The Social Cancer: A Complete English Version of Noli Me Tangere
musical education, since with his genius he might have brought glory
to his country. The bands enter the town playing lively airs, followed
by ragged or half-naked urchins, one in the camisa of his brother,
another in his father's pantaloons. As soon as the band ceases, the
boys know the piece by heart, they hum and whistle it with rare skill,
they pronounce their judgment upon it.
Meanwhile, there are arriving in conveyances of all kinds relatives,
friends, strangers, the gamblers with their best game-cocks and their
bags of gold, ready to risk their fortune on the green cloth or within
the arena of the cockpit.
"The alferez has fifty pesos for each night," murmurs a small,
chubby individual into the ears of the latest arrivals. "Capitan
Tiago's coming and will set up a bank; Capitan Joaquin's bringing
eighteen thousand. There'll be _liam-pó_: Carlos the Chinaman will
set it up with ten thousand. Big stakes are coming from Tanawan, Lipa,
and Batangas, as well as from Santa Cruz. [80] It's going to be on a
big scale, yes, sir, on a grand scale! But have some chocolate! This
year Capitan Tiago won't break us as he did last, since he's paid
for only three thanksgiving masses and I've got a cacao _mutyâ_. And
how's your family?"
"Well, thank you," the visitors respond, "and Padre Damaso?"
"Padre Damaso will preach in the morning and sit in with us at night."
"Good enough! Then there's no danger."
"Sure, we're sure! Carlos the Chinaman will loosen up also." Here
the chubby individual works his fingers as though counting out pieces
of money.
Outside the town the hill-folk, the _kasamá_, are putting on their
best clothes to carry to the houses of their landlords well-fattened
chickens, wild pigs, deer, and birds. Some load firewood on the heavy
carts, others fruits, ferns, and orchids, the rarest that grow in
the forests, others bring broad-leafed caladiums and flame-colored
_tikas-tikas_ blossoms to decorate the doors of the houses.
But the place where the greatest activity reigns, where it is converted
into a tumult, is there on a little plot of raised ground, a few
steps from Ibarra's house. Pulleys screech and yells are heard amid
the metallic sound of iron striking upon stone, hammers upon nails,
of axes chopping out posts. A crowd of laborers is digging in the
earth to open a wide, deep trench, while others place in line the
stones taken from the town quarries. Carts are unloaded, piles of
sand are heaped up, windlasses and derricks are set in place.
"Hey, you there! Hurry up!" cries a little old man with lively and
intelligent features, who has for a cane a copper-bound rule around
which is wound the cord of a plumb-bob. This is the foreman of the
work, Ñor Juan, architect, mason, carpenter, painter, locksmith,
stonecutter, and, on occasions, sculptor. "It must be finished right
now! Tomorrow there'll be no work and the day after tomorrow is the
ceremony. Hurry!"
"Cut that hole so that this cylinder will fit it exactly," he says
to some masons who are shaping a large square block of stone. "Within
that our names will be preserved."
He repeats to every newcomer who approaches the place what he
has already said a thousand times: "You know what we're going to
build? Well, it's a schoolhouse, a model of its kind, like those in
Germany, and even better. A great architect has drawn the plans,
and I--I am bossing the job! Yes, sir, look at it, it's going to
be a palace with two wings, one for the boys and the other for the
girls. Here in the middle a big garden with three fountains, there on
the sides shaded walks with little plots for the children to sow and
cultivate plants in during their recess-time, that they may improve
the hours and not waste them. Look how deep the foundations are,
three meters and seventy-five centimeters! This building is going
to have storerooms, cellars, and for those who are not diligent
students dungeons near the playgrounds so that the culprits may hear
how the studious children are enjoying themselves. Do you see that
big space? That will be a lawn for running and exercising in the
open air. The little girls will have a garden with benches, swings,
walks where they can jump the rope, fountains, bird-cages, and so
on. It's going to be magnificent!"
Then Ñor Juan would rub his hands together as he thought of the
fame that he was going to acquire. Strangers would come to see it
and would ask, "Who was the great artisan that built this?" and all
would answer, "Don't you know? Can it be that you've never heard
of Ñor Juan? Undoubtedly you've come from a great distance!" With
these thoughts he moved from one part to the other, examining and
reexamining everything.
"It seems to me that there's too much timber for one derrick," he
remarked to a yellowish man who was overseeing some laborers. "I
should have enough with three large beams for the tripod and three
more for the braces."
"Never mind!" answered the yellowish man, smiling in a peculiar
way. "The more apparatus we use in the work, so much the greater effect
we'll get. The whole thing will look better and of more importance,
so they'll say, 'How hard they've worked!' You'll see, you'll see
what a derrick I'll put up! Then I'll decorate it with banners, and
garlands of leaves and flowers. You'll say afterwards that you were
right in hiring me as one of your laborers, and Señor Ibarra couldn't
ask for more!" As he said this the man laughed and smiled. Ñor Juan
also smiled, but shook his head.
Some distance away were seen two kiosks united by a kind of arbor
covered with banana leaves. The schoolmaster and some thirty boys
were weaving crowns and fastening banners upon the frail bamboo posts,
which were wrapped in white cloth.
"Take care that the letters are well written," he admonished the boys
who were preparing inscriptions. "The alcalde is coming, many curates
will be present, perhaps even the Captain-General, who is now in the
province. If they see that you draw well, maybe they'll praise you."
"And give us a blackboard?"
"Perhaps, but Señor Ibarra has already ordered one from
Manila. Tomorrow some things will come to be distributed among you
as prizes. Leave those flowers in the water and tomorrow we'll make
the bouquets. Bring more flowers, for it's necessary that the table
be covered with them--flowers please the eye."
"My father will bring some water-lilies and a basket of sampaguitas
tomorrow."
"Mine has brought three cartloads of sand without pay."
"My uncle has promised to pay a teacher," added a nephew of Capitan
Basilio.
Truly, the project was receiving help from all. The curate had asked to
stand sponsor for it and himself bless the laying of the corner-stone,
a ceremony to take place on the last day of the fiesta as one of its
greatest solemnities. The very coadjutor had timidly approached Ibarra
with an offer of all the fees for masses that the devout would pay
until the building was finished. Even more, the rich and economical
Sister Rufa had declared that if money should be lacking she would
canvass other towns and beg for alms, with the mere condition that she
be paid her expenses for travel and subsistence. Ibarra thanked them
all, as he answered, "We aren't going to have anything very great,
since I am not rich and this building is not a church. Besides,
I didn't undertake to erect it at the expense of others."
The younger men, students from Manila, who had come to take part
in the fiesta, gazed at him in admiration and took him for a model;
but, as it nearly always happens, when we wish to imitate great men,
that we copy only their foibles and even their defects, since we are
capable of nothing else, so many of these admirers took note of the
way in which he tied his cravat, others of the style of his collar,
and not a few of the number of buttons on his coat and vest.
The funereal presentiments of old Tasio seemed to have been dissipated
forever. So Ibarra observed to him one day, but the old pessimist
answered: "Remember what Baltazar says:
Kung ang isalúbong sa iyong pagdating
Ay masayang maukha't may pakitang giliw,
Lalong pag-iñgata't kaaway na lihim [81]--
Baltazar was no less a thinker than a poet."
Thus in the gathering shadows before the setting of the sun events
were shaping themselves.
CHAPTER XXVII
In the Twilight
In Capitan Tiago's house also great preparations had been made. We
know its owner, whose love of ostentation and whose pride as a
Manilan imposed the necessity of humiliating the provincials with his
splendor. Another reason, too, made it his duty to eclipse all others:
he had his daughter Maria Clara with him, and there was present his
future son-in-law, who was attracting universal attention.
In fact one of the most serious newspapers in Manila had devoted to
Ibarra an article on its front page, entitled, "Imitate him!" heaping
him with praise and giving him some advice. It had called him, "The
cultivated young gentleman and rich capitalist;" two lines further
on, "The distinguished philanthropist;" in the following paragraph,
"The disciple of Minerva who had gone to the mother country to
pay his respects to the true home of the arts and sciences;" and
a little further on, "The Filipino Spaniard." Capitan Tiago burned
with generous zeal to imitate him and wondered whether he ought not
to erect a convento at his own expense.
Some days before there had arrived at the house where Maria Clara
and Aunt Isabel were staying a profusion of eases of European wines
and food-stuffs, colossal mirrors, paintings, and Maria Clara's
piano. Capitan Tiago had arrived on the day before the fiesta and as
his daughter kissed his hand, had presented her with a beautiful locket
set with diamonds and emeralds, containing a sliver from St. Peter's
boat, in which Our Savior sat during the fishing. His first interview
with his future son-in-law could not have been more cordial. Naturally,
they talked about the school, and Capitan Tiago wanted it named
"School of St. Francis." "Believe me," he said, "St. Francis is a good
patron. If you call it 'School of Primary Instruction,' you will gain
nothing. Who is Primary Instruction, anyhow?"
Some friends of Maria Clara came and asked her to go for a walk. "But
come back quickly," said Capitan Tiago to his daughter, when she asked
his permission, "for you know that Padre Damaso, who has just arrived,
will dine with us."
Then turning to Ibarra, who had become thoughtful, he said, "You dine
with us also, you'll be all alone in your house."
"I would with the greatest pleasure, but I have to be at home in
case visitors come," stammered the youth, as he avoided the gaze of
Maria Clara.
"Bring your friends along," replied Capitan Tiago heartily. "In my
house there's always plenty to eat. Also, I want you and Padre Damaso
to get on good terms."
"There'll be time enough for that," answered Ibarra with a forced
smile, as he prepared to accompany the girls.
They went downstairs, Maria Clara in the center between Victoria
and Iday, Aunt Isabel following. The people made way for them
respectfully. Maria Clara was startling in her beauty; her pallor
was all gone, and if her eyes were still pensive, her mouth on the
contrary seemed to know only smiles. With maiden friendliness the
happy young woman greeted the acquaintances of her childhood, now
the admirers of her promising youth. In less than a fortnight she had
succeeded in recovering that frank confidence, that childish prattle,
which seemed to have been benumbed between the narrow walls of the
nunnery. It might be said that on leaving the cocoon the butterfly
recognized all the flowers, for it seemed to be enough for her to
spread her wings for a moment and warm herself in the sun's rays to