right to exterminate every foreigner as the most ferocious +monster that the sea can cast up!” + +He reflected that those islanders, against whom his country was waging +war, after all were guilty of no crime other than that of weakness. The +travelers also arrived at the shores of other peoples, but finding them +strong made no display of their strange pretension. With all their +weakness the spectacle they presented seemed beautiful to him, and the +names of the enemies, whom the newspapers did not fail to call cowards +and traitors, appeared glorious to him, as they succumbed with glory +amid the ruins of their crude fortifications, with greater glory even +than the ancient Trojan heroes, for those islanders had carried away no +Philippine Helen! In his poetic enthusiasm he thought of the young men +of those islands who could cover themselves with glory in the eyes of +their women, and in his amorous desperation he envied them because they +could find a brilliant suicide. + +“Ah, I should like to die,” he exclaimed, “be reduced to nothingness, +leave to my native land a glorious name, perish in its cause, defending +it from foreign invasion, and then let the sun afterwards illumine my +corpse, like a motionless sentinel on the rocks of the sea!” + +The conflict with the Germans [50] came into his mind and he almost +felt sorry that it had been adjusted: he would gladly have died for the +Spanish-Filipino banner before submitting to the foreigner. + +“Because, after all,” he mused, “with Spain we are united by firm +bonds—the past, history, religion, language—” + +Language, yes, language! A sarcastic smile curled his lips. That very +night they would hold a banquet in the pansitería to celebrate the +demise of the academy of Castilian. + +“Ay!” he sighed, “provided the liberals in Spain are like those we have +here, in a little while the mother country will be able to count the +number of the faithful!” + +Slowly the night descended, and with it melancholy settled more heavily +upon the heart of the young man, who had almost lost hope of seeing +Paulita. The promenaders one by one left the Malecon for the Luneta, +the music from which was borne to him in snatches of melodies on the +fresh evening breeze; the sailors on a warship anchored in the river +performed their evening drill, skipping about among the slender ropes +like spiders; the boats one by one lighted their lamps, thus giving +signs of life; while the beach, + + + Do el viento riza las calladas olas + Que con blando murmullo en la ribera + Se deslizan veloces por sí solas. [51] + + +as Alaejos says, exhaled in the distance thin, vapors that the moon, +now at its full, gradually converted into mysterious transparent gauze. + +A distant sound became audible, a noise that rapidly approached. +Isagani turned his head and his heart began to beat violently. A +carriage was coming, drawn by white horses, the white horses that he +would know among a hundred thousand. In the carriage rode Paulita and +her friend of the night before, with Doña Victorina. + +Before the young man could take a step, Paulita had leaped to the +ground with sylph-like agility and smiled at him with a smile full of +conciliation. He smiled in return, and it seemed to him that all the +clouds, all the black thoughts that before had beset him, vanished like +smoke, the sky lighted up, the breeze sang, flowers covered the grass +by the roadside. But unfortunately Doña Victorina was there and she +pounced upon the young man to ask him for news of Don Tiburcio, since +Isagani had undertaken to discover his hiding-place by inquiry among +the students he knew. + +“No one has been able to tell me up to now,” he answered, and he was +telling the truth, for Don Tiburcio was really hidden in the house of +the youth’s own uncle, Padre Florentino. + +“Let him know,” declared Doña Victorina furiously, “that I’ll call in +the Civil Guard. Alive or dead, I want to know where he is—because one +has to wait ten years before marrying again.” + +Isagani gazed at her in fright—Doña Victorina was thinking of +remarrying! Who could the unfortunate be? + +“What do you think of Juanito Pelaez?” she asked him suddenly. + +Juanito! Isagani knew not what to reply. He was tempted to tell all the +evil he knew of Pelaez, but a feeling of delicacy triumphed in his +heart and he spoke well of his rival, for the very reason that he was +such. Doña Victorina, entirely satisfied and becoming enthusiastic, +then broke out into exaggerations of Pelaez’s merits and was already +going to make Isagani a confidant of her new passion when Paulita’s +friend came running to say that the former’s fan had fallen among the +stones of the beach, near the Malecon. Stratagem or accident, the fact +is that this mischance gave an excuse for the friend to remain with the +old woman, while Isagani might talk with Paulita. Moreover, it was a +matter of rejoicing to Doña Victorina, since to get Juanito for herself +she was favoring Isagani’s love. + +Paulita had her plan ready. On thanking him she assumed the role of the +offended party, showed resentment, and gave him to understand that she +was surprised to meet him there when everybody was on the Luneta, even +the French actresses. + +“You made the appointment for me, how could I be elsewhere?” + +“Yet last night you did not even notice that I was in the theater. I +was watching you all the time and you never took your eyes off those +cochers.” + +So they exchanged parts: Isagani, who had come to demand explanations, +found himself compelled to give them and considered himself very happy +when Paulita said that she forgave him. In regard to her presence at +the theater, he even had to thank her for that: forced by her aunt, she +had decided to go in the hope of seeing him during the performance. +Little she cared for Juanito Pelaez! + +“My aunt’s the one who is in love with him,” she said with a merry +laugh. + +Then they both laughed, for the marriage of Pelaez with Doña Victorina +made them really happy, and they saw it already an accomplished fact, +until Isagani remembered that Don Tiburcio was still living and +confided the secret to his sweetheart, after exacting her promise that +she would tell no one. Paulita promised, with the mental reservation of +relating it to her friend. + +This led the conversation to Isagani’s town, surrounded by forests, +situated on the shore of the sea which roared at the base of the high +cliffs. Isagani’s gaze lighted up when he spoke of that obscure spot, a +flush of pride overspread his cheeks, his voice trembled, his poetic +imagination glowed, his words poured forth burning, charged with +enthusiasm, as if he were talking of love to his love, and he could not +but exclaim: + +“Oh, in the solitude of my mountains I feel free, free as the air, as +the light that shoots unbridled through space! A thousand cities, a +thousand palaces, would I give for that spot in the Philippines, where, +far from men, I could feel myself to have genuine liberty. There, face +to face with nature, in the presence of the mysterious and the +infinite, the forest and the sea, I think, speak, and work like a man +who knows not tyrants.” + +In the presence of such enthusiasm for his native place, an enthusiasm +that she did not comprehend, for she was accustomed to hear her country +spoken ill of, and sometimes joined in the chorus herself, Paulita +manifested some jealousy, as usual making herself the offended party. + +But Isagani very quickly pacified her. “Yes,” he said, “I loved it +above all things before I knew you! It was my delight to wander through +the thickets, to sleep in the shade of the trees, to seat myself upon a +cliff to take in with my gaze the Pacific which rolled its blue waves +before me, bringing to me echoes of songs learned on the shores of free +America. Before knowing you, that sea was for me my world, my delight, +my love, my dream! When it slept in calm with the sun shining overhead, +it was my delight to gaze into the abyss hundreds of feet below me, +seeking monsters in the forests of madrepores and coral that were +revealed through the limpid blue, enormous serpents that the country +folk say leave the forests to dwell in the sea, and there take on +frightful forms. Evening, they say, is the time when the sirens appear, +and I saw them between the waves—so great was my eagerness that once I +thought I could discern them amid the foam, busy in their divine +sports, I distinctly heard their songs, songs of liberty, and I made +out the sounds of their silvery harps. Formerly I spent hours and hours +watching the transformations in the clouds, or gazing at a solitary +tree in the plain or a high rock, without knowing why, without being +able to explain the vague feelings they awoke in me. My uncle used to +preach long sermons to me, and fearing that I would become a +hypochondriac, talked of placing me under a doctor’s care. But I met +you, I loved you, and during the last vacation it seemed that something +was lacking there, the forest was gloomy, sad the river that glides +through the shadows, dreary the sea, deserted the sky. Ah, if you +should go there once, if your feet should press those paths, if you +should stir the waters of the rivulet with your fingers, if you should +gaze upon the sea, sit upon the cliff, or make the air ring with your +melodious songs, my forest would be transformed into an Eden, the +ripples of the brook would sing, light would burst from the dark +leaves, into diamonds would be converted the dewdrops and into pearls +the foam of the sea.” + +But Paulita had heard that to reach Isagani’s home it was necessary to +cross mountains where little leeches abounded, and at the mere thought +of them the little coward shivered convulsively. Humored and petted, +she declared that she would travel only in a carriage or a railway +train. + +Having now forgotten all his pessimism and seeing only thornless roses +about him, Isagani answered, “Within a short time all the islands are +going to be crossed with networks of iron rails. + + + “‘Por donde rápidas + Y voladoras + Locomotoras + Corriendo irán,’ [52] + + +as some one said. Then the most beautiful spots of the islands will be +accessible to all.” + +“Then, but when? When I’m an old woman?” + +“Ah, you don’t know what we can do in a few years,” replied the youth. +“You don’t realize the energy and enthusiasm that are awakening in the +country after the sleep of centuries. Spain heeds us; our young men in +Madrid are working day and night, dedicating to the fatherland all +their intelligence, all their time, all their strength. Generous voices +there are mingled with ours, statesmen who realize that there is no +better bond than community of thought and interest. Justice will be +meted out to us, and everything points to a brilliant future for all. +It’s true that we’ve just met with a slight rebuff, we students, but +victory is rolling along the whole line, it is in the consciousness of +all! The traitorous repulse that we have suffered indicates the last +gasp, the final convulsions of the dying. Tomorrow we shall be citizens +of the Philippines, whose destiny will be a glorious one, because it +will be in loving hands. Ah, yes, the future is ours! I see it +rose-tinted, I see the movement that stirs the life of these regions so +long dead, lethargic. I see towns arise along the railroads, and +factories everywhere, edifices like that of Mandaloyan! I hear the +steam hiss, the trains roar, the engines rattle! I see the smoke +rise—their heavy breathing; I smell the oil—the sweat of monsters busy +at incessant toil. This port, so slow and laborious of creation, this +river where commerce is in its death agony, we shall see covered with +masts, giving us an idea of the forests of Europe in winter. This pure +air, and these stones, now so clean, will be crowded with coal, with +boxes and barrels, the products of human industry, but let it not +matter, for we shall move about rapidly in comfortable coaches to seek +in the interior other air, other scenes on other shores, cooler +temperatures on the slopes of the mountains. The warships of our navy +will guard our coasts, the Spaniard and the Filipino will rival each +other in zeal to repel all foreign invasion, to defend our homes, and +let you bask in peace and smiles, loved and respected. Free from the +system of exploitation, without hatred or distrust, the people will +labor because then labor will cease to be a despicable thing, it will +no longer be servile, imposed upon a slave. Then the Spaniard will not +embitter his character with ridiculous pretensions of despotism, but +with a frank look and a stout heart we shall extend our hands to one +another, and commerce, industry, agriculture, the sciences, will +develop under the mantle of liberty, with wise and just laws, as in +prosperous England.” [53] + +Paulita smiled dubiously and shook her head. “Dreams, dreams!” she +sighed. “I’ve heard it said that you have many enemies. Aunt says that +this country must always be enslaved.” + +“Because your aunt is a fool, because she can’t live without slaves! +When she hasn’t them she dreams of them in the future, and if they are +not obtainable she forces them into her imagination. True it is that we +have enemies, that there will be a struggle, but we shall conquer. The +old system may convert the ruins of its castle into formless +barricades, but we will take them singing hymns of liberty, in the +light of the eyes of you women, to the applause of your lovely hands. +But do not be uneasy—the struggle will be a pacific one. Enough that +you spur us to zeal, that you awake in us noble and elevated thoughts +and encourage us to constancy, to heroism, with your affection for our +reward.” + +Paulita preserved her enigmatic smile and seemed thoughtful, as she +gazed toward the river, patting her cheek lightly with her fan. “But if +you accomplish nothing?” she asked abstractedly. + +The question hurt Isagani. He fixed his eyes on his sweetheart, caught +her lightly by the hand, and began: “Listen, if we accomplish nothing—” + +He paused in doubt, then resumed: “You know how I love you, how I adore +you, you know that I feel myself a different creature when your gaze +enfolds me, when I surprise in it the flash of love, but yet if we +accomplish nothing, I would dream of another look of yours and would +die happy, because the light of pride could burn in your eyes when you +pointed to my corpse and said to the world: ‘My love died fighting for +the rights of my fatherland!’ ” + +“Come home, child, you’re going to catch cold,” screeched Doña +Victorina at that instant, and the voice brought them back to reality. +It was time to return, and they kindly invited him to enter the +carriage, an invitation which the young man did not give them cause to +repeat. As it was Paulita’s carriage, naturally Doña Victorina and the +friend occupied the back seat, while the two lovers sat on the smaller +one in front. + +To ride in the same carriage, to have her at his side, to breathe her +perfume, to rub against the silk of her dress, to see her pensive with +folded arms, lighted by the moon of the Philippines that lends to the +meanest things idealism and enchantment, were all dreams beyond +Isagani’s hopes! What wretches they who were returning alone on foot +and had to give way to the swift carriage! In the whole course of the +drive, along the beach and down the length of La Sabana, across the +Bridge of Spain, Isagani saw nothing but a sweet profile, gracefully +set off by beautiful hair, ending in an arching neck that lost itself +amid the gauzy piña. A diamond winked at him from the lobe of the +little ear, like a star among silvery clouds. He heard faint echoes +inquiring for Don Tiburcio de Espadaña, the name of Juanito Pelaez, but +they sounded to him like distant bells, the confused noises heard in a +dream. It was necessary to tell him that they had reached Plaza Santa +Cruz. + + + + + + + + +CHAPTER XXV + +SMILES AND TEARS + + +The sala of the Pansiteria Macanista de Buen Gusto [54] that night +presented an extraordinary aspect. Fourteen young men of the principal +islands of the archipelago, from the pure Indian (if there be pure +ones) to the Peninsular Spaniard, were met to hold the banquet advised +by Padre Irene in view of the happy solution of the affair about +instruction in Castilian. They had engaged all the tables for +themselves, ordered the lights to be increased, and had posted on the +wall beside the landscapes and Chinese kakemonos this strange versicle: + +“GLORY TO CUSTODIO FOR HIS CLEVERNESS AND PANSIT ON EABTH TO THE YOUTHS +OF GOOD WILL.” + +In a country where everything grotesque is covered with a mantle of +seriousness, where many rise by the force of wind and hot air, in a +country where the deeply serious and sincere may do damage on issuing +from the heart and may cause trouble, probably this was the best way to +celebrate the ingenious inspiration of the illustrious Don Custodio. +The mocked replied to the mockery with a laugh, to the governmental +joke with a plate of pansit, and yet—! + +They laughed and jested, but it could be seen that the merriment was +forced. The laughter had a certain nervous ring, eyes flashed, and in +more than one of these a tear glistened. Nevertheless, these young men +were cruel, they were unreasonable! It was not the first time that +their most beautiful ideas had been so treated, that their hopes had +been defrauded with big words and small actions: before this Don +Custodio there had been many, very many others. + +In the center of the room under the red lanterns were placed four round +tables, systematically arranged to form a square. Little wooden stools, +equally round, served as seats. In the middle of each table, according +to the practise of the establishment, were arranged four small colored +plates with four pies on each one and four cups of tea, with the +accompanying dishes, all of red porcelain. Before each seat was a +bottle and two glittering wine-glasses. + +Sandoval was curious and gazed about scrutinizing everything, tasting +the food, examining the pictures, reading the bill of fare. The others +conversed on the topics of the day: about the French actresses, about +the mysterious illness of Simoun, who, according to some, had been +found wounded in the street, while others averred that he had attempted +to commit suicide. As was natural, all lost themselves in conjectures. +Tadeo gave his particular version, which according to him came from a +reliable source: Simoun had been assaulted by some unknown person in +the old Plaza Vivac, [55] the motive being revenge, in proof of which +was the fact that Simoun himself refused to make the least explanation. +From this they proceeded to talk of mysterious revenges, and naturally +of monkish pranks, each one relating the exploits of the curate of his +town. + +A notice in large black letters crowned the frieze of the room with +this warning: + + + De esta fonda el cabecilla + Al publico advierte + Que nada dejen absolutamente + Sobre alguna mesa ó silla. [56] + + +“What a notice!” exclaimed Sandoval. “As if he might have confidence in +the police, eh? And what verses! Don Tiburcio converted into a +quatrain—two feet, one longer than the other, between two crutches! If +Isagani sees them, he’ll present them to his future aunt.” + +“Here’s Isagani!” called a voice from the stairway. The happy youth +appeared radiant with joy, followed by two Chinese, without camisas, +who carried on enormous waiters tureens that gave out an appetizing +odor. Merry exclamations greeted them. + +Juanito Pelaez was missing, but the hour fixed had already passed, so +they sat down happily to the tables. Juanito was always unconventional. + +“If in his place we had invited Basilio,” said Tadeo, “we should have +been better entertained. We might have got him drunk and drawn some +secrets from him.” + +“What, does the prudent Basilio possess secrets?” + +“I should say so!” replied Tadeo. “Of the most important kind. There +are some enigmas to which he alone has the key: the boy who +disappeared, the nun—” + +“Gentlemen, the pansit lang-lang is the soup par excellence!” cried +Makaraig. “As you will observe, Sandoval, it is composed of vermicelli, +crabs or shrimps, egg paste, scraps of chicken, and I don’t know what +else. As first-fruits, let us offer the bones to Don Custodio, to see +if he will project something with them.” + +A burst of merry laughter greeted this sally. + +“If he should learn—” + +“He’d come a-running!” concluded Sandoval. “This is excellent soup—what +is it called?” + +“Pansit lang-lang, that is, Chinese pansit, to distinguish it from that +which is peculiar to this country.” + +“Bah! That’s a hard name to remember. In honor of Don Custodio, I +christen it the soup project!” + +“Gentlemen,” said Makaraig, who had prepared the menu, “there are three +courses yet. Chinese stew made of pork—” + +“Which should be dedicated to Padre Irene.” + +“Get out! Padre Irene doesn’t eat pork, unless he turns his nose away,” +whispered a young man from Iloilo to his neighbor. + +“Let him turn his nose away!” + +“Down with Padre Irene’s nose,” cried several at once. + +“Respect, gentlemen, more respect!” demanded Pecson with comic gravity. + +“The third course is a lobster pie—” + +“Which should be dedicated to the friars,” suggested he of the Visayas. + +“For the lobsters’ sake,” added Sandoval. + +“Right, and call it friar pie!” + +The whole crowd took this up, repeating in concert, “Friar pie!” + +“I protest in the name of one of them,” said Isagani. + +“And I, in the name of the lobsters,” added Tadeo. + +“Respect, gentlemen, more respect!” again demanded Pecson with a full +mouth. + +“The fourth is stewed pansit, which is dedicated—to the government and +the country!” + +All turned toward Makaraig, who went on: “Until recently, gentlemen, +the pansit was believed to be Chinese or Japanese, but the fact is +that, being unknown in China or Japan, it would seem to be Filipino, +yet those who prepare it and get the benefit from it are the +Chinese—the same, the very, very same that happens to the government +and to the Philippines: they seem to be Chinese, but whether they are +or not, the Holy Mother has her doctors—all eat and enjoy it, yet +characterize it as disagreeable and loathsome, the same as with the +country, the same as with the government. All live at its cost, all +share in its feast, and afterwards there is no worse country than the +Philippines, there is no government more imperfect. Let us then +dedicate the pansit to the country and to the government.” + +“Agreed!” many exclaimed. + +“I protest!” cried Isagani. + +“Respect for the weaker, respect for the victims,” called Pecson in a +hollow voice, waving a chicken-bone in the air. + +“Let’s dedicate the pansit to Quiroga the Chinaman, one of the four +powers of the Filipino world,” proposed Isagani. + +“No, to his Black Eminence.” + +“Silence!” cautioned one mysteriously. “There are people in the plaza +watching us, and walls have ears.” + +True it was that curious groups were standing by the windows, while the +talk and laughter in the adjoining houses had ceased altogether, as if +the people there were giving their attention to what was occurring at +the banquet. There was something extraordinary about the silence. + +“Tadeo, deliver your speech,” Makaraig whispered to him. + +It had been agreed that Sandoval, who possessed the most oratorical +ability, should deliver the last toast as a summing up. + +Tadeo, lazy as ever, had prepared nothing, so he found himself in a +quandary. While disposing of a long string of vermicelli, he meditated +how to get out of the difficulty, until he recalled a speech learned in +school and decided to plagiarize it, with adulterations. + +“Beloved brethren in project!” he began, gesticulating with two Chinese +chop-sticks. + +“Brute! Keep that chop-stick out of my hair!” cried his neighbor. + +“Called by you to fill the void that has been left in—” + +“Plagiarism!” Sandoval interrupted him. “That speech was delivered by +the president of our lyceum.” + +“Called by your election,” continued the imperturbable Tadeo, “to fill +the void that has been left in my mind”—pointing to his stomach—“by a +man famous for his Christian principles and for his inspirations and +projects, worthy of some little remembrance, what can one like myself +say of him, I who am very hungry, not having breakfasted?” + +“Have a neck, my friend!” called a neighbor, offering that portion of a +chicken. + +“There is one course, gentlemen, the treasure of a people who are today +a tale and a mockery in the world, wherein have thrust their hands the +greatest gluttons of the western regions of the earth—” Here he pointed +with his chopsticks to Sandoval, who was struggling with a refractory +chicken-wing. + +“And eastern!” retorted the latter, describing a circle in the air with +his spoon, in order to include all the banqueters. + +“No interruptions!” + +“I demand the floor!” + +“I demand pickles!” added Isagani. + +“Bring on the stew!” + +All echoed this request, so Tadeo sat down, contented with having got +out of his quandary. + +The dish consecrated to Padre Irene did not appear to be extra good, as +Sandoval cruelly demonstrated thus: “Shining with grease outside and +with pork inside! Bring on the third course, the friar pie!” + +The pie was not yet ready, although the sizzling of the grease in the +frying-pan could be heard. They took advantage of the delay to drink, +begging Pecson to talk. + +Pecson crossed himself gravely and arose, restraining his clownish +laugh with an effort, at the same time mimicking a certain Augustinian +preacher, then famous, and beginning in a murmur, as though he were +reading a text. + +“Si tripa plena laudal Deum, tripa famelica laudabit fratres—if the +full stomach praises God, the hungry stomach will praise the friars. +Words spoken by the Lord Custodio through the mouth of Ben-Zayb, in the +journal El Grito de la Integridad, the second article, absurdity the +one hundred and fifty-seventh. + +“Beloved brethren in Christ: Evil blows its foul breath over the +verdant shores of Frailandia, commonly called the Philippine +Archipelago. No day passes but the attack is renewed, but there is +heard some sarcasm against the reverend, venerable, infallible +corporations, defenseless and unsupported. Allow me, brethren, on this +occasion to constitute myself a knight-errant to sally forth in defense +of the unprotected, of the holy corporations that have reared us, thus +again confirming the saving idea of the adage—a full stomach praises +God, which is to say, a hungry stomach will praise the friars.” + +“Bravo, bravo!” + +“Listen,” said Isagani seriously, “I want you to understand that, +speaking of friars, I respect one.” + +Sandoval was getting merry, so he began to sing a shady couplet about +the friars. + +“Hear me, brethren!” continued Pecson. “Turn your gaze toward the happy +days of your infancy, endeavor to analyze the present and ask +yourselves about the future. What do you find? Friars, friars, and +friars! A friar baptized you, confirmed you, visited you in school with +loving zeal; a friar heard your first secret; he was the first to bring +you into communion with God, to set your feet upon the pathway of life; +friars were your first and friars will be your last teachers; a friar +it is who opens the hearts of your sweethearts, disposing them to heed +your sighs; a friar marries you, makes you travel over different +islands to afford you changes of climate and diversion; he will attend +your death-bed, and even though you mount the scaffold, there will the +friar be to accompany you with his prayers and tears, and you may rest +assured that he will not desert you until he sees you thoroughly dead. +Nor does his charity end there—dead, he will then endeavor to bury you +with all pomp, he will fight that your corpse pass through the church +to receive his supplications, and he will only rest satisfied when he +can deliver you into the hands of the Creator, purified here on earth, +thanks to temporal punishments, tortures, and humiliations. Learned in +the doctrines of Christ, who closes heaven against the rich, they, our +redeemers and genuine ministers of the Saviour, seek every means to +lift away our sins and bear them far, far off, there where the accursed +Chinese and Protestants dwell, to leave us this air, limpid, pure, +healthful, in such a way that even should we so wish afterwards, we +could not find a real to bring about our condemnation. + +“If, then, their existence is necessary to our happiness, if +wheresoever we turn we must encounter their delicate hands, hungering +for kisses, that every day smooth the marks of abuse from our +countenances, why not adore them and fatten them—why demand their +impolitic expulsion? Consider for a moment the immense void that their +absence would leave in our social system. Tireless workers, they +improve and propagate the races! Divided as we are, thanks to our +jealousies and our susceptibilities, the friars unite us in a common +lot, in a firm bond, so firm that many are unable to move their elbows. +Take away the friar, gentlemen, and you will see how the Philippine +edifice will totter; lacking robust shoulders and hairy limbs to +sustain it, Philippine life will again become monotonous, without the +merry note of the playful and gracious friar, without the booklets and +sermons that split our sides with laughter, without the amusing +contrast between grand pretensions and small brains, without the +actual, daily representations of the tales of Boccaccio and La +Fontaine! Without the girdles and scapularies, what would you have our +women do in the future—save that money and perhaps become miserly and +covetous? Without the masses, novenaries, and processions, where will +you find games of panguingui to entertain them in their hours of +leisure? They would then have to devote themselves to their household +duties and instead of reading diverting stories of miracles, we should +then have to get them works that are not extant. + +“Take away the friar and heroism will disappear, the political virtues +will fall under the control of the vulgar. Take him away and the Indian +will cease to exist, for the friar is the Father, the Indian is the +Word! The former is the sculptor, the latter the statue, because all +that we are, think, or do, we owe to the friar—to his patience, his +toil, his perseverance of three centuries to modify the form Nature +gave us. The Philippines without the friar and without the Indian—what +then would become of the unfortunate government in the hands of the +Chinamen?” + +“It will eat lobster pie,” suggested Isagani, whom Pecson’s speech +bored. + +“And that’s what we ought to be doing. Enough of speeches!” + +As the Chinese who should have served the courses did not put in his +appearance, one of the students arose and went to the rear, toward the +balcony that overlooked the river. But he returned at once, making +mysterious signs. + +“We’re watched! I’ve seen Padre Sibyla’s pet!” + +“Yes?” ejaculated Isagani, rising. + +“It’s no use now. When he saw me he disappeared.” + +Approaching the window he looked toward the plaza, then made signs to +his companions to come nearer. They saw a young man leave the door of +the pansitería, gaze all about him, then with some unknown person enter +a carriage that waited at the curb. It was Simoun’s carriage. + +“Ah!” exclaimed Makaraig. “The slave of the Vice-Rector attended by the +Master of the General!” + + + + + + + + +CHAPTER XXVI + +PASQUINADES + + +Very early the next morning Basilio arose to go to the hospital. He had +his plans made: to visit his patients, to go afterwards to the +University to see about his licentiateship, and then have an interview +with Makaraig about the expense this would entail, for he had used up +the greater part of his savings in ransoming Juli and in securing a +house where she and her grandfather might live, and he had not dared to +apply to Capitan Tiago, fearing that such a move would be construed as +an advance on the legacy so often promised him. + +Preoccupied with these thoughts, he paid no attention to the groups of +students who were at such an early hour returning from the Walled City, +as though the classrooms had been closed, nor did he even note the +abstracted air of some of them, their whispered conversations, or the +mysterious signals exchanged among them. So it was that when he reached +San Juan de Dios and his friends asked him about the conspiracy, he +gave a start, remembering what Simoun had planned, but which had +miscarried, owing to the unexplained accident to the jeweler. +Terrified, he asked in a trembling voice, at the same time endeavoring +to feign ignorance, “Ah, yes, what conspiracy?” + +“It’s been discovered,” replied one, “and it seems that many are +implicated in it.” + +With an effort Basilio controlled himself. “Many implicated?” he +echoed, trying to learn something from the looks of the others. “Who?” + +“Students, a lot of students.” + +Basilio did not think it prudent to ask more, fearing that he would +give himself away, so on the pretext of visiting his patients he left +the group. One of the clinical professors met him and placing his hand +mysteriously on the youth’s shoulder—the professor was a friend of +his—asked him in a low voice, “Were you at that supper last night?” + +In his excited frame of mind Basilio thought the professor had said +night before last, which was the time of his interview with Simoun. He +tried to explain. “I assure you,” he stammered, “that as Capitan Tiago +was worse—and besides I had to finish that book—” + +“You did well not to attend it,” said the professor. “But you’re a +member of the students’ association?” + +“I pay my dues.” + +“Well then, a piece of advice: go home at once and destroy any papers +you have that may compromise you.” + +Basilio shrugged his shoulders—he had no papers, nothing more than his +clinical notes. + +“Has Señor Simoun—” + +“Simoun has nothing to do with the affair, thank God!” interrupted the +physician. “He was opportunely wounded by some unknown hand and is now +confined to his bed. No, other hands are concerned in this, but hands +no less terrible.” + +Basilio drew a breath of relief. Simoun was the only one who could +compromise him, although he thought of Cabesang Tales. + +“Are there tulisanes—” + +“No, man, nothing more than students.” + +Basilio recovered his serenity. “What has happened then?” he made bold +to ask. + +“Seditious pasquinades have been found; didn’t you know about them?” + +“Where?” + +“In the University.” + +“Nothing more than that?” + +“Whew! What more do you want?” asked the professor, almost in a rage. +“The pasquinades are attributed to the students of the association—but, +keep quiet!” + +The professor of pathology came along, a man who had more the look of a +sacristan than of a physician. Appointed by the powerful mandate of the +Vice-Rector, without other merit than unconditional servility to the +corporation, he passed for a spy and an informer in the eyes of the +rest of the faculty. + +The first professor returned his greeting coldly, and winked to +Basilio, as he said to him, “Now I know that Capitan Tiago smells like +a corpse—the crows and vultures have been gathering around him.” So +saying, he went inside. + +Somewhat calmed, Basilio now ventured to inquire for more details, but +all that he could learn was that pasquinades had been found on the +doors of the University, and that the Vice-Rector had ordered them to +be taken down and sent to the Civil Government. It was said that they +were filled with threats of assassination, invasion, and other +braggadocio. + +The students made their comments on the affair. Their information came +from the janitor, who had it from a servant in Santo Tomas, who had it +from an usher. They prognosticated future suspensions and +imprisonments, even indicating who were to be the victims—naturally the +members of the association. + +Basilio then recalled Simoun’s words: “The day in which they can get +rid of you, you will not complete your course.” + +“Could he have known anything?” he asked himself. “We’ll see who is the +most powerful.” + +Recovering his serenity, he went on toward the University, to learn +what attitude it behooved him to take and at the same time to see about +his licentiateship. He passed along Calle Legazpi, then down through +Beaterio, and upon arriving at the corner of this street and Calle +Solana saw that something important must indeed have happened. Instead +of the former lively, chattering groups on the sidewalks were to be +seen civil-guards making the students move on, and these latter issuing +from the University silent, some gloomy, some agitated, to stand off at +a distance or make their way home. + +The first acquaintance he met was Sandoval, but Basilio called to him +in vain. He seemed to have been smitten deaf. “Effect of fear on the +gastro-intestinal juices,” thought Basilio. + +Later he met Tadeo, who wore a Christmas face—at last that eternal +holiday seemed to be realized. + +“What has happened, Tadeo?” + +“We’ll have no school, at least for a week, old man! Sublime! +Magnificent!” He rubbed his hands in glee. + +“But what has happened?” + +“They’re going to arrest all of us in the association.” + +“And are you glad of that?” + +“There’ll be no school, there’ll be no school!” He moved away almost +bursting with joy. + +Basilio saw Juanito Pelaez approaching, pale and suspicious. This time +his hump had reached its maximum, so great was his haste to get away. +He had been one of the most active promoters of the association while +things were running smoothly. + +“Eh, Pelaez, what’s happened?” + +“Nothing, I know nothing. I didn’t have anything to do with it,” he +responded nervously. “I was always telling you that these things were +quixotisms. It’s the truth, you know I’ve said so to you?” + +Basilio did not remember whether he had said so or not, but to humor +him replied, “Yes, man, but what’s happened?” + +“It’s the truth, isn’t it? Look, you’re a witness: I’ve always been +opposed—you’re a witness, don’t forget it!” + +“Yes, man, but what’s going on?” + +“Listen, you’re a witness! I’ve never had anything to do with the +members of the association, except to give them advice. You’re not +going to deny it now. Be careful, won’t you?” + +“No, no, I won’t deny it, but for goodness’ sake, what has happened?” + +But Juanito was already far away. He had caught a glimpse of a guard +approaching and feared arrest. + +Basilio then went on toward the University to see if perhaps the +secretary’s office might be open and if he could glean any further +news. The office was closed, but there was an extraordinary commotion +in the building. Hurrying up and down the stairways were friars, army +officers, private persons, old lawyers and doctors, there doubtless to +offer their services to the endangered cause. + +At a distance he saw his friend Isagani, pale and agitated, but radiant +with youthful ardor, haranguing some fellow students with his voice +raised as though he cared little that he be heard by everybody. + +“It seems preposterous, gentlemen, it seems unreal, that an incident so +insignificant should scatter us and send us into flight like sparrows +at whom a scarecrow has been shaken! But is this the first time that +students have gone to prison for the sake of liberty? Where are those +who have died, those who have been shot? Would you apostatize now?” + +“But who can the fool be that wrote such pasquinades?” demanded an +indignant listener. + +“What does that matter to us?” rejoined Isagani. “We don’t have to find +out, let them find out! Before we know how they are drawn up, we have +no need to make any show of agreement at a time like this. There where +the danger is, there must we hasten, because honor is there! If what +the pasquinades say is compatible with our dignity and our feelings, be +he who he may that wrote them, he has done well, and we ought to be +grateful to him and hasten to add our signatures to his! If they are +unworthy of us, our conduct and our consciences will in themselves +protest and defend us from every accusation!” + +Upon hearing such talk, Basilio, although he liked Isagani very much, +turned and left. He had to go to Makaraig’s house to see about the +loan. + +Near the house of the wealthy student he observed whisperings and +mysterious signals among the neighbors, but not comprehending what they +meant, continued serenely on his way and entered the doorway. Two +guards advanced and asked him what he wanted. Basilio realized that he +had made a bad move, but he could not now retreat. + +“I’ve come to see my friend Makaraig,” he replied calmly. + +The guards looked at each other. “Wait here,” one of them said to him. +“Wait till the corporal comes down.” + +Basilio bit his lips and Simoun’s words again recurred to him. Had they +come to arrest Makaraig?—was his thought, but he dared not give it +utterance. He did not have to wait long, for in a few moments Makaraig +came down, talking pleasantly with the corporal. The two were preceded +by a warrant officer. + +“What, you too, Basilio?” he asked. + +“I came to see you—” + +“Noble conduct!” exclaimed Makaraig laughing. “In time of calm, you +avoid us.” + +The corporal asked Basilio his name, then scanned a list. “Medical +student, Calle Anloague?” he asked. + +Basilio bit his lip. + +“You’ve saved us a trip,” added the corporal, placing his hand on the +youth’s shoulder. “You’re under arrest!” + +“What, I also?” + +Makaraig burst out into laughter. + +“Don’t worry, friend. Let’s get into the carriage, while I tell you +about the supper last night.” + +With a graceful gesture, as though he were in his own house, he invited +the warrant officer and the corporal to enter the carriage that waited +at the door. + +“To the Civil Government!” he ordered the cochero. + +Now that Basilio had again regained his composure, he told Makaraig the +object of his visit. The rich student did not wait for him to finish, +but seized his hand. “Count on me, count on me, and to the festivities +celebrating our graduation we’ll invite these gentlemen,” he said, +indicating the corporal and the warrant officer. + + + + + + + + +CHAPTER XXVII + +THE FRIAR AND THE FILIPINO + + Vox populi, vox Dei + + +We left Isagani haranguing his friends. In the midst of his enthusiasm +an usher approached him to say that Padre Fernandez, one of the higher +professors, wished to talk with him. + +Isagani’s face fell. Padre Fernandez was a person greatly respected by +him, being the one always excepted by him whenever the friars were +attacked. + +“What does Padre Fernandez want?” he inquired. + +The usher shrugged his shoulders and Isagani reluctantly followed him. + +Padre Fernandez, the friar whom we met in Los Baños, was waiting in his +cell, grave and sad, with his brows knitted as if he were in deep +thought. He arose as Isagani entered, shook hands with him, and closed +the door. Then he began to pace from one end of the room to the other. +Isagani stood waiting for him to speak. + +“Señor Isagani,” he began at length with some emotion, “from the window +I’ve heard you speaking, for though I am a consumptive I have good +ears, and I want to talk with you. I have always liked the young men +who express themselves clearly and have their own way of thinking and +acting, no matter that their ideas may differ from mine. You young men, +from what I have heard, had a supper last night. Don’t excuse +yourself—” + +“I don’t intend to excuse myself!” interrupted Isagani. + +“So much the better—it shows that you accept the consequences of your +actions. Besides, you would do ill in retracting, and I don’t blame +you, I take no notice of what may have been said there last night, I +don’t accuse you, because after all you’re free to say of the +Dominicans what seems best to you, you are not a pupil of ours—only +this year have we had the pleasure of having you, and we shall probably +not have you longer. Don’t think that I’m going to invoke +considerations of gratitude; no, I’m not going to waste my time in +stupid vulgarisms. I’ve had you summoned here because I believe that +you are one of the few students who act from conviction, and, as I like +men of conviction, I’m going to explain myself to Señor Isagani.” + +Padre Fernandez paused, then continued his walk with bowed head, his +gaze riveted on the floor. + +“You may sit down, if you wish,” he remarked. “It’s a habit of mine to +walk about while talking, because my ideas come better then.” + +Isagani remained standing, with his head erect, waiting for the +professor to get to the point of the matter. + +“For more than eight years I have been a professor here,” resumed Padre +Fernandez, still continuing to pace back and forth, “and in that time +I’ve known and dealt with more than twenty-five hundred students. I’ve +taught them, I’ve tried to educate them, I’ve tried to inculcate in +them principles of justice and of dignity, and yet in these days when +there is so much murmuring against us I’ve not seen one who has the +temerity to maintain his accusations when he finds himself in the +presence of a friar, not even aloud in the presence of any numbers. +Young men there are who behind our backs calumniate us and before us +kiss our hands, with a base smile begging kind looks from us! Bah! What +do you wish that we should do with such creatures?” + +“The fault is not all theirs, Padre,” replied Isagani. “The fault lies +partly with those who have taught them to be hypocrites, with those who +have tyrannized over freedom of thought and freedom of speech. Here +every independent thought, every word that is not an echo of the will +of those in power, is characterized as filibusterism, and you know well +enough what that means. A fool would he be who to please himself would +say aloud what he thinks, who would lay himself liable to suffer +persecution!” + +“What persecution have you had to suffer?” asked Padre Fernandez, +raising his head. “Haven’t I let you express yourself freely in my +class? Nevertheless, you are an exception that, if what you say is +true, I must correct, so as to make the rule as general as possible and +thus avoid setting a bad example.” + +Isagani smiled. “I thank you, but I will not discuss with you whether I +am an exception. I will accept your qualification so that you may +accept mine: you also are an exception, and as here we are not going to +talk about exceptions, nor plead for ourselves, at least, I mean, I’m +not, I beg of my professor to change the course of the conversation.” + +In spite of his liberal principles, Padre Fernandez raised his head and +stared in surprise at Isagani. That young man was more independent than +he had thought—although he called him professor, in reality he was +dealing with him as an equal, since he allowed himself to offer +suggestions. Like a wise diplomat, Padre Fernandez not only recognized +the fact but even took his stand upon it. + +“Good enough!” he said. “But don’t look upon me as your professor. I’m +a friar and you are a Filipino student, nothing more nor less! Now I +ask you—what do the Filipino students want of us?” + +The question came as a surprise; Isagani was not prepared for it. It +was a thrust made suddenly while they were preparing their defense, as +they say in fencing. Thus startled, Isagani responded with a violent +stand, like a beginner defending himself. + +“That you do your duty!” he exclaimed. + +Fray Fernandez straightened up—that reply sounded to him like a +cannon-shot. “That we do our duty!” he repeated, holding himself erect. +“Don’t we, then, do our duty? What duties do you ascribe to us?” + +“Those which you voluntarily placed upon yourselves on joining the +order, and those which afterwards, once in it, you have been willing to +assume. But, as a Filipino student, I don’t think myself called upon to +examine your conduct with reference to your statutes, to Catholicism, +to the government, to the Filipino people, and to humanity in +general—those are questions that you have to settle with your founders, +with the Pope, with the government, with the whole people, and with +God. As a Filipino student, I will confine myself to your duties toward +us. The friars in general, being the local supervisors of education in +the provinces, and the Dominicans in particular, by monopolizing in +their hands all the studies of the Filipino youth, have assumed the +obligation to its eight millions of inhabitants, to Spain, and to +humanity, of which we form a part, of steadily bettering the young +plant, morally and physically, of training it toward its happiness, of +creating a people honest, prosperous, intelligent, virtuous, noble, and +loyal. Now I ask you in my turn—have the friars fulfilled that +obligation of theirs?” + +“We’re fulfilling—” + +“Ah, Padre Fernandez,” interrupted Isagani, “you with your hand on your +heart can say that you are fulfilling it, but with your hand on the +heart of your order, on the heart of all the orders, you cannot say +that without deceiving yourself. Ah, Padre Fernandez, when I find +myself in the presence of a person whom I esteem and respect, I prefer +to be the accused rather than the accuser, I prefer to defend myself +rather than take the offensive. But now that we have entered upon the +discussion, let us carry it to the end! How do they fulfill their +obligation, those who look after education in the towns? By hindering +it! And those who here monopolize education, those who try to mold the +mind of youth, to the exclusion of all others whomsoever, how do they +carry out their mission? By curtailing knowledge as much as possible, +by extinguishing all ardor and enthusiasm, by trampling on all dignity, +the soul’s only refuge, by inculcating in us worn-out ideas, rancid +beliefs, false principles incompatible with a life of progress! Ah, +yes, when it is a question of feeding convicts, of providing for the +maintenance of criminals, the government calls for bids in order to +find the purveyor who offers the best means of subsistence, he who at +least will not let them perish from hunger, but when it is a question +of morally feeding a whole people, of nourishing the intellect of +youth, the healthiest part, that which is later to be the country and +the all, the government not only does not ask for any bid, but +restricts the power to that very body which makes a boast of not +desiring education, of wishing no advancement. What should we say if +the purveyor for the prisons, after securing the contract by intrigue, +should then leave the prisoners to languish in want, giving them only +what is stale and rancid, excusing himself afterwards by saying that it +is not convenient for the prisoners to enjoy good health, because good +health brings merry thoughts, because merriment improves the man, and +the man ought not to be improved, because it is to the purveyor’s +interest that there be many criminals? What should we say if afterwards +the government and the purveyor should agree between themselves that of +the ten or twelve cuartos which one received for each criminal, the +other should receive five?” + +Padre Fernandek bit his lip. “Those are grave charges,” he said, “and +you are overstepping the limits of our agreement.” + +“No, Padre, not if I continue to deal with the student question. The +friars—and I do not say, you friars, since I do not confuse you with +the common herd—the friars of all the orders have constituted +themselves our mental purveyors, yet they say and shamelessly proclaim +that it is not expedient for us to become enlightened, because some day +we shall declare ourselves free! That is just the same as not wishing +the prisoner to be well-fed so that he may improve and get out of +prison. Liberty is to man what education is to the intelligence, and +the friars’ unwillingness that we have it is the origin of our +discontent.” + +“Instruction is given only to those who deserve it,” rejoined Padre +Fernandez dryly. “To give it to men without character and without +morality is to prostitute it.” + +“Why are there men without character and without morality?” + +The Dominican shrugged his shoulders. “Defects that they imbibe with +their mothers’ milk, that they breathe in the bosom of the family—how +do I know?” + +“Ah, no, Padre Fernandez!” exclaimed the young man impetuously. “You +have not dared to go into the subject deeply, you have not wished to +gaze into the depths from fear of finding yourself there in the +darkness of your brethren. What we are, you have made us. A people +tyrannized over is forced to be hypocritical; a people denied the truth +must resort to lies; and he who makes himself a tyrant breeds slaves. +There is no morality, you say, so let it be—even though statistics can +refute you in that here are not committed crimes like those among other +peoples, blinded by the fumes of their moralizers. But, without +attempting now to analyze what it is that forms the character and how +far the education received determines morality, I will agree with you +that we are defective. Who is to blame for that? You who for three +centuries and a half have had in your hands our education, or we who +submit to everything? If after three centuries and a half the artist +has been able to produce only a caricature, stupid indeed he must be!” + +“Or bad enough the material he works upon.” + +“Stupider still then, when, knowing it to be bad, he does not give it +up, but goes on wasting time. Not only is he stupid, but he is a cheat +and a robber, because he knows that his work is useless, yet continues +to draw his salary. Not only is he stupid and a thief, he is a villain +in that he prevents any other workman from trying his skill to see if +he might not produce something worth while! The deadly jealousy of the +incompetent!” + +The reply was sharp and Padre Fernandez felt himself caught. To his +gaze Isagani appeared gigantic, invincible, convincing, and for the +first time in his life he felt beaten by a Filipino student. He +repented of having provoked the argument, but it was too late to turn +back. In this quandary, finding himself confronted with such a +formidable adversary, he sought a strong shield and laid hold of the +government. + +“You impute all the faults to us, because you see only us, who are +near,” he said in a less haughty tone. “It’s natural and doesn’t +surprise me. A person hates the soldier or policeman who arrests him +and not the judge who sends him to prison. You and we are both dancing +to the same measure of music—if at the same note you lift your foot in +unison with us, don’t blame us for it, it’s the music that is directing +our movements. Do you think that we friars have no consciences and that +we do not desire what is right? Do you believe that we do not think +about you, that we do not heed our duty, that we only eat to live, and +live to rule? Would that it were so! But we, like you, follow the +cadence, finding ourselves between Scylla and Charybdis: either you +reject us or the government rejects us. The government commands, and he +who commands, commands,—and must be obeyed!” + +“From which it may be inferred,” remarked Isagani with a bitter smile, +“that the government wishes our demoralization.” + +“Oh, no, I didn’t mean that! What I meant to say is that there are +beliefs, there are theories, there are laws, which, dictated with the +best intention, produce the most deplorable consequences. I’ll explain +myself better by citing an example. To stamp out a small evil, there +are dictated many laws that cause greater evils still: ‘corruptissima +in republica plurimae leges,’ said Tacitus. To prevent one case of +fraud, there are provided a million and a half preventive or +humiliating regulations, which produce the immediate effect of +awakening in the public the desire to elude and mock such regulations. +To make a people criminal, there’s nothing more needed than to doubt +its virtue. Enact a law, not only here, but even in Spain, and you will +see how the means of evading it will be sought, and this is for the +very reason that the legislators have overlooked the fact that the more +an object is hidden, the more a sight of it is desired. Why are +rascality and astuteness regarded as great qualities in the Spanish +people, when there is no other so noble, so proud, so chivalrous as it? +Because our legislators, with the best intentions, have doubted its +nobility, wounded its pride, challenged its chivalry! Do you wish to +open in Spain a road among the rocks? Then place there an imperative +notice forbidding the passage, and the people, in order to protest +against the order, will leave the highway to clamber over the rocks. +The day on which some legislator in Spain forbids virtue and commands +vice, then all will become virtuous!” + +The Dominican paused for a brief space, then resumed: “But you may say +that we are getting away from the subject, so I’ll return to it. What I +can say to you, to convince you, is that the vices from which you +suffer ought to be ascribed by you neither to us nor to the government. +They are due to the imperfect organization of our social system: qui +multum probat, nihil probat, one loses himself through excessive +caution, lacking what is necessary and having too much of what is +superfluous.” + +“If you admit those defects in your social system,” replied Isagani, +“why then do you undertake to regulate alien societies, instead of +first devoting your attention to yourselves?” + +“We’re getting away from the subject, young man. The theory in +accomplished facts must be accepted.” + +“So let it be! I accept it because it is an accomplished fact, but I +will further ask: why, if your social organization is defective, do you +not change it or at least give heed to the cry of those who are injured +by it?” + +“We’re still far away. Let’s talk about what the students want from the +friars.” + +“From the moment when the friars hide themselves behind the government, +the students have to turn to it.” + +This statement was true and there appeared no means of ignoring it. + +“I’m not the government and I can’t answer for its acts. What do the +students wish us to do for them within the limits by which we are +confined?” + +“Not to oppose the emancipation of education but to favor it.” + +The Dominican shook his head. “Without stating my own opinion, that is +asking us to commit suicide,” he said. + +“On the contrary, it is asking you for room to pass in order not to +trample upon and crush you.” + +“Ahem!” coughed Padre Fernandez, stopping and remaining thoughtful. +“Begin by asking something that does not cost so much, something that +any one of us can grant without abatement of dignity or privilege, for +if we can reach an understanding and dwell in peace, why this hatred, +why this distrust?” + +“Then let’s get down to details.” + +“Yes, because if we disturb the foundation, we’ll bring down the whole +edifice.” + +“Then let’s get down to details, let’s leave the region of abstract +principles,” rejoined Isagani with a smile, “and also without stating +my own opinion,”—the youth accented these words—“the students would +desist from their attitude and soften certain asperities if the +professors would try to treat them better than they have up to the +present. That is in their hands.” + +“What?” demanded the Dominican. “Have the students any complaint to +make about my conduct?” + +“Padre, we agreed from the start not to talk of yourself or of myself, +we’re speaking generally. The students, besides getting no great +benefit out of the years spent in the classes, often leave there +remnants of their dignity, if not the whole of it.” + +Padre Fernandez again bit his lip. “No one forces them to study—the +fields are uncultivated,” he observed dryly. + +“Yes, there is something that impels them to study,” replied Isagani in +the same tone, looking the Dominican full in the face. “Besides the +duty of every one to seek his own perfection, there is the desire +innate in man to cultivate his intellect, a desire the more powerful +here in that it is repressed. He who gives his gold and his life to the +State has the right to require of it opporttmity better to get that +gold and better to care for his life. Yes, Padre, there is something +that impels them, and that something is the government itself. It is +you yourselves who pitilessly ridicule the uncultured Indian and deny +him his rights, on the ground that he is ignorant. You strip him and +then scoff at his nakedness.” + +Padre Fernandez did not reply, but continued to pace about feverishly, +as though very much agitated. + +“You say that the fields are not cultivated,” resumed Isagani in a +changed tone, after a brief pause. “Let’s not enter upon an analysis of +the reason for this, because we should get far away. But you, Padre +Fernandez, you, a teacher, you, a learned man, do you wish a people of +peons and laborers? In your opinion, is the laborer the perfect state +at which man may arrive in his development? Or is it that you wish +knowledge for yourself and labor for the rest?” + +“No, I want knowledge for him who deserves it, for him who knows how to +use it,” was the reply. “When the students demonstrate that they love +it, when young men of conviction appear, young men who know how to +maintain their dignity and make it respected, then there will be +knowledge, then there will be considerate professors! If there are now +professors who resort to abuse, it is because there are pupils who +submit to it.” + +“When there are professors, there will be students!” + +“Begin by reforming yourselves, you who have need of change, and we +will follow.” + +“Yes,” said Isagani with a bitter laugh, “let us begin it, because the +difficulty is on our side. Well you know what is expected of a pupil +who stands before a professor—you yourself, with all your love of +justice, with all your kind sentiments, have been restraining yourself +by a great effort while I have been telling you bitter truths, you +yourself, Padre Fernandez! What good has been secured by him among us +who has tried to inculcate other ideas? What evils have not fallen upon +you because you have tried to be just and perform your duty?” + +“Señor Isagani,” said the Dominican, extending his hand, “although it +may seem that nothing practical has resulted from this conversation, +yet something has been gained. I’ll talk to my brethren about what you +have told me and I hope that something can be done. Only I fear that +they won’t believe in your existence.” + +“I fear the same,” returned Isagani, shaking the Dominican’s hand. “I +fear that my friends will not believe in your existence, as you have +revealed yourself to me today.” [57] + +Considering the interview at an end, the young man took his leave. + +Padre Fernandez opened the door and followed him with his gaze until he +disappeared around a corner in the corridor. For some time he listened +to the retreating footsteps, then went back into his cell and waited +for the youth to appear in the street. + +He saw him and actually heard him say to a friend who asked where he +was going: “To the Civil Government! I’m going to see the pasquinades +and join the others!” + +His startled friend stared at him as one would look at a person who is +about to commit suicide, then moved away from him hurriedly. + +“Poor boy!” murmured Padre Fernandez, feeling his eyes moisten. “I +grudge you to the Jesuits who educated you.” + +But Padre Fernandez was completely mistaken; the Jesuits repudiated +Isagani [58] when that afternoon they learned that he had been +arrested, saying that he would compromise them. “That young man has +thrown himself away, he’s going to do us harm! Let it be understood +that he didn’t get those ideas here.” + +Nor were the Jesuits wrong. No! Those ideas come only from God through +the medium of Nature. + + + + + + + + +CHAPTER XXVIII + +TATAKUT + + +With prophetic inspiration Ben-Zayb had been for some days past +maintaining in his newspaper that education was disastrous, very +disastrous for the Philippine Islands, and now in view of the events of +that Friday of pasquinades, the writer crowed and chanted his triumph, +leaving belittled and overwhelmed his adversary Horatius, who in the +Pirotecnia had dared to ridicule him in the following manner: + + + From our contemporary, El Grito: + + “Education is disastrous, very disastrous, for the Philippine + Islands.” + + Admitted. + + For some time El Grito has pretended to represent the Filipino + people—ergo, as Fray Ibañez would say, if he knew Latin. + + But Fray Ibañez turns Mussulman when he writes, and we know how the + Mussulmans dealt with education. In witness whereof, as a royal + preacher said, the Alexandrian library! + + +Now he was right, he, Ben-Zayb! He was the only one in the islands who +thought, the only one who foresaw events! + +Truly, the news that seditious pasquinades had been found on the doors +of the University not only took away the appetite from many and +disturbed the digestion of others, but it even rendered the phlegmatic +Chinese uneasy, so that they no longer dared to sit in their shops with +one leg drawn up as usual, from fear of losing time in extending it in +order to put themselves into flight. At eight o’clock in the morning, +although the sun continued on its course and his Excellency, the +Captain-General, did not appear at the head of his victorious cohorts, +still the excitement had increased. The friars who were accustomed to +frequent Quiroga’s bazaar did not put in their appearance, and this +symptom presaged terrific cataclysms. If the sun had risen a square and +the saints appeared only in pantaloons, Quiroga would not have been so +greatly alarmed, for he would have taken the sun for a gaming-table and +the sacred images for gamblers who had lost their camisas, but for the +friars not to come, precisely when some novelties had just arrived for +them! + +By means of a provincial friend of his, Quiroga forbade entrance into +his gaming-houses to every Indian who was not an old acquaintance, as +the future Chinese consul feared that they might get possession of the +sums that the wretches lost there. After arranging his bazaar in such a +way that he could close it quickly in case of need, he had a policeman +accompany him for the short distance that separated his house from +Simoun’s. Quiroga thought this occasion the most propitious for making +use of the rifles and cartridges that he had in his warehouse, in the +way the jeweler had pointed out; so that on the following days there +would be searches made, and then—how many prisoners, how many terrified +people would give up their savings! It was the game of the old +carbineers, in slipping contraband cigars and tobacco-leaves under a +house, in order to pretend a search and force the unfortunate owner to +bribery or fines, only now the art had been perfected and, the tobacco +monopoly abolished, resort was had to the prohibited arms. + +But Simoun refused to see any one and sent word to the Chinese that he +should leave things as they were, whereupon he went to see Don Custodio +to inquire whether he should fortify his bazaar, but neither would Don +Custodio receive him, being at the time engaged in the study of a +project for defense in case of a siege. He thought of Ben-Zayb as a +source of information, but finding the writer armed to the teeth and +using two loaded revolvers for paper-weights, took his leave in the +shortest possible time, to shut himself up in his house and take to his +bed under pretense of illness. + +At four in the afternoon the talk was no longer of simple pasquinades. +There were whispered rumors of an understanding between the students +and the outlaws of San Mateo, it was certain that in the pansitería +they had conspired to surprise the city, there was talk of German ships +outside the bay to support the movement, of a band of young men who +under the pretext of protesting and demonstrating their Hispanism had +gone to the Palace to place themselves at the General’s orders but had +been arrested because it was discovered that they were armed. +Providence had saved his Excellency, preventing him from receiving +those precocious criminals, as he was at the time in conference with +the Provincials, the Vice-Rector, and with Padre Irene, Padre Salvi’s +representative. There was considerable truth in these rumors, if we +have to believe Padre Irene, who in the afternoon went to visit Capitan +Tiago. According to him, certain persons had advised his Excellency to +improve the opportunity in order to inspire terror and administer a +lasting lesson to the filibusters. + +“A number shot,” one had advised, “some two dozen reformers deported at +once, in the silence of the night, would extinguish forever the flames +of discontent.” + +“No,” rejoined another, who had a kind heart, “sufficient that the +soldiers parade through the streets, a troop of cavalry, for example, +with drawn sabers—sufficient to drag along some cannon, that’s enough! +The people are timid and will all retire into their houses.” + +“No, no,” insinuated another. “This is the opportunity to get rid of +the enemy. It’s not sufficient that they retire into their houses, they +should be made to come out, like evil humors by means of plasters. If +they are inclined to start riots, they should be stirred up by secret +agitators. I am of the opinion that the troops should be resting on +their arms and appearing careless and indifferent, so the people may be +emboldened, and then in case of any disturbance—out on them, action!” + +“The end justifies the means,” remarked another. “Our end is our holy +religion and the integrity of the fatherland. Proclaim a state of +siege, and in case of the least disturbance, arrest all the rich and +educated, and—clean up the country!” + +“If I hadn’t got there in time to counsel moderation,” added Padre +Irene, speaking to Capitan Tiago, “it’s certain that blood would now be +flowing through the streets. I thought of you, Capitan—The partizans of +force couldn’t do much with the General, and they missed Simoun. Ah, if +Simoun had not been taken ill—” + +With the arrest of Basilio and the search made later among his books +and papers, Capitan Tiago had become much worse. Now Padre Irene had +come to augment his terror with hair-raising tales. Ineffable fear +seized upon the wretch, manifesting itself first by a light shiver, +which was rapidly accentuated, until he was unable to speak. With his +eyes bulging and his brow covered with sweat, he caught Padre Irene’s +arm and tried to rise, but could not, and then, uttering two groans, +fell heavily back upon the pillow. His eyes were wide open and he was +slavering—but he was dead. The terrified Padre Irene fled, and, as the +dying man had caught hold of him, in his flight he dragged the corpse +from the bed, leaving it sprawling in the middle of the room. + +By night the terror had reached a climax. Several incidents had +occurred to make the timorous believe in the presence of secret +agitators. + +During a baptism some cuartos were thrown to the boys and naturally +there was a scramble at the door of the church. It happened that at the +time there was passing a bold soldier, who, somewhat preoccupied, +mistook the uproar for a gathering of filibusters and hurled himself, +sword in hand, upon the boys. He went into the church, and had he not +become entangled in the curtains suspended from the choir he would not +have left a single head on shoulders. It was but the matter of a moment +for the timorous to witness this and take to flight, spreading the news +that the revolution had begun. The few shops that had been kept open +were now hastily closed, there being Chinese who even left bolts of +cloth outside, and not a few women lost their slippers in their flight +through the streets. Fortunately, there was only one person wounded and +a few bruised, among them the soldier himself, who suffered a fall +fighting with the curtain, which smelt to him of filibusterism. Such +prowess gained him great renown, and a renown so pure that it is to be +wished all fame could be acquired in like manner—mothers would then +weep less and earth would be more populous! + +In a suburb the inhabitants caught two unknown individuals burying arms +under a house, whereupon a tumult arose and the people pursued the +strangers in order to kill them and turn their bodies over to the +authorities, but some one pacified the excited crowd by telling them +that it would be sufficient to hand over the corpora delictorum, which +proved to be some old shotguns that would surely have killed the first +person who tried to fire them. + +“All right,” exclaimed one braggart, “if they want us to rebel, let’s +go ahead!” But he was cuffed and kicked into silence, the women +pinching him as though he had been the owner of the shotguns. + +In Ermita the affair was more serious, even though there was less +excitement, and that when there were shots fired. A certain cautious +government employee, armed to the teeth, saw at nightfall an object +near his house, and taking it for nothing less than a student, fired at +it twice with a revolver. The object proved to be a policeman, and they +buried him—pax Christi! Mutis! + +In Dulumbayan various shots also resounded, from which there resulted +the death of a poor old deaf man, who had not heard the sentinel’s +quién vive, and of a hog that had heard it and had not answered España! +The old man was buried with difficulty, since there was no money to pay +for the obsequies, but the hog was eaten. + +In Manila, [59] in a confectionery near the University much frequented +by the students, the arrests were thus commented upon. + +“And have they arrested Tadeo?” [60] asked the proprietess. + +“Abá!” answered a student who lived in Parian, “he’s already shot!” + +“Shot! Nakú! He hasn’t paid what he owes me.” + +“Ay, don’t mention that or you’ll be taken for an accomplice. I’ve +already burnt the book [61] you lent me. There might be a search and it +would be found. Be careful!” + +“Did you say that Isagani is a prisoner?” + +“Crazy fool, too, that Isagani,” replied the indignant student. “They +didn’t try to catch him, but he went and surrendered. Let him bust +himself—he’ll surely be shot.” + +The señora shrugged her shoulders. “He doesn’t owe me anything. And +what about Paulita?” + +“She won’t lack a husband. Sure, she’ll cry a little, and then marry a +Spaniard.” + +The night was one of the gloomiest. In the houses the rosary was +recited and pious women dedicated paternosters and requiems to each of +the souls of their relatives and friends. By eight o’clock hardly a +pedestrian could be seen—only from time to time was heard the galloping +of a horse against whose sides a saber clanked noisily, then the +whistles of the watchmen, and carriages that whirled along at full +speed, as though pursued by mobs of filibusters. + +Yet terror did not reign everywhere. In the house of the silversmith, +where Placido Penitente boarded, the events were commented upon and +discussed with some freedom. + +“I don’t believe in the pasquinades,” declared a workman, lank and +withered from operating the blowpipe. “To me it looks like Padre +Salvi’s doings.” + +“Ahem, ahem!” coughed the silversmith, a very prudent man, who did not +dare to stop the conversation from fear that he would be considered a +coward. The good man had to content himself with coughing, winking to +his helper, and gazing toward the street, as if to say, “They may be +watching us!” + +“On account of the operetta,” added another workman. + +“Aha!” exclaimed one who had a foolish face, “I told you so!” + +“Ahem!” rejoined a clerk, in a tone of compassion, “the affair of the +pasquinades is true, Chichoy, and I can give you the explanation.” + +Then he added mysteriously, “It’s a trick of the Chinaman Quiroga’s!” + +“Ahem, ahem!” again coughed the silversmith, shifting his quid of buyo +from one cheek to the other. + +“Believe me, Chichoy, of Quiroga the Chinaman! I heard it in the +office.” + +“Nakú, it’s certain then,” exclaimed the simpleton, believing it at +once. + +“Quiroga,” explained the clerk, “has a hundred thousand pesos in +Mexican silver out in the bay. How is he to get it in? Very easily. Fix +up the pasquinades, availing himself of the question of the students, +and, while every-body is excited, grease the officials’ palms, and in +the cases come!” + +“Just it! Just it!” cried the credulous fool, striking the table with +his fist. “Just it! That’s why Quiroga did it! That’s why—” But he had +to relapse into silence as he really did not know what to say about +Quiroga. + +“And we must pay the damages?” asked the indignant Chichoy. + +“Ahem, ahem, a-h-hem!” coughed the silversmith, hearing steps in the +street. + +The footsteps approached and all in the shop fell silent. + +“St. Pascual Bailon is a great saint,” declared the silversmith +hypocritically, in a loud voice, at the same time winking to the +others. “St. Pascual Bailon—” + +At that moment there appeared the face of Placido Penitente, who was +accompanied by the pyrotechnician that we saw receiving orders from +Simoun. The newcomers were surrounded and importuned for news. + +“I haven’t been able to talk with the prisoners,” explained Placido. +“There are some thirty of them.” + +“Be on your guard,” cautioned the pyrotechnician, exchanging a knowing +look with Placido. “They say that to-night there’s going to be a +massacre.” + +“Aha! Thunder!” exclaimed Chichoy, looking about for a weapon. Seeing +none, he caught up his blowpipe. + +The silversmith sat down, trembling in every limb. The credulous +simpleton already saw himself beheaded and wept in anticipation over +the fate of his family. + +“No,” contradicted the clerk, “there’s not going to be any massacre. +The adviser of”—he made a mysterious gesture—“is fortunately sick.” + +“Simoun!” + +“Ahem, ahem, a-h-hem!” + +Placido and the pyrotechnician exchanged another look. + +“If he hadn’t got sick—” + +“It would look like a revolution,” added the pyrotechnician +negligently, as he lighted a cigarette in the lamp chimney. “And what +should we do then?” + +“Then we’d start a real one, now that they’re going to massacre us +anyhow—” + +The violent fit of coughing that seized the silversmith prevented the +rest of this speech from being heard, but Chichoy must have been saying +terrible things, to judge from his murderous gestures with the blowpipe +and the face of a Japanese tragedian that he put on. + +“Rather say that he’s playing off sick because he’s afraid to go out. +As may be seen—” + +The silversmith was attacked by another fit of coughing so severe that +he finally asked all to retire. + +“Nevertheless, get ready,” warned the pyrotechnician. “If they want to +force us to kill or be killed—” + +Another fit of coughing on the part of the poor silversmith prevented +further conversation, so the workmen and apprentices retired to their +homes, carrying with them hammers and saws, and other implements, more +or less cutting, more or less bruising, disposed to sell their lives +dearly. Placido and the pyrotechnician went out again. + +“Prudence, prudence!” cautioned the silversmith in a tearful voice. + +“You’ll take care of my widow and orphans!” begged the credulous +simpleton in a still more tearful voice, for he already saw himself +riddled with bullets and buried. + +That night the guards at the city gates were replaced with Peninsular +artillerymen, and on the following morning as the sun rose, Ben-Zayb, +who had ventured to take a morning stroll to examine the condition of +the fortifications, found on the glacis near the Luneta the corpse of a +native girl, half-naked and abandoned. Ben-Zayb was horrified, but +after touching it with his cane and gazing toward the gates proceeded +on his way, musing over a sentimental tale he might base upon the +incident. + +However, no allusion to it appeared in the newspapers on the following +days, engrossed as they were with the falls and slippings caused by +banana-peels. In the dearth of news Ben-Zayb had to comment at length +on a cyclone that had destroyed in America whole towns, causing the +death of more than two thousand persons. Among other beautiful things +he said: + + + “The sentiment of charity, MORE PREVALENT IN CATHOLIC COUNTRIES + THAN IN OTHERS, and the thought of Him who, influenced by that same + feeling, sacrificed himself for humanity, moves (sic) us to + compassion over the misfortunes of our kind and to render thanks + that in this country, so scourged by cyclones, there are not + enacted scenes so desolating as that which the inhabitants of the + United States mus have witnessed!” + + +Horatius did not miss the opportunity, and, also without mentioning the +dead, or the murdered native girl, or the assaults, answered him in his +Pirotecnia: + + + “After such great charity and such great humanity, Fray Ibañez—I + mean, Ben-Zayb—brings himself to pray for the Philippines. + + But he is understood. + + Because he is not Catholic, and the sentiment of charity is most + prevalent,” etc. [62] + + + + + + + + +CHAPTER XXIX + +EXIT CAPITAN TIAGO + + Talis vita, finis ita + + +Capitan Tiago had a good end—that is, a quite exceptional funeral. True +it is that the curate of the parish had ventured the observation to +Padre Irene that Capitan Tiago had died without confession, but the +good priest, smiling sardonically, had rubbed the tip of his nose and +answered: + +“Why say that to me? If we had to deny the obsequies to all who die +without confession, we should forget the De profundis! These +restrictions, as you well know, are enforced when the impenitent is +also insolvent. But Capitan Tiago—out on you! You’ve buried infidel +Chinamen, and with a requiem mass!” + +Capitan Tiago had named Padre Irene as his executor and willed his +property in part to St. Clara, part to the Pope, to the Archbishop, the +religious corporations, leaving twenty pesos for the matriculation of +poor students. This last clause had been dictated at the suggestion of +Padre Irene, in his capacity as protector of studious youths. Capitan +Tiago had annulled a legacy of twenty-five pesos that he had left to +Basilio, in view of the ungrateful conduct of the boy during the last +few days, but Padre Irene had restored it and announced that he would +take it upon his own purse and conscience. + +In the dead man’s house, where were assembled on the following day many +old friends and acquaintances, considerable comment was indulged in +over a miracle. It was reported that, at the very moment when he was +dying, the soul of Capitan Tiago had appeared to the nuns surrounded by +a brilliant light. God had saved him, thanks to the pious legacies, and +to the numerous masses he had paid for. The story was commented upon, +it was recounted vividly, it took on particulars, and was doubted by no +one. The appearance of Capitan Tiago was minutely described—of course +the frock coat, the cheek bulged out by the quid of buyo, without +omitting the game-cock and the opium-pipe. The senior sacristan, who +was present, gravely affirmed these facts with his head and reflected +that, after death, he would appear with his cup of white tajú, for +without that refreshing breakfast he could not comprehend happiness +either on earth or in heaven. + +On this subject, because of their inability to discuss the events of +the preceding day and because there were gamblers present, many strange +speculations were developed. They made conjectures as to whether +Capitan Tiago would invite St. Peter to a soltada, whether they would +place bets, whether the game-cocks were immortal, whether invulnerable, +and in this case who would be the referee, who would win, and so on: +discussions quite to the taste of those who found sciences, theories, +and systems, based on a text which they esteem infallible, revealed or +dogmatic. Moreover, there were cited passages from novenas, books of +miracles, sayings of the curates, descriptions of heaven, and other +embroidery. Don Primitivo, the philosopher, was in his glory quoting +opinions of the theologians. + +“Because no one can lose,” he stated with great authority. “To lose +would cause hard feelings and in heaven there can’t be any hard +feelings.” + +“But some one has to win,” rejoined the gambler Aristorenas. “The fun +lies in winning!” + +“Well, both win, that’s easy!” + +This idea of both winning could not be admitted by Aristorenas, for he +had passed his life in the cockpit and had always seen one cock lose +and the other win—at best, there was a tie. Vainly Don Primitivo argued +in Latin. Aristorenas shook his head, and that too when Don Primitivo’s +Latin was easy to understand, for he talked of an gallus talisainus, +acuto tari armatus, an gallus beati Petri bulikus sasabung̃us sit, [63] +and so on, until at length he decided to resort to the argument which +many use to convince and silence their opponents. + +“You’re going to be damned, friend Martin, you’re falling into heresy! +Cave ne cadas! I’m not going to play monte with you any more, and we’ll +not set up a bank together. You deny the omnipotence of God, peccatum +mortale! You deny the existence of the Holy Trinity— three are one and +one is three! Take care! You indirectly deny that two natures, two +understandings, and two wills can have only one memory! Be careful! +Quicumque non crederit anathema sit!” + +Martin Aristorenas shrank away pale and trembling, while Quiroga, who +had listened with great attention to the argument, with marked +deference offered the philosopher a magnificent cigar, at the same time +asking in his caressing voice: “Surely, one can make a contract for a +cockpit with Kilisto, [64] ha? When I die, I’ll be the contractor, ha?” + +Among the others, they talked more of the deceased; at least they +discussed what kind of clothing to put on him. Capitan Tinong proposed +a Franciscan habit—and fortunately, he had one, old, threadbare, and +patched, a precious object which, according to the friar who gave it to +him as alms in exchange for thirty-six pesos, would preserve the corpse +from the flames of hell and which reckoned in its support various pious +anecdotes taken from the books distributed by the curates. Although he +held this relic in great esteem, Capitan Tinong was disposed to part +with it for the sake of his intimate friend, whom he had not been able +to visit during his illness. But a tailor objected, with good reason, +that since the nuns had seen Capitan Tiago ascending to heaven in a +frock coat, in a frock coat he should be dressed here on earth, nor was +there any necessity for preservatives and fire-proof garments. The +deceased had attended balls and fiestas in a frock coat, and nothing +else would be expected of him in the skies—and, wonderful to relate, +the tailor accidentally happened to have one ready, which he would part +with for thirty-two pesos, four cheaper than the Franciscan habit, +because he didn’t want to make any profit on Capitan Tiago, who had +been his customer in life and would now be his patron in heaven. But +Padre Irene, trustee and executor, rejected both proposals and ordered +that the Capitan be dressed in one of his old suits of clothes, +remarking with holy unction that God paid no attention to clothing. + +The obsequies were, therefore, of the very first class. There were +responsories in the house, and in the street three friars officiated, +as though one were not sufficient for such a great soul. All the rites +and ceremonies possible were performed, and it is reported that there +were even extras, as in the benefits for actors. It was indeed a +delight: loads of incense were burned, there were plenty of Latin +chants, large quantities of holy water were expended, and Padre Irene, +out of regard for his old friend, sang the Dies Irae in a falsetto +voice from the choir, while the neighbors suffered real headaches from +so much knell-ringing. + +Doña Patrocinio, the ancient rival of Capitan Tiago in religiosity, +actually wanted to die on the next day, so that she might order even +more sumptuous obsequies. The pious old lady could not bear the thought +that he, whom she had long considered vanquished forever, should in +dying come forward again with so much pomp. Yes, she desired to die, +and it seemed that she could hear the exclamations of the people at the +funeral: “This indeed is what you call a funeral! This indeed is to +know how to die, Doña Patrocinio!” + + + + + + + + +CHAPTER XXX + +JULI + + +The death of Capitan Tiago and Basilio’s imprisonment were soon +reported in the province, and to the honor of the simple inhabitants of +San Diego, let it be recorded that the latter was the incident more +regretted and almost the only one discussed. As was to be expected, the +report took on different forms, sad and startling details were given, +what could not be understood was explained, the gaps being filled by +conjectures, which soon passed for accomplished facts, and the phantoms +thus created terrified their own creators. + +In the town of Tiani it was reported that at least, at the very least, +the young man was going to be deported and would very probably be +murdered on the journey. The timorous and pessimistic were not +satisfied with this but even talked about executions and +courts-martial—January was a fatal month; in January the Cavite affair +had occurred, and they [65] even though curates, had been garroted, so +a poor Basilio without protectors or friends— + +“I told him so!” sighed the Justice of the Peace, as if he had at some +time given advice to Basilio. “I told him so.” + +“It was to be expected,” commented Sister Penchang. “He would go into +the church and when he saw that the holy water was somewhat dirty he +wouldn’t cross himself with it. He talked about germs and disease, abá, +it’s the chastisement of God! He deserved it, and he got it! As though +the holy water could transmit diseases! Quite the contrary, abá!” + +She then related how she had cured herself of indigestion by moistening +her stomach with holy water, at the same time reciting the Sanctus +Deus, and she recommended the remedy to those present when they should +suffer from dysentery, or an epidemic occurred, only that then they +must pray in Spanish: + + + Santo Diós, + Santo fuerte, + Santo inmortal, + ¡Libranos, Señor, de la peste + Y de todo mal! [66] + + +“It’s an infallible remedy, but you must apply the holy water to the +part affected,” she concluded. + +But there were many persons who did not believe in these things, nor +did they attribute Basilio’s imprisonment to the chastisement of God. +Nor did they take any stock in insurrections and pasquinades, knowing +the prudent and ultra-pacific character of the boy, but preferred to +ascribe it to revenge on the part of the friars, because of his having +rescued from servitude Juli, the daughter of a tulisan who was the +mortal enemy of a certain powerful corporation. As they had quite a +poor idea of the morality of that same corporation and could recall +cases of petty revenge, their conjecture was believed to have more +probability and justification. + +“What a good thing I did when I drove her from my house!” said Sister +Penchang. “I don’t want to have any trouble with the friars, so I urged +her to find the money.” + +The truth was, however, that she regretted Juli’s liberty, for Juli +prayed and fasted for her, and if she had stayed a longer time, would +also have done penance. Why, if the curates pray for us and Christ died +for our sins, couldn’t Juli do the same for Sister Penchang? + +When the news reached the hut where the poor Juli and her grandfather +lived, the girl had to have it repeated to her. She stared at Sister +Bali, who was telling it, as though without comprehension, without +ability to collect her thoughts. Her ears buzzed, she felt a sinking at +the heart and had a vague presentiment that this event would have a +disastrous influence on her own future. Yet she tried to seize upon a +ray of hope, she smiled, thinking that Sister Bali was joking with her, +a rather strong joke, to be sure, but she forgave her beforehand if she +would acknowledge that it was such. But Sister Bali made a cross with +one of her thumbs and a forefinger, and kissed it, to prove that she +was telling the truth. Then the smile faded forever from the girl’s +lips, she turned pale, frightfully pale, she felt her strength leave +her and for the first time in her life she lost consciousness, falling +into a swoon. + +When by dint of blows, pinches, dashes of water, crosses, and the +application of sacred palms, the girl recovered and remembered the +situation, silent tears sprang from her eyes, drop by drop, without +sobs, without laments, without complaints! She thought about Basilio, +who had had no other protector than Capitan Tiago, and who now, with +the Capitan dead, was left completely unprotected and in prison. In the +Philippines it is a well-known fact that patrons are needed for +everything, from the time one is christened until one dies, in order to +get justice, to secure a passport, or to develop an industry. As it was +said that his imprisonment was due to revenge on account of herself and +her father, the girl’s sorrow turned to desperation. Now it was her +duty to liberate him, as he had done in rescuing her from servitude, +and the inner voice which suggested the idea offered to her imagination +a horrible means. + +“Padre Camorra, the curate,” whispered the voice. Juli gnawed at her +lips and became lost in gloomy meditation. + +As a result of her father’s crime, her grandfather had been arrested in +the hope that by such means the son could be made to appear. The only +one who could get him his liberty was Padre Camorra, and Padre Camorra +had shown himself to be poorly satisfied with her words of gratitude, +having with his usual frankness asked for some sacrifices—since which +time Juli had tried to avoid meeting him. But the curate made her kiss +his hand, he twitched her nose and patted her cheeks, he joked with +her, winking and laughing, and laughing he pinched her. Juli was also +the cause of the beating the good curate had administered to some young +men who were going about the village serenading the girls. Malicious +ones, seeing her pass sad and dejected, would remark so that she might +hear: “If she only wished it, Cabesang Tales would be pardoned.” + +Juli reached her home, gloomy and with wandering looks. She had changed +greatly, having lost her merriment, and no one ever saw her smile +again. She scarcely spoke and seemed to be afraid to look at her own +face. One day she was seen in the town with a big spot of soot on her +forehead, she who used to go so trim and neat. Once she asked Sister +Bali if the people who committed suicide went to hell. + +“Surely!” replied that woman, and proceeded to describe the place as +though she had been there. + +Upon Basilio’s imprisonment, the simple and grateful relatives had +planned to make all kinds of sacrifices to save the young man, but as +they could collect among themselves no more than thirty pesos, Sister +Bali, as usual, thought of a better plan. + +“What we must do is to get some advice from the town clerk,” she said. +To these poor people, the town clerk was what the Delphic oracle was to +the ancient Greeks. + +“By giving him a real and a cigar,” she continued, “he’ll tell you all +the laws so that your head bursts listening to him. If you have a peso, +he’ll save you, even though you may be at the foot of the scaffold. +When my friend Simon was put in jail and flogged for not being able to +give evidence about a robbery perpetrated near his house, abá, for two +reales and a half and a string of garlics, the town clerk got him out. +And I saw Simon myself when he could scarcely walk and he had to stay +in bed at least a month. Ay, his flesh rotted as a result and he died!” + +Sister Bali’s advice was accepted and she herself volunteered to +interview the town clerk. Juli gave her four reales and added some +strips of jerked venison her grand-father had got, for Tandang Selo had +again devoted himself to hunting. + +But the town clerk could do nothing—the prisoner was in Manila, and his +power did not extend that far. “If at least he were at the capital, +then—” he ventured, to make a show of his authority, which he knew very +well did not extend beyond the boundaries of Tiani, but he had to +maintain his prestige and keep the jerked venison. “But I can give you +a good piece of advice, and it is that you go with Juli to see the +Justice of the Peace. But it’s very necessary that Juli go.” + +The Justice of the Peace was a very rough fellow, but if he should see +Juli he might conduct himself less rudely—this is wherein lay the +wisdom of the advice. + +With great gravity the honorable Justice listened to Sister Bali, who +did the talking, but not without staring from time to time at the girl, +who hung her head with shame. People would say that she was greatly +interested in Basilio, people who did not remember her debt of +gratitude, nor that his imprisonment, according to report, was on her +account. + +After belching three or four times, for his Honor had that ugly habit, +he said that the only person who could save Basilio was Padre Camorra, +in case he should care to do so. Here he stared meaningly at the girl +and advised her to deal with the curate in person. + +“You know what influence he has,—he got your grand-father out of jail. +A report from him is enough to deport a new-born babe or save from +death a man with the noose about his neck.” + +Juli said nothing, but Sister Bali took this advice as though she had +read it in a novena, and was ready to accompany the girl to the +convento. It so happened that she was just going there to get as alms a +scapulary in exchange for four full reales. + +But Juli shook her head and was unwilling to go to the convento. Sister +Bali thought she could guess the reason—Padre Camorra was reputed to be +very fond of the women and was very frolicsome—so she tried to reassure +her. “You’ve nothing to fear if I go with you. Haven’t you read in the +booklet Tandang Basio, given you by the curate, that the girls should +go to the convento, even without the knowledge of their elders, to +relate what is going on at home? Abá, that book is printed with the +permission of the Archbishop!” + +Juli became impatient and wished to cut short such talk, so she begged +the pious woman to go if she wished, but his Honor observed with a +belch that the supplications of a youthful face were more moving than +those of an old one, the sky poured its dew over the fresh flowers in +greater abundance than over the withered ones. The metaphor was +fiendishly beautiful. + +Juli did not reply and the two left the house. In the street the girl +firmly refused to go to the convento and they returned to their +village. Sister Bali, who felt offended at this lack of confidence in +herself, on the way home relieved her feelings by administering a long +preachment to the girl. + +The truth was that the girl could not take that step without damning +herself in her own eyes, besides being cursed of men and cursed of God! +It had been intimated to her several times, whether with reason or not, +that if she would make that sacrifice her father would be pardoned, and +yet she had refused, in spite of the cries of her conscience reminding +her of her filial duty. Now must she make it for Basilio, her +sweetheart? That would be to fall to the sound of mockery and laughter +from all creation. Basilio himself would despise her! No, never! She +would first hang herself or leap from some precipice. At any rate, she +was already damned for being a wicked daughter. + +The poor girl had besides to endure all the reproaches of her +relatives, who, knowing nothing of what had passed between her and +Padre Camovra, laughed at her fears. Would Padre Camorra fix his +attention upon a country girl when there were so many others in the +town? Hero the good women cited names of unmarried girls, rich and +beautiful, who had been more or less unfortunate. Meanwhile, if they +should shoot Basilio? + +Juli covered her ears and stared wildly about, as if seeking a voice +that might plead for her, but she saw only her grandfather, who was +dumb and had his gaze fixed on his hunting-spear. + +That night she scarcely slept at all. Dreams and nightmares, some +funereal, some bloody, danced before her sight and woke her often, +bathed in cold perspiration. She fancied that she heard shots, she +imagined that she saw her father, that father who had done so much for +her, fighting in the forests, hunted like a wild beast because she had +refused to save him. The figure of her father was transformed and she +recognized Basilio, dying, with looks of reproach at her. The wretched +girl arose, prayed, wept, called upon her mother, upon death, and there +was even a moment when, overcome with terror, if it had not been +night-time, she would have run straight to the convento, let happen +what would. + +With the coming of day the sad presentiments and the terrors of +darkness were partly dissipated. The light inspired hopes in her. But +the news of the afternoon was terrible, for there was talk of persons +shot, so the next night was for the girl frightful. In her desperation +she decided to give herself up as soon as day dawned and then kill +herself afterwards—anything, rather than enditre such tortures! But the +dawn brought new hope and she would not go to church or even leave the +house. She was afraid she would yield. + +So passed several days in praying and cursing, in calling upon God and +wishing for death. The day gave her a slight respite and she trusted in +some miracle. The reports that came from Manila, although they reached +there magnified, said that of the prisoners some had secured their +liberty, thanks to patrons and influence. Some one had to be +sacrificed—who would it be? Juli shuddered and returned home biting her +finger-nails. Then came the night with its terrors, which took on +double proportions and seemed to be converted into realities. Juli +feared to fall asleep, for her slumbers were a continuous nightmare. +Looks of reproach would flash across her eyelids just as soon as they +were closed, complaints and laments pierced her ears. She saw her +father wandering about hungry, without rest or repose; she saw Basilio +dying in the road, pierced by two bullets, just as she had seen the +corpse of that neighbor who had been killed while in the charge of the +Civil Guard. She saw the bonds that cut into the flesh, she saw the +blood pouring from the mouth, she heard Basilio calling to her, “Save +me! Save me! You alone can save me!” Then a burst of laughter would +resound and she would turn her eyes to see her father gazing at her +with eyes full of reproach. Juli would wake up, sit up on her petate, +and draw her hands across her forehead to arrange her hair—cold sweat, +like the sweat of death, moistened it! + +“Mother, mother!” she sobbed. + +Meanwhile, they who were so carelessly disposing of people’s fates, he +who commanded the legal murders, he who violated justice and made use +of the law to maintain himself by force, slept in peace. + +At last a traveler arrived from Manila and reported that all the +prisoners had been set free, all except Basilio, who had no protector. +It was reported in Manila, added the traveler, that the young man would +be deported to the Carolines, having been forced to sign a petition +beforehand, in which he declared that he asked it voluntarily. [67] The +traveler had seen the very steamer that was going to take him away. + +This report put an end to all the girl’s hesitation. Besides, her mind +was already quite weak from so many nights of watching and horrible +dreams. Pale and with unsteady eyes, she sought out Sister Bali and, in +a voice that was cause for alarm, told her that she was ready, asking +her to accompany her. Sister Bali thereupon rejoiced and tried to +soothe her, but Juli paid no attention to her, apparently intent only +upon hurrying to the convento. She had decked herself out in her finest +clothes, and even pretended to be quite gay, talking a great deal, +although in a rather incoherent way. + +So they set out. Juli went ahead, becoming impatient that her companion +lagged behind. But as they neared the town, her nervous energy began +gradually to abate, she fell silent and wavered in her resolution, +lessened her pace and soon dropped behind, so that Sister Bali had to +encourage her. + +“We’ll get there late,” she remonstrated. + +Juli now followed, pale, with downcast eyes, which she was afraid to +raise. She felt that the whole world was staring at her and pointing +its finger at her. A vile name whistled in her ears, but still she +disregarded it and continued on her way. Nevertheless, when they came +in sight of the convento, she stopped and began to tremble. + +“Let’s go home, let’s go home,” she begged, holding her companion back. + +Sister Bali had to take her by the arm and half drag her along, +reassuring her and telling her about the books of the friars. She would +not desert her, so there was nothing to fear. Padre Camorra had other +things in mind—Juli was only a poor country girl. + +But upon arriving at the door of the convento, Juli firmly refused to +go in, catching hold of the wall. + +“No, no,” she pleaded in terror. “No, no, no! Have pity!” + +“But what a fool—” + +Sister Bali pushed her gently along, Juli, pallid and with wild +features, offering resistance. The expression of her face said that she +saw death before her. + +“All right, let’s go back, if you don’t want to!” at length the good +woman exclaimed in irritation, as she did not believe there was any +real danger. Padre Camorra, in spite of all his reputation, would dare +do nothing before her. + +“Let them carry poor Basilio into exile, let them shoot him on the way, +saying that he tried to escape,” she added. “When he’s dead, then +remorse will come. But as for myself, I owe him no favors, so he can’t +reproach me!” + +That was the decisive stroke. In the face of that reproach, with wrath +and desperation mingled, like one who rushes to suicide, Juli closed +her eyes in order not to see the abyss into which she was hurling +herself and resolutely entered the convento. A sigh that sounded like +the rattle of death escaped from her lips. Sister Bali followed, +telling her how to act. + +That night comments were mysteriously whispered about certain events +which had occurred that afternoon. A girl had leaped from a window of +the convento, falling upon some stones and killing herself. Almost at +the same time another woman had rushed out of the convento to run +through the streets shouting and screaming like a lunatic. The prudent +townsfolk dared not utter any names and many mothers pinched their +daughters for letting slip expressions that might compromise them. + +Later, very much later, at twilight, an old man came from a village and +stood calling at the door of the convento, which was closed and guarded +by sacristans. The old man beat the door with his fists and with his +head, while he littered cries stifled and inarticulate, like those of a +dumb person, until he was at length driven away by blows and shoves. +Then he made his way to the gobernadorcillo’s house, but was told that +the gobernadorcillo was not there, he was at the convento; he went to +the Justice of the Peace, but neither was the Justice of the Peace at +home—he had been summoned to the convento; he went to the +teniente-mayor, but he too was at the convento; he directed his steps +to the barracks, but the lieutenant of the Civil Guard was at the +convento. The old man then returned to his village, weeping like a +child. His wails were heard in the middle of the night, causing men to +bite their lips and women to clasp their hands, while the dogs slunk +fearfully back into the houses with their tails between their legs. + +“Ah, God, God!” said a poor woman, lean from fasting, “in Thy presence +there is no rich, no poor, no white, no black—Thou wilt grant us +justice!” + +“Yes,” rejoined her husband, “just so that God they preach is not a +pure invention, a fraud! They themselves are the first not to believe +in Him.” + +At eight o’clock in the evening it was rumored that more than seven +friars, proceeding from neighboring towns, were assembled in the +convento to hold a conference. On the following day, Tandang Selo +disappeared forever from the village, carrying with him his +hunting-spear. + + + + + + + + +CHAPTER XXXI + +THE HIGH OFFICIAL + + L’Espagne et sa, vertu, l’Espagne et sa grandeur + Tout s’en va!—Victor Hugo + + +The newspapers of Manila were so engrossed in accounts of a notorious +murder committed in Europe, in panegyrics and puffs for various +preachers in the city, in the constantly increasing success of the +French operetta, that they could scarcely devote space to the crimes +perpetrated in the provinces by a band of tulisanes headed by a fierce +and terrible leader who was called Matanglawin. [68] Only when the +object of the attack was a convento or a Spaniard there then appeared +long articles giving frightful details and asking for martial law, +energetic measures, and so on. So it was that they could take no notice +of what had occurred in the town of Tiani, nor was there the slightest +hint or allusion to it. In private circles something was whispered, but +so confused, so vague, and so little consistent, that not even the name +of the victim was known, while those who showed the greatest interest +forgot it quickly, trusting that the affair had been settled in some +way with the wronged family. The only one who knew anything certain was +Padre Camorra, who had to leave the town, to be transferred to another +or to remain for some time in the convento in Manila. + +“Poor Padre Camorra!” exclaimed Ben-Zayb in a fit of generosity. “He +was so jolly and had such a good heart!” + +It was true that the students had recovered their liberty, thanks to +the exertions of their relatives, who did not hesitate at expense, +gifts, or any sacrifice whatsoever. The first to see himself free, as +was to be expected, was Makaraig, and the last Isagani, because Padre +Florentine did not reach Manila until a week after the events. So many +acts of clemency secured for the General the title of clement and +merciful, which Ben-Zayb hastened to add to his long list of +adjectives. + +The only one who did not obtain his liberty was Basilio, since he was +also accused of having in his possession prohibited books. We don’t +know whether this referred to his text-book on legal medicine or to the +pamphlets that were found, dealing with the Philippines, or both +together—the fact is that it was said that prohibited literature was +being secretly sold, and upon the unfortunate boy fell all the weight +of the rod of justice. + +It was reported that his Excellency had been thus advised: “It’s +necessary that there be some one, so that the prestige of authority may +be sustained and that it may not be said that we made a great fuss over +nothing. Authority before everything. It’s necessary that some one be +made an example of. Let there be just one, one who, according to Padre +Irene, was the servant of Capitan Tiago—there’ll be no one to enter a +complaint—” + +“Servant and student?” asked his Excellency. “That fellow, then! Let it +be he!” + +“Your Excellency will pardon me,” observed the high official, who +happened to be present, “but I’ve been told that this boy is a medical +student and his teachers speak well of him. If he remains a prisoner +he’ll lose a year, and as this year he finishes—” + +The high official’s interference in behalf of Basilio, instead of +helping, harmed him. For some time there had been between this official +and his Excellency strained relations and bad feelings, augmented by +frequent clashes. + +“Yes? So much the greater reason that he should be kept prisoner; a +year longer in his studies, instead of injuring him, will do good, not +only to himself but to all who afterwards fall into his hands. One +doesn’t become a bad physician by extensive practise. So much the more +reason that he should remain! Soon the filibustering reformers will say +that we are not looking out for the country!” concluded his Excellency +with a sarcastic laugh. + +The high official realized that he had made a false move and took +Basilio’s case to heart. “But it seems to me that this young man is the +most innocent of all,” he rejoined rather timidly. + +“Books have been seized in his possession,” observed the secretary. + +“Yes, works on medicine and pamphlets written by Peninsulars, with the +leaves uncut, and besides, what does that signify? Moreover, this young +man was not present at the banquet in the pansitería, he hasn’t mixed +up in anything. As I’ve said, he’s the most innocent—” + +“So much the better!” exclaimed his Excellency jocosely. “In that way +the punishment will prove more salutary and exemplary, since it +inspires greater terror. To govern is to act in this way, my dear sir, +as it is often expedient to sacrifice the welfare of one to the welfare +of many. But I’m doing more—from the welfare of one will result the +welfare of all, the principle of endangered authority is preserved, +prestige is respected and maintained. By this act of mine I’m +correcting my own and other people’s faults.” + +The high official restrained himself with an effort and, disregarding +the allusion, decided to take another tack. “But doesn’t your +Excellency fear the—responsibility?” + +“What have I to fear?” rejoined the General impatiently. “Haven’t I +discretionary powers? Can’t I do what I please for the better +government of these islands? What have I to fear? Can some menial +perhaps arraign me before the tribunals and exact from me +responsibility? Even though he had the means, he would have to consult +the Ministry first, and the Minister—” + +He waved his hand and burst out into laughter. + +“The Minister who appointed me, the devil knows where he is, and he +will feel honored in being able to welcome me when I return. The +present one, I don’t even think of him, and the devil take him too! The +one that relieves him will find himself in so many difficulties with +his new duties that he won’t be able to fool with trifles. I, my dear +sir, have nothing over me but my conscience, I act according to my +conscience, and my conscience is satisfied, so I don’t care a straw for +the opinions of this one and that. My conscience, my dear sir, my +conscience!” + +“Yes, General, but the country—” + +“Tut, tut, tut, tut! The country—what have I to do Avith the country? +Have I perhaps contracted any obligations to it? Do I owe my office to +it? Was it the country that elected me?” + +A brief pause ensued, during which the high official stood with bowed +head. Then, as if reaching a decision, he raised it to stare fixedly at +the General. Pale and trembling, he said with repressed energy: “That +doesn’t matter, General, that doesn’t matter at all! Your Excellency +has not been chosen by the Filipino people, but by Spain, all the more +reason why you should treat the Filipinos well so that they may not be +able to reproach Spain. The greater reason, General, the greater +reason! Your Excellency, by coming here, has contracted the obligation +to govern justly, to seek the welfare—” + +“Am I not doing it?” interrupted his Excellency in exasperation, taking +a step forward. “Haven’t I told you that I am getting from the good of +one the good of all? Are you now going to give me lessons? If you don’t +understand my actions, how am I to blame? Do I compel you to share my +responsibility?” + +“Certainly not,” replied the high official, drawing himself up proudly. +“Your Excellency does not compel me, your Excellency cannot compel me, +me, to share your responsibility. I understand mine in quite another +way, and because I have it, I’m going to speak—I’ve held my peace a +long time. Oh, your Excellency needn’t make those gestures, because the +fact that I’ve come here in this or that capacity doesn’t mean that I +have given up my rights, that I have been reduced to the part of a +slave, without voice or dignity. + +“I don’t want Spain to lose this beautiful empire, these eight millions +of patient and submissive subjects, who live on hopes and delusions, +but neither do I wish to soil my hands in their barbarous exploitation. +I don’t wish it ever to be said that, the slave-trade abolished, Spain +has continued to cloak it with her banner and perfect it under a wealth +of specious institutions. No, to be great Spain does not have to be a +tyrant, Spain is sufficient unto herself, Spain was greater when she +had only her own territory, wrested from the clutches of the Moor. I +too am a Spaniard, but before being a Spaniard I am a man, and before +Spain and above Spain is her honor, the lofty principles of morality, +the eternal principles of immutable justice! Ah, you are surprised that +I think thus, because you have no idea of the grandeur of the Spanish +name, no, you haven’t any idea of it, you identify it with persons and +interests. To you the Spaniard may be a pirate, he may be a murderer, a +hypocrite, a cheat, anything, just so he keep what he has—but to me the +Spaniard should lose everything, empire, power, wealth, everything, +before his honor! Ah, my dear sir, we protest when we read that might +is placed before right, yet we applaud when in practise we see might +play the hypocrite in not only perverting right but even in using it as +a tool in order to gain control. For the very reason that I love Spain, +I’m speaking now, and I defy your frown! + +“I don’t wish that the coming ages accuse Spain of being the stepmother +of the nations, the vampire of races, the tyrant of small islands, +since it would be a horrible mockery of the noble principles of our +ancient kings. How are we carrying out their sacred legacy? They +promised to these islands protection and justice, and we are playing +with the lives and liberties of the inhabitants; they promised +civilization, and we are curtailing it, fearful that they may aspire to +a nobler existence; they promised them light, and we cover their eyes +that they may not witness our orgies; they promised to teach them +virtue and we are encouraging their vice. Instead of peace, wealth, and +justice, confusion reigns, commerce languishes, and skepticism is +fostered among the masses. + +“Let us put ourselves in the place of the Filipinos and ask ourselves +what we would do in their place. Ah, in your silence I read their right +to rebel, and if matters do not mend they will rebel some day, and +justice will be on their side, with them will go the sympathy of all +honest men, of every patriot in the world! When a people is denied +light, home, liberty, and justice—things that are essential to life, +and therefore man’s patrimony—that people has the right to treat him +who so despoils it as we would the robber who intercepts us on the +highway. There are no distinctions, there are no exceptions, nothing +but a fact, a right, an aggression, and every honest man who does not +place himself on the side of the wronged makes himself an accomplice +and stains his conscience. + +“True, I am not a soldier, and the years are cooling the little fire in +my blood, but just as I would risk being torn to pieces to defend the +integrity of Spain against any foreign invader or against an +unjustified disloyalty in her provinces, so I also assure you that I +would place myself beside the oppressed Filipinos, because I would +prefer to fall in the cause of the outraged rights of humanity to +triumphing with the selfish interests of a nation, even when that +nation be called as it is called—Spain!” + +“Do you know when the mail-boat leaves?” inquired his Excellency +coldly, when the high official had finished speaking. + +The latter stared at him fixedly, then dropped his head and silently +left the palace. + +Outside he found his carriage awaiting him. “Some day when you declare +yourselves independent,” he said somewhat abstractedly to the native +lackey who opened the carriage-door for him, “remember that there were +not lacking in Spain hearts that beat for you and struggled for your +rights!” + +“Where, sir?” asked the lackey, who had understood nothing of this and +was inquiring whither they should go. + +Two hours later the high official handed in his resignation and +announced his intention of returning to Spain by the next mail-steamer. + + + + + + + + +CHAPTER XXXII + +EFFECT OF THE PASQUINADES + + +As a result of the events narrated, many mothers ordered their sons +immediately to leave off their studies and devote themselves to +idleness or to agriculture. When the examinations came, suspensions +were plentiful, and he was a rare exception who finished the course, if +he had belonged to the famous association, to which no one paid any +more attention. Pecson, Tadeo, and Juanito Pelaez were all alike +suspended—the first receiving his dismissal with his foolish grin and +declaring his intention of becoming an officer in some court, while +Tadeo, with his eternal holiday realized at last, paid for an +illumination and made a bonfire of his books. Nor did the others get +off much better, and at length they too had to abandon their studies, +to the great satisfaction of their mothers, who always fancy their sons +hanged if they should come to understand what the books teach. Juanito +Pelaez alone took the blow ill, since it forced him to leave school for +his father’s store, with whom he was thenceforward to be associated in +the business: the rascal found the store much less entertaining, but +after some time his friends again noticed his hump appear, a symptom +that his good humor was returning. The rich Makaraig, in view of the +catastrophe, took good care not to expose himself, and having secured a +passport by means of money set out in haste for Europe. It was said +that his Excellency, the Captain-General, in his desire to do good by +good means, and careful of the interests of the Filipinos, hindered the +departure of every one who could not first prove substantially that he +had the money to spend and could live in idleness in European cities. +Among our acquaintances those who got off best were Isagani and +Sandoval: the former passed in the subject he studied under Padre +Fernandez and was suspended in the others, while the latter was able to +confuse the examining-board with his oratory. + +Basilio was the only one who did not pass in any subject, who was not +suspended, and who did not go to Europe, for he remained in Bilibid +prison, subjected every three days to examinations, almost always the +same in principle, without other variation than a change of +inquisitors, since it seemed that in the presence of such great guilt +all gave up or fell away in horror. And while the documents moldered or +were shifted about, while the stamped papers increased like the +plasters of an ignorant physician on the body of a hypochondriac, +Basilio became informed of all the details of what had happened in +Tiani, of the death of Juli and the disappearance of Tandang Selo. +Sinong, the abused cochero, who had driven him to San Diego, happened +to be in Manila at that time and called to give him all the news. + +Meanwhile, Simoun had recovered his health, or so at least the +newspapers said. Ben-Zayb rendered thanks to “the Omnipotent who +watches over such a precious life,” and manifested the hope that the +Highest would some day reveal the malefactor, whose crime remained +unpunished, thanks to the charity of the victim, who was too closely +following the words of the Great Martyr: Father, forgive them, for they +know not what they do. These and other things Ben-Zayb said in print, +while by mouth he was inquiring whether there was any truth in the +rumor that the opulent jeweler was going to give a grand fiesta, a +banquet such as had never before been seen, in part to celebrate his +recovery and in part as a farewell to the country in which he had +increased his fortune. It was whispered as certain that Simoun, who +would have to leave with the Captain-General, whose command expired in +May, was making every effort to secure from Madrid an extension, and +that he was advising his Excellency to start a campaign in order to +have an excuse for remaining, but it was further reported that for the +first time his Excellency had disregarded the advice of his favorite, +making it a point of honor not to retain for a single additional day +the power that had been conferred upon him, a rumor which encouraged +belief that the fiesta announced would take place; very soon. For the +rest, Simoun remained unfathomable, since he had become very +uncommunicative, showed himself seldom, and smiled mysteriously when +the rumored fiesta was mentioned. + +“Come, Señor Sindbad,” Ben-Zayb had once rallied him, “dazzle us with +something Yankee! You owe something to this country.” + +“Doubtless!” was Simoun’s response, with a dry smile. + +“You’ll throw the house wide open, eh?” + +“Maybe, but as I have no house—” + +“You ought to have secured Capitan Tiago’s, which Señor Pelaez got for +nothing.” + +Simoun became silent, and from that time on he was often seen in the +store of Don Timoteo Pelaez, with whom it was said he had entered into +partnership. Some weeks afterward, in the month of April, it was +rumored that Juanito Pelaez, Don Timoteo’s son, was going to marry +Paulita Gomez, the girl coveted by Spaniards and foreigners. + +“Some men are lucky!” exclaimed other envious merchants. “To buy a +house for nothing, sell his consignment of galvanized iron well, get +into partnership with a Simoun, and marry his son to a rich +heiress—just say if those aren’t strokes of luck that all honorable men +don’t have!” + +“If you only knew whence came that luck of Señor Pelaez’s!” another +responded, in a tone which indicated that the speaker did know. “It’s +also assured that there’ll be a fiesta and on a grand scale,” was added +with mystery. + +It was really true that Paulita was going to marry Juanito Pelaez. Her +love for Isagani had gradually waned, like all first loves based on +poetry and sentiment. The events of the pasquinades and the +imprisonment of the youth had shorn him of all his charms. To whom +would it have occurred to seek danger, to desire to share the fate of +his comrades, to surrender himself, when every one was hiding and +denying any complicity in the affair? It was quixotic, it was madness +that no sensible person in Manila could pardon, and Juanito was quite +right in ridiculing him, representing what a sorry figure he cut when +he went to the Civil Government. Naturally, the brilliant Paulita could +no longer love a young man who so erroneously understood social matters +and whom all condemned. Then she began to reflect. Juanito was clever, +capable, gay, shrewd, the son of a rich merchant of Manila, and a +Spanish mestizo besides—if Don Timoteo was to be believed, a +full-blooded Spaniard. On the other hand, Isagani was a provincial +native who dreamed of forests infested with leeches, he was of doubtful +family, with a priest for an uncle, who would perhaps be an enemy to +luxury and balls, of which she was very fond. One beautiful morning +therefore it occurred to her that she had been a downright fool to +prefer him to his rival, and from that time on Pelaez’s hump steadily +increased. Unconsciously, yet rigorously, Paulita was obeying the law +discovered by Darwin, that the female surrenders herself to the fittest +male, to him who knows how to adapt himself to the medium in which he +lives, and to live in Manila there was no other like Pelaez, who from +his infancy had had chicanery at his finger-tips. Lent passed with its +Holy Week, its array of processions and pompous displays, without other +novelty than a mysterious mutiny among the artillerymen, the cause of +which was never disclosed. The houses of light materials were torn down +in the presence of a troop of cavalry, ready to fall upon the owners in +case they should offer resistance. There was a great deal of weeping +and many lamentations, but the affair did not get beyond that. The +curious, among them Simoun, went to see those who were left homeless, +walking about indifferently and assuring each other that thenceforward +they could sleep in peace. + +Towards the end of April, all the fears being now forgotten, Manila was +engrossed with one topic: the fiesta that Don Timoteo Pelaez was going +to celebrate at the wedding of his son, for which the General had +graciously and condescendingly agreed to be the patron. Simoun was +reported to have arranged the matter. The ceremony would be solemnized +two days before the departure of the General, who would honor the house +and make a present to the bridegroom. It was whispered that the jeweler +would pour out cascades of diamonds and throw away handfuls of pearls +in honor of his partner’s son, thus, since he could hold no fiesta of +his own, as he was a bachelor and had no house, improving the +opportunity to dazzle the Filipino people with a memorable farewell. +All Manila prepared to be invited, and never did uneasiness take +stronger hold of the mind than in view of the thought of not being +among those bidden. Friendship with Simoun became a matter of dispute, +and many husbands were forced by their wives to purchase bars of steel +and sheets of galvanized iron in order to make friends with Don Timoteo +Pelaez. + + + + + + + + +CHAPTER XXXIII + +LA ULTIMA RAZÓN [69] + + +At last the great day arrived. During the morning Simoun had not left +his house, busied as he was in packing his arms and his jewels. His +fabulous wealth was already locked up in the big steel chest with its +canvas cover, there remaining only a few cases containing bracelets and +pins, doubtless gifts that he meant to make. He was going to leave with +the Captain-General, who cared in no way to lengthen his stay, fearful +of what people would say. Malicious ones insinuated that Simoun did not +dare remain alone, since without the General’s support he did not care +to expose himself to the vengeance of the many wretches he had +exploited, all the more reason for which was the fact that the General +who was coming was reported to be a model of rectitude and might make +him disgorge his gains. The superstitious Indians, on the other hand, +believed that Simoun was the devil who did not wish to separate himself +from his prey. The pessimists winked maliciously and said, “The field +laid waste, the locust leaves for other parts!” Only a few, a very few, +smiled and said nothing. + +In the afternoon Simoun had given orders to his servant that if there +appeared a young man calling himself Basilio he should be admitted at +once. Then he shut himself up in his room and seemed to become lost in +deep thought. Since his illness the jeweler’s countenance had become +harder and gloomier, while the wrinkles between his eyebrows had +deepened greatly. He did not hold himself so erect as formerly, and his +head was bowed. + +So absorbed was he in his meditations that he did not hear a knock at +the door, and it had to be repeated. He shuddered and called out, “Come +in!” + +It was Basilio, but how altered! If the change that had taken place in +Simoun during those two months was great, in the young student it was +frightful. His cheeks were hollow, his hair unkempt, his clothing +disordered. The tender melancholy had disappeared from his eyes, and in +its place glittered a dark light, so that it might be said that he had +died and his corpse had revived, horrified with what it had seen in +eternity. If not crime, then the shadow of crime, had fixed itself upon +his whole appearance. Simoun himself was startled and felt pity for the +wretch. + +Without any greeting Basilio slowly advanced into the room, and in a +voice that made the jeweler shudder said to him, “Señor Simoun, I’ve +been a wicked son and a bad brother—I’ve overlooked the murder of one +and the tortures of the other, and God has chastised me! Now there +remains to me only one desire, and it is to return evil for evil, crime +for crime, violence for violence!” + +Simoun listened in silence, while Basilio continued; “Four months ago +you talked to me about your plans. I refused to take part in them, but +I did wrong, you have been right. Three months and a half ago the +revolution was on the point of breaking out, but I did not then care to +participate in it, and the movement failed. In payment for my conduct +I’ve been arrested and owe my liberty to your efforts only. You are +right and now I’ve come to say to you: put a weapon in my hand and let +the revolution come! I am ready to serve you, along with all the rest +of the unfortunates.” + +The cloud that had darkened Simoun’s brow suddenly disappeared, a ray +of triumph darted from his eyes, and like one who has found what he +sought he exclaimed: “I’m right, yes, I’m right! Right and Justice are +on my side, because my cause is that of the persecuted. Thanks, young +man, thanks! You’ve come to clear away my doubts, to end my +hesitation.” + +He had risen and his face was beaming. The zeal that had animated him +when four months before he had explained his plans to Basilio in the +wood of his ancestors reappeared in his countenance like a red sunset +after a cloudy day. + +“Yes,” he resumed, “the movement failed and many have deserted me +because they saw me disheartened and wavering at the supreme moment. I +still cherished something in my heart, I was not the master of all my +feelings, I still loved! Now everything is dead in me, no longer is +there even a corpse sacred enough for me to respect its sleep. No +longer will there be any vacillation, for you yourself, an idealistic +youth, a gentle dove, understand the necessity and come to spur me to +action. Somewhat late you have opened your eyes, for between you and me +together we might have executed marvelous plans, I above in the higher +circles spreading death amid perfume and gold, brutalizing the vicious +and corrupting or paralyzing the few good, and you below among the +people, among the young men, stirring them to life amid blood and +tears. Our task, instead of being bloody and barbarous, would have been +holy, perfect, artistic, and surely success would have crowned our +efforts. But no intelligence would support me, I encountered fear or +effeminacy among the enlightened classes, selfishness among the rich, +simplicity among the youth, and only in the mountains, in the waste +places, among the outcasts, have I found my men. But no matter now! If +we can’t get a finished statue, rounded out in all its details, of the +rough block we work upon let those to come take charge!” + +Seizing the arm of Basilio, who was listening without comprehending all +he said, he led him to the laboratory where he kept his chemical +mixtures. Upon the table was placed a large case made of dark shagreen, +similar to those that hold the silver plate exchanged as gifts among +the rich and powerful. Opening this, Simoun revealed to sight, upon a +bottom of red satin, a lamp of very peculiar shape, Its body was in the +form of a pomegranate as large as a man’s head, with fissures in it +exposing to view the seeds inside, which were fashioned of enormous +carnelians. The covering was of oxidized gold in exact imitation of the +wrinkles on the fruit. + +Simoun took it out with great care and, removing the burner, exposed to +view the interior of the tank, which was lined with steel two +centimeters in thickness and which had a capacity of over a liter. +Basilio questioned him with his eyes, for as yet he comprehended +nothing. Without entering upon explanations, Simoun carefully took from +a cabinet a flask and showed the young man the formula written upon it. + +“Nitro-glycerin!” murmured Basilio, stepping backward and instinctively +thrusting his hands behind him. “Nitro-glycerin! Dynamite!” Beginning +now to understand, he felt his hair stand on end. + +“Yes, nitro-glycerin!” repeated Simoun slowly, with his cold smile and +a look of delight at the glass flask. “It’s also something more than +nitro-glycerin—it’s concentrated tears, repressed hatred, wrongs, +injustice, outrage. It’s the last resort of the weak, force against +force, violence against violence. A moment ago I was hesitating, but +you have come and decided me. This night the most dangerous tyrants +will be blown to pieces, the irresponsible rulers that hide themselves +behind God and the State, whose abuses remain unpunished because no one +can bring them to justice. This night the Philippines will hear the +explosion that will convert into rubbish the formless monument whose +decay I have fostered.” + +Basilio was so terrified that his lips worked without producing any +sound, his tongue was paralyzed, his throat parched. For the first time +he was looking at the powerful liquid which he had heard talked of as a +thing distilled in gloom by gloomy men, in open war against society. +Now he had it before him, transparent and slightly yellowish, poured +with great caution into the artistic pomegranate. Simoun looked to him +like the jinnee of the Arabian Nights that sprang from the sea, he took +on gigantic proportions, his head touched the sky, he made the house +tremble and shook the whole city with a shrug of his shoulders. The +pomegranate assumed the form of a colossal sphere, the fissures became +hellish grins whence escaped names and glowing cinders. For the first +time in his life Basilio was overcome with fright and completely lost +his composure. + +Simoun, meanwhile, screwed on solidly a curious and complicated +mechanism, put in place a glass chimney, then the bomb, and crowned the +whole with an elegant shade. Then he moved away some distance to +contemplate the effect, inclining his head now to one side, now to the +other, thus better to appreciate its magnificent appearance. + +Noticing that Basilio was watching him with questioning and suspicious +eyes, he said, “Tonight there will be a fiesta and this lamp will be +placed in a little dining-kiosk that I’ve had constructed for the +purpose. The lamp will give a brilliant light, bright enough to suffice +for the illumination of the whole place by itself, but at the end of +twenty minutes the light will fade, and then when some one tries to +turn up the wick a cap of fulminate of mercury will explode, the +pomegranate will blow up and with it the dining-room, in the roof and +floor of which I have concealed sacks of powder, so that no one shall +escape.” + +There wras a moment’s silence, while Simoun stared at his mechanism and +Basilio scarcely breathed. + +“So my assistance is not needed,” observed the young man. + +“No, you have another mission to fulfill,” replied Simoun thoughtfully. +“At nine the mechanism will have exploded and the report will have been +heard in the country round, in the mountains, in the caves. The +uprising that I had arranged with the artillerymen was a failure from +lack of plan and timeliness, but this time it won’t be so. Upon hearing +the explosion, the wretched and the oppressed, those who wander about +pursued by force, will sally forth armed to join Cabesang Tales in +Santa Mesa, whence they will fall upon the city, [70] while the +soldiers, whom I have made to believe that the General is shamming an +insurrection in order to remain, will issue from their barracks ready +to fire upon whomsoever I may designate. Meanwhile, the cowed populace, +thinking that the hour of massacre has come, will rush out prepared to +kill or be killed, and as they have neither arms nor organization, you +with some others will put yourself at their head and direct them to the +warehouses of Quiroga, where I keep my rifles. Cabesang Tales and I +will join one another in the city and take possession of it, while you +in the suburbs will seize the bridges and throw up barricades, and then +be ready to come to our aid to butcher not only those opposing the +revolution but also every man who refuses to take up arms and join us.” + +“All?” stammered Basilio in a choking voice. + +“All!” repeated Simoun in a sinister tone. “All—Indians, mestizos, +Chinese, Spaniards, all who are found to be without courage, without +energy. The race must be renewed! Cowardly fathers will only breed +slavish sons, and it wouldn’t be worth while to destroy and then try to +rebuild with rotten materials. What, do you shudder? Do you tremble, do +you fear to scatter death? What is death? What does a hecatomb of +twenty thousand wretches signify? Twenty thousand miseries less, and +millions of wretches saved from birth! The most timid ruler does not +hesitate to dictate a law that produces misery and lingering death for +thousands and thousands of prosperous and industrious subjects, happy +perchance, merely to satisfy a caprice, a whim, his pride, and yet you +shudder because in one night are to be ended forever the mental +tortures of many helots, because a vitiated and paralytic people has to +die to give place to another, young, active, full of energy! + +“What is death? Nothingness, or a dream? Can its specters be compared +to the reality of the agonies of a whole miserable generation? The +needful thing is to destroy the evil, to kill the dragon and bathe the +new people in the blood, in order to make it strong and invulnerable. +What else is the inexorable law of Nature, the law of strife in which +the weak has to succumb so that the vitiated species be not perpetuated +and creation thus travel backwards? Away then with effeminate scruples! +Fulfill the eternal laws, foster them, and then the earth will be so +much the more fecund the more it is fertilized with blood, and the +thrones the more solid the more they rest upon crimes and corpses. Let +there be no hesitation, no doubtings! What is the pain of death? A +momentary sensation, perhaps confused, perhaps agreeable, like the +transition from waking to sleep. What is it that is being destroyed? +Evil, suffering—feeble weeds, in order to set in their place luxuriant +plants. Do you call that destruction? I should call it creating, +producing, nourishing, vivifying!” + +Such bloody sophisms, uttered with conviction and coolness, overwhelmed +the youth, weakened as he was by more than three months in prison and +blinded by his passion for revenge, so he was not in a mood to analyze +the moral basis of the matter. Instead of replying that the worst and +cowardliest of men is always something more than a plant, because he +has a soul and an intelligence, which, however vitiated and brutalized +they may be, can be redeemed; instead of replying that man has no right +to dispose of one life for the benefit of another, that the right to +life is inherent in every individual like the right to liberty and to +light; instead of replying that if it is an abuse on the part of +governments to punish in a culprit the faults and crimes to which they +have driven him by their own negligence or stupidity, how much more so +would it be in a man, however great and however unfortunate he might +be, to punish in a wretched people the faults of its governments and +its ancestors; instead of declaring that God alone can use such +methods, that God can destroy because He can create, God who holds in +His hands recompense, eternity, and the future, to justify His acts, +and man never; instead of these reflections, Basilio merely interposed +a cant reflection. + +“What will the world say at the sight of such butchery?” + +“The world will applaud, as usual, conceding the right of the +strongest, the most violent!” replied Simoun with his cruel smile. +“Europe applauded when the western nations sacrificed millions of +Indians in America, and not by any means to found nations much more +moral or more pacific: there is the North with its egotistic liberty, +its lynch-law, its political frauds—the South with its turbulent +republics, its barbarous revolutions, civil wars, pronunciamientos, as +in its mother Spain! Europe applauded when the powerful Portugal +despoiled the Moluccas, it applauds while England is destroying the +primitive races in the Pacific to make room for its emigrants. Europe +will applaud as the end of a drama, the close of a tragedy, is +applauded, for the vulgar do not fix their attention on principles, +they look only at results. Commit the crime well, and you will be +admired and have more partizans than if you had carried out virtuous +actions with modesty and timidity.” + +“Exactly,” rejoined the youth, “what does it matter to me, after all, +whether they praise or censure, when this world takes no care of the +oppressed, of the poor, and of weak womankind? What obligations have I +to recognize toward society when it has recognized none toward me?” + +“That’s what I like to hear,” declared the tempter triumphantly. He +took a revolver from a case and gave it to Basilio, saying, “At ten +o’clock wait for me in front of the church of St. Sebastian to receive +my final instructions. Ah, at nine you must be far, very far from Calle +Anloague.” + +Basilio examined the weapon, loaded it, and placed it in the inside +pocket of his coat, then took his leave with a curt, “I’ll see you +later.” + + + + + + + + +CHAPTER XXXIV + +THE WEDDING + + +Once in the street, Basilio began to consider how he might spend the +time until the fatal hour arrived, for it was then not later than seven +o’clock. It was the vacation period and all the students were back in +their towns, Isagani being the only one who had not cared to leave, but +he had disappeared that morning and no one knew his whereabouts—so +Basilio had been informed when after leaving the prison he had gone to +visit his friend and ask him for lodging. The young man did not know +where to go, for he had no money, nothing but the revolver. The memory +of the lamp filled his imagination, the great catastrophe that would +occur within two hours. Pondering over this, he seemed to see the men +who passed before his eyes walking without heads, and he felt a thrill +of ferocious joy in telling himself that, hungry and destitute, he that +night was going to be dreaded, that from a poor student and servant, +perhaps the sun would see him transformed into some one terrible and +sinister, standing upon pyramids of corpses, dictating laws to all +those who were passing before his gaze now in magnificent carriages. He +laughed like one condemned to death and patted the butt of the +revolver. The boxes of cartridges were also in his pockets. + +A question suddenly occurred to him—where would the drama begin? In his +bewilderment he had not thought of asking Simoun, but the latter had +warned him to keep away from Calle Anloague. Then came a suspicion: +that afternoon, upon leaving the prison, he had proceeded to the former +house of Capitan Tiago to get his few personal effects and had found it +transformed, prepared for a fiesta—the wedding of Juanito Pelaez! +Simoun had spoken of a fiesta. + +At this moment he noticed passing in front of him a long line of +carriages filled with ladies and gentlemen, conversing in a lively +manner, and he even thought he could make out big bouquets of flowers, +but he gave the detail no thought. The carriages were going toward +Calle Rosario and in meeting those that came down off the Bridge of +Spain had to move along slowly and stop frequently. In one he saw +Juanito Pelaez at the side of a woman dressed in white with a +transparent veil, in whom he recognized Paulita Gomez. + +“Paulita!” he ejaculated in surprise, realizing that it was indeed she, +in a bridal gown, along with Juanito Pelaez, as though they were just +coming from the church. “Poor Isagani!” he murmured, “what can have +become of him?” + +He thought for a while about his friend, a great and generous soul, and +mentally asked himself if it would not be well to tell him about the +plan, then answered himself that Isagani would never take part in such +a butchery. They had not treated Isagani as they had him. + +Then he thought that had there been no imprisonment, he would have been +betrothed, or a husband, at this time, a licentiate in medicine, living +and working in some corner of his province. The ghost of Juli, crushed +in her fall, crossed his mind, and dark flames of hatred lighted his +eyes; again he caressed the butt of the revolver, regretting that the +terrible hour had not yet come. Just then he saw Simoun come out of the +door of his house, carrying in his hands the case containing the lamp, +carefully wrapped up, and enter a carriage, which then followed those +bearing the bridal party. In order not to lose track of Simoun, Basilio +took a good look at the cochero and with astonishment recognized in him +the wretch who had driven him to San Diego, Sinong, the fellow +maltreated by the Civil Guard, the same who had come to the prison to +tell him about the occurrences in Tiani. + +Conjecturing that Calle Anloague was to be the scene of action, thither +the youth directed his steps, hurrying forward and getting ahead of the +carriages, which were, in fact, all moving toward the former house of +Capitan Tiago—there they were assembling in search of a ball, but +actually to dance in the air! Basilio smiled when he noticed the pairs +of civil-guards who formed the escort, and from their number he could +guess the importance of the fiesta and the guests. The house overflowed +with people and poured floods of light from its windows, the entrance +was carpeted and strewn with flowers. Upstairs there, perhaps in his +former solitary room, an orchestra was playing lively airs, which did +not completely drown the confused tumult of talk and laughter. + +Don Timoteo Pelaez was reaching the pinnacle of fortune, and the +reality surpassed his dreams. He was, at last, marrying his son to the +rich Gomez heiress, and, thanks to the money Simoun had lent him, he +had royally furnished that big house, purchased for half its value, and +was giving in it a splendid fiesta, with the foremost divinities of the +Manila Olympus for his guests, to gild him with the light of their +prestige. Since that morning there had been recurring to him, with the +persistence of a popular song, some vague phrases that he had read in +the communion service. “Now has the fortunate hour come! Now draws nigh +the happy moment! Soon there will be fulfilled in you the admirable +words of Simoun—‘I live, and yet not I alone, but the Captain-General +liveth in me.’” The Captain-General the patron of his son! True, he had +not attended the ceremony, where Don Custodio had represented him, but +he would come to dine, he would bring a wedding-gift, a lamp which not +even Aladdin’s—between you and me, Simoun was presenting the lamp. +Timoteo, what more could you desire? + +The transformation that Capitan Tiago’s house had undergone was +considerable—it had been richly repapered, while the smoke and the +smell of opium had been completely eradicated. The immense sala, +widened still more by the colossal mirrors that infinitely multiplied +the lights of the chandeliers, was carpeted throughout, for the salons +of Europe had carpets, and even though the floor was of wide boards +brilliantly polished, a carpet it must have too, since nothing should +be lacking. The rich furniture of Capitan Tiago had disappeared and in +its place was to be seen another kind, in the style of Louis XV. Heavy +curtains of red velvet, trimmed with gold, with the initials of the +bridal couple worked on them, and upheld by garlands of artificial +orange-blossoms, hung as portières and swept the floor with their wide +fringes, likewise of gold. In the corners appeared enormous Japanese +vases, alternating with those of Sèvres of a clear dark-blue, placed +upon square pedestals of carved wood. + +The only decorations not in good taste were the screaming chromos which +Don Timoteo had substituted for the old drawings and pictures of saints +of Capitan Tiago. Simoun had been unable to dissuade him, for the +merchant did not want oil-paintings—some one might ascribe them to +Filipino artists! He, a patron of Filipino artists, never! On that +point depended his peace of mind and perhaps his life, and he knew how +to get along in the Philippines! It is true that he had heard foreign +painters mentioned—Raphael, Murillo, Velasquez—but he did not know +their addresses, and then they might prove to be somewhat seditious. +With the chromos he ran no risk, as the Filipinos did not make them, +they came cheaper, the effect was the same, if not better, the colors +brighter and the execution very fine. Don’t say that Don Timoteo did +not know how to comport himself in the Philippines! + +The large hallway was decorated with flowers, having been converted +into a dining-room, with a long table for thirty persons in the center, +and around the sides, pushed against the walls, other smaller ones for +two or three persons each. Bouquets of flowers, pyramids of fruits +among ribbons and lights, covered their centers. The groom’s place was +designated by a bunch of roses and the bride’s by another of +orange-blossoms and tuberoses. In the presence of so much finery and +flowers one could imagine that nymphs in gauzy garments and Cupids with +iridescent wings were going to serve nectar and ambrosia to aerial +guests, to the sound of lyres and Aeolian harps. + +But the table for the greater gods was not there, being placed yonder +in the middle of the wide azotea within a magnificent kiosk constructed +especially for the occasion. A lattice of gilded wood over which +clambered fragrant vines screened the interior from the eyes of the +vulgar without impeding the free circulation of air to preserve the +coolness necessary at that season. A raised platform lifted the table +above the level of the others at which the ordinary mortals were going +to dine and an arch decorated by the best artists would protect the +august heads from the jealous gaze of the stars. + +On this table were laid only seven plates. The dishes were of solid +silver, the cloth and napkins of the finest linen, the wines the most +costly and exquisite. Don Timoteo had sought the most rare and +expensive in everything, nor would he have hesitated at crime had he +been assured that the Captain-General liked to eat human flesh. + + + + + + + + +CHAPTER XXXV + +THE FIESTA + + “Danzar sobre un volcán.” + + +By seven in the evening the guests had begun to arrive: first, the +lesser divinities, petty government officials, clerks, and merchants, +with the most ceremonious greetings and the gravest airs at the start, +as if they were parvenus, for so much light, so many decorations, and +so much glassware had some effect. Afterwards, they began to be more at +ease, shaking their fists playfully, with pats on the shoulders, and +even familiar slaps on the back. Some, it is true, adopted a rather +disdainful air, to let it be seen that they were accustomed to better +things—of course they were! There was one goddess who yawned, for she +found everything vulgar and even remarked that she was ravenously +hungry, while another quarreled with her god, threatening to box his +ears. + +Don Timoteo bowed here and bowed there, scattered his best smiles, +tightened his belt, stepped backward, turned halfway round, then +completely around, and so on again and again, until one goddess could +not refrain from remarking to her neighbor, under cover of her fan: “My +dear, how important the old man is! Doesn’t he look like a +jumping-jack?” + +Later came the bridal couple, escorted by Doña Victorina and the rest +of the party. Congratulations, hand-shakings, patronizing pats for the +groom: for the bride, insistent stares and anatomical observations on +the part of the men, with analyses of her gown, her toilette, +speculations as to her health and strength on the part of the women. + +“Cupid and Psyche appearing on Olympus,” thought Ben-Zayb, making a +mental note of the comparison to spring it at some better opportunity. +The groom had in fact the mischievous features of the god of love, and +with a little good-will his hump, which the severity of his frock coat +did not altogether conceal, could be taken for a quiver. + +Don Timoteo began to feel his belt squeezing him, the corns on his feet +began to ache, his neck became tired, but still the General had not +come. The greater gods, among them Padre Irene and Padre Salvi, had +already arrived, it was true, but the chief thunderer was still +lacking. The poor man became uneasy, nervous; his heart beat violently, +but still he had to bow and smile; he sat down, he arose, failed to +hear what was said to him, did not say what he meant. In the meantime, +an amateur god made remarks to him about his chromos, criticizing them +with the statement that they spoiled the walls. + +“Spoil the walls!” repeated Don Timoteo, with a smile and a desire to +choke him. “But they were made in Europe and are the most costly I +could get in Manila! Spoil the walls!” Don Timoteo swore to himself +that on the very next day he would present for payment all the chits +that the critic had signed in his store. + +Whistles resounded, the galloping of horses was heard—at last! “The +General! The Captain-General!” + +Pale with emotion, Don Timoteo, dissembling the pain of his corns and +accompanied by his son and some of the greater gods, descended to +receive the Mighty Jove. The pain at his belt vanished before the +doubts that now assailed him: should he frame a smile or affect +gravity; should he extend his hand or wait for the General to offer +his? Carambas! Why had nothing of this occurred to him before, so that +he might have consulted his good friend Simoun? + +To conceal his agitation, he whispered to his son in a low, shaky +voice, “Have you a speech prepared?” + +“Speeches are no longer in vogue, papa, especially on such an occasion +as this.” + +Jupiter arrived in the company of Juno, who was converted into a tower +of artificial lights—with diamonds in her hair, diamonds around her +neck, on her arms, on her shoulders, she was literally covered with +diamonds. She was arrayed in a magnificent silk gown having a long +train decorated with embossed flowers. + +His Excellency literally took possession of the house, as Don Timoteo +stammeringly begged him to do. [71] The orchestra played the royal +march while the divine couple majestically ascended the carpeted +stairway. + +Nor was his Excellency’s gravity altogether affected. Perhaps for the +first time since his arrival in the islands he felt sad, a strain of +melancholy tinged his thoughts. This was the last triumph of his three +years of government, and within two days he would descend forever from +such an exalted height. What was he leaving behind? His Excellency did +not care to turn his head backwards, but preferred to look ahead, to +gaze into the future. Although he was carrying away a fortune, large +sums to his credit were awaiting him in European banks, and he had +residences, yet he had injured many, he had made enemies at the Court, +the high official was waiting for him there. Other Generals had +enriched themselves as rapidly as he, and now they were ruined. Why not +stay longer, as Simoun had advised him to do? No, good taste before +everything else. The bows, moreover, were not now so profound as +before, he noticed insistent stares and even looks of dislike, but +still he replied affably and even attempted to smile. + +“It’s plain that the sun is setting,” observed Padre Irene in +Ben-Zayb’s ear. “Many now stare him in the face.” + +The devil with the curate—that was just what he was going to remark! + +“My dear,” murmured into the ear of a neighbor the lady who had +referred to Don Timoteo as a jumping-jack, “did you ever see such a +skirt?” + +“Ugh, the curtains from the Palace!” + +“You don’t say! But it’s true! They’re carrying everything away. You’ll +see how they make wraps out of the carpets.” + +“That only goes to show that she has talent and taste,” observed her +husband, reproving her with a look. “Women should be economical.” This +poor god was still suffering from the dressmaker’s bill. + +“My dear, give me curtains at twelve pesos a yard, and you’ll see if I +put on these rags!” retorted the goddess in pique. “Heavens! You can +talk when you have done something fine like that to give you the +right!” + +Meanwhile, Basilio stood before the house, lost in the throng of +curious spectators, counting those who alighted from their carriages. +When he looked upon so many persons, happy and confident, when he saw +the bride and groom followed by their train of fresh and innocent +little girls, and reflected that they were going to meet there a +horrible death, he was sorry and felt his hatred waning within him. He +wanted to save so many innocents, he thought of notifying the police, +but a carriage drove up to set down Padre Salvi and Padre Irene, both +beaming with content, and like a passing cloud his good intentions +vanished. “What does it matter to me?” he asked himself. “Let the +righteous suffer with the sinners.” + +Then he added, to silence his scruples: “I’m not an informer, I mustn’t +abuse the confidence he has placed in me. I owe him, him more than I do +them: he dug my mother’s grave, they killed her! What have I to do with +them? I did everything possible to be good and useful, I tried to +forgive and forget, I suffered every imposition, and only asked that +they leave me in peace. I got in no one’s way. What have they done to +me? Let their mangled limbs fly through the air! We’ve suffered +enough.” + +Then he saw Simoun alight with the terrible lamp in his hands, saw him +cross the entrance with bowed head, as though deep in thought. Basilio +felt his heart beat fainter, his feet and hands turn cold, while the +black silhouette of the jeweler assumed fantastic shapes enveloped in +flames. There at the foot of the stairway Simoun checked his steps, as +if in doubt, and Basilio held his breath. But the hesitation was +transient—Simoun raised his head, resolutely ascended the stairway, and +disappeared. + +It then seemed to the student that the house was going to blow up at +any moment, and that walls, lamps, guests, roof, windows, orchestra, +would be hurtling through the air like a handful of coals in the midst +of an infernal explosion. He gazed about him and fancied that he saw +corpses in place of idle spectators, he saw them torn to shreds, it +seemed to him that the air was filled with flames, but his calmer self +triumphed over this transient hallucination, which was due somewhat to +his hunger. + +“Until he comes out, there’s no danger,” he said to himself. “The +Captain-General hasn’t arrived yet.” + +He tried to appear calm and control the convulsive trembling in his +limbs, endeavoring to divert his thoughts to other things. Something +within was ridiculing him, saying, “If you tremble now, before the +supreme moment, how will you conduct yourself when you see blood +flowing, houses burning, and bullets whistling?” + +His Excellency arrived, but the young man paid no attention to him. He +was watching the face of Simoun, who was among those that descended to +receive him, and he read in that implacable countenance the sentence of +death for all those men, so that fresh terror seized upon him. He felt +cold, he leaned against the wall, and, with his eyes fixed on the +windows and his ears cocked, tried to guess what might be happening. In +the sala he saw the crowd surround Simoun to look at the lamp, he heard +congratulations and exclamations of admiration—the words “dining-room,” +“novelty,” were repeated many times—he saw the General smile and +conjectured that the novelty was to be exhibited that very night, by +the jeweler’s arrangement, on the table whereat his Excellency was to +dine. Simoun disappeared, followed by a crowd of admirers. + +At that supreme moment his good angel triumphed, he forgot his hatreds, +he forgot Juli, he wanted to save the innocent. Come what might, he +would cross the street and try to enter. But Basilio had forgotten that +he was miserably dressed. The porter stopped him and accosted him +roughly, and finally, upon his insisting, threatened to call the +police. + +Just then Simoun came down, slightly pale, and the porter turned from +Basilio to salute the jeweler as though he had been a saint passing. +Basilio realized from the expression of Simoun’s face that he was +leaving the fated house forever, that the lamp was lighted. Alea jacta +est! Seized by the instinct of self-preservation, he thought then of +saving himself. It might occur to any of the guests through curiosity +to tamper with the wick and then would come the explosion to overwhelm +them all. Still he heard Simoun say to the cochero, “The Escolta, +hurry!” + +Terrified, dreading that he might at any moment hear the awful +explosion, Basilio hurried as fast as his legs would carry him to get +away from the accursed spot, but his legs seemed to lack the necessary +agility, his feet slipped on the sidewalk as though they were moving +but not advancing. The people he met blocked the way, and before he had +gone twenty steps he thought that at least five minutes had elapsed. + +Some distance away he stumbled against a young man who was standing +with his head thrown back, gazing fixedly at the house, and in him he +recognized Isagani. “What are you doing here?” he demanded. “Come +away!” + +Isagani stared at him vaguely, smiled sadly, and again turned his gaze +toward the open balconies, across which was revealed the ethereal +silhouette of the bride clinging to the groom’s arm as they moved +slowly out of sight. + +“Come, Isagani, let’s get away from that house. Come!” Basilio urged in +a hoarse voice, catching his friend by the arm. + +Isagani gently shook himself free and continued to stare with the same +sad smile upon his lips. + +“For God’s sake, let’s get away from here!” + +“Why should I go away? Tomorrow it will not be she.” + +There was so much sorrow in those words that Basilio for a moment +forgot his own terror. “Do you want to die?” he demanded. + +Isagani shrugged his shoulders and continued to gaze toward the house. + +Basilio again tried to drag him away. “Isagani, Isagani, listen to me! +Let’s not waste any time! That house is mined, it’s going to blow up at +any moment, by the least imprudent act, the least curiosity! Isagani, +all will perish in its ruins.” + +“In its ruins?” echoed Isagani, as if trying to understand, but without +removing his gaze from the window. + +“Yes, in its ruins, yes, Isagani! For God’s sake, come! I’ll explain +afterwards. Come! One who has been more unfortunate than either you or +I has doomed them all. Do you see that white, clear light, like an +electric lamp, shining from the azotea? It’s the light of death! A lamp +charged with dynamite, in a mined dining-room, will burst and not a rat +will escape alive. Come!” + +“No,” answered Isagani, shaking his head sadly. “I want to stay here, I +want to see her for the last time. Tomorrow, you see, she will be +something different.” + +“Let fate have its way!” Basilio then exclaimed, hurrying away. + +Isagani watched his friend rush away with a precipitation that +indicated real terror, but continued to stare toward the charmed +window, like the cavalier of Toggenburg waiting for his sweetheart to +appear, as Schiller tells. Now the sala was deserted, all having +repaired to the dining-rooms, and it occurred to Isagani that Basilio’s +fears may have been well-founded. He recalled the terrified countenance +of him who was always so calm and composed, and it set him to thinking. + +Suddenly an idea appeared clear in his imagination—the house was going +to blow up and Paulita was there, Paulita was going to die a frightful +death. In the presence of this idea everything was forgotten: jealousy, +suffering, mental torture, and the generous youth thought only of his +love. Without reflecting, without hesitation, he ran toward the house, +and thanks to his stylish clothes and determined mien, easily secured +admittance. + +While these short scenes were occurring in the street, in the +dining-kiosk of the greater gods there was passed from hand to hand a +piece of parchment on which were written in red ink these fateful +words: + + + Mene, Tekel, Phares [72] + Juan Crisostomo Ibarra + + +“Juan Crisostomo Ibarra? Who is he?” asked his Excellency, handing the +paper to his neighbor. + +“A joke in very bad taste!” exclaimed Don Custodio. “To sign the name +of a filibuster dead more than ten years!” + +“A filibuster!” + +“It’s a seditious joke!” + +“There being ladies present—” + +Padre Irene looked around for the joker and saw Padre Salvi, who was +seated at the right of the Countess, turn as white as his napkin, while +he stared at the mysterious words with bulging eyes. The scene of the +sphinx recurred to him. + +“What’s the matter, Padre Salvi?” he asked. “Do you recognize your +friend’s signature?” + +Padre Salvi did not reply. He made an effort to speak and without being +conscious of what he was doing wiped his forehead with his napkin. + +“What has happened to your Reverence?” + +“It is his very handwriting!” was the whispered reply in a scarcely +perceptible voice. “It’s the very handwriting of Ibarra.” Leaning +against the back of his chair, he let his arms fall as though all +strength had deserted him. + +Uneasiness became converted into fright, they all stared at one another +without uttering a single word. His Excellency started to rise, but +apprehending that such a move would be ascribed to fear, controlled +himself and looked about him. There were no soldiers present, even the +waiters were unknown to him. + +“Let’s go on eating, gentlemen,” he exclaimed, “and pay no attention to +the joke.” But his voice, instead of reassuring, increased the general +uneasiness, for it trembled. + +“I don’t suppose that that Mene, Tekel, Phares, means that we’re to be +assassinated tonight?” speculated Don Custodio. + +All remained motionless, but when he added, “Yet they might poison us,” +they leaped up from their chairs. + +The light, meanwhile, had begun slowly to fade. “The lamp is going +out,” observed the General uneasily. “Will you turn up the wick, Padre +Irene?” + +But at that instant, with the swiftness of a flash of lightning, a +figure rushed in, overturning a chair and knocking a servant down, and +in the midst of the general surprise seized the lamp, rushed to the +azotea, and threw it into the river. The whole thing happened in a +second and the dining-kiosk was left in darkness. + +The lamp had already struck the water before the servants could cry +out, “Thief, thief!” and rush toward the azotea. “A revolver!” cried +one of them. “A revolver, quick! After the thief!” + +But the figure, more agile than they, had already mounted the +balustrade and before a light could be brought, precipitated itself +into the river, striking the water with a loud splash. + + + + + + + + +CHAPTER XXXVI + +BEN-ZAYB’S AFFLICTIONS + + +Immediately upon hearing of the incident, after lights had been brought +and the scarcely dignified attitudes of the startled gods revealed, +Ben-Zayb, filled with holy indignation, and with the approval of the +press-censor secured beforehand, hastened home—an entresol where he +lived in a mess with others—to write an article that would be the +sublimest ever penned under the skies of the Philippines. The +Captain-General would leave disconsolate if he did not first enjoy his +dithyrambs, and this Ben-Zayb, in his kindness of heart, could not +allow. Hence he sacrificed the dinner and ball, nor did he sleep that +night. + +Sonorous exclamations of horror, of indignation, to fancy that the +world was smashing to pieces and the stars, the eternal stars, were +clashing together! Then a mysterious introduction, filled with +allusions, veiled hints, then an account of the affair, and the final +peroration. He multiplied the flourishes and exhausted all his +euphemisms in describing the drooping shoulders and the tardy baptism +of salad his Excellency had received on his Olympian brow, he eulogized +the agility with which the General had recovered a vertical position, +placing his head where his legs had been, and vice versa, then intoned +a hymn to Providence for having so solicitously guarded those sacred +bones. The paragraph turned out to be so perfect that his Excellency +appeared as a hero, and fell higher, as Victor Hugo said. + +He wrote, erased, added, and polished, so that, without wanting in +veracity—this was his special merit as a journalist—the whole would be +an epic, grand for the seven gods, cowardly and base for the unknown +thief, “who had executed himself, terror-stricken, and in the very act +convinced of the enormity of his crime.” + +He explained Padre Irene’s act of plunging under the table as “an +impulse of innate valor, which the habit of a God of peace and +gentleness, worn throughout a whole life, had been unable to +extinguish,” for Padre Irene had tried to hurl himself upon the thief +and had taken a straight course along the submensal route. In passing, +he spoke of submarine passages, mentioned a project of Don Custodio’s, +called attention to the liberal education and wide travels of the +priest. Padre Salvi’s swoon was the excessive sorrow that took +possession of the virtuous Franciscan to see the little fruit borne +among the Indians by his pious sermons, while the immobility and fright +of the other guests, among them the Countess, who “sustained” Padre +Salvi (she grabbed him), were the serenity and sang-froid of heroes, +inured to danger in the performance of their duties, beside whom the +Roman senators surprised by the Gallic invaders were nervous +schoolgirls frightened at painted cockroaches. + +Afterwards, to form a contrast, the picture of the thief: fear, +madness, confusion, the fierce look, the distorted features, and—force +of moral superiority in the race—his religious awe to see assembled +there such august personages! Here came in opportunely a long +imprecation, a harangue, a diatribe against the perversion of good +customs, hence the necessity of a permanent military tribunal, “a +declaration of martial law within the limits already so declared, +special legislation, energetic and repressive, because it is in every +way needful, it is of imperative importance to impress upon the +malefactors and criminals that if the heart is generous and paternal +for those who are submissive and obedient to the law, the hand is +strong, firm, inexorable, hard, and severe for those who against all +reason fail to respect it and who insult the sacred institutions of the +fatherland. Yes, gentlemen, this is demanded not only for the welfare +of these islands, not only for the welfare of all mankind, but also in +the name of Spain, the honor of the Spanish name, the prestige of the +Iberian people, because before all things else Spaniards we are, and +the flag of Spain,” etc. + +He terminated the article with this farewell: “Go in peace, gallant +warrior, you who with expert hand have guided the destinies of this +country in such calamitous times! Go in peace to breathe the balmy +breezes of Manzanares! [73] We shall remain here like faithful +sentinels to venerate your memory, to admire your wise dispositions, to +avenge the infamous attempt upon your splendid gift, which we will +recover even if we have to dry up the seas! Such a precious relic will +be for this country an eternal monument to your splendor, your presence +of mind, your gallantry!” + +In this rather confused way he concluded the article and before dawn +sent it to the printing-office, of course with the censor’s permit. +Then he went to sleep like Napoleon, after he had arranged the plan for +the battle of Jena. + +But at dawn he was awakened to have the sheets of copy returned with a +note from the editor saying that his Excellency had positively and +severely forbidden any mention of the affair, and had further ordered +the denial of any versions and comments that might get abroad, +discrediting them as exaggerated rumors. + +To Ben-Zayb this blow was the murder of a beautiful and sturdy child, +born and nurtured with such great pain and fatigue. Where now hurl the +Catilinarian pride, the splendid exhibition of warlike crime-avenging +materials? And to think that within a month or two he was going to +leave the Philippines, and the article could not be published in Spain, +since how could he say those things about the criminals of Madrid, +where other ideas prevailed, where extenuating circumstances were +sought, where facts were weighed, where there were juries, and so on? +Articles such as his were like certain poisonous rums that are +manufactured in Europe, good enough to be sold among the negroes, good +for negroes, [74] with the difference that if the negroes did not drink +them they would not be destroyed, while Ben-Zayb’s articles, whether +the Filipinos read them or not, had their effect. + +“If only some other crime might be committed today or tomorrow,” he +mused. + +With the thought of that child dead before seeing the light, those +frozen buds, and feeling his eyes fill with tears, he dressed himself +to call upon the editor. But the editor shrugged his shoulders; his +Excellency had forbidden it because if it should be divulged that seven +of the greater gods had let themselves be surprised and robbed by a +nobody, while they brandished knives and forks, that would endanger the +integrity of the fatherland! So he had ordered that no search be made +for the lamp or the thief, and had recommended to his successors that +they should not run the risk of dining in any private house, without +being surrounded by halberdiers and guards. As those who knew anything +about the events that night in Don Timoteo’s house were for the most +part military officials and government employees, it was not difficult +to suppress the affair in public, for it concerned the integrity of the +fatherland. Before this name Ben-Zayb bowed his head heroically, +thinking about Abraham, Guzman El Bueno, [75] or at least, Brutus and +other heroes of antiquity. + +Such a sacrifice could not remain unrewarded, the gods of journalism +being pleased with Abraham Ben-Zayb. Almost upon the hour came the +reporting angel bearing the sacrificial lamb in the shape of an assault +committed at a country-house on the Pasig, where certain friars were +spending the heated season. Here was his opportunity and Ben-Zayb +praised his gods. + +“The robbers got over two thousand pesos, leaving badly wounded one +friar and two servants. The curate defended himself as well as he could +behind a chair, which was smashed in his hands.” + +“Wait, wait!” said Ben-Zayb, taking notes. “Forty or fifty outlaws +traitorously—revolvers, bolos, shotguns, pistols—lion at +bay—chair—splinters flying—barbarously wounded—ten thousand pesos!” + +So great was his enthusiasm that he was not content with mere reports, +but proceeded in person to the scene of the crime, composing on the +road a Homeric description of the fight. A harangue in the mouth of the +leader? A scornful defiance on the part of the priest? All the +metaphors and similes applied to his Excellency, Padre Irene, and Padre +Salvi would exactly fit the wounded friar and the description of the +thief would serve for each of the outlaws. The imprecation could be +expanded, since he could talk of religion, of the faith, of charity, of +the ringing of bells, of what the Indians owed to the friars, he could +get sentimental and melt into Castelarian [76] epigrams and lyric +periods. The señoritas of the city would read the article and murmur, +“Ben-Zayb, bold as a lion and tender as a lamb!” + +But when he reached the scene, to his great astonishment he learned +that the wounded friar was no other than Padre Camorra, sentenced by +his Provincial to expiate in the pleasant country-house on the banks of +the Pasig his pranks in Tiani. He had a slight scratch on his hand and +a bruise on his head received from flattening himself out on the floor. +The robbers numbered three or four, armed only with bolos, the sum +stolen fifty pesos! + +“It won’t do!” exclaimed Ben-Zayb. “Shut up! You don’t know what you’re +talking about.” + +“How don’t I know, puñales?” + +“Don’t be a fool—the robbers must have numbered more.” + +“You ink-slinger—” + +So they had quite an altercation. What chiefly concerned Ben-Zayb was +not to throw away the article, to give importance to the affair, so +that he could use the peroration. + +But a fearful rumor cut short their dispute. The robbers caught had +made some important revelations. One of the outlaws under Matanglawin +(Cabesang Tales) had made an appointment with them to join his band in +Santa Mesa, thence to sack the conventos and houses of the wealthy. +They would be guided by a Spaniard, tall and sunburnt, with white hair, +who said that he was acting under the orders of the General, whose +great friend he was, and they had been further assured that the +artillery and various regiments would join them, wherefore they were to +entertain no fear at all. The tulisanes would be pardoned and have a +third part of the booty assigned to them. The signal was to have been a +cannon-shot, but having waited for it in vain the tulisanes, thinking +themselves deceived, separated, some going back to their homes, some +returning to the mountains vowing vengeance on the Spaniard, who had +thus failed twice to keep his word. Then they, the robbers caught, had +decided to do something on their own account, attacking the +country-house that they found closest at hand, resolving religiously to +give two-thirds of the booty to the Spaniard with white hair, if +perchance he should call upon them for it. + +The description being recognized as that of Simoun, the declaration was +received as an absurdity and the robber subjected to all kinds of +tortures, including the electric machine, for his impious blasphemy. +But news of the disappearance of the jeweler having attracted the +attention of the whole Escolta, and the sacks of powder and great +quantities of cartridges having been discovered in his house, the story +began to wear an appearance of truth. Mystery began to enwrap the +affair, enveloping it in clouds; there were whispered conversations, +coughs, suspicious looks, suggestive comments, and trite second-hand +remarks. Those who were on the inside were unable to get over their +astonishment, they put on long faces, turned pale, and but little was +wanting for many persons to lose their minds in realizing certain +things that had before passed unnoticed. + +“We’ve had a narrow escape! Who would have said—” + +In the afternoon Ben-Zayb, his pockets filled with revolvers and +cartridges, went to see Don Custodio, whom he found hard at work over a +project against American jewelers. In a hushed voice he whispered +between the palms of his hands into the journalist’s ear mysterious +words. + +“Really?” questioned Ben-Zayb, slapping his hand on his pocket and +paling visibly. + +“Wherever he may be found—” The sentence was completed with an +expressive pantomime. Don Custodio raised both arms to the height of +his face, with the right more bent than the left, turned the palms of +his hands toward the floor, closed one eye, and made two movements in +advance. “Ssh! Ssh!” he hissed. + +“And the diamonds?” inquired Ben-Zayb. + +“If they find him—” He went through another pantomime with the fingers +of his right hand, spreading them out and clenching them together like +the closing of a fan, clutching out with them somewhat in the manner of +the wings of a wind-mill sweeping imaginary objects toward itself with +practised skill. Ben-Zayb responded with another pantomime, opening his +eyes wide, arching his eyebrows and sucking in his breath eagerly as +though nutritious air had just been discovered. + +“Sssh!” + + + + + + + + +CHAPTER XXXVII + +THE MYSTERY + + Todo se sabe + + +Notwithstanding so many precautions, rumors reached the public, even +though quite changed and mutilated. On the following night they were +the theme of comment in the house of Orenda, a rich jewel merchant in +the industrious district of Santa Cruz, and the numerous friends of the +family gave attention to nothing else. They were not indulging in +cards, or playing the piano, while little Tinay, the youngest of the +girls, became bored playing chongka by herself, without being able to +understand the interest awakened by assaults, conspiracies, and sacks +of powder, when there were in the seven holes so many beautiful cowries +that seemed to be winking at her in unison and smiled with their tiny +mouths half-opened, begging to be carried up to the home. Even Isagani, +who, when he came, always used to play with her and allow himself to be +beautifully cheated, did not come at her call, for Isagani was gloomily +and silently listening to something Chichoy the silversmith was +relating. Momoy, the betrothed of Sensia, the eldest of the daughters—a +pretty and vivacious girl, rather given to joking—had left the window +where he was accustomed to spend his evenings in amorous discourse, and +this action seemed to be very annoying to the lory whose cage hung from +the eaves there, the lory endeared to the house from its ability to +greet everybody in the morning with marvelous phrases of love. Capitana +Loleng, the energetic and intelligent Capitana Loleng, had her +account-book open before her, but she neither read nor wrote in it, nor +was her attention fixed on the trays of loose pearls, nor on the +diamonds—she had completely forgotten herself and was all ears. Her +husband himself, the great Capitan Toringoy,—a transformation of the +name Domingo,—the happiest man in the district, without other +occupation than to dress well, eat, loaf, and gossip, while his whole +family worked and toiled, had not gone to join his coterie, but was +listening between fear and emotion to the hair-raising news of the lank +Chichoy. + +Nor was reason for all this lacking. Chichoy had gone to deliver some +work for Don Timoteo Pelaez, a pair of earrings for the bride, at the +very time when they were tearing down the kiosk that on the previous +night had served as a dining-room for the foremost officials. Here +Chichoy turned pale and his hair stood on end. + +“Nakú!” he exclaimed, “sacks and sacks of powder, sacks of powder under +the floor, in the roof, under the table, under the chairs, everywhere! +It’s lucky none of the workmen were smoking.” + +“Who put those sacks of powder there?” asked Capitana Loleng, who was +brave and did not turn pale, as did the enamored Momoy. But Momoy had +attended the wedding, so his posthumous emotion can be appreciated: he +had been near the kiosk. + +“That’s what no one can explain,” replied Chichoy. “Who would have any +interest in breaking up the fiesta? There couldn’t have been more than +one, as the celebrated lawyer Señor Pasta who was there on a visit +declared—either an enemy of Don Timoteo’s or a rival of Juanito’s.” + +The Orenda girls turned instinctively toward Isagani, who smiled +silently. + +“Hide yourself,” Capitana Loleng advised him. “They may accuse you. +Hide!” + +Again Isagani smiled but said nothing. + +“Don Timoteo,” continued Chichoy, “did not know to whom to attribute +the deed. He himself superintended the work, he and his friend Simoun, +and nobody else. The house was thrown into an uproar, the lieutenant of +the guard came, and after enjoining secrecy upon everybody, they sent +me away. But—” + +“But—but—” stammered the trembling Momoy. + +“Nakú!” ejaculated Sensia, gazing at her fiancé and trembling +sympathetically to remember that he had been at the fiesta. “This young +man—If the house had blown up—” She stared at her sweetheart +passionately and admired his courage. + +“If it had blown up—” + +“No one in the whole of Calle Anloague would have been left alive,” +concluded Capitan Toringoy, feigning valor and indifference in the +presence of his family. + +“I left in consternation,” resumed Chichoy, “thinking about how, if a +mere spark, a cigarette had fallen, if a lamp had been overturned, at +the present moment we should have neither a General, nor an Archbishop, +nor any one, not even a government clerk! All who were at the fiesta +last night—annihilated!” + +“Vírgen Santísima! This young man—” + +“’Susmariosep!” exclaimed Capitana Loleng. “All our debtors were there, +’Susmariosep! And we have a house near there! Who could it have been?” + +“Now you may know about it,” added Chichoy in a whisper, “but you must +keep it a secret. This afternoon I met a friend, a clerk in an office, +and in talking about the affair, he gave me the clue to the mystery—he +had it from some government employees. Who do you suppose put the sacks +of powder there?” + +Many shrugged their shoulders, while Capitan Toringoy merely looked +askance at Isagani. + +“The friars?” + +“Quiroga the Chinaman?” + +“Some student?” + +“Makaraig?” + +Capitan Toringoy coughed and glanced at Isagani, while Chichoy shook +his head and smiled. + +“The jeweler Simoun.” + +“Simoun!!” + +The profound silence of amazement followed these words. Simoun, the +evil genius of the Captain-General, the rich trader to whose house they +had gone to buy unset gems, Simoun, who had received the Orenda girls +with great courtesy and had paid them fine compliments! For the very +reason that the story seemed absurd it was believed. “Credo quia +absurdum,” said St. Augustine. + +“But wasn’t Simoun at the fiesta last night?” asked Sensia. + +“Yes,” said Momoy. “But now I remember! He left the house just as we +were sitting down to the dinner. He went to get his wedding-gift.” + +“But wasn’t he a friend of the General’s? Wasn’t he a partner of Don +Timoteo’s?” + +“Yes, he made himself a partner in order to strike the blow and kill +all the Spaniards.” + +“Aha!” cried Sensia. “Now I understand!” + +“What?” + +“You didn’t want to believe Aunt Tentay. Simoun is the devil and he has +bought up the souls of all the Spaniards. Aunt Tentay said so!” + +Capitana Loleng crossed herself and looked uneasily toward the jewels, +fearing to see them turn into live coals, while Capitan Toringoy took +off the ring which had come from Simoun. + +“Simoun has disappeared without leaving any traces,” added Chichoy. +“The Civil Guard is searching for him.” + +“Yes,” observed Sensia, crossing herself, “searching for the devil.” + +Now many things were explained: Simoun’s fabulous wealth and the +peculiar smell in his house, the smell of sulphur. Binday, another of +the daughters, a frank and lovely girl, remembered having seen blue +flames in the jeweler’s house one afternoon when she and her mother had +gone there to buy jewels. Isagani listened attentively, but said +nothing. + +“So, last night—” ventured Momoy. + +“Last night?” echoed Sensia, between curiosity and fear. + +Momoy hesitated, but the face Sensia put on banished his fear. “Last +night, while we were eating, there was a disturbance, the light in the +General’s dining-room went out. They say that some unknown person stole +the lamp that was presented by Simoun.” + +“A thief? One of the Black Hand?” + +Isagani arose to walk back and forth. + +“Didn’t they catch him?” + +“He jumped into the river before anybody recognized him. Some say he +was a Spaniard, some a Chinaman, and others an Indian.” + +“It’s believed that with the lamp,” added Chichoy, “he was going to set +fire to the house, then the powder—” + +Momoy again shuddered but noticing that Sensia was watching him tried +to control himself. “What a pity!” he exclaimed with an effort. “How +wickedly the thief acted. Everybody would have been killed.” + +Sensia stared at him in fright, the women crossed themselves, while +Capitan Toringoy, who was afraid of politics, made a move to go away. + +Momoy turned to Isagani, who observed with an enigmatic smile: “It’s +always wicked to take what doesn’t belong to you. If that thief had +known what it was all about and had been able to reflect, surely he +wouldn’t have done as he did.” + +Then, after a pause, he added, “For nothing in the world would I want +to be in his place!” + +So they continued their comments and conjectures until an hour later, +when Isagani bade the family farewell, to return forever to his uncle’s +side. + + + + + + + + +CHAPTER XXXVIII + +FATALITY + + +Matanglawin was the terror of Luzon. His band had as lief appear in one +province where it was least expected as make a descent upon another +that was preparing to resist it. It burned a sugar-mill in Batangas and +destroyed the crops, on the following day it murdered the Justice of +the Peace of Tiani, and on the next took possession of the town of +Cavite, carrying off the arms from the town hall. The central +provinces, from Tayabas to Pangasinan, suffered from his depredations, +and his bloody name extended from Albay in the south to Kagayan in the +north. The towns, disarmed through mistrust on the part of a weak +government, fell easy prey into his hands—at his approach the fields +were abandoned by the farmers, the herds were scattered, while a trail +of blood and fire marked his passage. Matanglawin laughed at the severe +measures ordered by the government against the tulisanes, since from +them only the people in the outlying villages suffered, being captured +and maltreated if they resisted the band, and if they made peace with +it being flogged and deported by the government, provided they +completed the journey and did not meet with a fatal accident on the +way. Thanks to these terrible alternatives many of the country folk +decided to enlist under his command. + +As a result of this reign of terror, trade among the towns, already +languishing, died out completely. The rich dared not travel, and the +poor feared to be arrested by the Civil Guard, which, being under +obligation to pursue the tulisanes, often seized the first person +encountered and subjected him to unspeakable tortures. In its +impotence, the government put on a show of energy toward the persons +whom it suspected, in order that by force of cruelty the people should +not realize its weakness—the fear that prompted such measures. + +A string of these hapless suspects, some six or seven, with their arms +tied behind them, bound together like a bunch of human meat, was one +afternoon marching through the excessive heat along a road that skirted +a mountain, escorted by ten or twelve guards armed with rifles. Their +bayonets gleamed in the sun, the barrels of their rifles became hot, +and even the sage-leaves in their helmets scarcely served to temper the +effect of the deadly May sun. + +Deprived of the use of their arms and pressed close against one another +to save rope, the prisoners moved along almost uncovered and unshod, he +being the best off who had a handkerchief twisted around his head. +Panting, suffering, covered with dust which perspiration converted into +mud, they felt their brains melting, they saw lights dancing before +them, red spots floating in the air. Exhaustion and dejection were +pictured in their faces, desperation, wrath, something indescribable, +the look of one who dies cursing, of a man who is weary of life, who +hates himself, who blasphemes against God. The strongest lowered their +heads to rub their faces against the dusky backs of those in front of +them and thus wipe away the sweat that was blinding them. Many were +limping, but if any one of them happened to fall and thus delay the +march he would hear a curse as a soldier ran up brandishing a branch +torn from a tree and forced him to rise by striking about in all +directions. The string then started to run, dragging, rolling in the +dust, the fallen one, who howled and begged to be killed; but perchance +he succeeded in getting on his feet and then went along crying like a +child and cursing the hour he was born. + +The human cluster halted at times while the guards drank, and then the +prisoners continued on their way with parched mouths, darkened brains, +and hearts full of curses. Thirst was for these wretches the least of +their troubles. + +“Move on, you sons of ——!” cried a soldier, again refreshed, hurling +the insult common among the lower classes of Filipinos. + +The branch whistled and fell on any shoulder whatsoever, the nearest +one, or at times upon a face to leave a welt at first white, then red, +and later dirty with the dust of the road. + +“Move on, you cowards!” at times a voice yelled in Spanish, deepening +its tone. + +“Cowards!” repeated the mountain echoes. + +Then the cowards quickened their pace under a sky of red-hot iron, over +a burning road, lashed by the knotty branch which was worn into shreds +on their livid skins. A Siberian winter would perhaps be tenderer than +the May sun of the Philippines. + +Yet, among the soldiers there was one who looked with disapproving eyes +upon so much wanton cruelty, as he marched along silently with his +brows knit in disgust. At length, seeing that the guard, not satisfied +with the branch, was kicking the prisoners that fell, he could no +longer restrain himself but cried out impatiently, “Here, Mautang, let +them alone!” + +Mautang turned toward him in surprise. “What’s it to you, Carolino?” he +asked. + +“To me, nothing, but it hurts me,” replied Carolino. “They’re men like +ourselves.” + +“It’s plain that you’re new to the business!” retorted Mautang with a +compassionate smile. “How did you treat the prisoners in the war?” + +“With more consideration, surely!” answered Carolino. + +Mautang remained silent for a moment and then, apparently having +discovered the reason, calmly rejoined, “Ah, it’s because they are +enemies and fight us, while these—these are our own countrymen.” + +Then drawing nearer to Carolino he whispered, “How stupid you are! +They’re treated so in order that they may attempt to resist or to +escape, and then—bang!” + +Carolino made no reply. + +One of the prisoners then begged that they let him stop for a moment. + +“This is a dangerous place,” answered the corporal, gazing uneasily +toward the mountain. “Move on!” + +“Move on!” echoed Mautang and his lash whistled. + +The prisoner twisted himself around to stare at him with reproachful +eyes. “You are more cruel than the Spaniard himself,” he said. + +Mautang replied with more blows, when suddenly a bullet whistled, +followed by a loud report. Mautang dropped his rifle, uttered an oath, +and clutching at his breast with both hands fell spinning into a heap. +The prisoner saw him writhing in the dust with blood spurting from his +mouth. + +“Halt!” called the corporal, suddenly turning pale. + +The soldiers stopped and stared about them. A wisp of smoke rose from a +thicket on the height above. Another bullet sang to its accompanying +report and the corporal, wounded in the thigh, doubled over vomiting +curses. The column was attacked by men hidden among the rocks above. + +Sullen with rage the corporal motioned toward the string of prisoners +and laconically ordered, “Fire!” + +The wretches fell upon their knees, filled with consternation. As they +could not lift their hands, they begged for mercy by kissing the dust +or bowing their heads—one talked of his children, another of his mother +who would be left unprotected, one promised money, another called upon +God—but the muzzles were quickly lowered and a hideous volley silenced +them all. + +Then began the sharpshooting against those who were behind the rocks +above, over which a light cloud of smoke began to hover. To judge from +the scarcity of their shots, the invisible enemies could not have more +than three rifles. As they advanced firing, the guards sought cover +behind tree-trunks or crouched down as they attempted to scale the +height. Splintered rocks leaped up, broken twigs fell from trees, +patches of earth were torn up, and the first guard who attempted the +ascent rolled back with a bullet through his shoulder. + +The hidden enemy had the advantage of position, but the valiant guards, +who did not know how to flee, were on the point of retiring, for they +had paused, unwilling to advance; that fight against the invisible +unnerved them. Smoke and rocks alone could be seen—not a voice was +heard, not a shadow appeared; they seemed to be fighting with the +mountain. + +“Shoot, Carolino! What are you aiming at?” called the corporal. + +At that instant a man appeared upon a rock, making signs with his +rifle. + +“Shoot him!” ordered the corporal with a foul oath. + +Three guards obeyed the order, but the man continued standing there, +calling out at the top of his voice something unintelligible. + +Carolino paused, thinking that he recognized something familiar about +that figure, which stood out plainly in the sunlight. But the corporal +threatened to tie him up if he did not fire, so Carolino took aim and +the report of his rifle was heard. The man on the rock spun around and +disappeared with a cry that left Carolino horror-stricken. + +Then followed a rustling in the bushes, indicating that those within +were scattering in all directions, so the soldiers boldly advanced, now +that there was no more resistance. Another man appeared upon the rock, +waving a spear, and they fired at him. He sank down slowly, catching at +the branch of a tree, but with another volley fell face downwards on +the rock. + +The guards climbed on nimbly, with bayonets fixed ready for a +hand-to-hand fight. Carolino alone moved forward reluctantly, with a +wandering, gloomy look, the cry of the man struck by his bullet still +ringing in his ears. The first to reach the spot found an old man +dying, stretched out on the rock. He plunged his bayonet into the body, +but the old man did not even wink, his eyes being fixed on Carolino +with an indescribable gaze, while with his bony hand he pointed to +something behind the rock. + +The soldiers turned to see Caroline frightfully pale, his mouth hanging +open, with a look in which glimmered the last spark of reason, for +Carolino, who was no other than Tano, Cabesang Tales’ son, and who had +just returned from the Carolines, recognized in the dying man his +grandfather, Tandang Selo. No longer able to speak, the old man’s dying +eyes uttered a whole poem of grief—and then a corpse, he still +continued to point to something behind the rock. + + + + + + + + +CHAPTER XXXIX + +CONCLUSION + + +In his solitary retreat on the shore of the sea, whose mobile surface +was visible through the open, windows, extending outward until it +mingled with the horizon, Padre Florentino was relieving the monotony +by playing on his harmonium sad and melancholy tunes, to which the +sonorous roar of the surf and the sighing of the treetops of the +neighboring wood served as accompaniments. Notes long, full, mournful +as a prayer, yet still vigorous, escaped from the old instrument. Padre +Florentino, who was an accomplished musician, was improvising, and, as +he was alone, gave free rein to the sadness in his heart. + +For the truth was that the old man was very sad. His good friend, Don +Tiburcio de Espadaña, had just left him, fleeing from the persecution +of his wife. That morning he had received a note from the lieutenant of +the Civil Guard, which ran thus: + + + MY DEAR CHAPLAIN,—I have just received from the commandant a + telegram that says, “Spaniard hidden house Padre Florentino capture + forward alive dead.” As the telegram is quite explicit, warn your + friend not to be there when I come to arrest him at eight tonight. + + Affectionately, + + PEREZ + + Burn this note. + + +“T-that V-victorina!” Don Tiburcio had stammered. “S-she’s c-capable of +having me s-shot!” + +Padre Florentino was unable to reassure him. Vainly he pointed out to +him that the word cojera should have read cogerá, [77] and that the +hidden Spaniard could not be Don Tiburcio, but the jeweler Simoun, who +two days before had arrived, wounded and a fugitive, begging for +shelter. But Don Tiburcio would not be convinced—cojera was his own +lameness, his personal description, and it was an intrigue of +Victorina’s to get him back alive or dead, as Isagani had written from +Manila. So the poor Ulysses had left the priest’s house to conceal +himself in the hut of a woodcutter. + +No doubt was entertained by Padre Florentino that the Spaniard wanted +was the jeweler Simoun, who had arrived mysteriously, himself carrying +the jewel-chest, bleeding, morose, and exhausted. With the free and +cordial Filipino hospitality, the priest had taken him in, without +asking indiscreet questions, and as news of the events in Manila had +not yet reached his ears he was unable to understand the situation +clearly. The only conjecture that occurred to him was that the General, +the jeweler’s friend and protector, being gone, probably his enemies, +the victims of wrong and abuse, were now rising and calling for +vengeance, and that the acting Governor was pursuing him to make him +disgorge the wealth he had accumulated—hence his flight. But whence +came his wounds? Had he tried to commit suicide? Were they the result +of personal revenge? Or were they merely caused by an accident, as +Simoun claimed? Had they been received in escaping from the force that +was pursuing him? + +This last conjecture was the one that seemed to have the greatest +appearance of probability, being further strengthened by the telegram +received and Simoun’s decided unwillingness from the start to be +treated by the doctor from the capital. The jeweler submitted only to +the ministrations of Don Tiburcio, and even to them with marked +distrust. In this situation Padre Florentino was asking himself what +line of conduct he should pursue when the Civil Guard came to arrest +Simoun. His condition would not permit his removal, much less a long +journey—but the telegram said alive or dead. + +Padre Florentine ceased playing and approached the window to gaze out +at the sea, whose desolate surface was without a ship, without a +sail—it gave him no suggestion. A solitary islet outlined in the +distance spoke only of solitude and made the space more lonely. +Infinity is at times despairingly mute. + +The old man was trying to analyze the sad and ironical smile with which +Simoun had received the news that he was to be arrested. What did that +smile mean? And that other smile, still sadder and more ironical, with +which he received the news that they would not come before eight at +night? What did all this mystery signify? Why did Simoun refuse to +hide? There came into his mind the celebrated saying of St. John +Chrysostom when he was defending the eunuch Eutropius: “Never was a +better time than this to say—Vanity of vanities and all is vanity!” + +Yes, that Simoun, so rich, so powerful, so feared a week ago, and now +more unfortunate than Eutropius, was seeking refuge, not at the altars +of a church, but in the miserable house of a poor native priest, hidden +in the forest, on the solitary seashore! Vanity of vanities and all is +vanity! That man would within a few hours be a prisoner, dragged from +the bed where he lay, without respect for his condition, without +consideration for his wounds—dead or alive his enemies demanded him! +How could he save him? Where could he find the moving accents of the +bishop of Constantinople? What weight would his weak words have, the +words of a native priest, whose own humiliation this same Simoun had in +his better days seemed to applaud and encourage? + +But Padre Florentine no longer recalled the indifferent reception that +two months before the jeweler had accorded to him when he had tried to +interest him in favor of Isagani, then a prisoner on account of his +imprudent chivalry; he forgot the activity Simoun had displayed in +urging Paulita’s marriage, which had plunged Isagani into the fearful +misanthropy that was worrying his uncle. He forgot all these things and +thought only of the sick man’s plight and his own obligations as a +host, until his senses reeled. Where must he hide him to avoid his +falling into the clutches of the authorities? But the person chiefly +concerned was not worrying, he was smiling. + +While he was pondering over these things, the old man was approached by +a servant who said that the sick man wished to speak with him, so he +went into the next room, a clean and well-ventilated apartment with a +floor of wide boards smoothed and polished, and simply furnished with +big, heavy armchairs of ancient design, without varnish or paint. At +one end there was a large kamagon bed with its four posts to support +the canopy, and beside it a table covered with bottles, lint, and +bandages. A praying-desk at the feet of a Christ and a scanty library +led to the suspicion that it was the priest’s own bedroom, given up to +his guest according to the Filipino custom of offering to the stranger +the best table, the best room, and the best bed in the house. Upon +seeing the windows opened wide to admit freely the healthful sea-breeze +and the echoes of its eternal lament, no one in the Philippines would +have said that a sick person was to be found there, since it is the +custom to close all the windows and stop up all the cracks just as soon +as any one catches a cold or gets an insignificant headache. + +Padre Florentine looked toward the bed and was astonished to see that +the sick man’s face had lost its tranquil and ironical expression. +Hidden grief seemed to knit his brows, anxiety was depicted in his +looks, his lips were curled in a smile of pain. + +“Are you suffering, Señor Simoun?” asked the priest solicitously, going +to his side. + +“Some! But in a little while I shall cease to suffer,” he replied with +a shake of his head. + +Padre Florentine clasped his hands in fright, suspecting that he +understood the terrible truth. “My God, what have you done? What have +you taken?” He reached toward the bottles. + +“It’s useless now! There’s no remedy at all!” answered Simoun with a +pained smile. “What did you expect me to do? Before the clock strikes +eight—alive or dead—dead, yes, but alive, no!” + +“My God, what have you done?” + +“Be calm!” urged the sick man with a wave of his hand. “What’s done is +done. I must not fall into anybody’s hands—my secret would be torn from +me. Don’t get excited, don’t lose your head, it’s useless! Listen—the +night is coming on and there’s no time to be lost. I must tell you my +secret, and intrust to you my last request, I must lay my life open +before you. At the supreme moment I want to lighten myself of a load, I +want to clear up a doubt of mine. You who believe so firmly in God—I +want you to tell me if there is a God!” + +“But an antidote, Señor Simoun! I have ether, chloroform—” + +The priest began to search for a flask, until Simoun cried impatiently, +“Useless, it’s useless! Don’t waste time! I’ll go away with my secret!” + +The bewildered priest fell down at his desk and prayed at the feet of +the Christ, hiding his face in his hands. Then he arose serious and +grave, as if he had received from his God all the force, all the +dignity, all the authority of the Judge of consciences. Moving a chair +to the head of the bed he prepared to listen. + +At the first words Simoun murmured, when he told his real name, the old +priest started back and gazed at him in terror, whereat the sick man +smiled bitterly. Taken by surprise, the priest was not master of +himself, but he soon recovered, and covering his face with a +handkerchief again bent over to listen. + +Simoun related his sorrowful story: how, thirteen years before, he had +returned from Europe filled with hopes and smiling illusions, having +come back to marry a girl whom he loved, disposed to do good and +forgive all who had wronged him, just so they would let him live in +peace. But it was not so. A mysterious hand involved him in the +confusion of an uprising planned by his enemies. Name, fortune, love, +future, liberty, all were lost, and he escaped only through the heroism +of a friend. Then he swore vengeance. With the wealth of his family, +which had been buried in a wood, he had fled, had gone to foreign lands +and engaged in trade. He took part in the war in Cuba, aiding first one +side and then another, but always profiting. There he made the +acquaintance of the General, then a major, whose good-will he won first +by loans of money, and afterwards he made a friend of him by the +knowledge of criminal secrets. With his money he had been able to +secure the General’s appointment and, once in the Philippines, he had +used him as a blind tool and incited him to all kinds of injustice, +availing himself of his insatiable lust for gold. + +The confession was long and tedious, but during the whole of it the +confessor made no further sign of surprise and rarely interrupted the +sick man. It was night when Padre Florentino, wiping the perspiration +from his face, arose and began to meditate. Mysterious darkness flooded +the room, so that the moonbeams entering through the window filled it +with vague lights and vaporous reflections. + +Into the midst of the silence the priest’s voice broke sad and +deliberate, but consoling: “God will forgive you, Señor—Simoun,” he +said. “He knows that we are fallible, He has seen that you have +suffered, and in ordaining that the chastisement for your faults should +come as death from the very ones you have instigated to crime, we can +see His infinite mercy. He has frustrated your plans one by one, the +best conceived, first by the death of Maria Clara, then by a lack of +preparation, then in some mysterious way. Let us bow to His will and +render Him thanks!” + +“According to you, then,” feebly responded the sick man, “His will is +that these islands—” + +“Should continue in the condition in which they suffer?” finished the +priest, seeing that the other hesitated. “I don’t know, sir, I can’t +read the thought of the Inscrutable. I know that He has not abandoned +those peoples who in their supreme moments have trusted in Him and made +Him the Judge of their cause, I know that His arm has never failed +when, justice long trampled upon and every recourse gone, the oppressed +have taken up the sword to fight for home and wife and children, for +their inalienable rights, which, as the German poet says, shine ever +there above, unextinguished and inextinguishable, like the eternal +stars themselves. No, God is justice, He cannot abandon His cause, the +cause of liberty, without which no justice is possible.” + +“Why then has He denied me His aid?” asked the sick man in a voice +charged with bitter complaint. + +“Because you chose means that He could not sanction,” was the severe +reply. “The glory of saving a country is not for him who has +contributed to its ruin. You have believed that what crime and iniquity +have defiled and deformed, another crime and another iniquity can +purify and redeem. Wrong! Hate never produces anything but monsters and +crime criminals! Love alone realizes wonderful works, virtue alone can +save! No, if our country has ever to be free, it will not be through +vice and crime, it will not be so by corrupting its sons, deceiving +some and bribing others, no! Redemption presupposes virtue, virtue +sacrifice, and sacrifice love!” + +“Well, I accept your explanation,” rejoined the sick man, after a +pause. “I have been mistaken, but, because I have been mistaken, will +that God deny liberty to a people and yet save many who are much worse +criminals than I am? What is my mistake compared to the crimes of our +rulers? Why has that God to give more heed to my iniquity than to the +cries of so many innocents? Why has He not stricken me down and then +made the people triumph? Why does He let so many worthy and just ones +suffer and look complacently upon their tortures?” + +“The just and the worthy must suffer in order that their ideas may be +known and extended! You must shake or shatter the vase to spread its +perfume, you must smite the rock to get the spark! There is something +providential in the persecutions of tyrants, Señor Simoun!” + +“I knew it,” murmured the sick man, “and therefore I encouraged the +tyranny.” + +“Yes, my friend, but more corrupt influences than anything else were +spread. You fostered the social rottenness without sowing an idea. From +this fermentation of vices loathing alone could spring, and if anything +were born overnight it would be at best a mushroom, for mushrooms only +can spring spontaneously from filth. True it is that the vices of the +government are fatal to it, they cause its death, but they kill also +the society in whose bosom they are developed. An immoral government +presupposes a demoralized people, a conscienceless administration, +greedy and servile citizens in the settled parts, outlaws and brigands +in the mountains. Like master, like slave! Like government, like +country!” + +A brief pause ensued, broken at length by the sick man’s voice. “Then, +what can be done?” + +“Suffer and work!” + +“Suffer—work!” echoed the sick man bitterly. “Ah, it’s easy to say +that, when you are not suffering, when the work is rewarded. If your +God demands such great sacrifices from man, man who can scarcely count +upon the present and doubts the future, if you had seen what I have, +the miserable, the wretched, suffering unspeakable tortures for crimes +they have not committed, murdered to cover up the faults and incapacity +of others, poor fathers of families torn from their homes to work to no +purpose upon highways that are destroyed each day and seem only to +serve for sinking families into want. Ah, to suffer, to work, is the +will of God! Convince them that their murder is their salvation, that +their work is the prosperity of the home! To suffer, to work! What God +is that?” + +“A very just God, Señor Simoun,” replied the priest. “A God who +chastises our lack of faith, our vices, the little esteem in which we +hold dignity and the civic virtues. We tolerate vice, we make ourselves +its accomplices, at times we applaud it, and it is just, very just that +we suffer the consequences, that our children suffer them. It is the +God of liberty, Señor Simoun, who obliges us to love it, by making the +yoke heavy for us—a God of mercy, of equity, who while He chastises us, +betters us and only grants prosperity to him who has merited it through +his efforts. The school of suffering tempers, the arena of combat +strengthens the soul. + +“I do not mean to say that our liberty will be secured at the sword’s +point, for the sword plays but little part in modern affairs, but that +we must secure it by making ourselves worthy of it, by exalting the +intelligence and the dignity of the individual, by loving justice, +right, and greatness, even to the extent of dying for them,—and when a +people reaches that height God will provide a weapon, the idols will be +shattered, the tyranny will crumble like a house of cards and liberty +will shine out like the first dawn. + +“Our ills we owe to ourselves alone, so let us blame no one. If Spain +should see that we were less complaisant with tyranny and more disposed +to struggle and suffer for our rights, Spain would be the first to +grant us liberty, because when the fruit of the womb reaches maturity +woe unto the mother who would stifle it! So, while the Filipino people +has not sufficient energy to proclaim, with head erect and bosom bared, +its rights to social life, and to guarantee it with its sacrifices, +with its own blood; while we see our countrymen in private life ashamed +within themselves, hear the voice of conscience roar in rebellion and +protest, yet in public life keep silence or even echo the words of him +who abuses them in order to mock the abused; while we see them wrap +themselves up in their egotism and with a forced smile praise the most +iniquitous actions, begging with their eyes a portion of the booty—why +grant them liberty? With Spain or without Spain they would always be +the same, and perhaps worse! Why independence, if the slaves of today +will be the tyrants of tomorrow? And that they will be such is not to +be doubted, for he who submits to tyranny loves it. + +“Señor Simoun, when our people is unprepared, when it enters the fight +through fraud and force, without a clear understanding of what it is +doing, the wisest attempts will fail, and better that they do fail, +since why commit the wife to the husband if he does not sufficiently +love her, if he is not ready to die for her?” + +Padre Florentino felt the sick man catch and press his hand, so he +became silent, hoping that the other might speak, but he merely felt a +stronger pressure of the hand, heard a sigh, and then profound silence +reigned in the room. Only the sea, whose waves were rippled by the +night breeze, as though awaking from the heat of the day, sent its +hoarse roar, its eternal chant, as it rolled against the jagged rocks. +The moon, now free from the sun’s rivalry, peacefully commanded the +sky, and the trees of the forest bent down toward one another, telling +their ancient legends in mysterious murmurs borne on the wings of the +wind. + +The sick man said nothing, so Padre Florentino, deeply thoughtful, +murmured: “Where are the youth who will consecrate their golden hours, +their illusions, and their enthusiasm to the welfare of their native +land? Where are the youth who will generously pour out their blood to +wash away so much shame, so much crime, so much abomination? Pure and +spotless must the victim be that the sacrifice may be acceptable! Where +are you, youth, who will embody in yourselves the vigor of life that +has left our veins, the purity of ideas that has been contaminated in +our brains, the fire of enthusiasm that has been quenched in our +hearts? We await you, O youth! Come, for we await you!” + +Feeling his eyes moisten he withdrew his hand from that of the sick +man, arose, and went to the window to gaze out upon the wide surface of +the sea. He was drawn from his meditation by gentle raps at the door. +It was the servant asking if he should bring a light. + +When the priest returned to the sick man and looked at him in the light +of the lamp, motionless, his eyes closed, the hand that had pressed his +lying open and extended along the edge of the bed, he thought for a +moment that he was sleeping, but noticing that he was not breathing +touched him gently, and then realized that he was dead. His body had +already commenced to turn cold. The priest fell upon his knees and +prayed. + +When he arose and contemplated the corpse, in whose features were +depicted the deepest grief, the tragedy of a whole wasted life which he +was carrying over there beyond death, the old man shuddered and +murmured, “God have mercy on those who turned him from the straight +path!” + +While the servants summoned by him fell upon their knees and prayed for +the dead man, curious and bewildered as they gazed toward the bed, +reciting requiem after requiem, Padre Florentino took from a cabinet +the celebrated steel chest that contained Simoun’s fabulous wealth. He +hesitated for a moment, then resolutely descended the stairs and made +his way to the cliff where Isagani was accustomed to sit and gaze into +the depths of the sea. + +Padre Florentino looked down at his feet. There below he saw the dark +billows of the Pacific beating into the hollows of the cliff, producing +sonorous thunder, at the same time that, smitten by the moonbeams, the +waves and foam glittered like sparks of fire, like handfuls of diamonds +hurled into the air by some jinnee of the abyss. He gazed about him. He +was alone. The solitary coast was lost in the distance amid the dim +cloud that the moonbeams played through, until it mingled with the +horizon. The forest murmured unintelligible sounds. + +Then the old man, with an effort of his herculean arms, hurled the +chest into space, throwing it toward the sea. It whirled over and over +several times and descended rapidly in a slight curve, reflecting the +moonlight on its polished surface. The old man saw the drops of water +fly and heard a loud splash as the abyss closed over and swallowed up +the treasure. He waited for a few moments to see if the depths would +restore anything, but the wave rolled on as mysteriously as before, +without adding a fold to its rippling surface, as though into the +immensity of the sea a pebble only had been dropped. + +“May Nature guard you in her deep abysses among the pearls and corals +of her eternal seas,” then said the priest, solemnly extending his +hands. “When for some holy and sublime purpose man may need you, God +will in his wisdom draw you from the bosom of the waves. Meanwhile, +there you will not work woe, you will not distort justice, you will not +foment avarice!” + + + + + + + + +GLOSSARY + + +abá: A Tagalog exclamation of wonder, surprise, etc., often used to +introduce or emphasize a contradictory statement. + +alcalde: Governor of a province or district, with both executive and +judicial authority. + +Ayuntamiento: A city corporation or council, and by extension the +building in which it has its offices; specifically, in Manila, the +capitol. + +balete: The Philippine banyan, a tree sacred in Malay folk-lore. + +banka: A dugout canoe with bamboo supports or outriggers. + +batalan: The platform of split bamboo attached to a nipa house. + +batikúlin: A variety of easily-turned wood, used in carving. + +bibinka: A sweetmeat made of sugar or molasses and rice-flour, commonly +sold in the small shops. + +buyera: A woman who prepares and sells the buyo. + +buyo: The masticatory prepared by wrapping a piece of areca-nut with a +little shell-lime in a betel-leaf—the pan of British India. + +cabesang: Title of a cabeza de barangay; given by courtesy to his wife +also. + +cabeza de barangay: Headman and tax-collector for a group of about +fifty families, for whose “tribute” he was personally responsible. + +calesa: A two-wheeled chaise with folding top. + +calle: Street (Spanish). + +camisa: 1. A loose, collarless shirt of transparent material worn by +men outside the trousers. 2. A thin, transparent waist with flowing +sleeves, worn by women. + +capitan: “Captain,” a title used in addressing or referring to a +gobernadorcillo, or a former occupant of that office. + +carambas: A Spanish exclamation denoting surprise or displeasure. + +carbineer: Internal-revenue guard. + +carromata: A small two-wheeled vehicle with a fixed top. + +casco: A flat-bottomed freight barge. + +cayman: The Philippine crocodile. + +cedula: Certificate of registration and receipt for poll-tax. + +chongka: A child’s game played with pebbles or cowry-shells. + +cigarrera: A woman working in a cigar or cigarette factory. + +Civil Guard: Internal quasi-military police force of Spanish officers +and native soldiers. + +cochero: Carriage driver, coachman. + +cuarto: A copper coin, one hundred and sixty of which were equal in +value to a silver peso. + +filibuster: A native of the Philippines who was accused of advocating +their separation from Spain. + +filibusterism: See filibuster. + +gobernadorcillo: “Petty governor,” the principal municipal +official—also, in Manila, the head of a commercial guild. + +gumamela: The hibiscus, common as a garden shrub in the Philippines. + +Indian: The Spanish designation for the Christianized Malay of the +Philippines was indio (Indian), a term used rather contemptuously, the +name Filipino being generally applied in a restricted sense to the +children of Spaniards born in the Islands. + +kalan: The small, portable, open, clay fireplace commonly used in +cooking. + +kalikut: A short section of bamboo for preparing the buyo; a primitive +betel-box. + +kamagon: A tree of the ebony family, from which fine cabinet-wood is +obtained. Its fruit is the mabolo, or date-plum. + +lanete: A variety of timber used in carving. + +linintikan: A Tagalog exclamation of disgust or contempt—“thunder!” + +Malacañang: The palace of the Captain-General: from the vernacular name +of the place where it stands, “fishermen’s resort.” + +Malecon: A drive along the bay shore of Manila, opposite the Walled +City. + +Mestizo: A person of mixed Filipino and Spanish blood; sometimes +applied also to a person of mixed Filipino and Chinese blood. + +nakú: A Tagalog exclamation of surprise, wonder, etc. + +narra: The Philippine mahogany. + +nipa: Swamp palm, with the imbricated leaves of which the roofs and +sides of the common native houses are constructed. + +novena: A devotion consisting of prayers recited for nine consecutive +days, asking for some special favor; also, a booklet of these prayers. + +panguingui: A complicated card-game, generally for small stakes, played +with a monte deck. + +panguinguera: A woman addicted to panguingui, this being chiefly a +feminine diversion in the Philippines. + +pansit: A soup made of Chinese vermicelli. + +pansitería: A shop where pansit is prepared and sold. + +pañuelo: A starched neckerchief folded stiffly over the shoulders, +fastened in front and falling in a point behind: the most distinctive +portion of the customary dress of Filipino women. + +peso: A silver coin, either the Spanish peso or the Mexican dollar, +about the size of an American dollar and of approximately half its +value. + +petate: Sleeping-mat woven from palm leaves. + +piña: Fine cloth made from pineapple-leaf fibers. + +Provincial: The head of a religious order in the Philippines. + +puñales: “Daggers!” + +querida: A paramour, mistress: from the Spanish “beloved.” + +real: One-eighth of a peso, twenty cuartos. + +sala: The principal room in the more pretentious Philippine houses. + +salakot: Wide hat of palm or bamboo, distinctively Filipino. + +sampaguita: The Arabian jasmine: a small, white, very fragrant flower, +extensively cultivated, and worn in chaplets and rosaries by women and +girls—the typical Philippine flower. + +sipa: A game played with a hollow ball of plaited bamboo or rattan, by +boys standing in a circle, who by kicking it with their heels endeavor +to keep it from striking the ground. + +soltada: A bout between fighting-cocks. + +’Susmariosep: A common exclamation: contraction of the Spanish, Jesús, +María, y José, the Holy Family. + +tabi: The cry used by carriage drivers to warn pedestrians. + +tabú: A utensil fashioned from half of a coconut shell. + +tajú: A thick beverage prepared from bean-meal and syrup. + +tampipi: A telescopic basket of woven palm, bamboo, or rattan. + +Tandang: A title of respect for an old man: from the Tagalog term for +“old.” + +tapis: A piece of dark cloth or lace, often richly worked or +embroidered, worn at the waist somewhat in the fashion of an apron; a +distinctive portion of the native women’s attire, especially among the +Tagalogs. + +tatakut: The Tagalog term for “fear.” + +teniente-mayor: “Senior lieutenant,” the senior member of the town +council and substitute for the gobernadorcillo. + +tertiary sister: A member of a lay society affiliated with a regular +monastic order. + +tienda: A shop or stall for the sale of merchandise. + +tikbalang: An evil spirit, capable of assuming various forms, but said +to appear usually as a tall black man with disproportionately long +legs: the “bogey man” of Tagalog children. + +tulisan: Outlaw, bandit. Under the old régime in the Philippines the +tulisanes were those who, on account of real or fancied grievances +against the authorities, or from fear of punishment for crime, or from +an instinctive desire to return to primitive simplicity, foreswore life +in the towns “under the bell,” and made their homes in the mountains or +other remote places. Gathered in small bands with such arms as they +could secure, they sustained themselves by highway robbery and the +levying of black-mail from the country folk. + + + + + + + + +NOTES + + +[1] The Spanish designation for the Christianized Malay of the +Philippines was indio (Indian), a term used rather contemptuously, the +name filipino being generally applied in a restricted sense to the +children of Spaniards born in the Islands.—Tr. + +[2] Now generally known as the Mariquina.—Tr. + +[3] This bridge, constructed in Lukban under the supervision of a +Franciscan friar, was jocularly referred to as the Puente de Capricho, +being apparently an ignorant blunder in the right direction, since it +was declared in an official report made by Spanish engineers in 1852 to +conform to no known principle of scientific construction, and yet +proved to be strong and durable.—Tr. + +[4] Don Custodio’s gesture indicates money.—Tr. + +[5] Duck eggs, that are allowed to advance well into the duckling +stage, then boiled and eaten. The señora is sneering at a custom among +some of her own people.—Tr. + +[6] The Jesuit College in Manila, established in 1859.—Tr. + +[7] Natives of Spain; to distinguish them from the Filipinos, i.e., +descendants of Spaniards born in the Philippines. See Glossary: +“Indian.”—Tr. + +[8] It was a common saying among the old Filipinos that the Spaniards +(white men) were fire (activity), while they themselves were water +(passivity).—Tr. + +[9] The “liberal” demonstrations in Manila, and the mutiny in the +Cavite Arsenal, resulting in the garroting of the three native priests +to whom this work was dedicated: the first of a series of fatal +mistakes, culminating in the execution of the author, that cost Spain +the loyalty of the Filipinos.—Tr. + +[10] Archbishop of Manila from 1767 to 1787.—Tr. + +[11] “Between this island (Talim) and Halahala point extends a strait a +mile wide and a league long, which the Indians call ‘Kinabutasan,’ a +name that in their language means ‘place that was cleft open’; from +which it is inferred that in other times the island was joined to the +mainland and was separated from it by some severe earthquake, thus +leaving this strait: of this there is an old tradition among the +Indians.”—Fray Martinez de Zuñiga’s Estadismo (1803). + +[12] The reference is to the novel Noli Me Tangere (The Social Cancer), +the author’s first work, of which, the present is in a way a +continuation.—Tr. + +[13] This legend is still current among the Tagalogs. It circulates in +various forms, the commonest being that the king was so confined for +defying the lightning; and it takes no great stretch of the imagination +to fancy in this idea a reference to the firearms used by the Spanish +conquerors. Quite recently (January 1909), when the nearly extinct +volcano of Banahao shook itself and scattered a few tons of mud over +the surrounding landscape, the people thereabout recalled this old +legend, saying that it was their King Bernardo making another effort to +get that right foot loose.—Tr. + +[14] The reference is to Noli Me Tangere, in which Sinang appears. + +[15] The Dominican school of secondary instruction in Manila.—Tr. + +[16] “The studies of secondary instruction given in Santo Tomas, in the +college of San Juan de Letran, and of San José, and in the private +schools, had the defects inherent in the plan of instruction which the +friars developed in the Philippines. It suited their plans that +scientific and literary knowledge should not become general nor very +extensive, for which reason they took but little interest in the study +of those subjects or in the quality of the instruction. Their +educational establishments were places of luxury for the children of +wealthy and well-to-do families rather than establishments in which to +perfect and develop the minds of the Filipino youth. It is true they +were careful to give them a religious education, tending to make them +respect the omnipotent power (sic) of the monastic corporations. + +“The intellectual powers were made dormant by devoting a greater part +of the time to the study of Latin, to which they attached an +extraordinary importance, for the purpose of discouraging pupils from +studying the exact and experimental sciences and from gaining a +knowledge of true literary studies. + +“The philosophic system explained was naturally the scholastic one, +with an exceedingly refined and subtile logic, and with deficient ideas +upon physics. By the study of Latin, and their philosophic systems, +they converted their pupils into automatic machines rather than into +practical men prepared to battle with life.”—Census of the Philippine +Islands (Washington, 1905), Volume III, pp. 601, 602. + +[17] The nature of this booklet, in Tagalog, is made clear in several +passages. It was issued by the Franciscans, but proved too outspoken +for even Latin refinement, and was suppressed by the Order itself.—Tr. + +[18] The rectory or parish house. + +[19] Friends of the author, who suffered in Weyler’s expedition, +mentioned below.—Tr. + +[20] The Dominican corporation, at whose instigation Captain-General +Valeriano Weyler sent a battery of artillery to Kalamba to destroy the +property of tenants who were contesting in the courts the friars’ +titles to land there. The author’s family were the largest +sufferers.—Tr. + +[21] A relative of the author, whose body was dragged from the tomb and +thrown to the dogs, on the pretext that he had died without receiving +final absolution.—Tr. + +[22] Under the Spanish régime the government paid no attention to +education, the schools (!) being under the control of the religious +orders and the friar-curates of the towns.—Tr. + +[23] The cockpits are farmed out annually by the local governments, the +terms “contract,” and “contractor,” having now been softened into +“license” and “licensee.”—Tr. + +[24] The “Municipal School for Girls” was founded by the municipality +of Manila in 1864.... The institution was in charge of the Sisters of +Charity.—Census of the Philippine Islands, Vol. III, p. 615. + +[25] Now known as Plaza España.—Tr. + +[26] Patroness of the Dominican Order. She was formally and sumptuously +recrowned a queen of the skies in 1907.—Tr. + +[27] A burlesque on an association of students known as the Milicia +Angelica, organized by the Dominicans to strengthen their hold on the +people. The name used is significant, “carbineers” being the local +revenue officers, notorious in their later days for graft and +abuse.—Tr. + +[28] “Tinamáan ñg lintik!”—a Tagalog exclamation of anger, +disappointment, or dismay, regarded as a very strong expression, +equivalent to profanity. Literally, “May the lightning strike you!”—Tr. + +[29] “To lie about the stars is a safe kind of lying.”—Tr. + +[30] Throughout this chapter the professor uses the familiar tu in +addressing the students, thus giving his remarks a contemptuous +tone.—Tr. + +[31] The professor speaks these words in vulgar dialect. + +[32] To confuse the letters p and f in speaking Spanish was a common +error among uneducated Filipinos.—Tr. + +[33] No cristianos, not Christians, i.e., savages.—Tr. + +[34] The patron saint of Spain, St. James.—Tr. + +[35] Houses of bamboo and nipa, such as form the homes of the masses of +the natives.—Tr. + +[36] “In this paragraph Rizal alludes to an incident that had very +serious results. There was annually celebrated in Binondo a certain +religious festival, principally at the expense of the Chinese mestizos. +The latter finally petitioned that their gobernadorcillo be given the +presidency of it, and this was granted, thanks to the fact that the +parish priest (the Dominican, Fray José Hevia Campomanes) held to the +opinion that the presidency belonged to those who paid the most. The +Tagalogs protested, alleging their better right to it, as the genuine +sons of the country, not to mention the historical precedent, but the +friar, who was looking after his own interests, did not yield. General +Terrero (Governor, 1885–1888), at the advice of his liberal councilors, +finally had the parish priest removed and for the time being decided +the affair in favor of the Tagalogs. The matter reached the Colonial +Office (Ministerio de Ultramar) and the Minister was not even content +merely to settle it in the way the friars desired, but made amends to +Padre Hevia by appointing him a bishop.”—W. E. Retana, who was a +journalist in Manila at the time, in a note to this chapter. + +Childish and ridiculous as this may appear now, it was far from being +so at the time, especially in view of the supreme contempt with which +the pugnacious Tagalog looks down upon the meek and complaisant Chinese +and the mortal antipathy that exists between the two races.—Tr. + +[37] It is regrettable that Quiroga’s picturesque butchery of Spanish +and Tagalog—the dialect of the Manila Chinese—cannot be reproduced +here. Only the thought can be given. There is the same difficulty with +r’s, d’s, and l’s that the Chinese show in English.—Tr. + +[38] Up to the outbreak of the insurrection in 1896, the only genuinely +Spanish troops in the islands were a few hundred artillerymen, the rest +being natives, with Spanish officers.—Tr. + +[39] Abaka is the fiber obtained from the leaves of the Musa textilis +and is known commercially as Manila hemp. As it is exclusively a +product of the Philippines, it may be taken here to symbolize the +country.—Tr. + +[40] Yet Ben-Zayb was not very much mistaken. The three legs of the +table have grooves in them in which slide the mirrors hidden below the +platform and covered by the squares of the carpet. By placing the box +upon the table a spring is pressed and the mirrors rise gently. The +cloth is then removed, with care to raise it instead of letting it +slide off, and then there is the ordinary table of the talking heads. +The table is connected with the bottom of the box. The exhibition +ended, the prestidigitator again covers the table, presses another +spring, and the mirrors descend.—Author’s note. + +[41] The Malay method of kissing is quite different from the +Occidental. The mouth is placed close to the object and a deep breath +taken, often without actually touching the object, being more of a +sniff than a kiss.—Tr. + +[42] Now Calle Tetuan, Santa Cruz. The other names are still in +use.—Tr. + +[43] The Sociedad Económica de Amigos del País for the encouragement of +agricultural and industrial development, was established by Basco de +Vargas in 1780.—Tr. + +[44] Funds managed by the government for making loans and supporting +charitable enterprises.—Tr. + +[45] The names are fictitious burlesques.—Tr. + +[46] “Boiled Shrimp”—Tr. + +[47] “Uncle Frank.”—Tr. + +[48] Messageries Maritimes, a French line of steamers in the Oriental +trade.—Tr. + +[49] Referring to the expeditions—Misión Española Católica—to the +Caroline and Pelew Islands from 1886 to 1895, headed by the Capuchin +Fathers, which brought misery and disaster upon the natives of those +islands, unprofitable losses and sufferings to the Filipino soldiers +engaged in them, discredit to Spain, and decorations of merit to a +number of Spanish officers.—Tr. + +[50] Over the possession of the Caroline and Pelew Islands. The +expeditions referred to in the previous note were largely inspired by +German activity with regard to those islands, which had always been +claimed by Spain, who sold her claim to them to Germany after the loss +of the Philippines.—Tr. + +[51] “Where the wind wrinkles the silent waves, that rapidly break, + of their own movement, with a gentle murmur on the shore.”—Tr. + +[52] “Where rapid and winged engines will rush in flight.”—Tr. + +[53] There is something almost uncanny about the general accuracy of +the prophecy in these lines, the economic part of which is now so well +on the way to realization, although the writer of them would doubtless +have been a very much surprised individual had he also foreseen how it +would come about. But one of his own expressions was “fire and steel to +the cancer,” and it surely got them. + +On the very day that this passage was translated and this note written, +the first commercial liner was tied up at the new docks, which have +destroyed the Malecon but raised Manila to the front rank of Oriental +seaports, and the final revision is made at Baguio, Mountain Province, +amid the “cooler temperatures on the slopes of the mountains.” As for +the political portion, it is difficult even now to contemplate calmly +the blundering fatuity of that bigoted medieval brand of “patriotism” +which led the decrepit Philippine government to play the Ancient +Mariner and shoot the Albatross that brought this message.—Tr. + +[54] These establishments are still a notable feature of native life in +Manila. Whether the author adopted a title already common or +popularized one of his own invention, the fact is that they are now +invariably known by the name used here. The use of macanista was due to +the presence in Manila of a large number of Chinese from Macao.—Tr. + +[55] Originally, Plaza San Gabriel, from the Dominican mission for the +Chinese established there; later, as it became a commercial center, +Plaza Vivac; and now known as Plaza Cervantes, being the financial +center of Manila.—Tr. + +[56] “The manager of this restaurant warns the public to leave +absolutely nothing on any table or chair.”—Tr. + +[57] “We do not believe in the verisimilitude of this dialogue, +fabricated by the author in order to refute the arguments of the +friars, whose pride was so great that it would not permit any Isagani +to tell them these truths face to face. The invention of Padre +Fernandez as a Dominican professor is a stroke of generosity on Rizal’s +part, in conceding that there could have existed any friar capable of +talking frankly with an Indian.”—W. E. Retana, in note to this chapter +in the edition published by him at Barcelona in 1908. Retana ought to +know of what he is writing, for he was in the employ of the friars for +several years and later in Spain wrote extensively for the journal +supported by them to defend their position in the Philippines. He has +also been charged with having strongly urged Rizal’s execution in 1896. +Since 1898, however, he has doubled about, or, perhaps more aptly, +performed a journalistic somersault—having written a diffuse biography +and other works dealing with Rizal. He is strong in unassorted facts, +but his comments, when not inane and wearisome, approach a maudlin wail +over “spilt milk,” so the above is given at its face value only.—Tr. + +[58] Quite suggestive of, and perhaps inspired by, the author’s own +experience.—Tr. + +[59] The Walled City, the original Manila, is still known to the +Spaniards and older natives exclusively as such, the other districts +being referred to by their distinctive names.—Tr. + +[60] Nearly all the dialogue in this chapter is in the mongrel +Spanish-Tagalog “market language,” which cannot be reproduced in +English.—Tr. + +[61] Doubtless a reference to the author’s first work, Noli Me Tangere, +which was tabooed by the authorities.—Tr. + +[62] Such inanities as these are still a feature of Manila +journalism.—Tr. + +[63] “Whether there would be a talisain cock, armed with a sharp gaff, +whether the blessed Peter’s fighting-cock would be a bulik—” + +Talisain and bulik are distinguishing terms in the vernacular for +fighting-cocks, tari and sasabung̃in the Tagalog terms for “gaff” and +“game-cock,” respectively. + +The Tagalog terminology of the cockpit and monkish Latin certainly make +a fearful and wonderful mixture—nor did the author have to resort to +his imagination to get samples of it.—Tr. + +[64] This is Quiroga’s pronunciation of Christo.—Tr. + +[65] The native priests Burgos, Gomez, and Zamora, charged with +complicity in the uprising of 1872, and executed.—Tr. + +[66] This versicle, found in the booklets of prayer, is common on the +scapularies, which, during the late insurrection, were easily converted +into the anting-anting, or amulets, worn by the fanatics.—Tr. + +[67] This practise—secretly compelling suspects to sign a request to be +transferred to some other island—was by no means a figment of the +author’s imagination, but was extensively practised to anticipate any +legal difficulties that might arise.—Tr. + +[68] “Hawk-Eye.”—Tr. + +[69] Ultima Razón de Reyes: the last argument of kings—force. +(Expression attributed to Calderon de la Barca, the great Spanish +dramatist.)—Tr. + +[70] Curiously enough, and by what must have been more than a mere +coincidence, this route through Santa Mesa from San Juan del Monte was +the one taken by an armed party in their attempt to enter the city at +the outbreak of the Katipunan rebellion on the morning of August 30, +1896. (Foreman’s The Philippine Islands, Chap. XXVI.) + +It was also on the bridge connecting these two places that the first +shot in the insurrection against American sovereignty was fired on the +night of February 4, 1899.—Tr. + +[71] Spanish etiquette requires a host to welcome his guest with the +conventional phrase: “The house belongs to you.”—Tr. + +[72] The handwriting on the wall at Belshazzar’s feast, foretelling the +destruction of Babylon. Daniel, v, 25–28.—Tr. + +[73] A town in Ciudad Real province, Spain.—Tr. + +[74] The italicized words are in English in the original.—Tr. + +[75] A Spanish hero, whose chief exploit was the capture of Gibraltar +from the Moors in 1308.—Tr. + +[76] Emilio Castelar (1832–1899), generally regarded as the greatest of +Spanish orators.—Tr. + +[77] In the original the message reads: “Español escondido casa Padre +Florentino cojera remitirá vivo muerto.” Don Tiburcio understands +cojera as referring to himself; there is a play upon the Spanish words +cojera, lameness, and cogerá, a form of the verb coger, to seize or +capture—j and g in these two words having the same sound, that of the +English h.—Tr. + + + + + + + + + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 10676 *** |