The Social Cancer: A Complete English Version of Noli Me Tangere
to love sweetness and tenderness in woman, and we would shudder at the
thought of taking the blood-stained hand of a maiden, even when the
blood was that of a Moro or a giant, so abhorred by us. We consider
vile the man who raises his hand against a woman, be he prince or
alferez or rude countryman. Would it not be a thousand times better
to give a representation of our own customs in order to correct our
defects and vices and to encourage our better qualities?"
"That's right! That's right!" exclaimed some of his faction.
"He's right," muttered several old men thoughtfully.
"I should never have thought of that," murmured Capitan Basilio.
"But how are you going to do it?" asked the irreconcilable.
"Very easily," answered the youth. "I have brought here two
dramas which I feel sure the good taste and recognized judgment of
the respected elders here assembled will find very agreeable and
entertaining. One is entitled 'The Election of the Gobernadorcillo,'
being a comedy in prose in five acts, written by one who is here
present. The other is in nine acts for two nights and is a fantastical
drama of a satirical nature, entitled 'Mariang Makiling,' [69] written
by one of the best poets of the province. Seeing that the discussion of
preparations for the fiesta has been postponed and fearing that there
would not be time enough left, we have secretly secured the actors
and had them learn their parts. We hope that with a week of rehearsal
they will have plenty of time to know their parts thoroughly. This,
gentlemen, besides being new, useful, and reasonable, has the great
advantage of being economical; we shall not need costumes, as those
of our daily life will be suitable."
"I'll pay for the theater!" shouted Capitan Basilio enthusiastically.
"If you need cuadrilleros, I'll lend you mine," cried their captain.
"And I--and I--if art old man is needed--" stammered another one,
swelling with pride.
"Accepted! Accepted!" cried many voices.
Don Filipo became pale with emotion and his eyes filled with tears.
"He's crying from spite," thought the irreconcilable, so he yelled,
"Accepted! Accepted without discussion!" Thus satisfied with revenge
and the complete defeat of his rival, this fellow began to praise
the young man's plan.
The latter continued his speech: "A fifth of the money collected may be
used to distribute a few prizes, such as to the best school child, the
best herdsman, farmer, fisherman, and so on. We can arrange for boat
races on the river and lake and for horse races on shore, we can raise
greased poles and also have other games in which our country people can
take part. I concede that on account of our long-established customs we
must have some fireworks; wheels and fire castles are very beautiful
and entertaining, but I don't believe it necessary to have bombs, as
the former speaker proposed. Two bands of music will afford sufficient
merriment and thus we shall avoid those rivalries and quarrels between
the poor musicians who come to gladden our fiesta with their work
and who so often behave like fighting-cocks, afterwards going away
poorly paid, underfed, and even bruised and wounded at times. With
the money left over we can begin the erection of a small building for
a schoolhouse, since we can't wait until God Himself comes down and
builds one for us, and it is a sad state of affairs that while we have
a fine cockpit our children study almost in the curate's stable. Such
are the outlines of my plan; the details can be worked out by all."
A murmur of pleasure ran through the hall, as nearly every one agreed
with the youth.
Some few muttered, "Innovations! Innovations! When we were young--"
"Let's adopt it for the time being and humiliate that fellow," said
others, indicating Don Filipo.
When silence was restored all were agreed. There was lacking only the
approval of the gobernadorcillo. That worthy official was perspiring
and fidgeting about. He rubbed his hand over his forehead and was at
length able to stammer out in a weak voice: "I also agree, but--ahem!"
Every one in the hall listened in silence.
"But what?" asked Capitan Basilio.
"Very agreeable," repeated the gobernadorcillo, "that is to say--I
don't agree--I mean--yes, but--" Here he rubbed his eyes with the
back of his hand. "But the curate," the poor fellow went on, "the
curate wants something else."
"Does the curate or do we ourselves pay for this fiesta? Has he given
a cuarto for it?" exclaimed a penetrating voice. All looked toward
the place whence these questions came and saw there the Sage Tasio.
Don Filipo remained motionless with his eyes fixed on the
gobernadorcillo.
"What does the curate want?" asked Capitan Basilio.
"Well, the padre wants six processions, three sermons, three high
masses, and if there is any money left, a comedy from Tondo with
songs in the intermissions."
"But we don't want that," said the youths and some of the old men.
"The curate wants it," repeated the gobernadorcillo. "I've promised
him that his wish shall be carried out."
"Then why did you have us assemble here?"
"F-for the very purpose of telling you this!"
"Why didn't you tell us so at the start?"
"I wanted to tell you, gentlemen, but Capitan Basilio spoke and I
haven't had a chance. The curate must be obeyed."
"He must be obeyed," echoed several old men.
"He must be obeyed or else the alcalde will put us all in jail,"
added several other old men sadly.
"Well then, obey him, and run the fiesta yourselves," exclaimed the
youths, rising. "We withdraw our contributions."
"Everything has already been collected," said the gobernadorcillo.
Don Filipo approached this official and said to him bitterly, "I
sacrificed my pride in favor of a good cause; you are sacrificing your
dignity as a man in favor of a bad one, and you've spoiled everything."
Ibarra turned to the schoolmaster and asked him, "Is there anything
that I can do for you at the capital of the province? I leave for
there immediately."
"Have you some business there?"
"We have business there!" answered Ibarra mysteriously.
On the way home, when Don Filipo was cursing his bad luck, old Tasio
said to him: "The blame is ours! You didn't protest when they gave
you a slave for a chief, and I, fool that I am, had forgotten it!"
CHAPTER XXI
The Story of a Mother
Andaba incierto--volaba errante,
Un solo instante--sin descansar. [70]
ALAEJOS.
Sisa ran in the direction of her home with her thoughts in that
confused whirl which is produced in our being when, in the midst of
misfortunes, protection and hope alike are gone. It is then that
everything seems to grow dark around us, and, if we do see some
faint light shining from afar, we run toward it, we follow it,
even though an abyss yawns in our path. The mother wanted to save
her sons, and mothers do not ask about means when their children
are concerned. Precipitately she ran, pursued by fear and dark
forebodings. Had they already arrested her son Basilio? Whither had
her boy Crispin fled?
As she approached her little hut she made out above the garden fence
the caps of two soldiers. It would be impossible to tell what her heart
felt: she forgot everything. She was not ignorant of the boldness of
those men, who did not lower their gaze before even the richest people
of the town. What would they do now to her and to her sons, accused
of theft! The civil-guards are not men, they are civil-guards; they
do not listen to supplications and they are accustomed to see tears.
Sisa instinctively raised her eyes toward the sky, that sky which
smiled with brilliance indescribable, and in whose transparent
blue floated some little fleecy clouds. She stopped to control the
trembling that had seized her whole body. The soldiers were leaving
the house and were alone, as they had arrested nothing more than the
hen which Sisa had been fattening. She breathed more freely and took
heart again. "How good they are and what kind hearts they have!" she
murmured, almost weeping with joy. Had the soldiers burned her house
but left her sons at liberty she would have heaped blessings upon
them! She again looked gratefully toward the sky through which a
flock of herons, those light clouds in the skies of the Philippines,
were cutting their path, and with restored confidence she continued on
her way. As she approached those fearful men she threw her glances in
every direction as if unconcerned and pretended not to see her hen,
which was cackling for help. Scarcely had she passed them when she
wanted to run, but prudence restrained her steps.
She had not gone far when she heard herself called by an imperious
voice. Shuddering, she pretended not to hear, and continued on her
way. They called her again, this time with a yell and an insulting
epithet. She turned toward them, pale and trembling in spite of
herself. One of them beckoned to her. Mechanically Sisa approached
them, her tongue paralyzed with fear and her throat parched.
"Tell us the truth or we'll tie you to that tree and shoot you,"
said one of them in a threatening tone.
The woman stared at the tree.
"You're the mother of the thieves, aren't you?" asked the other.
"Mother of the thieves!" repeated Sisa mechanically.
"Where's the money your sons brought you last night?"
"Ah! The money--"
"Don't deny it or it'll be the worse for you," added the other. "We've
come to arrest your sons, and the older has escaped from us. Where
have you hidden the younger?"
Upon hearing this Sisa breathed more freely and answered, "Sir, it
has been many days since I've seen Crispin. I expected to see him
this morning at the convento, but there they only told me--"
The two soldiers exchanged significant glances. "All right!" exclaimed
one of them. "Give us the money and we'll leave you alone."
"Sir," begged the unfortunate woman, "my sons wouldn't steal
even though they were starving, for we are used to that kind of
suffering. Basilio didn't bring me a single cuarto. Search the whole
house and if you find even a real, do with us what you will. Not all
of us poor folks are thieves!"
"Well then," ordered the soldier slowly, as he fixed his gaze on
Sisa's eyes, "come with us. Your sons will show up and try to get
rid of the money they stole. Come on!"
"I--go with you?" murmured the woman, as she stepped backward and
gazed fearfully at their uniforms. "And why not?"
"Oh, have pity on me!" she begged, almost on her knees. "I'm very
poor, so I've neither gold nor jewels to offer you. The only thing
I had you've already taken, and that is the hen which I was thinking
of selling. Take everything that you find in the house, but leave me
here in peace, leave me here to die!"
"Go ahead! You're got to go, and if you don't move along willingly,
we'll tie you."
Sisa broke out into bitter weeping, but those men were inflexible. "At
least, let me go ahead of you some distance," she begged, when she
felt them take hold of her brutally and push her along.
The soldiers seemed to be somewhat affected and, after whispering
apart, one of them said: "All right, since from here until we get into
the town, you might be able to escape, you'll walk between us. Once
there you may walk ahead twenty paces, but take care that you don't
delay and that you don't go into any shop, and don't stop. Go ahead,
quickly!"
Vain were her supplications and arguments, useless her promises. The
soldiers said that they had already compromised themselves by having
conceded too much. Upon finding herself between them she felt as if
she would die of shame. No one indeed was coming along the road, but