El Filibusterismo. English

by José Rizal

  CHAPTER II

  ON THE LOWER DECK

  There, below, other scenes were being enacted. Seated on benchesor small wooden stools among valises, boxes, and baskets, a fewfeet from the engines, in the heat of the boilers, amid the humansmells and the pestilential odor of oil, were to be seen the greatmajority of the passengers. Some were silently gazing at the changingscenes along the banks, others were playing cards or conversing in themidst of the scraping of shovels, the roar of the engine, the hiss ofescaping steam, the swash of disturbed waters, and the shrieks of thewhistle. In one corner, heaped up like corpses, slept, or tried tosleep, a number of Chinese pedlers, seasick, pale, frothing throughhalf-opened lips, and bathed in their copious perspiration. Onlya few youths, students for the most part, easily recognizable fromtheir white garments and their confident bearing, made bold to moveabout from stern to bow, leaping over baskets and boxes, happy inthe prospect of the approaching vacation. Now they commented on themovements of the engines, endeavoring to recall forgotten notions ofphysics, now they surrounded the young schoolgirl or the red-lipped_buyera_ with her collar of _sampaguitas,_ whispering into their earswords that made them smile and cover their faces with their fans.

  Nevertheless, two of them, instead of engaging in these fleetinggallantries, stood in the bow talking with a man, advanced in years,but still vigorous and erect. Both these youths seemed to be wellknown and respected, to judge from the deference shown them by theirfellow passengers. The elder, who was dressed in complete black, wasthe medical student, Basilio, famous for his successful cures andextraordinary treatments, while the other, taller and more robust,although much younger, was Isagani, one of the poets, or at leastrimesters, who that year came from the Ateneo, [6] a curious character,ordinarily quite taciturn and uncommunicative. The man talking withthem was the rich Capitan Basilio, who was returning from a businesstrip to Manila.

  "Capitan Tiago is getting along about the same as usual, yes, sir,"said the student Basilio, shaking his head. "He won't submit to anytreatment. At the advice of _a certain person_ he is sending me to SanDiego under the pretext of looking after his property, but in realityso that he may be left to smoke his opium with complete liberty."

  When the student said _a certain person_, he really meant Padre Irene,a great friend and adviser of Capitan Tiago in his last days.

  "Opium is one of the plagues of modern times," replied the capitanwith the disdain and indignation of a Roman senator. "The ancients knewabout it but never abused it. While the addiction to classical studieslasted--mark this well, young men--opium was used solely as a medicine;and besides, tell me who smoke it the most?--Chinamen, Chinamen whodon't understand a word of Latin! Ah, if Capitan Tiago had only devotedhimself to Cicero--" Here the most classical disgust painted itselfon his carefully-shaven Epicurean face. Isagani regarded him withattention: that gentleman was suffering from nostalgia for antiquity.

  "But to get back to this academy of Castilian," Capitan Basiliocontinued, "I assure you, gentlemen, that you won't materialize it."

  "Yes, sir, from day to day we're expecting the permit," repliedIsagani. "Padre Irene, whom you may have noticed above, and to whomwe've presented a team of bays, has promised it to us. He's on hisway now to confer with the General."

  "That doesn't matter. Padre Sibyla is opposed to it."

  "Let him oppose it! That's why he's here on the steamer, in orderto--at Los Banos before the General."

  And the student Basilio filled out his meaning by going through thepantomime of striking his fists together.

  "That's understood," observed Capitan Basilio, smiling. "But eventhough you get the permit, where'll you get the funds?"

  "We have them, sir. Each student has contributed a real."

  "But what about the professors?"

  "We have them: half Filipinos and half Peninsulars." [7]

  "And the house?"

  "Makaraig, the wealthy Makaraig, has offered one of his."

  Capitan Basilio had to give in; these young men had everythingarranged.

  "For the rest," he said with a shrug of his shoulders, "it's notaltogether bad, it's not a bad idea, and now that you can't knowLatin at least you may know Castilian. Here you have another instance,namesake, of how we are going backwards. In our times we learned Latinbecause our books were in Latin; now you study Latin a little buthave no Latin books. On the other hand, your books are in Castilianand that language is not taught--_aetas parentum pejor avis tulitnos nequiores!_ as Horace said." With this quotation he moved awaymajestically, like a Roman emperor.

  The youths smiled at each other. "These men of the past," remarkedIsagani, "find obstacles for everything. Propose a thing to them andinstead of seeing its advantages they only fix their attention onthe difficulties. They want everything to come smooth and round asa billiard ball."

  "He's right at home with your uncle," observed Basilio.

  "They talk of past times. But listen--speaking of uncles, what doesyours say about Paulita?"

  Isagani blushed. "He preached me a sermon about the choosing ofa wife. I answered him that there wasn't in Manila another likeher--beautiful, well-bred, an orphan--"

  "Very wealthy, elegant, charming, with no defect other than aridiculous aunt," added Basilio, at which both smiled.

  "In regard to the aunt, do you know that she has charged me to lookfor her husband?"

  "Dona Victorina? And you've promised, in order to keep yoursweetheart."

  "Naturally! But the fact is that her husband is actually hidden--inmy uncle's house!"

  Both burst into a laugh at this, while Isagani continued: "That'swhy my uncle, being a conscientious man, won't go on the upper deck,fearful that Dona Victorina will ask him about Don Tiburcio. Justimagine, when Dona Victorina learned that I was a steerage passengershe gazed at me with a disdain that--"

  At that moment Simoun came down and, catching sight of the two youngmen, greeted Basilio in a patronizing tone: "Hello, Don Basilio,you're off for the vacation? Is the gentleman a townsman of yours?"

  Basilio introduced Isagani with the remark that he was not a townsman,but that their homes were not very far apart. Isagani lived on theseashore of the opposite coast. Simoun examined him with such markedattention that he was annoyed, turned squarely around, and faced thejeweler with a provoking stare.

  "Well, what is the province like?" the latter asked, turning againto Basilio.

  "Why, aren't you familiar with it?"

  "How the devil am I to know it when I've never set foot in it? I'vebeen told that it's very poor and doesn't buy jewels."

  "We don't buy jewels, because we don't need them," rejoined Isaganidryly, piqued in his provincial pride.

  A smile played over Simoun's pallid lips. "Don't be offended, youngman," he replied. "I had no bad intentions, but as I've been assuredthat nearly all the money is in the hands of the native priests, Isaid to myself: the friars are dying for curacies and the Franciscansare satisfied with the poorest, so when they give them up to thenative priests the truth must be that the king's profile is unknownthere. But enough of that! Come and have a beer with me and we'lldrink to the prosperity of your province."

  The youths thanked him, but declined the offer.

  "You do wrong," Simoun said to them, visibly taken aback. "Beer is agood thing, and I heard Padre Camorra say this morning that the lackof energy noticeable in this country is due to the great amount ofwater the inhabitants drink."

  Isagani was almost as tall as the jeweler, and at this he drewhimself up.

  "Then tell Padre Camorra," Basilio hastened to say, while he nudgedIsagani slyly, "tell him that if he would drink water instead of wineor beer, perhaps we might all be the gainers and he would not giverise to so much talk."

  "And tell him, also," added Isagani, paying no attention to hisfriend's nudges, "that water is very mild and can be drunk, but thatit drowns out the wine and beer and puts out the fire, that heatedit becomes steam, and that ruffled it is the ocean, that it oncedestroyed man
kind and made the earth tremble to its foundations!" [8]

  Simoun raised his head. Although his looks could not be readthrough the blue goggles, on the rest of his face surprise mightbe seen. "Rather a good answer," he said. "But I fear that he mightget facetious and ask me when the water will be converted into steamand when into an ocean. Padre Camorra is rather incredulous and isa great wag."

  "When the fire heats it, when the rivulets that are now scatteredthrough the steep valleys, forced by fatality, rush together in theabyss that men are digging," replied Isagani.

  "No, Senor Simoun," interposed Basilio, changing to a jesting tone,"rather keep in mind the verses of my friend Isagani himself:

  'Fire you, you say, and water we, Then as you wish, so let it be; But let us live in peace and right, Nor shall the fire e'er see us fight; So joined by wisdom's glowing flame, That without anger, hate, or blame, We form the steam, the fifth element, Progress and light, life and movement.'"

  "Utopia, Utopia!" responded Simoun dryly. "The engine is about tomeet--in the meantime, I'll drink my beer." So, without any word ofexcuse, he left the two friends.

  "But what's the matter with you today that you're soquarrelsome?" asked Basilio.

  "Nothing. I don't know why, but that man fills me with horror,fear almost."

  "I was nudging you with my elbow. Don't you know that he's calledthe Brown Cardinal?"

  "The Brown Cardinal?"

  "Or Black Eminence, as you wish."

  "I don't understand."

  "Richelieu had a Capuchin adviser who was called the Gray Eminence;well, that's what this man is to the General."

  "Really?"

  "That's what I've heard from _a certain person,_--who always speaksill of him behind his back and flatters him to his face."

  "Does he also visit Capitan Tiago?"

  "From the first day after his arrival, and I'm sure that _a certainperson_ looks upon him as a rival--in the inheritance. I believethat he's going to see the General about the question of instructionin Castilian."

  At that moment Isagani was called away by a servant to his uncle.

  On one of the benches at the stern, huddled in among the otherpassengers, sat a native priest gazing at the landscapes that weresuccessively unfolded to his view. His neighbors made room for him, themen on passing taking off their hats, and the gamblers not daring toset their table near where he was. He said little, but neither smokednor assumed arrogant airs, nor did he disdain to mingle with the othermen, returning the salutes with courtesy and affability as if he feltmuch honored and very grateful. Although advanced in years, with hairalmost completely gray, he appeared to be in vigorous health, and evenwhen seated held his body straight and his head erect, but withoutpride or arrogance. He differed from the ordinary native priests,few enough indeed, who at that period served merely as coadjutors oradministered some curacies temporarily, in a certain self-possessionand gravity, like one who was conscious of his personal dignityand the sacredness of his office. A superficial examination of hisappearance, if not his white hair, revealed at once that he belongedto another epoch, another generation, when the better young men werenot afraid to risk their dignity by becoming priests, when the nativeclergy looked any friar at all in the face, and when their class,not yet degraded and vilified, called for free men and not slaves,superior intelligences and not servile wills. In his sad and seriousfeatures was to be read the serenity of a soul fortified by study andmeditation, perhaps tried out by deep moral suffering. This priestwas Padre Florentino, Isagani's uncle, and his story is easily told.

  Scion of a wealthy and influential family of Manila, of agreeableappearance and cheerful disposition, suited to shine in the world, hehad never felt any call to the sacerdotal profession, but by reasonof some promises or vows, his mother, after not a few struggles andviolent disputes, compelled him to enter the seminary. She was a greatfriend of the Archbishop, had a will of iron, and was as inexorableas is every devout woman who believes that she is interpreting thewill of God. Vainly the young Florentine offered resistance, vainly hebegged, vainly he pleaded his love affairs, even provoking scandals:priest he had to become at twenty-five years of age, and priest hebecame. The Archbishop ordained him, his first mass was celebratedwith great pomp, three days were given over to feasting, and hismother died happy and content, leaving him all her fortune.

  But in that struggle Florentine received a wound from which henever recovered. Weeks before his first mass the woman he loved,in desperation, married a nobody--a blow the rudest he had everexperienced. He lost his moral energy, life became dull andinsupportable. If not his virtue and the respect for his office,that unfortunate love affair saved him from the depths into which theregular orders and secular clergymen both fall in the Philippines. Hedevoted himself to his parishioners as a duty, and by inclination tothe natural sciences.

  When the events of seventy-two occurred, [9] he feared that thelarge income his curacy yielded him would attract attention tohim, so, desiring peace above everything, he sought and secured hisrelease, living thereafter as a private individual on his patrimonialestate situated on the Pacific coast. He there adopted his nephew,Isagani, who was reported by the malicious to be his own son by hisold sweetheart when she became a widow, and by the more serious andbetter informed, the natural child of a cousin, a lady in Manila.

  The captain of the steamer caught sight of the old priest and insistedthat he go to the upper deck, saying, "If you don't do so, the friarswill think that you don't want to associate with them."

  Padre Florentino had no recourse but to accept, so he summoned hisnephew in order to let him know where he was going, and to charge himnot to come near the upper deck while he was there. "If the captainnotices you, he'll invite you also, and we should then be abusinghis kindness."

  "My uncle's way!" thought Isagani. "All so that I won't have anyreason for talking with Dona Victorina."