The Social Cancer: A Complete English Version of Noli Me Tangere
and would agree with you in saying so, but the cost is too great,
since for it we have given up our nationality, our independence. For
it we have given over to its priests our best towns, our fields, and
still give up our savings by the purchase of religious objects. An
article of foreign manufacture has been introduced among us, we have
paid well for it, and we are even.
"If you mean the protection that they afforded us against the
_encomenderos_, [132] I might answer that through them we fell under
the power of the _encomenderos_. But no, I realize that a true faith
and a sincere love for humanity guided the first missionaries to our
shores; I realize the debt of gratitude we owe to those noble hearts;
I know that at that time Spain abounded in heroes of all kinds, in
religious as well as in political affairs, in civil and in military
life. But because the forefathers were virtuous, should we consent
to the abuses of their degenerate descendants? Because they have
rendered us great service, should we be to blame for preventing them
from doing us wrong? The country does not ask for their expulsion but
only for reforms required by the changed circumstances and new needs."
"I love our native land as well as you can, Elias; I understand
something of what it desires, and I have listened with attention to
all you have said. But, after all, my friend, I believe that we are
looking at things through rather impassioned eyes. Here, less than
in other parts, do I see the necessity for reforms."
"Is it possible, sir," asked Elias, extending his arms in a gesture
of despair, "that you do not see the necessity for reforms, you,
after the misfortunes of your family?"
"Ah, I forget myself and my own troubles in the presence of the
security of the Philippines, in the presence of the interests of
Spain!" interrupted Ibarra warmly. "To preserve the Philippines it
is meet that the friars continue as they are. On the union with Spain
depends the welfare of our country."
When Ibarra had ceased Elias still sat in an attitude of attention
with a sad countenance and eyes that had lost their luster. "The
missionaries conquered the country, it is true," he replied, "but do
you believe that by the friars the Philippines will be preserved?"
"Yes, by them alone. Such is the belief of all who have written about
the country."
"Oh!" exclaimed Elias dejectedly, throwing the paddle clown in the
banka, "I did not believe that you would have so poor an idea of
the government and of the country. Why don't you condemn both? What
would you say of the members of a family that dwells in peace only
through the intervention of an outsider: a country that is obedient
because it is deceived; a government that commands be, cause it avails
itself of fraud, a government that does not know how to make itself
loved or respected for its own sake? Pardon me, sir, but I believe
that our government is stupid and is working its own ruin when it
rejoices that such is the belief. I thank you for your kindness,
where do you wish me to take you now?"
"No," replied Ibarra, "let us talk; it is necessary to see who is
right on such an important subject."
"Pardon me, sir," replied Elias, shaking his head, "but I haven't the
eloquence to convince you. Even though I have had some education I am
still an Indian, my way of life seems to you a precarious one, and my
words will always seem to you suspicious. Those who have given voice
to the opposite opinion are Spaniards, and as such, even though they
may speak idly and foolishly, their tones, their titles, and their
origin make their words sacred and give them such authority that I
have desisted forever from arguing against them. Moreover, when I
see that you, who love your country, you, whose father sleeps beneath
these quiet waters, you, who have seen yourself attacked, insulted,
and persecuted, hold such opinions in spite of all these things, and
in spite of your knowledge, I begin to doubt my own convictions and
to admit the possibility that the people may be mistaken. I'll have
to tell those unfortunates who have put their trust in men that they
must place it in God and their own strength. Again I thank you--tell
me where I shall take you."
"Elias, your bitter words touch my heart and make me also doubt. What
do you want? I was not brought up among the people, so I am perhaps
ignorant of their needs. I spent my childhood in the Jesuit college,
I grew up in Europe, I have been molded by books, learning only what
men have been able to bring to light. What remains among the shadows,
what the writers do not tell, that I am ignorant of. Yet I love our
country as you do, not only because it is the duty of every man to
love the country to which he owes his existence and to which he will
no doubt owe his final rest, not only because my father so taught
me, but also because my mother was an Indian, because my fondest
recollections cluster around my country, and I love it also because
to it I owe and shall ever owe my happiness!"
"And I, because to it I owe my misfortunes," muttered Elias.
"Yes, my friend, I know that you suffer, that you are unfortunate,
and that those facts make you look into the future darkly and
influence your way of thinking, so I am somewhat forearmed against
your complaints. If I could understand your motives, something of
your past--"
"My misfortunes had another source. If I thought that the story of
them would be of any use, I would relate it to you, since, apart from
the fact that I make no secret of it, it is quite well known to many."
"Perhaps on hearing it I might correct my opinions. You know that I do
not trust much to theories, preferring rather to be guided by facts."
Elias remained thoughtful for a few moments. "If that is the case,
sir, I will tell you my story briefly."
CHAPTER L
Elias's Story
"Some sixty years ago my grandfather dwelt in Manila, being employed
as a bookkeeper in a Spanish commercial house. He was then very young,
was married, and had a son. One night from some unknown cause the
warehouse burned down. The fire was communicated to the dwelling of his
employer and from there to many other buildings. The losses were great,
a scapegoat was sought, and the merchant accused my grandfather. In
vain he protested his innocence, but he was poor and unable to pay the
great lawyers, so he was condemned to be flogged publicly and paraded
through the streets of Manila. Not so very long since they still used
the infamous method of punishment which the people call the '_caballo
y vaca_,' [133] and which is a thousand times more dreadful than death
itself. Abandoned by all except his young wife, my grandfather saw
himself tied to a horse, followed by an unfeeling crowd, and whipped
on every street-corner in the sight of men, his brothers, and in the
neighborhood of numerous temples of a God of peace. When the wretch,
now forever disgraced, had satisfied the vengeance of man with his
blood, his tortures, and his cries, he had to be taken off the horse,
for he had become unconscious. Would to God that he had died! But
by one of those refinements of cruelty he was given his liberty. His
wife, pregnant at the time, vainly begged from door to door for work or
alms in order to care for her sick husband and their poor son, but who
would trust the wife of an incendiary and a disgraced man? The wife,
then, had to become a prostitute!"
Ibarra rose in his seat.
"Oh, don't get excited! Prostitution was not now a dishonor for her
or a disgrace to her husband; for them honor and shame no longer
existed. The husband recovered from his wounds and came with his wife
and child to hide himself in the mountains of this province. Here they
lived several months, miserable, alone, hated and shunned by all. The
wife gave birth to a sickly child, which fortunately died. Unable
to endure such misery and being less courageous than his wife, my
grandfather, in despair at seeing his sick wife deprived of all care
and assistance, hanged himself. His corpse rotted in sight of the son,
who was scarcely able to care for his sick mother, and the stench
from it led to their discovery. Her husband's death was attributed
to her, for of what is the wife of a wretch, a woman who has been
a prostitute besides, not believed to be capable? If she swears,
they call her a perjurer; if she weeps, they say that she is acting;
and that she blasphemes when she calls on God. Nevertheless, they
had pity on her condition and waited for the birth of another child
before they flogged her. You know how the friars spread the belief
that the Indians can only be managed by blows: read what Padre Gaspar
de San Agustin says! [134]
"A woman thus condemned will curse the day on which her child is born,
and this, besides prolonging her torture, violates every maternal
sentiment. Unfortunately, she brought forth a healthy child. Two months
afterwards, the sentence was executed to the great satisfaction of
the men who thought that thus they were performing their duty. Not
being at peace in these mountains, she then fled with her two sons
to a neighboring province, where they lived like wild beasts, hating
and hated. The elder of the two boys still remembered, even amid so
much misery, the happiness of his infancy, so he became a tulisan as
soon as he found himself strong enough. Before long the bloody name
of Balat spread from province to province, a terror to the people,
because in his revenge he did everything with blood and fire. The
younger, who was by nature kind-hearted, resigned himself to his
shameful fate along with his mother, and they lived on what the woods
afforded, clothing themselves in the cast-off rags of travelers. She
had lost her name, being known only as _the convict, the prostitute,
the scourged_. He was known as the son of his mother only, because
the gentleness of his disposition led every one to believe that he
was not the son of the incendiary and because any doubt as to the
morality of the Indians can be held reasonable.
"At last, one day the notorious Balat fell into the clutches of the
authorities, who exacted of him a strict accounting for his crimes,
and of his mother for having done nothing to rear him properly. One
morning the younger brother went to look for his mother, who had
gone into the woods to gather mushrooms and had not returned. He
found her stretched out on the ground under a cotton-tree beside the
highway, her face turned toward the sky, her eyes fixed and staring,
her clenched hands buried in the blood-stained earth. Some impulse
moved him to look up in the direction toward which the eyes of the
dead woman were staring, and he saw hanging from a branch a basket
and in the basket the gory head of his brother!"
"My God!" ejaculated Ibarra.
"That might have been the exclamation of my father," continued Elias
coldly. "The body of the brigand had been cut up and the trunk buried,
but his limbs were distributed and hung up in different towns. If
ever you go from Kalamba to Santo Tomas you will still see a withered
lomboy-tree where one of my uncle's legs hung rotting--nature has
blasted the tree so that it no longer grows or bears fruit. The same
was done with the other limbs, but the head, as the best part of the
person and the portion most easily recognizable, was hung up in front
of his mother's hut!"
Ibarra bowed his head.
"The boy fled like one accursed," Elias went on. "He fled from town
to town by mountain and valley. When he thought that he had reached
a place where he was not known, he hired himself out as a laborer in
the house of a rich man in the province of Tayabas. His activity and
the gentleness of his character gained him the good-will of all who
did not know his past, and by his thrift and economy he succeeded in