Friars and Filipinos, Page 4

  FRIARS AND FILIPINOS.

  CHAPTER I.

  DON SANTIAGO'S DINNER.

  In the latter part of October, Don Santiago de los Santos, popularlyknown as Captain Tiago, gave a dinner. Though, contrary to his custom,he had not announced it until the afternoon of the day on which it wasto occur, the dinner became at once the absorbing topic of conversationin Binondo, in the other suburbs of Manila, and even in the walledcity. Captain Tiago was generally considered a most liberal man,and his house, like his country, shut its doors to no one, whetherbent on pleasure or on the development of some new and daring scheme.

  The dinner was given in the captain's house in Analoague street. Thebuilding is of ordinary size, of the style of architecture commonto the country, and is situated on that arm of the Pasig called bysome Binondo Creek. This, like all the streams in Manila, satisfies amultitude of needs. It serves for bathing, mortar-mixing, laundering,fishing, means of transportation and communication, and even fordrinking water, when the Chinese water-carriers find it convenientto use it for that purpose. Although the most important artery ofthe busiest part of the town, where the roar of commerce is loudestand traffic most congested, the stream is, for a distance of a mile,crossed by only one wooden bridge. During six months of the year, oneend of this bridge is out of order, and the other end is impassableduring the remaining time.

  The house is low and somewhat out of plumb. No one, however, knowswhether the faulty lines of the building are due to a defect in thesight of the architect who constructed it, or whether they are theresult of earthquakes and hurricanes.

  A wide staircase, with green balustrades and carpeted here and there inspots, leads from the zaguan, or tiled entrance hall, to the secondstory of the house. On either side of this staircase is a row offlower-pots and vases, placed upon chinaware pedestals, brilliant incoloring and fantastic in design. Upstairs, we enter a spacious hall,which is, in these islands, called caida. This serves to-night forthe dining hall. In the middle of the room is a large table, profuselyand richly ornamented, fairly groaning under the weight of delicacies.

  In direct contrast to these worldly preparations are the motley coloredreligious pictures on the walls--such subjects as "Purgatory," "Hell,""The Last Judgment," "The Death of the Just," and "The Death of theSinner." Below these, in a beautiful renaissance frame, is a large,curious linen engraving of two old ladies. The picture bears theinscription "Our Lady of Peace, Propitious to Travellers, Veneratedin Antipolo, Visiting in the Guise of a Beggar the Pious Wife of theFamous Captain Ines in Her Sickness." In the side of the room towardthe river, Captain Tiago has arranged fantastic wooden arches, halfChinese, half European, through which one can pass to the roof whichcovers part of the first story. This roof serves as a veranda, andhas been illuminated with Chinese lanterns in many colors and madeinto a pretty little arbor or garden. The sala or principal room ofthe house, where the guests assembled is resplendent with colossalmirrors and brilliant chandeliers, and, upon a platform of pine,is a costly piano of the finest workmanship.

  People almost filled this room, the men keeping on one side and thewomen on the other, as though they were in a Catholic church or asynagogue. Among the women were a number of young girls, both nativeand Spanish. Occasionally one of them forgot herself and yawned,but immediately sought to conceal it by covering her mouth with herfan. Conversation was carried on in a low voice and died away invague mono-syllables, like the indistinct noises heard by night ina large mansion.

  An elderly woman with a kindly face, a cousin of Captain Tiago,received the ladies. She spoke Spanish regardless of all thegrammatical rules, and her courtesies consisted in offering to theSpanish ladies cigarettes and betel nut (neither of which they use)and in kissing the hands of the native women after the manner ofthe friars. Finally the poor old lady was completely exhausted,and, taking advantage of a distant crash occasioned by the breakingof a plate, hurried off precipitately to investigate, murmuring:"Jesus! Just wait, you good-for-nothings!"

  Among the men there was somewhat more animation. In one corner ofthe room were some cadets, who chatted with some show of interest,but in a low voice. From time to time they surveyed the crowd andindicated to each other different persons, meanwhile laughing moreor less affectedly.

  The only people who appeared to be really enjoying themselves weretwo friars, two citizens and an officer of the army who formed agroup around a small table, on which were bottles of wine and Englishbiscuits. The officer was old, tall and sunburnt, and looked as theDuke of Alva might have looked, had he been reduced to a command inthe civil guard. He said little, but what he did say was short andto the point. One of the friars was a young Dominican, handsome anddressed with extreme nicety. He wore gold mounted spectacles andpreserved the extreme gravity of youth. The other friar, however,who was a Franciscan, talked a great deal and gesticulated evenmore. Although his hair was getting gray, he seemed to be wellpreserved and in robust health. His splendid figure, keen glance,square jaw and herculean form gave him the appearance of a Romanpatrician in disguise. He was gay and talked briskly, like one whois not afraid to speak out. Brusque though his words might be, hismerry laugh removed any disagreeable impression.

  As to the citizens, one of them was small in stature and wore a blackbeard, his most noticeable feature being his large nose--so largethat you could scarcely believe that it was all his own. The otherwas a young blonde, apparently a recent arrival in the country. Thelatter was carrying on a lively discussion with the Franciscan.

  "You will see," said the friar, "when you have been in the countrya few months, and will be convinced that what I say is right. It isone thing to govern in Madrid and another to rule in the Philippines."

  "But----"

  "I, for example," continued Father Damaso, raising his voice to preventthe other from speaking, "I, who can point to my twenty-three yearsof existence on bananas and rice, can speak with some authority onthis subject. Do not come to me with theories or arguments, for Iknow the native. Remember, that when I came to this country, I wassent to a parish, small and largely devoted to agriculture. I did notunderstand Tagalog very well, but I received the confessions of thewomen and we managed to understand each other. In fact, they cameto think so much of me that three years afterward, when I was sentto another and larger town, where a vacancy had been created by thedeath of the native parish priest, all the women were in tears. Theyoverwhelmed me with presents, they saw me off with bands of music----"

  "But this only shows----"

  "Wait, wait! Do not be in a hurry! My successor remained there a stillshorter time, but when he left there were more people to see him off,more tears shed, and more music played, although he had treated thepeople worse than I, and had raised the parish dues to a sum almostdouble the amount I had exacted."

  "But allow me----"

  "Furthermore, I was twenty years in the town of San Diego and it wasonly a few months ago--that--that I left. Twenty years! Surely anyone will admit that twenty years is time enough to get acquaintedwith a town. There were six thousand people in San Diego, and I knewevery one of them as if he were my own child. I knew even the privateaffairs of them all; I knew in what way this man was 'crooked,'where the shoe pinched that one, what slips every girl had made andwith whom, and who was the true father of each child, for I receivedall of their confessions and they always confessed scrupulously. Ican prove what I say by Santiago, our host, for he has considerableproperty in that town, and it was there that we became friends. Well,then! This will show you what sort of people the natives are: when Iwent away, only a few old women and some lay brothers saw me off. Andthat, after I had been there twenty years! Don't you see that thisproves beyond a doubt that all the reforms attempted by the Ministersof the Government in Madrid are perfectly absurd?"

  It was now the young man's turn to be perplexed. The lieutenant, whohad been listening to the argument, knit his brows. The little manwith the black beard made ready to combat or support Father Damaso'sarguments, while the D
ominican was content to remain entirely neutral.

  "But do you believe----," the young man finally asked in a curiousmood, and looking straight at the friar.

  "Do I believe it? As I do the Gospel! The native is so indolent!"

  "Ah! Pardon me for interrupting you," said the young blonde, loweringhis voice and drawing his chair closer, "but you have spoken a wordthat arouses my interest. Is this indolence an inherent characteristicof the native, or is it true, as a foreign traveller has said inspeaking of a country whose inhabitants are of the same race as these,that this indolence is only a fabrication to excuse our own laziness,our backwardness and the faults of our celestial system?"

  "Bah! That is nothing but envy! Ask Senor Laruja, who knows thiscountry very well, whether the native has his equal in the world forindolence and ignorance."

  "It is a fact," replied the little man referred to, "thatnowhere in the world can any one be found more indolent than thenative. Positively nowhere!"

  "Nor more vicious and ungrateful!"

  "Nor with less education!"

  Somewhat uneasy, the blonde man began to glance about theroom. "Gentlemen," he said in a low voice, "I believe that we are inthe house of a native, and these young ladies may----"

  "Bah! Don't be so sensitive. How long have you been in the country?"

  "Four days," answered the young man somewhat ruffled.

  "Did you come here as an employee?"

  "No, sir. I came on my own account in order to become acquainted withthe country."

  "Man, what a rare bird you are!" exclaimed Father Damaso, lookingat him with curiosity. "To come here on your own account for suchfoolish ends! What a phenomenon! And when so many books have beenwritten about this country----"

  Then, striking the arm of his chair with sudden violence, he exclaimed:"The country is being lost; it is lost already. The governing powersupports heretics against the ministers of God."

  "What do you mean?" again asked the lieutenant, half rising fromhis chair.

  "What do I mean?" repeated Father Damaso, again raising his voice,and facing the lieutenant. "I mean what I say. I mean that, when apriest turns away the corpse of a heretic from his cemetery, no one,not even the King himself, has the right to interfere, and still lessto punish. And yet a general, a miserable little general----"

  "Father! His Excellency is the vice-regal representative of HisMajesty the King!" exclaimed the officer, rising to his feet.

  "What do I care for His Excellency, or for any of your vice-regalrepresentatives!" answered the Franciscan, rising in his turn. "Inany other time than the present, he would have been thrown downstairs in the same way as the religious corporations treated thesacrilegious governor Bustamente in his time. Those were the dayswhen there was faith!"

  "I'll tell you right here that I don't allow any--His Excellencyrepresents His Majesty the King!"

  "I don't care whether he is king or rogue. For us there is no kingother than the true----"

  "Stop this immediately!" shouted the lieutenant in a threateningmanner, and as though he were commanding his own soldiers. "Take backwhat you have said, or to-morrow I shall inform His Excellency."

  "Go and tell him at once! Go tell him!" answered Father Damaso,sarcastically, at the same time approaching the lieutenant with hisfists doubled. "Don't you think for a moment that, because I wearthe dress of a monk, I'm not a man. Hurry! Go tell him! I'll lendyou my carriage."

  The discussion began to grow ridiculous as the speakers became moreheated, but, at this point, fortunately, the Dominican interfered.

  "Gentlemen!" he said in a tone of authority, and with that nasaltwang which is so characteristic of the friars, "there is no reasonwhy you should thus confuse matters or take offense where it is notintended. We should distinguish between what Father Damaso says asa man, and what he says as a priest. Whatever he may say as a priestcannot be offensive, for the words of a priest are understood to beabsolutely true."

  "But I understand what his motives are, Father Sibyla!" interruptedthe lieutenant, who saw that he would be drawn into a net of suchfine distinction that, if he allowed it to go on, Father Damasowould get off scot free. "I know very well what his motives are,and Your Reverence will also perceive them. During the absence ofFather Damaso from San Diego, his assistant buried the body of a veryworthy person. Yes, sir, an extremely worthy person! I had knownthe man from time to time and had often been his guest. What if henever had been to confession? I do not confess, either. To say thathe committed suicide is a lie, a slander. A man such as he, witha son whose success and love were more than all the world to him;a man who believed in God, who fulfilled his duty to society, whowas honorable and just--such a man does not commit suicide. That iswhat I say! I am not telling you all that I think about this matter,and Your Reverence should be very thankful that I restrain myself."

  Turning his back on the Franciscan, he continued: "As I was saying,this priest, when he returned to the town, after maltreating hiscoadjutor, ordered that the man's body be taken up and thrown out ofthe cemetery, to be buried I know not where. The town of San Diegowas too cowardly to protest, though, in fact, very few people knewmuch about the matter. The dead man had no relatives in the town andhis only son was in Europe. His Excellency, however, learned aboutthe affair, and being at heart upright and just, he ordered that thepriest be punished. As a result, Father Damaso was transferred toanother but better town. That is all there was to it. Now you canmake all the distinctions you like."

  So saying, he left the group.

  "I am very sorry to have touched upon so delicate a subject," saidFather Sibyla, "but, after all, if the change from one town to anotherwas to your advantage----"

  "How could it be to my advantage? How about all the things that Ilost?" interrupted Father Damaso, fairly boiling over with rage.

  "Good evening, gentlemen! Good evening, Father!" said Captain Santiago,who at that instant entered the room, leading a youth by the hand. Onsaluting his guests in this manner, he kissed the hands of the priests,who, by the way, forgot to give him their blessing. The Dominican tookoff his gold-rimmed spectacles in order to examine the new arrivalat better advantage, while Father Damaso, turning pale at the sight,stared at the youth with eyes wide open.

  "I have the honor of presenting to you Don Crisostomo Ibarra, theson of my deceased friend," said Captain Tiago. "The young man hasjust arrived from Europe, and I have been to meet him." At the meremention of the name, exclamations were heard in all parts of theroom. The lieutenant, forgetting himself entirely, did not stop tosalute his host, but at once approached the young man and surveyedhim from head to foot. The youth exchanged the usual greetings withthose who had gathered around him. He showed no striking peculiarity,except in his sombre dress, which was in deep contrast with that ofthe other persons present. His athletic build, his appearance, andevery movement he made showed, however, that a fine mind and a healthybody had both been highly developed. You could see from his frank andvivacious face that he had Spanish blood in his veins. Although hishair, eyes and complexion were dark, his cheeks had a slight color,due, no doubt, to residence in cold countries.

  "What!" he exclaimed with glad surprise, "the parish priest of myown town! Father Damaso, my father's intimate friend!" Every one inthe room looked at the Franciscan, but the latter made no motion.

  "You must excuse me, if I have made a mistake," added Ibarra, somewhatin doubt because of the apathy of the friar.

  "You have made no mistake," the priest finally answered in a strainedvoice, "but your father was never an intimate friend of mine."

  Ibarra slowly withdrew the hand which he had offered, looking at thefriar with great surprise. As he turned about, he came face to facewith the lieutenant just approaching.

  "My boy, are you the son of Don Rafael Ibarra?"

  The young man bowed in acquiescence. Father Damaso settled back intohis arm-chair and fixed his eyes upon the lieutenant.

  "Welcome to your country! May you be more happy in it
than was yourfather!" exclaimed the officer in a trembling voice. "I had manydealings with your father and I knew him well, and I can say that hewas one of the most worthy and honorable men in the Philippines."

  "Sir," replied Ibarra with emotion, "your praise of my father putsme in doubt as to his fate. Even now I, his own son, am ignorant ofit all."

  The eyes of the old man filled with tears. He turned and hurriedlywithdrew. Ibarra found himself standing alone in the middle of theroom. His host had disappeared, and he turned to a group of gentlemen,who, as soon as they saw him coming, formed a semicircle to receivehim.

  "Gentlemen," he said, "in Germany, when a stranger attends anysocial function and there is no one present to introduce him, it isallowable for him to introduce himself. Permit me to avail myselfof this practice. Gentlemen, my name is Juan Crisostomo Ibarra yMagsalin." The others gave their names in turn, of which the mostwere comparatively unknown.

  "My name is A----a," said one of the young men, bowing stiffly.

  "Then, perhaps, I have the honor of addressing the poet whose workshave kept up my enthusiasm for my country? I have been told that youhave stopped writing, but no one has told me why."

  "Why? Because there is no use in invoking the muses for false andfoolish ends. A case has been made out against one man for having putinto verse a true story of Pero Grullo. I am not going to get myselfinto a similar scrape. They may call me a poet, but they shall notcall me a fool."

  "And can you not tell us what that true story was?"

  "Yes. The poet said that the son of a lion is also a lion, and forsaying this he narrowly escaped being banished."

  "Dinner is ready," announced a waiter who had been borrowed from theCafe Campana. The guests began to file into the dining room, not,however, without many sighs, and even some prayers among the women,especially the natives, that the dreaded affair would soon be over.