The Social Cancer - 19

contracted the night before, for after singing a few merry songs he
had eaten three plates of ice-cream and attended the show for a short
time. As a result of all this, he wished to renounce his part as the
spokesman of God to men, but as no one else was to be found who was so
well versed in the life and miracles of San Diego,--the curate knew
them, it is true, but it was his place to celebrate mass,--the other
priests unanimously declared that the tone of Padre Damaso's voice
could not be improved upon and that it would be a great pity for
him to forego delivering such an eloquent sermon as he had written
and memorized. Accordingly, his former housekeeper prepared for him
lemonade, rubbed his chest and neck with liniment and olive-oil,
massaged him, and wrapped him in warm cloths. He drank some raw
eggs beaten up in wine and for the whole morning neither talked nor
breakfasted, taking only a glass of milk and a cup of chocolate with a
dozen or so of crackers, heroically renouncing his usual fried chicken
and half of a Laguna cheese, because the housekeeper affirmed that
cheese contained salt and grease, which would aggravate his cough.
"All for the sake of meriting heaven and of converting us!" exclaimed
the Tertiary Sisters, much affected, upon being informed of these
sacrifices.
"May Our Lady of Peace punish him!" muttered the Sisters of the Holy
Rosary, unable to forgive him for leaning to the side of their rivals.
At half past eight the procession started from the shadow of the
canvas canopy. It was the same as that of the previous day but for
the introduction of one novelty: the older members of the Venerable
Tertiary Order and some maidens dressed as old women displayed long
gowns, the poor having them of coarse cloth and the rich of silk,
or rather of Franciscan _guingón_, as it is called, since it is most
used by the reverend Franciscan friars. All these sacred garments
were genuine, having come from the convento in Manila, where the
people may obtain them as alms at a fixed price, if a commercial term
may be permitted; this fixed price was liable to increase but not to
reduction. In the convento itself and in the nunnery of St. Clara [86]
are sold these same garments which possess, besides the special merit
of gaining many indulgences for those who may be shrouded in them,
the very special merit of being dearer in proportion as they are old,
threadbare, and unserviceable. We write this in case any pious reader
need such sacred relics--or any cunning rag-picker of Europe wish to
make a fortune by taking to the Philippines a consignment of patched
and grimy garments, since they are valued at sixteen pesos or more,
according to their more or less tattered appearance.
San Diego de Alcala was borne on a float adorned with plates of
repoussé silver. The saint, though rather thin, had an ivory bust
which gave him a severe and majestic mien, in spite of abundant kingly
bangs like those of the Negrito. His mantle was of satin embroidered
with gold.
Our venerable father, St. Francis, followed the Virgin as on yesterday,
except that the priest under the canopy this time was Padre Salvi
and not the graceful Padre Sibyla, so refined in manner. But if the
former lacked a beautiful carriage he had more than enough unction,
walking half bent over with lowered eyes and hands crossed in mystic
attitude. The bearers of the canopy were the same cabezas de barangay,
sweating with satisfaction at seeing themselves at the same time
semi-sacristans, collectors of the tribute, redeemers of poor erring
humanity, and consequently Christs who were giving their blood for
the sins of others. The surpliced coadjutor went from float to float
carrying the censer, with the smoke from which he from time to time
regaled the nostrils of the curate, who then became even more serious
and grave.
So the procession moved forward slowly and deliberately to the
sound of bombs, songs, and religious melodies let loose into the
air by bands of musicians that followed the floats. Meanwhile,
the _hermano mayor_ distributed candles with such zeal that many of
the participants returned to their homes with light enough for four
nights of card-playing. Devoutly the curious spectators knelt at the
passage of the float of the Mother of God, reciting Credos and Salves
fervently. In front of a house in whose gaily decorated windows were
to be seen the alcalde, Capitan Tiago, Maria Clara, and Ibarra, with
various Spaniards and young ladies, the float was detained. Padre
Salvi happened to raise his eyes, but made not the slightest movement
that might have been taken for a salute or a recognition of them. He
merely stood erect, so that his cope fell over his shoulders more
gracefully and elegantly.
In the street under the window was a young woman of pleasing
countenance, dressed in deep mourning, carrying in her arms a young
baby. She must have been a nursemaid only, for the child was white
and ruddy while she was brown and had hair blacker than jet. Upon
seeing the curate the tender infant held out its arms, laughed with
the laugh that neither causes nor is caused by sorrow, and cried out
stammeringly in the midst of a brief silence, "Pa-pa! Papa! Papa!" The
young woman shuddered, slapped her hand hurriedly over the baby's
mouth and ran away in dismay, with the baby crying.
Malicious ones winked at each other, and the Spaniards who had
witnessed the short scene smiled, while the natural pallor of Padre
Salvi changed to the hue of poppies. Yet the people were wrong,
for the curate was not acquainted with the woman at all, she being
a stranger in the town.


CHAPTER XXX
In the Church

From end to end the huge barn that men dedicate as a home to the
Creator of all existing things was filled with people. Pushing,
crowding, and crushing one another, the few who were leaving and
the many who were entering filled the air with exclamations of
distress. Even from afar an arm would be stretched out to dip the
fingers in the holy water, but at the critical moment the surging crowd
would force the hand away. Then would be heard a complaint, a trampled
woman would upbraid some one, but the pushing would continue. Some old
people might succeed in dipping their fingers in the water, now the
color of slime, where the population of a whole town, with transients
besides, had washed. With it they would anoint themselves devoutly,
although with difficulty, on the neck, on the crown of the head,
on the forehead, on the chin, on the chest, and on the abdomen,
in the assurance that thus they were sanctifying those parts and
that they would suffer neither stiff neck, headache, consumption,
nor indigestion. The young people, whether they were not so ailing or
did not believe in that holy prophylactic, hardly more than moistened
the tip of a finger--and this only in order that the devout might
have no cause to talk--and pretended to make the sign of the cross on
their foreheads, of course without touching them. "It may be blessed
and everything you may wish," some young woman doubtless thought,
"but it has such a color!"
It was difficult to breathe in the heat amid the smells of the human
animal, but the preacher was worth all these inconveniences, as the
sermon was costing the town two hundred and fifty pesos. Old Tasio
had said: "Two hundred and fifty pesos for a sermon! One man on one
occasion! Only a third of what comedians cost, who will work for
three nights! Surely you must be very rich!"
"What has that to do with the drama?" testily inquired the nervous
leader of the Tertiary Brethren. "With the drama souls go to hell but
with the sermon to heaven! If he had asked a thousand, we would have
paid him and should still owe him gratitude."
"After all, you're right," replied the Sage, "for the sermon is more
amusing to me at least than the drama."
"But I am not amused even by the drama!" yelled the other furiously.
"I believe it, since you understand one about as well as you do the
other!" And the impious old man moved away without paying any attention
to the insults and the direful prophecies that the irritated leader
offered concerning his future existence.
While they were waiting for the alcalde, the people sweated and yawned,
agitating the air with fans, hats, and handkerchiefs. Children shouted
and cried, which kept the sacristans busy putting them out of the
sacred edifice. Such action brought to the dull and conscientious
leader of the Brotherhood of the Holy Rosary this thought: "'Suffer
little children to come unto me,' said Our Savior, it is true, but
here must be understood, children who do not cry."
An old woman in a _guingón_ habit, Sister Puté, chid her granddaughter,
a child of six years, who was kneeling at her side, "O lost one, give
heed, for you're going to hear a sermon like that of Good Friday!" Here
the old lady gave her a pinch to awaken the piety of the child,
who made a grimace, stuck out her nose, and wrinkled up her eyebrows.
Some men squatted on their heels and dozed beside the confessional. One
old man nodding caused our old woman to believe that he was mumbling
prayers, so, running her fingers rapidly over the beads of her
rosary--as that was the most reverent way of respecting the designs
of Heaven--little by little she set herself to imitating hint.
Ibarra stood in one corner while Maria Clara knelt near the high
altar in a space which the curate had had the courtesy to order the
sacristans to clear for her. Capitan Tiago, in a frock coat, sat on
one of the benches provided for the authorities, which caused the
children who did not know him to take him for another gobernadorcillo
and to be wary about getting near him.
At last the alcalde with his staff arrived, proceeding from the
sacristy and taking their seats in magnificent chairs placed on strips
of carpet. The alcalde wore a full-dress uniform and displayed the
cordon of Carlos III, with four or five other decorations. The people
did not recognize him.
"_Abá!_" exclaimed a rustic. "A civil-guard dressed as a comedian!"
"Fool!" rejoined a bystander, nudging him with his elbow. "It's the
Prince Villardo that we saw at the show last night!"
So the alcalde went up several degrees in the popular estimation by
becoming an enchanted prince, a vanquisher of giants.
When the mass began, those who were seated arose and those who
had been asleep were awakened by the ringing of the bells and the
sonorous voices of the singers. Padre Salvi, in spite of his gravity,
wore a look of deep satisfaction, since there were serving him as
deacon and subdeacon none less than two Augustinians. Each one, as
it came his turn, sang well, in a more or less nasal tone and with
unintelligible articulation, except the officiating priest himself,
whose voice trembled somewhat, even getting out of tune at times,
to the great wonder of those who knew him. Still he moved about
with precision and elegance while he recited the _Dominus vobiscum_
unctuously, dropping his head a little to the side and gazing toward
heaven. Seeing him receive the smoke from the incense one would
have said that Galen was right in averring the passage of smoke in
the nasal canals to the head through a screen of ethmoids, since
he straightened himself, threw his head back, and moved toward the
middle of the altar with such pompousness and gravity that Capitan
Tiago found him more majestic than the Chinese comedian of the
night before, even though the latter had been dressed as an emperor,
paint-bedaubed, with beribboned sword, stiff beard like a horse's
mane, and high-soled slippers. "Undoubtedly," so his thoughts ran,
"a single curate of ours has more majesty than all the emperors."
At length came the expected moment, that of hearing Padre Damaso. The
three priests seated themselves in their chairs in an edifying
attitude, as the worthy correspondent would say, the alcalde and
other persons of place and position following their example. The
music ceased.
The sudden transition from noise to silence awoke our aged Sister Puté,
who was already snoring under cover of the music. Like Segismundo,
[87] or like the cook in the story of the Sleeping Beauty, the first
thing that she did upon awaking was to whack her granddaughter on
the neck, as the child had also fallen asleep. The latter screamed,
but soon consoled herself at the sight of a woman who was beating her
breast with contrition and enthusiasm. All tried to place themselves
comfortably, those who had no benches squatting down on the floor or
on their heels.
Padre Damaso passed through the congregation preceded by two
sacristans and followed by another friar carrying a massive volume. He
disappeared as he went up the winding staircase, but his round head
soon reappeared, then his fat neck, followed immediately by his
body. Coughing slightly, he looked about him with assurance. He
noticed Ibarra and with a special wink gave to understand that he
would not overlook that youth in his prayers. Then he turned a look
of satisfaction upon Padre Sibyla and another of disdain upon Padre
Martin, the preacher of the previous day. This inspection concluded,
he turned cautiously and said, "Attention, brother!" to his companion,
who opened the massive volume.
But the sermon deserves a separate chapter. A young man who was then
learning stenography and who idolizes great orators, took it down;
thanks to this fact, we can here present a selection from the sacred
oratory of those regions.


CHAPTER XXXI
The Sermon

Fray Damaso began slowly in a low voice: "'_Et spiritum bonum dedisti,
qui doceret eos, et manna tuum non prohibuisti ab ore eorum, et aquam
dedisti eis in siti_. And thou gavest thy good Spirit to teach them,
and thy manna thou didst not withhold from their mouth, and thou
gavest them water for their thirst!' Words which the Lord spoke
through the mouth of Esdras, in the second book, the ninth chapter,
and the twentieth verse." [88]
Padre Sibyla glanced in surprise at the preacher. Padre Manuel Martin
turned pale and swallowed hard that was better than his! Whether Padre
Damaso noticed this or whether he was still hoarse, the fact is that
he coughed several times as he placed both hands on the rail of the
pulpit. The Holy Ghost was above his head, freshly painted, clean and
white, with rose-colored beak and feet. "Most honorable sir" (to the
alcalde), "most holy priests, Christians, brethren in Jesus Christ!"
Here he made a solemn pause as again he swept his gaze over the
congregation, with whose attention and concentration he seemed
satisfied.
"The first part of the sermon is to be in Spanish and the other in
Tagalog; _loquebantur omnes linguas_."
After the salutations and the pause he extended his right hand
majestically toward the altar, at the same time fixing his gaze on
the alcalde. He slowly crossed his arms without uttering a word, then
suddenly passing from calmness to action, threw back his head and
made a sign toward the main door, sawing the air with his open hand
so forcibly that the sacristans interpreted the gesture as a command
and closed the doors. The alferez became uneasy, doubting whether
he should go or stay, when the preacher began in a strong voice,
full and sonorous; truly his old housekeeper was skilled in medicine.
"Radiant and resplendent is the altar, wide is the great door, the
air is the vehicle of the holy and divine words that will spring
from my mouth! Hear ye then with the ears of your souls and hearts
that the words of the Lord may not fall on the stony soil where the
birds of Hell may consume them, but that ye may grow and flourish
as holy seed in the field of our venerable and seraphic father,
St. Francis! O ye great sinners, captives of the Moros of the soul
that infest the sea of eternal life in the powerful craft of the
flesh and the world, ye who are laden with the fetters of lust and
avarice, and who toil in the galleys of the infernal Satan, look
ye here with reverent repentance upon him who saved souls from the
captivity of the devil, upon the intrepid Gideon, upon the valiant
David, upon the triumphant Roland of Christianity, upon the celestial
Civil Guard, more powerful than all the Civil Guards together, now
existing or to exist!" (The alferez frowned.) "Yes, señor alferez,
more valiant and powerful, he who with no other weapon than a wooden
cross boldly vanquishes the eternal tulisan of the shades and all
the hosts of Lucifer, and who would have exterminated them forever,
were not the spirits immortal! This marvel of divine creation, this
wonderful prodigy, is the blessed Diego of Alcala, who, if I may avail
myself of a comparison, since comparisons aid in the comprehension of
incomprehensible things, as another has said, I say then that this
great saint is merely a private soldier, a steward in the powerful
company which our seraphic father, St. Francis, sends from Heaven,
and to which I have the honor to belong as a corporal or sergeant,
by the grace of God!"
The "rude Indians," as the correspondent would say, caught nothing
more from this paragraph than the words "Civil Guard," "tulisan,"
"San Diego," and "St. Francis," so, observing the wry face of the
alferez and the bellicose gestures of the preacher, they deduced that
the latter was reprehending him for not running down the tulisanes. San
Diego and St. Francis would be commissioned in this duty and justly
so, as is proved by a picture existing in the convento at Manila,
representing St. Francis, by means of his girdle only, holding back the
Chinese invasion in the first years after the discovery. The devout
were accordingly not a little rejoiced and thanked God for this aid,
not doubting that once the tulisanes had disappeared, St. Francis would
also destroy the Civil Guard. With redoubled attention, therefore,
they listened to Padre Damaso, as he continued:
"Most honorable sir" Great affairs are great affairs even by the side
of the small and the small are always small even by the side of the
great. So History says, but since History hits the nail on the head
only once in a hundred times, being a thing made by men, and men make
mistakes--_errarle es hominum_, [89] as Cicero said--he who opens his
mouth makes mistakes, as they say in my country then the result is
that there are profound truths which History does not record. These
truths, most honorable sir, the divine Spirit spoke with that supreme
wisdom which human intelligence has not comprehended since the times
of Seneca and Aristotle, those wise priests of antiquity, even to our
sinful days, and these truths are that not always are small affairs
small, but that they are great, not by the side of the little things,
but by the side of the grandest of the earth and of the heavens and
of the air and of the clouds and of the waters and of space and of
life and of death!"
"Amen!" exclaimed the leader of the Tertiaries, crossing himself.
With this figure of rhetoric, which he had learned from a famous
preacher in Manila, Padre Damaso wished to startle his audience,
and in fact his holy ghost was so fascinated with such great truths
that it was necessary to kick him to remind him of his business.
"Patent to your eyes--" prompted the holy ghost below.
"Patent to your eyes is the conclusive and impressive proof of this
eternal philosophical truth! Patent is that sun of virtue, and I say
sun and not moon, for there is no great merit in the fact that the
moon shines during the night,--in the land of the blind the one-eyed
man is king; by night may shine a light, a tiny star,--so the greatest
merit is to be able to shine even in the middle of the day, as the sun
does; so shines our brother Diego even in the midst of the greatest
saints! Here you have patent to your eyes, in your impious disbelief,
the masterpiece of the Highest for the confusion of the great of the
earth, yes, my brethren, patent, _patent_ to all, PATENT!"
A man rose pale and trembling and hid himself in a confessional. He was
a liquor dealer who had been dozing and dreaming that the carbineers
were demanding the patent, or license, that he did not have. It may
safely be affirmed that he did not come out from his hiding-place
while the sermon lasted.
"Humble and lowly saint, thy wooden cross" (the one that the image held
was of silver), "thy modest gown, honors the great Francis whose sons
and imitators we are. We propagate thy holy race in the whole world,
in the remote places, in the cities, in the towns, without distinction
between black and white" (the alcalde held his breath), "suffering
hardships and martyrdoms, thy holy race of faith and religion militant"
("Ah!" breathed the alcalde) "which holds the world in balance and
prevents it from falling into the depths of perdition."
His hearers, including even Capitan Tiago, yawned little by
little. Maria Clara was not listening to the sermon, for she knew
that Ibarra was near and was thinking about him while she fanned
herself and gazed at an evangelical bull that had all the outlines
of a small carabao.
"All should know by heart the Holy Scriptures and the lives of the
saints and then I should not have to preach to you, O sinners! You
should know such important and necessary things as the Lord's
Prayer, although many of you have forgotten it, living now as do
the Protestants or heretics, who, like the Chinese, respect not the
ministers of God. But the worse for you, O ye accursed, moving as
you are toward damnation!"
"_Abá_, Pale Lamaso, what!" [90] muttered Carlos, the Chinese,
looking angrily at the preacher, who continued to extemporize,
emitting a series of apostrophes and imprecations.
"You will die in final unrepentance, O race of heretics! God punishes
you even on this earth with jails and prisons! Women should flee from
you, the rulers should hang all of you so that the seed of Satan
be not multiplied in the vineyard of the Lord! Jesus Christ said:
'If you have an evil member that leads you to sin, cut it off, and
cast it into the fire--'"
Having forgotten both his sermon and his rhetoric, Fray Damaso began to
be nervous. Ibarra became uneasy and looked about for a quiet corner,
but the church was crowded. Maria Clara neither heard nor saw anything
as she was analyzing a picture, of the blessed souls in purgatory,
souls in the shape of men and women dressed in hides, with miters,
hoods, and cowls, all roasting in the fire and clutching St. Francis'
girdle, which did not break even with such great weight. With that
improvisation on the preacher's part, the holy-ghost friar lost the
thread of the sermon and skipped over three long paragraphs, giving
the wrong cue to the now laboriously-panting Fray Damaso.
"Who of you, O sinners, would lick the sores of a poor and ragged
beggar? Who? Let him answer by raising his hand! None! That I knew, for
only a saint like Diego de Alcala would do it. He licked all the sores,
saying to an astonished brother, 'Thus is this sick one cured!' O
Christian charity! O matchless example! O virtue of virtues! O
inimitable pattern! O spotless talisman!" Here he continued a long
series of exclamations, the while crossing his arms and raising and
lowering them as though he wished to fly or to frighten the birds away.
"Before dying he spoke in Latin, without knowing Latin! Marvel, O
sinners! You, in spite of what you study, for which blows are given
to you, you do not speak Latin, and you will die without speaking
it! To speak Latin is a gift of God and therefore the Church uses
Latin! I, too, speak Latin! Was God going to deny this consolation
to His beloved Diego? Could he die, could he be permitted to die,
without speaking Latin? Impossible! God wouldn't be just, He Wouldn't
be God! So he talked in Latin, and of that fact the writers of his
time bear witness!"
He ended this exordium with the passage which had cost him the most
toil and which he had plagiarized from a great writer, Sinibaldo de
Mas. "Therefore, I salute thee, illustrious Diego, the glory of our
Order! Thou art the pattern of virtue, meek with honor, humble with
nobility, compliant with fortitude, temperate with ambition, hostile
with loyalty, compassionate with pardon, holy with conscientiousness,
full of faith with devotion, credulous with sincerity, chaste with
love, reserved with secrecy; long-suffering with patience, brave
with timidity, moderate with desire, bold with resolution, obedient
with subjection., modest with pride, zealous with disinterestedness,
skilful with capability, ceremonious with politeness, astute with
sagacity, merciful with piety, secretive with modesty, revengeful with
valor, poor on account of thy labors with true conformity, prodigal
with economy, active with ease, economical with liberality, innocent
with sagacity, reformer with consistency, indifferent with zeal for
learning: God created thee to feel the raptures of Platonic love! Aid
me in singing thy greatness and thy name higher than the stars and
clearer than the sun itself that circles about thy feet! Aid me, all
of you, as you appeal to God for sufficient inspiration by reciting
the Ave Maria!"
All fell upon their knees and raised a murmur like the humming of a
thousand bees. The alcalde laboriously bent one knee and wagged his
head in a disgusted manner, while the alferez looked pale and penitent.
"To the devil with the curate!" muttered one of two youths who had
come from Manila.
"Keep still!" admonished his companion. "His woman might hear us."
Meanwhile, Padre Damaso, instead of reciting the Ave Maria,
was scolding his holy ghost for having skipped three of his best
paragraphs; at the same time he consumed a couple of cakes and a
glass of Malaga, secure of encountering therein greater inspiration
than in all the holy ghosts, whether of wood in the form of a dove
or of flesh in the shape of an inattentive friar.
Then he began the sermon in Tagalog. The devout old woman again gave
her granddaughter a hearty slap. The child awoke ill-naturedly and
asked, "Is it time to cry now?"
"Not yet, O lost one, but don't go to sleep again!" answered the
good grandmother.
Of the second part of the sermon--that in Tagalog--we have only a
few rough notes, for Padre Damaso extemporized in this language,
not because he knew it better, but because, holding the provincial
Filipinos ignorant of rhetoric, he was not afraid of making blunders
before them. With Spaniards the case was different; he had heard
rules of oratory spoken of, and it was possible that among his hearers
some one had been in college-halls, perhaps the alcalde, so he wrote
out his sermons, corrected and polished them, and then memorized and
rehearsed them for several days beforehand.
It is common knowledge that none of those present understood the drift
of the sermon. They were so dull of understanding and the preacher
was so profound, as Sister Rufa said, that the audience waited in
vain for an opportunity to weep, and the lost grandchild of the
blessed old woman went to sleep again. Nevertheless, this part had
greater consequences than the first, at least for certain hearers,
as we shall see later.
He began with a "_Mana capatir con cristiano_," [91] followed by an
avalanche of untranslatable phrases. He talked of the soul, of Hell,
of "_mahal na santo pintacasi_," [92] of the Indian sinners and of
the virtuous Franciscan Fathers.
"The devil!" exclaimed one of the two irreverent Manilans to his
companion. "That's all Greek to me. I'm going." Seeing the doors
closed, he went out through the sacristy, to the great scandal of
the people and especially of the preacher, who turned pale and paused
in the midst of his sentence. Some looked for a violent apostrophe,
but Padre Damaso contented himself with watching the delinquent,
and then he went on with his sermon.
Then were let loose curses upon the age, against the lack of reverence,
against the growing indifference to Religion. This matter seemed to