The Reign of Greed
if we can reach an understanding and dwell in peace, why this hatred,
why this distrust?”
“Then let’s get down to details.”
“Yes, because if we disturb the foundation, we’ll bring down the whole
edifice.”
“Then let’s get down to details, let’s leave the region of abstract
principles,” rejoined Isagani with a smile, “and also without stating
my own opinion,”—the youth accented these words—“the students would
desist from their attitude and soften certain asperities if the
professors would try to treat them better than they have up to the
present. That is in their hands.”
“What?” demanded the Dominican. “Have the students any complaint to
make about my conduct?”
“Padre, we agreed from the start not to talk of yourself or of myself,
we’re speaking generally. The students, besides getting no great
benefit out of the years spent in the classes, often leave there
remnants of their dignity, if not the whole of it.”
Padre Fernandez again bit his lip. “No one forces them to study—the
fields are uncultivated,” he observed dryly.
“Yes, there is something that impels them to study,” replied Isagani in
the same tone, looking the Dominican full in the face. “Besides the
duty of every one to seek his own perfection, there is the desire
innate in man to cultivate his intellect, a desire the more powerful
here in that it is repressed. He who gives his gold and his life to the
State has the right to require of it opporttmity better to get that
gold and better to care for his life. Yes, Padre, there is something
that impels them, and that something is the government itself. It is
you yourselves who pitilessly ridicule the uncultured Indian and deny
him his rights, on the ground that he is ignorant. You strip him and
then scoff at his nakedness.”
Padre Fernandez did not reply, but continued to pace about feverishly,
as though very much agitated.
“You say that the fields are not cultivated,” resumed Isagani in a
changed tone, after a brief pause. “Let’s not enter upon an analysis of
the reason for this, because we should get far away. But you, Padre
Fernandez, you, a teacher, you, a learned man, do you wish a people of
peons and laborers? In your opinion, is the laborer the perfect state
at which man may arrive in his development? Or is it that you wish
knowledge for yourself and labor for the rest?”
“No, I want knowledge for him who deserves it, for him who knows how to
use it,” was the reply. “When the students demonstrate that they love
it, when young men of conviction appear, young men who know how to
maintain their dignity and make it respected, then there will be
knowledge, then there will be considerate professors! If there are now
professors who resort to abuse, it is because there are pupils who
submit to it.”
“When there are professors, there will be students!”
“Begin by reforming yourselves, you who have need of change, and we
will follow.”
“Yes,” said Isagani with a bitter laugh, “let us begin it, because the
difficulty is on our side. Well you know what is expected of a pupil
who stands before a professor—you yourself, with all your love of
justice, with all your kind sentiments, have been restraining yourself
by a great effort while I have been telling you bitter truths, you
yourself, Padre Fernandez! What good has been secured by him among us
who has tried to inculcate other ideas? What evils have not fallen upon
you because you have tried to be just and perform your duty?”
“Señor Isagani,” said the Dominican, extending his hand, “although it
may seem that nothing practical has resulted from this conversation,
yet something has been gained. I’ll talk to my brethren about what you
have told me and I hope that something can be done. Only I fear that
they won’t believe in your existence.”
“I fear the same,” returned Isagani, shaking the Dominican’s hand. “I
fear that my friends will not believe in your existence, as you have
revealed yourself to me today.” [57]
Considering the interview at an end, the young man took his leave.
Padre Fernandez opened the door and followed him with his gaze until he
disappeared around a corner in the corridor. For some time he listened
to the retreating footsteps, then went back into his cell and waited
for the youth to appear in the street.
He saw him and actually heard him say to a friend who asked where he
was going: “To the Civil Government! I’m going to see the pasquinades
and join the others!”
His startled friend stared at him as one would look at a person who is
about to commit suicide, then moved away from him hurriedly.
“Poor boy!” murmured Padre Fernandez, feeling his eyes moisten. “I
grudge you to the Jesuits who educated you.”
But Padre Fernandez was completely mistaken; the Jesuits repudiated
Isagani [58] when that afternoon they learned that he had been
arrested, saying that he would compromise them. “That young man has
thrown himself away, he’s going to do us harm! Let it be understood
that he didn’t get those ideas here.”
Nor were the Jesuits wrong. No! Those ideas come only from God through
the medium of Nature.
CHAPTER XXVIII
TATAKUT
With prophetic inspiration Ben-Zayb had been for some days past
maintaining in his newspaper that education was disastrous, very
disastrous for the Philippine Islands, and now in view of the events of
that Friday of pasquinades, the writer crowed and chanted his triumph,
leaving belittled and overwhelmed his adversary Horatius, who in the
Pirotecnia had dared to ridicule him in the following manner:
From our contemporary, El Grito:
“Education is disastrous, very disastrous, for the Philippine
Islands.”
Admitted.
For some time El Grito has pretended to represent the Filipino
people—ergo, as Fray Ibañez would say, if he knew Latin.
But Fray Ibañez turns Mussulman when he writes, and we know how the
Mussulmans dealt with education. In witness whereof, as a royal
preacher said, the Alexandrian library!
Now he was right, he, Ben-Zayb! He was the only one in the islands who
thought, the only one who foresaw events!
Truly, the news that seditious pasquinades had been found on the doors
of the University not only took away the appetite from many and
disturbed the digestion of others, but it even rendered the phlegmatic
Chinese uneasy, so that they no longer dared to sit in their shops with
one leg drawn up as usual, from fear of losing time in extending it in
order to put themselves into flight. At eight o’clock in the morning,
although the sun continued on its course and his Excellency, the
Captain-General, did not appear at the head of his victorious cohorts,
still the excitement had increased. The friars who were accustomed to
frequent Quiroga’s bazaar did not put in their appearance, and this
symptom presaged terrific cataclysms. If the sun had risen a square and
the saints appeared only in pantaloons, Quiroga would not have been so
greatly alarmed, for he would have taken the sun for a gaming-table and
the sacred images for gamblers who had lost their camisas, but for the
friars not to come, precisely when some novelties had just arrived for
them!
By means of a provincial friend of his, Quiroga forbade entrance into
his gaming-houses to every Indian who was not an old acquaintance, as
the future Chinese consul feared that they might get possession of the
sums that the wretches lost there. After arranging his bazaar in such a
way that he could close it quickly in case of need, he had a policeman
accompany him for the short distance that separated his house from
Simoun’s. Quiroga thought this occasion the most propitious for making
use of the rifles and cartridges that he had in his warehouse, in the
way the jeweler had pointed out; so that on the following days there
would be searches made, and then—how many prisoners, how many terrified
people would give up their savings! It was the game of the old
carbineers, in slipping contraband cigars and tobacco-leaves under a
house, in order to pretend a search and force the unfortunate owner to
bribery or fines, only now the art had been perfected and, the tobacco
monopoly abolished, resort was had to the prohibited arms.
But Simoun refused to see any one and sent word to the Chinese that he
should leave things as they were, whereupon he went to see Don Custodio
to inquire whether he should fortify his bazaar, but neither would Don
Custodio receive him, being at the time engaged in the study of a
project for defense in case of a siege. He thought of Ben-Zayb as a
source of information, but finding the writer armed to the teeth and
using two loaded revolvers for paper-weights, took his leave in the
shortest possible time, to shut himself up in his house and take to his
bed under pretense of illness.
At four in the afternoon the talk was no longer of simple pasquinades.
There were whispered rumors of an understanding between the students
and the outlaws of San Mateo, it was certain that in the pansitería
they had conspired to surprise the city, there was talk of German ships
outside the bay to support the movement, of a band of young men who
under the pretext of protesting and demonstrating their Hispanism had
gone to the Palace to place themselves at the General’s orders but had
been arrested because it was discovered that they were armed.
Providence had saved his Excellency, preventing him from receiving
those precocious criminals, as he was at the time in conference with
the Provincials, the Vice-Rector, and with Padre Irene, Padre Salvi’s
representative. There was considerable truth in these rumors, if we
have to believe Padre Irene, who in the afternoon went to visit Capitan
Tiago. According to him, certain persons had advised his Excellency to
improve the opportunity in order to inspire terror and administer a
lasting lesson to the filibusters.
“A number shot,” one had advised, “some two dozen reformers deported at
once, in the silence of the night, would extinguish forever the flames
of discontent.”
“No,” rejoined another, who had a kind heart, “sufficient that the
soldiers parade through the streets, a troop of cavalry, for example,
with drawn sabers—sufficient to drag along some cannon, that’s enough!
The people are timid and will all retire into their houses.”
“No, no,” insinuated another. “This is the opportunity to get rid of
the enemy. It’s not sufficient that they retire into their houses, they
should be made to come out, like evil humors by means of plasters. If
they are inclined to start riots, they should be stirred up by secret
agitators. I am of the opinion that the troops should be resting on
their arms and appearing careless and indifferent, so the people may be
emboldened, and then in case of any disturbance—out on them, action!”
“The end justifies the means,” remarked another. “Our end is our holy
religion and the integrity of the fatherland. Proclaim a state of
siege, and in case of the least disturbance, arrest all the rich and
educated, and—clean up the country!”
“If I hadn’t got there in time to counsel moderation,” added Padre
Irene, speaking to Capitan Tiago, “it’s certain that blood would now be
flowing through the streets. I thought of you, Capitan—The partizans of
force couldn’t do much with the General, and they missed Simoun. Ah, if
Simoun had not been taken ill—”
With the arrest of Basilio and the search made later among his books
and papers, Capitan Tiago had become much worse. Now Padre Irene had
come to augment his terror with hair-raising tales. Ineffable fear
seized upon the wretch, manifesting itself first by a light shiver,
which was rapidly accentuated, until he was unable to speak. With his
eyes bulging and his brow covered with sweat, he caught Padre Irene’s