The Reign of Greed - 07

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 he 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