The Social Cancer - 32

had produced a good effect, went on with more spirit: "Yes, sir, my
mother-in-law doesn't give me anything to eat but what is rotten and
unfit, so last night when I came by here with my belly aching I saw
the yard of the barracks near and I said to myself, 'It's night-time,
no one will see me.' I went in--and then many shots sounded--"
A blow from the rattan cut his speech short.
"To the jail," ordered the alferez. "This afternoon, to the capital!"


CHAPTER LVIII
The Accursed

Soon the news spread through the town that the prisoners were about to
set out. At first it was heard with terror; afterward came the weeping
and wailing. The families of the prisoners ran about in distraction,
going from the convento to the barracks, from the barracks to the
town hall, and finding no consolation anywhere, filled the air with
cries and groans. The curate had shut himself up on a plea of illness;
the alferez had increased the guards, who received the supplicating
women with the butts of their rifles; the gobernadorcillo, at best
a useless creature, seemed to be more foolish and more useless than
ever. In front of the jail the women who still had strength enough
ran to and fro, while those who had not sat down on the ground and
called upon the names of their beloved.
Although the sun beat down fiercely, not one of these unfortunates
thought of going away. Doray, the erstwhile merry and happy wife of Don
Filipo, wandered about dejectedly, carrying in her arms their infant
son, both weeping. To the advice of friends that she go back home to
avoid exposing her baby to an attack of fever, the disconsolate woman
replied, "Why should he live, if he isn't going to have a father to
rear him?"
"Your husband is innocent. Perhaps he'll come back."
"Yes, after we're all dead!"
Capitana Tinay wept and called upon her son Antonio. The courageous
Capitana Maria gazed silently toward the small grating behind which
were her twin-boys, her only sons.
There was present also the mother-in-law of the pruner of
coco-palms, but she was not weeping; instead, she paced back and
forth, gesticulating with uplifted arms, and haranguing the crowd:
"Did you ever see anything like it? To arrest my Andong, to shoot at
him, to put him in the stocks, to take him to the capital, and only
because--because he had a new pair of pantaloons! This calls for
vengeance! The civil-guards are committing abuses! I swear that if
I ever again catch one of them in my garden, as has often happened,
I'll chop him up, I'll chop him up, or else--let him try to chop me
up!" Few persons, however, joined in the protests of the Mussulmanish
mother-in-law.
"Don Crisostomo is to blame for all this," sighed a woman.
The schoolmaster was also in the crowd, wandering about bewildered. Ñor
Juan did not rub his hands, nor was he carrying his rule and plumb-bob;
he was dressed in black, for he had heard the bad news and, true
to his habit of looking upon the future as already assured, was in
mourning for Ibarra's death.
At two o'clock in the afternoon an open cart drawn by two oxen stopped
in front of the town hall. This was at once set upon by the people,
who attempted to unhitch the oxen and destroy it. "Don't do that!" said
Capitana Maria. "Do you want to make them walk?" This consideration
acted as a restraint on the prisoners' relatives.
Twenty soldiers came out and surrounded the cart; then the prisoners
appeared. The first was Don Filipo, bound. He greeted his wife
smilingly, but Doray broke out into bitter weeping and two guards had
difficulty in preventing her from embracing her husband. Antonio, the
son of Capitana Tinay, appeared crying like a baby, which only added to
the lamentations of his family. The witless Andong broke out into tears
at sight of his mother-in-law, the cause of his misfortune. Albino,
the quondam theological student, was also bound, as were Capitana
Maria's twins. All three were grave and serious. The last to come
out was Ibarra, unbound, but conducted between two guards. The pallid
youth looked about him for a friendly face.
"He's the one that's to blame!" cried many voices. "He's to blame
and he goes loose!"
"My son-in-law hasn't done anything and he's got handcuffs on!" Ibarra
turned to the guards. "Bind me, and bind me well, elbow to elbow,"
he said.
"We haven't any order."
"Bind me!" And the soldiers obeyed.
The alferez appeared on horseback, armed to the teeth, ten or fifteen
more soldiers following him.
Each prisoner had his family there to pray for him, to weep for him,
to bestow on him the most endearing names--all save Ibarra, who had
no one, even Ñor Juan and the schoolmaster having disappeared.
"Look what you've done to my husband and my son!" Doray cried to
him. "Look at my poor son! You've robbed him of his father!"
So the sorrow of the families was converted into anger toward the
young man, who was accused of having started the trouble. The alferez
gave the order to set out.
"You're a coward!" the mother-in-law of Andong cried after
Ibarra. "While others were fighting for you, you hid yourself, coward!"
"May you be accursed!" exclaimed an old man, running along beside
him. "Accursed be the gold amassed by your family to disturb our
peace! Accursed! Accursed!"
"May they hang you, heretic!" cried a relative of Albino's. Unable
to restrain himself, he caught up a stone and threw it at the youth.
This example was quickly followed, and a rain of dirt and stones fell
on the wretched young man. Without anger or complaint, impassively he
bore the righteous vengeance of so many suffering hearts. This was the
parting, the farewell, offered to him by the people among whom were
all his affections. With bowed head, he was perhaps thinking of a man
whipped through the streets of Manila, of an old woman falling dead
at the sight of her son's head; perhaps Elias's history was passing
before his eyes.
The alferez found it necessary to drive the crowd back, but the
stone-throwing and the insults did not cease. One mother alone did not
wreak vengeance on him for her sorrows, Capitana Maria. Motionless,
with lips contracted and eyes full of silent tears, she saw her two
sons move away; her firmness, her dumb grief surpassed that of the
fabled Niobe.
So the procession moved on. Of the persons who appeared at the
few open windows those who showed most pity for the youth were the
indifferent and the curious. All his friends had hidden themselves,
even Capitan Basilio himself, who forbade his daughter Sinang to weep.
Ibarra saw the smoking ruins of his house--the home of his fathers,
where he was born, where clustered the fondest recollections of his
childhood and his youth. Tears long repressed started into his eyes,
and he bowed his head and wept without having the consolation of being
able to hide his grief, tied as he was, nor of having any one in whom
his sorrow awoke compassion. Now he had neither country, nor home,
nor love, nor friends, nor future!
From a slight elevation a man gazed upon the sad procession. He was an
old man, pale and emaciated, wrapped in a woolen blanket, supporting
himself with difficulty on a staff. It was the old Sage, Tasio, who,
on hearing of the event, had left his bed to be present, but his
strength had not been sufficient to carry him to the town hall. The
old man followed the cart with his gaze until it disappeared in the
distance and then remained for some time afterward with his head bowed,
deep in thought. Then he stood up and laboriously made his way toward
his house, pausing to rest at every step. On the following day some
herdsmen found him dead on the very threshold of his solitary home.


CHAPTER LIX
Patriotism and Private Interests

Secretly the telegraph transmitted the report to Manila, and thirty-six
hours later the newspapers commented on it with great mystery and not
a few dark hints--augmented, corrected, or mutilated by the censor. In
the meantime, private reports, emanating from the convents, were the
first to gain secret currency from mouth to mouth, to the great terror
of those who heard them. The fact, distorted in a thousand ways,
was believed with greater or less ease according to whether it was
flattering or worked contrary to the passions and ways of thinking
of each hearer.
Without public tranquillity seeming disturbed, at least outwardly,
yet the peace of mind of each home was whirled about like the water in
a pond: while the surface appears smooth and clear, in the depths the
silent fishes swarm, dive about, and chase one another. For one part
of the population crosses, decorations, epaulets, offices, prestige,
power, importance, dignities began to whirl about like butterflies
in a golden atmosphere. For the other part a dark cloud arose on the
horizon, projecting from its gray depths, like black silhouettes,
bars, chains, and even the fateful gibbet. In the air there seemed to
be heard investigations, condemnations, and the cries from the torture
chamber; Marianas [145] and Bagumbayan presented themselves wrapped
in a torn and bloody veil, fishers and fished confused. Fate pictured
the event to the imaginations of the Manilans like certain Chinese
fans--one side painted black, the other gilded with bright-colored
birds and flowers.
In the convents the greatest excitement prevailed. Carriages
were harnessed, the Provincials exchanged visits and held secret
conferences; they presented themselves in the palaces to offer their
aid to _the government in its perilous crisis_. Again there was talk
of comets and omens.
"_A Te Deum! A Te Deum!_" cried a friar in one convent. "This time
let no one be absent from the chorus! It's no small mercy from God
to make it clear just now, especially in these hopeless times, how
much we are worth!"
"The little general _Mal-Aguero_ [146] can gnaw his lips over this
lesson," responded another.
"What would have become of him if not for the religious corporations?"
"And to celebrate the fiesta better, serve notice on the cook and
the refectioner. _Gaudeamus_ for three days!"
"Amen!" "Viva Salvi!" "Amen!"
In another convent they talked differently.
"You see, now, that fellow is a pupil of the Jesuits. The filibusters
come from the Ateneo."
"And the anti-friars."
"I told you so. The Jesuits are ruining the country, they're corrupting
the youth, but they are tolerated because they trace a few scrawls
on a piece of paper when there is an earthquake."
"And God knows how they are made!"
"Yes, but don't contradict them. When everything is shaking and moving
about, who draws diagrams? Nothing, Padre Secchi--" [147]
And they smiled with sovereign disdain.
"But what about the weather forecasts and the typhoons?" asked another
ironically. "Aren't they divine?"
"Any fisherman foretells them!"
"When he who governs is a fool--tell me how your head is and I'll
tell you how your foot is! But you'll see if the friends favor one
another. The newspapers very nearly ask a miter for Padre Salvi."
"He's going to get it! He'll lick it right up!"
"Do you think so?"
"Why not! Nowadays they grant one for anything whatsoever. I know
of a fellow who got one for less. He wrote a cheap little work
demonstrating that the Indians are not capable of being anything but
mechanics. Pshaw, old-fogyisms!"
"That's right! So much favoritism injures Religion!" exclaimed
another. "If the miters only had eyes and could see what heads they
were upon--"
"If the miters were natural objects," added another in a nasal tone,
"_Natura abhorrer vacuum_."
"That's why they grab for them, their emptiness attracts!" responded
another.
These and many more things were said in the convents, but we will
spare our reader other comments of a political, metaphysical, or
piquant nature and conduct him to a private house. As we have few
acquaintances in Manila, let us enter the home of Capitan Tinong,
the polite individual whom we saw so profusely inviting Ibarra to
honor him with a visit.
In the rich and spacious sala of his Tondo house, Capitan Tinong was
seated in a wide armchair, rubbing his hands in a gesture of despair
over his face and the nape of his neck, while his wife, Capitana
Tinchang, was weeping and preaching to him. From the corner their
two daughters listened silently and stupidly, yet greatly affected.
"Ay, Virgin of Antipolo!" cried the woman. "Ay, Virgin of the Rosary
and of the Girdle! [148] Ay, ay! Our Lady of Novaliches!"
"Mother!" responded the elder of the daughters.
"I told you so!" continued the wife in an accusing tone. "I told you
so! Ay, Virgin of Carmen, [149] ay!"
"But you didn't tell me anything," Capitan Tinong dared to answer
tearfully. "On the contrary, you told me that I was doing well to
frequent Capitan Tiago's house and cultivate friendship with him,
because he's rich--and you told me--"
"What! What did I tell you? I didn't tell you that, I didn't tell
you anything! Ay, if you had only listened to me!"
"Now you're throwing the blame on _me_," he replied bitterly, slapping
the arm of his chair. "Didn't you tell me that I had done well to
invite him to dine with us, because he was wealthy? Didn't you say
that we ought to have friends only among the wealthy? _Abá!_"
"It's true that I told you so, because--because there wasn't anything
else for me to do. You did nothing but sing his praises: _Don Ibarra_
here, _Don Ibarra_ there, _Don Ibarra_ everywhere. _Abaá!_ But I
didn't advise you to hunt him up and talk to him at that reception! You
can't deny that!"
"Did I know that he was to be there, perhaps?"
"But you ought to have known it!"
"How so, if I didn't even know him?"
"But you ought to have known him!"
"But, Tinchang, it was the first time that I ever saw him, that I
ever heard him spoken of!"
"Well then, you ought to have known him before and heard him spoken
of. That's what you're a man for and wear trousers and read _El Diario
de Manila_," [150] answered his unterrified spouse, casting on him
a terrible look.
To this Capitan Tinong did not know what to reply. Capitana Tinchang,
however, was not satisfied with this victory, but wished to silence him
completely. So she approached him with clenched fists. "Is this what
I've worked for, year after year, toiling and saving, that you by your
stupidity may throw away the fruits of my labor?" she scolded. "Now
they'll come to deport you, they'll take away all our property, just
as they did from the wife of--Oh, if I were a man, if I were a man!"
Seeing that her husband bowed his head, she again fell to sobbing,
but still repeating, "Ay, if I were a man, if I were a man!"
"Well, if you were a man," the provoked husband at length asked,
"what would you do?"
"What would I do? Well--well--well, this very minute I'd go to the
Captain-General and offer to fight against the rebels, this very
minute!"
"But haven't you seen what the _Diario_ says? Read it: 'The vile
and infamous treason has been suppressed with energy, strength, and
vigor, and soon the rebellious enemies of the Fatherland and their
accomplices will feel all the weight and severity of the law.' Don't
you see it? There isn't any more rebellion."
"That doesn't matter! You ought to offer yourself as they did in '72;
[151] they saved themselves."
"Yes, that's what was done by Padre Burg--"
But he was unable to finish this name, for his wife ran to him and
slapped her hand over his mouth. "Shut up! Are you saying that name
so that they may garrote you tomorrow on Bagumbayan? Don't you know
that to pronounce it is enough to get yourself condemned without
trial? Keep quiet!"
However Capitan Tinong may have felt about obeying her, he could
hardly have done otherwise, for she had his mouth covered with both
her hands, pressing his little head against the back of the chair,
so that the poor fellow might have been smothered to death had not
a new personage appeared on the scene. This was their cousin, Don
Primitivo, who had memorized the "Amat," a man of some forty years,
plump, big-paunched, and elegantly dressed.
"_Quid video?_" he exclaimed as he entered. "What's
happening? _Quare?_" [152]
"Ay, cousin!" cried the woman, running toward him in tears, "I've
sent for you because I don't know what's going to become of us. What
do you advise? Speak, you've studied Latin and know how to argue."
"But first, _quid quaeritis? Nihil est in intellectu quod prius non
fuerit in sensu; nihil volitum quin praecognitum_." [153]
He sat down gravely and, just as if the Latin phrases had possessed
a soothing virtue, the couple ceased weeping and drew nearer to him
to hang upon the advice from his lips, as at one time the Greeks did
before the words of salvation from the oracle that was to free them
from the Persian invaders.
"Why do you weep? _Ubinam gentium sumus?_" [154]
"You've already heard of the uprising?"
"_Alzamentum Ibarrae ab alferesio Guardiae Civilis destructum? Et
nunc?_ [155] What! Does Don Crisostomo owe you anything?"
"No, but you know, Tinong invited him to dinner and spoke to him
on the Bridge of Spain--in broad daylight! They'll say that he's a
friend of his!"
"A friend of his!" exclaimed the startled Latinist, rising. "_Amice,
amicus Plato sed magis amica veritas_. Birds of a feather flock
together. _Malum est negotium et est timendum rerum istarum
horrendissimum resultatum!_ [156] Ahem!"
Capitan Tinong turned deathly pale at hearing so many words in _um_;
such a sound presaged ill. His wife clasped her hands supplicatingly
and said:
"Cousin, don't talk to us in Latin now. You know that we're not
philosophers like you. Let's talk in Spanish or Tagalog. Give us
some advice."
"It's a pity that you don't understand Latin, cousin. Truths in
Latin are lies in Tagalog; for example, _contra principia negantem
fustibus est arguendum_ [157] in Latin is a truth like Noah's ark,
but I put it into practise once and I was the one who got whipped. So,
it's a pity that you don't know Latin. In Latin everything would be
straightened out."
"We, too, know many _oremus, parcenobis_, and _Agnus Dei Catolis_,
[158] but now we shouldn't understand one another. Provide Tinong
with an argument so that they won't hang him!"
"You're done wrong, very wrong, cousin, in cultivating friendship
with that young man," replied the Latinist.
"The righteous suffer for the sinners. I was almost going to advise you
to make your will. _Vae illis! Ubi est fumus ibi est ignis! Similis
simili audet; atqui Ibarra ahorcatur, ergo ahorcaberis--_" [159]
With this he shook his head from side to side disgustedly.
"Saturnino, what's the matter?" cried Capitana Tinchang in dismay. "Ay,
he's dead! A doctor! Tinong, Tinongoy!"
The two daughters ran to her, and all three fell to weeping. "It's
nothing more than a swoon, cousin! I would have been more pleased
that--that--but unfortunately it's only a swoon. _Non timeo mortem
in catre sed super espaldonem Bagumbayanis_. [160] Get some water!"
"Don't die!" sobbed the wife. "Don't die, for they'll come and arrest
you! Ay, if you die and the soldiers come, ay, ay!"
The learned cousin rubbed the victim's face with water until he
recovered consciousness. "Come, don't cry. _Inveni remedium_: I've
found a remedy. Let's carry him to bed. Come, take courage! Here I am
with you--and all the wisdom of the ancients. Call a doctor, and you,
cousin, go right away to the Captain-General and take him a present--a
gold ring, a chain. _Dadivae quebrantant peñas_. [161] Say that it's
a Christmas gift. Close the windows, the doors, and if any one asks
for my cousin, say that he is seriously ill. Meanwhile, I'll burn all
his letters, papers, and books, so that they can't find anything,
just as Don Crisostomo did. _Scripti testes sunt! Quod medicamenta
non sanant, ferrum sanat, quod ferrum non sanat, ignis sanat._" [162]
"Yes, do so, cousin, burn everything!" said Capitana Tinchang. "Here
are the keys, here are the letters from Capitan Tiago. Burn them! Don't
leave a single European newspaper, for they're very dangerous. Here
are the copies of _The Times_ that I've kept for wrapping up soap
and old clothes. Here are the books."
"Go to the Captain-General, cousin," said Don Primitivo, "and leave
us alone. _In extremis extrema_. [163] Give me the authority of a
Roman dictator, and you'll see how soon I'll save the coun--I mean,
my cousin."
He began to give orders and more orders, to upset bookcases, to tear
up papers, books, and letters. Soon a big fire was burning in the
kitchen. Old shotguns were smashed with axes, rusty revolvers were
thrown away. The maidservant who wanted to keep the barrel of one
for a blowpipe received a reprimand:
"_Conservare etiam sperasti, perfida?_ [164] Into the fire!" So
he continued his auto da fé. Seeing an old volume in vellum,
he read the title, _Revolutions of the Celestial Globes_,
by Copernicus. Whew! "_Ite, maledicti, in ignem kalanis!_"
[165] he exclaimed, hurling it into the flames. "Revolutions and
Copernicus! Crimes on crimes! If I hadn't come in time! _Liberty in
the Philippines!_ Ta, ta, ta! What books! Into the fire!"
Harmless books, written by simple authors, were burned; not even the
most innocent work escaped. Cousin Primitivo was right: the righteous
suffer for the sinners.
Four or five hours later, at a pretentious reception in the Walled
City, current events were being commented upon. There were present
a lot of old women and maidens of marriageable age, the wives and
daughters of government employees, dressed in loose gowns, fanning
themselves and yawning. Among the men, who, like the women, showed
in their faces their education and origin, was an elderly gentleman,
small and one-armed, whom the others treated with great respect. He
himself maintained a disdainful silence.
"To tell the truth, formerly I couldn't endure the friars and the
civil-guards, they're so rude," said a corpulent dame, "but now that
I see their usefulness and their services, I would almost marry any
one of them gladly. I'm a patriot."
"That's what I say!" added a thin lady. "What a pity that we haven't
our former governor. He would leave the country as clean as a platter."
"And the whole race of filibusters would be exterminated!"
"Don't they say that there are still a lot of islands to be
populated? Why don't they deport all these crazy Indians to them? If
I were the Captain-General--"
"Señoras," interrupted the one-armed individual, "the Captain-General
knows his duty. As I've heard, he's very much irritated, for he had
heaped favors on that Ibarra."
"Heaped favors on him!" echoed the thin lady, fanning herself
furiously. "Look how ungrateful these Indians are! Is it possible to
treat them as if they were human beings? _Jesús!_"
"Do you know what I've heard?" asked a military official.
"What's that?"
"Let's hear it!"
"What do they say?"
"Reputable persons," replied the officer in the midst of a profound
silence, "state that this agitation for building a schoolhouse was
a pure fairy tale."
"_Jesús!_ Just see that!" the señoras exclaimed, already believing
in the trick.
"The school was a pretext. What he wanted to build was a fort from
which he could safely defend himself when we should come to attack
him."
"What infamy! Only an Indian is capable of such cowardly thoughts,"
exclaimed the fat lady. "If I were the Captain-General they would
soon seem they would soon see--"
"That's what I say!" exclaimed the thin lady, turning to the one-armed
man. "Arrest all the little lawyers, priestlings, merchants, and
without trial banish or deport them! Tear out the evil by the roots!"
"But it's said that this filibuster is the descendant of Spaniards,"
observed the one-armed man, without looking at any one in particular.
"Oh, yes!" exclaimed the fat lady, unterrified. "It's always the
creoles! No Indian knows anything about revolution! Rear crows,
rear crows!" [166]
"Do you know what I've heard?" asked a creole lady, to change the topic
of conversation. "The wife of Capitan Tinong, you remember her, the
woman in whose house we danced and dined during the fiesta of Tondo--"
"The one who has two daughters? What about her?"
"Well, that woman just this afternoon presented the Captain-General
with a ring worth a thousand pesos!"
The one-armed man turned around. "Is that so? Why?" he asked with
shining eyes.
"She said that it was a Christmas gift--"
"But Christmas doesn't come for a month yet!"
"Perhaps she's afraid the storm is blowing her way," observed the
fat lady.
"And is getting under cover," added the thin señora.
"When no return is asked, it's a confession of guilt."
"This must be carefully looked into," declared the one-armed man
thoughtfully. "I fear that there's a cat in the bag."
"A cat in the bag, yes! That's just what I was going to say," echoed
the thin lady.
"And so was I," said the other, taking the words out of her mouth,
"the wife of Capitan Tinong is so stingy--she hasn't yet sent us
any present and that after we've been in her house. So, when such
a grasping and covetous woman lets go of a little present worth a
thousand pesos--"
"But, is it a fact?" inquired the one-armed man.
"Certainly! Most certainly! My cousin's sweetheart, his Excellency's
adjutant, told her so. And I'm of the opinion that it's the very same
ring that the older daughter wore on the day of the fiesta. She's
always covered with diamonds."
"A walking show-case!"
"A way of attracting attention, like any other! Instead of buying a
fashion plate or paying a dressmaker--"
Giving some pretext, the one-armed man left the gathering. Two hours
later, when the world slept, various residents of Tondo received an
invitation through some soldiers. The authorities could not consent
to having certain persons of position and property sleep in such
poorly guarded and badly ventilated houses--in Fort Santiago and
other government buildings their sleep would be calmer and more
refreshing. Among these favored persons was included the unfortunate
Capitan Tinong.


CHAPTER LX
Maria Clara Weds

Capitan Tiago was very happy, for in all this terrible storm no one
had taken any notice of him. He had not been arrested, nor had he been
subjected to solitary confinement, investigations, electric machines,
continuous foot-baths in underground cells, or other pleasantries that
are well-known to certain folk who call themselves civilized. His
friends, that is, those who had been his friends--for the good man
had denied all his Filipino friends from the instant when they were
suspected by the government--had also returned to their homes after a
few days' vacation in the state edifices. The Captain-General himself
had ordered that they be cast out from his precincts, not considering
them worthy of remaining therein, to the great disgust of the one-armed
individual, who had hoped to celebrate the approaching Christmas in
their abundant and opulent company.
Capitan Tinong had returned to his home sick, pale, and swollen; the
excursion had not done him good. He was so changed that he said not
a word, nor even greeted his family, who wept, laughed, chattered,
and almost went mad with joy. The poor man no longer ventured out
of his house for fear of running the risk of saying good-day to a
filibuster. Not even Don Primitivo himself, with all the wisdom of
the ancients, could draw him out of his silence.
"_Crede, prime_," the Latinist told him, "if I hadn't got here to
burn all your papers, they would have squeezed your neck; and if I