The Social Cancer: A Complete English Version of Noli Me Tangere
shall fall as we fell in Europe. Money will not flow into our churches,
no one will buy our scapularies or girdles or anything else, and when
we cease to be rich we shall no longer be able to control consciences."
"But we shall always have our estates, our property."
"All will be lost as we lost them in Europe! And the worst of it is
that we are working toward our own ruin. For example, this unrestrained
eagerness to raise arbitrarily the rents on our lands each year,
this eagerness which I have so vainly combated in all the chapters,
this will ruin us! The native sees himself obliged to purchase farms
in other places, which bring him as good returns as ours, or better. I
fear that we are already on the decline; _quos vult perdere Jupiter
dementat prius_. [49] For this reason we should not increase our
burden; the people are already murmuring. You have decided well:
let us leave the others to settle their accounts in that quarter;
let us preserve the prestige that remains to us, and as we shall soon
appear before God, let us wash our hands of it--and may the God of
mercy have pity on our weakness!"
"So your Reverence thinks that the rent or tax--"
"Let's not talk any more about money," interrupted the sick man with
signs of disgust. "You say that the lieutenant threatened to Padre
Damaso that--"
"Yes, Padre," broke in Fray Sibyla with a faint smile, "but this
morning I saw him and he told me that he was sorry for what occurred
last night, that the sherry had gone to his head, and that he believed
that Padre Damaso was in the same condition. 'And your threat?' I
asked him jokingly. 'Padre,' he answered me, 'I know how to keep my
word when my honor is affected, but I am not nor have ever been an
informer--for that reason I wear only two stars.'"
After they had conversed a while longer on unimportant subjects,
Fray Sibyla took his departure.
It was true that the lieutenant had not gone to the Palace, but the
Captain-General heard what had occurred. While talking with some
of his aides about the allusions that the Manila newspapers were
making to him under the names of comets and celestial apparitions,
one of them told him about the affair of Padre Damaso, with a somewhat
heightened coloring although substantially correct as to matter.
"From whom did you learn this?" asked his Excellency, smiling.
"From Laruja, who was telling it this morning in the office."
The Captain-General again smiled and said: "A woman or a friar can't
insult one. I contemplate living in peace for the time that I shall
remain in this country and I don't want any more quarrels with men who
wear skirts. Besides, I've learned that the Provincial has scoffed
at my orders. I asked for the removal of this friar as a punishment
and they transferred him to a better town 'monkish tricks,' as we
say in Spain."
But when his Excellency found himself alone he stopped smiling. "Ah,
if this people were not so stupid, I would put a curb on their
Reverences," he sighed to himself. "But every people deserves its fate,
so let's do as everybody else does."
Capitan Tiago, meanwhile, had concluded his interview with Padre
Damaso, or rather, to speak more exactly, Padre Damaso had concluded
with him.
"So now you are warned!" said the Franciscan on leaving. "All this
could have been avoided if you had consulted me beforehand, if you had
not lied when I asked you. Try not to play any more foolish tricks,
and trust your protector."
Capitan Tiago walked up and down the sala a few times, meditating
and sighing. Suddenly, as if a happy thought had occurred to him,
he ran to the oratory and extinguished the candles and the lamp that
had been lighted for Ibarra's safety. "The way is long and there's
yet time," he muttered.
CHAPTER X
The Town
Almost on the margin of the lake, in the midst of meadows and
paddy-fields, lies the town of San Diego. [50] From it sugar, rice,
coffee, and fruits are either exported or sold for a small part of
their value to the Chinese, who exploit the simplicity and vices of
the native farmers.
When on a clear day the boys ascend to the upper part of the church
tower, which is beautified by moss and creeping plants, they break
out into joyful exclamations at the beauty of the scene spread out
before them. In the midst of the clustering roofs of nipa, tiles,
corrugated iron, and palm leaves, separated by groves and gardens,
each one is able to discover his own home, his little nest. Everything
serves as a mark: a tree, that tamarind with its light foliage,
that coco palm laden with nuts, like the Astarte Genetrix, or the
Diana of Ephesus with her numerous breasts, a bending bamboo, an
areca palm, or a cross. Yonder is the river, a huge glassy serpent
sleeping on a green carpet, with rocks, scattered here and there
along its sandy channel, that break its current into ripples. There,
the bed is narrowed between high banks to which the gnarled trees
cling with bared roots; here, it becomes a gentle slope where the
stream widens and eddies about. Farther away, a small hut built on the
edge of the high bank seems to defy the winds, the heights and the
depths, presenting with its slender posts the appearance of a huge,
long-legged bird watching for a reptile to seize upon. Trunks of palm
or other trees with their bark still on them unite the banks by a
shaky and infirm foot-bridge which, if not a very secure crossing,
is nevertheless a wonderful contrivance for gymnastic exercises in
preserving one's balance, a thing not to be despised. The boys bathing
in the river are amused by the difficulties of the old woman crossing
with a basket on her head or by the antics of the old man who moves
tremblingly and loses his staff in the water.
But that which always attracts particular notice is what might be
called a peninsula of forest in the sea of cultivated fields. There
in that wood are century-old trees with hollow trunks, which die only
when their high tops are struck and set on fire by the lightning--and
it is said that the fire always checks itself and dies out in the same
spot. There are huge points of rock which time and nature are clothing
with velvet garments of moss. Layer after layer of dust settles in
the hollows, the rains beat it down, and the birds bring seeds. The
tropical vegetation spreads out luxuriantly in thickets and underbrush,
while curtains of interwoven vines hang from the branches of the trees
and twine about their roots or spread along the ground, as if Flora
were not yet satisfied but must place plant above plant. Mosses and
fungi live upon the cracked trunks, and orchids--graceful guests--twine
in loving embrace with the foliage of the hospitable trees.
Strange legends exist concerning this wood, which is held in awe by
the country folk. The most credible account, and therefore the one
least known and believed, seems to be this. When the town was still
a collection of miserable huts with the grass growing abundantly in
the so-called streets, at the time when the wild boar and deer roamed
about during the nights, there arrived in the place one day an old,
hollow-eyed Spaniard, who spoke Tagalog rather well. After looking
about and inspecting the land, he finally inquired for the owners of
this wood, in which there were hot springs. Some persons who claimed to
be such presented themselves, and the old man acquired it in exchange
for clothes, jewels, and a sum of money. Soon afterward he disappeared
mysteriously. The people thought that he had been spirited away,
when a bad odor from the neighboring wood attracted the attention of
some herdsmen. Tracing this, they found the decaying corpse of the
old Spaniard hanging from the branch of a balete tree. [51] In life
he had inspired fear by his deep, hollow voice, his sunken eyes, and
his mirthless laugh, but now, dead by his own act, he disturbed the
sleep of the women. Some threw the jewels into the river and burned the
clothes, and from the time that the corpse was buried at the foot of
the balete itself, no one willingly ventured near the spot. A belated
herdsman looking for some of his strayed charges told of lights that
he had seen there, and when some venturesome youths went to the place
they heard mournful cries. To win the smiles of his disdainful lady,
a forlorn lover agreed to spend the night there and in proof to wrap
around the trunk a long piece of rattan, but he died of a quick fever
that seized him the very next day. Stories and legends still cluster
about the place.
A few months after the finding of the old Spaniard's body there
appeared a youth, apparently a Spanish mestizo, who said that
he was the son of the deceased. He established himself in the
place and devoted his attention to agriculture, especially the
raising of indigo. Don Saturnino was a silent young man with a
violent disposition, even cruel at times, yet he was energetic and
industrious. He surrounded the grave of his father with a wall,
but visited it only at rare intervals. When he was along in years,
he married a young woman from Manila, and she became the mother of
Don Rafael, the father of Crisostomo. From his youth Don Rafael was a
favorite with the country people. The agricultural methods introduced
and encouraged by his father spread rapidly, new settlers poured in,
the Chinese came, and the settlement became a village with a native
priest. Later the village grew into a town, the priest died, and Fray
Damaso came.
All this time the tomb and the land around it remained
unmolested. Sometimes a crowd of boys armed with clubs and stones would
become bold enough to wander into the place to gather guavas, papayas,
lomboy, and other fruits, but it frequently happened that when their
sport was at its height, or while they gazed in awed silence at the
rotting piece of rope which still swung from the branch, stones would
fall, coming from they knew not where. Then with cries of "The old
man! The old man!" they would throw away fruit and clubs, jump from
the trees, and hurry between the rocks and through the thickets;
nor would they stop running until they were well out of the wood,
some pale and breathless, others weeping, and only a few laughing.
CHAPTER XI
The Rulers
Divide and rule.
(_The New Machiavelli._)
Who were the caciques of the town?
Don Rafael, when alive, even though he was the richest, owned more
land, and was the patron of nearly everybody, had not been one of
them. As he was modest and depreciated the value of his own deeds,
no faction in his favor had ever been formed in the town, and we
have already seen how the people all rose up against him when they
saw him hesitate upon being attacked.
Could it be Capitan Tiago? True it was that when he went there he
was received with an orchestra by his debtors, who banqueted him and
heaped gifts upon him. The finest fruits burdened his table and a
quarter of deer or wild boar was his share of the hunt. If he found
the horse of a debtor beautiful, half an hour afterwards it was in
his stable. All this was true, but they laughed at him behind his
back and in secret called him "Sacristan Tiago."
Perhaps it was the gobernadorcillo? [52] No, for he was only an
unhappy mortal who commanded not, but obeyed; who ordered not, but
was ordered; who drove not, but was driven. Nevertheless, he had
to answer to the alcalde for having commanded, ordered, and driven,
just as if he were the originator of everything. Yet be it said to
his credit that he had never presumed upon or usurped such honors,
which had cost him five thousand pesos and many humiliations. But
considering the income it brought him, it was cheap.
Well then, might it be God? Ah, the good God disturbed neither the