The Social Cancer - 04

fictitious importance, but was utterly powerless to stay the clamor
for blood which at once arose, loudest on the part of those alleged
ministers of the gentle Christ. The gates of the old Walled City,
long fallen into disuse, were cleaned and put in order, martial law
was declared, and wholesale arrests made. Many of the prisoners were
confined in Fort Santiago, one batch being crowded into a dungeon
for which the only ventilation was a grated opening at the top, and
one night a sergeant of the guard carelessly spread his sleeping-mat
over this, so the next morning some fifty-five asphyxiated corpses
were hauled away. On the twenty-sixth armed insurrection broke out at
Caloocan, just north of Manila, from time immemorial the resort of bad
characters from all the country round and the center of brigandage,
while at San Juan del Monte, on the outskirts of the city, several
bloody skirmishes were fought a few days later with the _Guardia
Civil Veterana_, the picked police force.
Bonifacio had been warned of the discovery of his schemes in time to
make his escape and flee to the barrio, or village, of Balintawak,
a few miles north of Manila, thence to lead the attack on Caloocan
and inaugurate the reign of Liberty, Equality, and Fraternity in the
manner in which Philippine insurrections have generally had a habit
of starting--with the murder of Chinese merchants and the pillage of
their shops. He had from the first reserved for himself the important
office of treasurer in the Katipunan, in addition to being on occasions
president and at all times its ruling spirit, so he now established
himself as dictator and proceeded to appoint a magnificent staff, most
of whom contrived to escape as soon as they were out of reach of his
bolo. Yet he drew considerable numbers about him, for this man, though
almost entirely unlettered, seems to have been quite a personality
among his own people, especially possessed of that gift of oratory
in his native tongue to which the Malay is so preeminently susceptible.
In Manila a special tribunal was constituted and worked steadily,
sometimes through the siesta-hour, for there were times, of which
this was one, when even Spanish justice could be swift. Bagumbayan
began to be a veritable field of blood, as the old methods of
repression were resorted to for the purpose of striking terror into
the native population by wholesale executions, nor did the ruling
powers realize that the time for such methods had passed. It was a
case of sixteenth-century colonial methods fallen into fretful and
frantic senility, so in all this wretched business it is doubtful whim
to pity the more: the blind stupidity of the fossilized conservatives
incontinently throwing an empire away, forfeiting their influence over
a people whom they, by temperament and experience, should have been
fitted to control and govern; or the potential cruelty of perverted
human nature in the dark Frankenstein who would wreak upon the rulers
in their decadent days the most hideous of the methods in the system
that produced him, as he planned his festive holocaust and carmagnole
on the spot where every spark of initiative and leadership among
his people, both good and bad, had been summarily and ruthlessly
extinguished. There is at least a world of reflection in it for the
rulers of men.
In the meantime Rizal, wearying of the quiet life in Dapitan and
doubtless foreseeing the impending catastrophe, had requested leave
to volunteer his services as a physician in the military hospitals
of Cuba, of the horrors and sufferings in which he had heard. General
Blanco at once gladly acceded to this request and had him brought to
Manila, but unfortunately the boat carrying him arrived there a day
too late for him to catch the regular August mail-steamer to Spain,
so he was kept in the cruiser a prisoner of war, awaiting the next
transportation. While he was thus detained, the Katipunan plot was
discovered and the rebellion broke out. He was accused of being
the head of it, but Blanco gave him a personal letter completely
exonerating him from any complicity in the outbreak, as well as a
letter of recommendation to the Spanish minister of war. He was placed
on the _Isla de Panay_ when it left for Spain on September third and
traveled at first as a passenger. At Singapore he was advised to land
and claim British protection, as did some of his fellow travelers,
but he refused to do so, saying that his conscience was clear.
As the name of Rizal had constantly recurred during the trials
of the Katipunan suspects, the military tribunal finally issued a
formal demand for him. The order of arrest was cabled to Port Said
and Rizal there placed in solitary confinement for the remainder
of the voyage. Arrived at Barcelona, he was confined in the grim
fortress of Montjuich, where; by a curious coincidence, the governor
was the same Despujols who had issued the decree of banishment in
1892. Shortly afterwards, he was placed on the transport _Colon_,
which was bound for the Philippines with troops, Blanco having at last
been stirred to action. Strenuous efforts were now made by Rizal's
friends in London to have him removed from the ship at Singapore,
but the British authorities declined to take any action, on the ground
that he was on a Spanish warship and therefore beyond the jurisdiction
of their courts. The _Colon_ arrived at Manila on November third and
Rizal was imprisoned in Fort Santiago, while a special tribunal was
constituted to try him on the charges of carrying on anti-patriotic
and anti-religious propaganda, rebellion, sedition, and the formation
of illegal associations. Some other charges may have been overlooked
in the hurry and excitement.
It would be almost a travesty to call a trial the proceedings which
began early in December and dragged along until the twenty-sixth. Rizal
was defended by a young Spanish officer selected by him from among
a number designated by the tribunal, who chivalrously performed so
unpopular a duty as well as he could. But the whole affair was a
mockery of justice, for the Spanish government in the Philippines had
finally and hopelessly reached the condition graphically pictured by
Mr. Kipling:

Panic that shells the drifting spar--
Loud waste with none to check--
Mad fear that rakes a scornful star
Or sweeps a consort's deck!

The clamor against Blanco had resulted in his summary removal by royal
decree and the appointment of a real "pacificator," Camilo Polavieja.
While in prison Rizal prepared an address to those of his countrymen
who were in armed rebellion, repudiating the use of his name and
deprecating the resort to violence. The closing words are a compendium
of his life and beliefs: "Countrymen: I have given proofs, as well as
the best of you, of desiring liberty for our country, and I continue
to desire it. But I place as a premise the education of the people,
so that by means of instruction and work they may have a personality
of their own and that they may make themselves worthy of that same
liberty. In my writings I have recommended the study of the civic
virtues, without which there can be no redemption. I have also written
(and my words have been repeated) that reforms, to be fruitful, must
come from _above_, that those which spring from _below_ are uncertain
and insecure movements. Imbued with these ideas, I cannot do less than
condemn, and I do condemn, this absurd, savage rebellion, planned
behind my back, which dishonors the Filipinos and discredits those
who can speak for us. I abominate all criminal actions and refuse any
kind of participation in them, pitying with all my heart the dupes who
have allowed themselves to be deceived. Go back, then, to your homes,
and may God forgive those who have acted in bad faith." This address,
however, was not published by the Spanish authorities, since they did
not consider it "patriotic" enough; instead, they killed the writer!
Rizal appeared before the tribunal bound, closely guarded by two
Peninsular soldiers, but maintained his serenity throughout and
answered the charges in a straightforward way. He pointed out the
fact that he had never taken any great part in politics, having
even quarreled with Marcelo del Pilar, the active leader of the
anti-clericals, by reason of those perennial "subscriptions," and that
during the time he was accused of being the instigator and organizer of
armed rebellion he had been a close prisoner in Dapitan under strict
surveillance by both the military and ecclesiastical authorities. The
prosecutor presented a lengthy document, which ran mostly to words,
about the only definite conclusion laid down in it being that the
Philippines "are, and always must remain, Spanish territory." What
there may have been in Rizal's career to hang such a conclusion
upon is not quite dear, but at any rate this learned legal light was
evidently still thinking in colors on the map serenely unconscious in
his European pseudo-prescience of the new and wonderful development
in the Western Hemisphere--humanity militant, Lincolnism.
The death sentence was asked, but the longer the case dragged on the
more favorable it began to look for the accused, so the president
of the tribunal, after deciding, Jeffreys-like, that the charges had
been proved, ordered that no further evidence be taken. Rizal betrayed
some sunrise when his doom was thus foreshadowed, for, dreamer that
he was, he seems not to have anticipated such a fatal eventuality for
himself. He did not lose his serenity, however, even when the tribunal
promptly brought in a verdict of guilty and imposed the death sentence,
upon which Polavieja the next day placed his _Cúmplase_, fixing the
morning of December thirtieth for the execution.
So Rizal's fate was sealed. The witnesses against him, in so far
as there was any substantial testimony at all, had been his own
countrymen, coerced or cajoled into making statements which they have
since repudiated as false, and which in some cases were extorted from
them by threats and even torture. But he betrayed very little emotion,
even maintaining what must have been an assumed cheerfulness. Only
one reproach is recorded: that he had been made a dupe of, that he had
been deceived by every one, even the _bankeros_ and _cocheros_. His old
Jesuit instructors remained with him in the _capilla_, or death-cell,
[13] and largely through the influence of an image of the Sacred Heart,
which he had carved as a schoolboy, it is claimed that a reconciliation
with the Church was effected. There has been considerable pragmatical
discussion as to what form of retraction from him was necessary,
since he had been, after studying in Europe, a frank freethinker, but
such futile polemics may safely be left to the learned doctors. That
he was reconciled with the Church would seem to be evidenced by
the fact that just before the execution he gave legal status as
his wife to the woman, a rather remarkable Eurasian adventuress,
who had lived with him in Dapitan, and the religious ceremony was
the only one then recognized in the islands. [14] The greater part
of his last night on earth was spent in composing a chain of verse;
no very majestic flight of poesy, but a pathetic monody throbbing with
patient resignation and inextinguishable hope, one of the sweetest,
saddest swan-songs ever sung.
Thus he was left at the last, entirely alone. As soon as his doom
became certain the Patriots had all scurried to cover, one gentle
poetaster even rushing into doggerel verse to condemn him as a
reversion to barbarism; the wealthier suspects betook themselves
to other lands or made judicious use of their money-bags among the
Spanish officials; the better classes of the population floundered
hopelessly, leaderless, in the confused whirl of opinions and passions;
while the voiceless millions for whom he had spoken moved on in dumb,
uncomprehending silence. He had lived in that higher dreamland of
the future, ahead of his countrymen, ahead even of those who assumed
to be the mentors of his people, and he must learn, as does every
noble soul that labors "to make the bounds of freedom wider yet,"
the bitter lesson that nine-tenths, if not all, the woes that afflict
humanity spring from man's own stupid selfishness, that the wresting
of the scepter from the tyrant is often the least of the task, that
the bondman comes to love his bonds--like Chillon's prisoner, his very
chains and he grow friends,--but that the struggle for human freedom
must go on, at whatever cost, in ever-widening circles, "wave after
wave, each mightier than the last," for as long as one body toils in
fetters or one mind welters in blind ignorance, either of the slave's
base delusion or the despot's specious illusion, there can be no final
security for any free man, or his children, or his children's children.


IV
"God save thee, ancient Mariner!
From the fiends, that plague thee thus!
Why look'st thou so?"--"With my cross-bow
I shot the Albatross!"
COLERIDGE.

It was one of those magic December mornings of the tropics--the very
nuptials of earth and sky, when great Nature seems to fling herself
incontinently into creation, wrapping the world in a brooding calm of
light and color, that Spain chose for committing political suicide
in the Philippines. Bagumbayan Field was crowded with troops, both
regulars and militia, for every man capable of being trusted with
arms was drawn up there, excepting only the necessary guards in other
parts of the city. Extra patrols were in the streets, double guards
were placed over the archiepiscopal and gubernatorial palaces. The
calmest man in all Manila that day was he who must stand before the
firing-squad.
Two special and unusual features are to be noted about this
execution. All the principal actors were Filipinos: the commander of
the troops and the officer directly in charge of the execution were
native-born, while the firing-squad itself was drawn from a local
native regiment, though it is true that on this occasion a squad of
Peninsular _cazadores_, armed with loaded Mausers, stood directly
behind them to see that they failed not in their duty. Again, there
was but one victim; for it seems to have ever been the custom of
the Spanish rulers to associate in these gruesome affairs some real
criminals with the political offenders, no doubt with the intentional
purpose of confusing the issue in the general mind. Rizal standing
alone, the occasion of so much hurried preparation and fearful
precaution, is a pathetic testimonial to the degree of incapacity
into which the ruling powers had fallen, even in chicanery.
After bidding good-by to his sister and making final disposition
regarding some personal property, the doomed man, under close guard,
walked calmly, even cheerfully, from Fort Santiago along the Malecon
to the Luneta, accompanied by his Jesuit confessors. Arrived there, he
thanked those about him for their kindness and requested the officer
in charge to allow him to face the firing-squad, since he had never
been a traitor to Spain. This the officer declined to permit, for
the order was to shoot him in the back. Rizal assented with a slight
protest, pointed out to the soldiers the spot in his back at which
they should aim, and with a firm step took his place in front of them.
Then occurred an act almost too hideous to record. There he stood,
expecting a volley of Remington bullets in his back--Time was, and
Life's stream ebbed to Eternity's flood--when the military surgeon
stepped forward and asked if he might feel his pulse! Rizal extended
his left hand, and the officer remarked that he could not understand
how a man's pulse could beat normally at such a terrific moment! The
victim shrugged his shoulders and let the hand fall again to his
side--Latin refinement could be no further refined!
A moment later there he lay, on his right side, his life-blood
spurting over the Luneta curb, eyes wide open, fixedly staring at that
Heaven where the priests had taught all those centuries agone that
Justice abides. The troops filed past the body, for the most part
silently, while desultory cries of "_Viva España!_" from among the
"patriotic" Filipino volunteers were summarily hushed by a Spanish
artillery-officer's stern rebuke: "Silence, you rabble!" To drown
out the fitful cheers and the audible murmurs, the bands struck
up Spanish national airs. Stranger death-dirge no man and system
ever had. Carnival revelers now dance about the scene and Filipino
schoolboys play baseball over that same spot.
A few days later another execution was held on that spot, of members
of the _Liga_, some of them characters that would have richly deserved
shooting at any place or time, according to existing standards, but
notable among them there knelt, torture-crazed, as to his orisons,
Francisco Roxas, millionaire capitalist, who may be regarded as the
social and economic head of the Filipino people, as Rizal was fitted
to be their intellectual leader. Shades of Anda and Vargas! Out there
at Balintawak--rather fitly, "the home of the snake-demon,"--not three
hours' march from this same spot, on the very edge of the city, Andres
Bonifacio and his literally sansculottic gangs of cutthroats were,
almost with impunity, soiling the fair name of Freedom with murder
and mutilation, rape and rapine, awakening the worst passions of an
excitable, impulsive people, destroying that essential respect for
law and order, which to restore would take a holocaust of fire and
blood, with a generation of severe training. Unquestionably did Rizal
demonstrate himself to be a seer and prophet when he applied to such
a system the story of Babylon and the fateful handwriting on the wall!
But forces had been loosed that would not be so suppressed, the time
had gone by when such wild methods of repression would serve. The
destruction of the native leaders, culminating in the executions
of Rizal and Roxas, produced a counter-effect by rousing the
Tagalogs, good and bad alike, to desperate fury, and the aftermath
was frightful. The better classes were driven to take part in the
rebellion, and Cavite especially became a veritable slaughter-pen,
as the contest settled down into a hideous struggle for mutual
extermination. Dark Andres went his wild way to perish by the
violence he had himself invoked, a prey to the rising ambition of
a young leader of considerable culture and ability, a schoolmaster
named Emilio Aguinaldo. His Katipunan hovered fitfully around Manila,
for a time even drawing to itself in their desperation some of the
better elements of the population, only to find itself sold out and
deserted by its leaders, dying away for a time; but later, under
changed conditions, it reappeared in strange metamorphosis as the
rallying-center for the largest number of Filipinos who have ever
gathered together for a common purpose, and then finally went down
before those thin grim lines in khaki with sharp and sharpest shot
clearing away the wreck of the old, blazing the way for the new:
the broadening sweep of "Democracy announcing, in rifle-volleys
death-winged, under her Star Banner, to the tune of Yankee-doodle-do,
that she is born, and, whirlwind-like, will envelop the whole world!"

MANILA, December 1, 1909




What? Does no Caesar, does no Achilles, appear on your stage now?
Not an Andromache e'en, not an Orestes, my friend?
No! there is nought to be seen there but parsons, and syndics of commerce,
Secretaries perchance, ensigns and majors of horse.
But, my good friend, pray tell, what can such people e'er meet with
That can be truly call'd great?--what that is great can they do?
SCHILLER: _Shakespeare's Ghost_.
(_Bowring's translation._)



CONTENTS

Author's Dedication
I A Social Gathering
II Crisostomo Ibarra
III The Dinner
IV Heretic and Filibuster
V A Star in a Dark Night
VI Capitan Tiago
VII An Idyl on an Azotea
VIII Recollections
IX Local Affairs
X The Town
XI The Rulers
XII All Saints
XIII Signs of Storm
XIV Tasio: Lunatic or Sage
IV The Sacristans
XVI Sisa
XVII Basilio
XVIII Souls In Torment
XIX A Schoolmaster's Difficulties
XX The Meeting in the Town Hall
XXI The Story of a Mother
XXII Lights and Shadows
XXIII Fishing
XXIV In the Wood
XXV In the House of the Sage
XXVI The Eve of the Fiesta
XXVII In the Twilight
XXVIII Correspondence
XXIX The Morning
XXX In the Church
XXXI The Sermon
XXXII The Derrick
XXXIII Free Thought
XXXIV The Dinner
XXXV Comments
XXXVI The First Cloud
XXXVII His Excellency
XXXVIII The Procession
XXXIX Doña Consolación
XL Right and Might
XLI Two Visits
XLII The Espadañas
XLIII Plans
XLIV An Examination of Conscience
XLV The Hunted
XLVI The Cockpit
XLVII The Two Señoras
XLVIII The Enigma
XLIX The Voice of the Hunted
L Elias's Story
LI Exchanges
LII The Cards of the Dead and the Shadows
LIII Il Buon Dí Si Conosce Da Mattina
LIV Revelations
LV The Catastrophe
LVI Rumors and Belief
LVII Vae Victis!
LVIII The Accursed
LIX Patriotism and Private Interests
LX Maria Clara Weds
LXI The Chase on the Lake
LXII Padre Damaso Explains
LXIII Christmas Eve
Epilogue
Glossary



AUTHOR'S DEDICATION

To My Fatherland:

Recorded in the history of human sufferings is a cancer of so malignant
a character that the least touch irritates it and awakens in it the
sharpest pains. Thus, how many times, when in the midst of modern
civilizations I have wished to call thee before me, now to accompany
me in memories, now to compare thee with other countries, hath thy
dear image presented itself showing a social cancer like to that other!
Desiring thy welfare, which is our own, and seeking the best treatment,
I will do with thee what the ancients did with their sick, exposing
them on the steps of the temple so that every one who came to invoke
the Divinity might offer them a remedy.
And to this end, I will strive to reproduce thy condition faithfully,
without discriminations; I will raise a part of the veil that covers
the evil, sacrificing to truth everything, even vanity itself, since,
as thy son, I am conscious that I also suffer from thy defects and
weaknesses.
THE AUTHOR

EUROPE, 1886


THE SOCIAL CANCER


CHAPTER I
A Social Gathering

On the last of October Don Santiago de los Santos, popularly known as
Capitan Tiago, gave a dinner. In spite of the fact that, contrary to
his usual custom, he had made the announcement only that afternoon,
it was already the sole topic of conversation in Binondo and adjacent
districts, and even in the Walled City, for at that time Capitan
Tiago was considered one of the most hospitable of men, and it was
well known that his house, like his country, shut its doors against
nothing except commerce and all new or bold ideas. Like an electric
shock the announcement ran through the world of parasites, bores,
and hangers-on, whom God in His infinite bounty creates and so kindly
multiplies in Manila. Some looked at once for shoe-polish, others
for buttons and cravats, but all were especially concerned about how
to greet the master of the house in the most familiar tone, in order
to create an atmosphere of ancient friendship or, if occasion should
arise, to excuse a late arrival.
This dinner was given in a house on Calle Anloague, and although we do
not remember the number we will describe it in such a way that it may
still be recognized, provided the earthquakes have not destroyed it. We
do not believe that its owner has had it torn down, for such labors are
generally entrusted to God or nature--which Powers hold the contracts
also for many of the projects of our government. It is a rather large
building, in the style of many in the country, and fronts upon the arm
of the Pasig which is known to some as the Binondo River, and which,
like all the streams in Manila, plays the varied rôles of bath, sewer,
laundry, fishery, means of transportation and communication, and even
drinking water if the Chinese water-carrier finds it convenient. It
is worthy of note that in the distance of nearly a mile this important
artery of the district, where traffic is most dense and movement most
deafening, can boast of only one wooden bridge, which is out of repair
on one side for six months and impassable on the other for the rest of
the year, so that during the hot season the ponies take advantage of
this permanent _status quo_ to jump off the bridge into the water,
to the great surprise of the abstracted mortal who may be dozing
inside the carriage or philosophizing upon the progress of the age.
The house of which we are speaking is somewhat low and not exactly
correct in all its lines: whether the architect who built it was
afflicted with poor eyesight or whether the earthquakes and typhoons
have twisted it out of shape, no one can say with certainty. A wide
staircase with green newels and carpeted steps leads from the tiled
entrance up to the main floor between rows of flower-pots set upon
pedestals of motley-colored and fantastically decorated Chinese
porcelain. Since there are neither porters nor servants who demand
invitation cards, we will go in, O you who read this, whether friend or
foe, if you are attracted by the strains of the orchestra, the lights,
or the suggestive rattling of dishes, knives, and forks, and if you
wish to see what such a gathering is like in the distant Pearl of
the Orient. Gladly, and for my own comfort, I should spare you this
description of the house, were it not of great importance, since we
mortals in general are very much like tortoises: we are esteemed and
classified according to our shells; in this and still other respects
the mortals of the Philippines in particular also resemble tortoises.
If we go up the stairs, we immediately find ourselves in a spacious
hallway, called there, for some unknown reason, the _caida_, which
tonight serves as the dining-room and at the same time affords a
place for the orchestra. In the center a large table profusely and
expensively decorated seems to beckon to the hanger-on with sweet
promises, while it threatens the bashful maiden, the simple _dalaga_,
with two mortal hours in the company of strangers whose language and
conversation usually have a very restricted and special character.
Contrasted with these terrestrial preparations are the motley paintings
on the walls representing religious matters, such as "Purgatory,"
"Hell," "The Last Judgment," "The Death of the Just," and "The Death
of the Sinner."
At the back of the room, fastened in a splendid and elegant framework,
in the Renaissance style, possibly by Arévalo, is a glass case in
which are seen the figures of two old women. The inscription on this
reads: "Our Lady of Peace and Prosperous Voyages, who is worshiped in
Antipolo, visiting in the disguise of a beggar the holy and renowned