by José Rizal
CHAPTER XXI
MANILA TYPES
That night there was a grand function at the Teatro deVariedades. Mr. Jouay's French operetta company was giving its initialperformance, _Les Cloches de Corneville_. To the eyes of the publicwas to be exhibited his select troupe, whose fame the newspapers hadfor days been proclaiming. It was reported that among the actresseswas a very beautiful voice, with a figure even more beautiful, andif credit could be given to rumor, her amiability surpassed even hervoice and figure.
At half-past seven in the evening there were no more tickets to behad, not even though they had been for Padre Salvi himself in hisdirect need, and the persons waiting to enter the general admissionalready formed a long queue. In the ticket-office there were scufflesand fights, talk of filibusterism and races, but this did not produceany tickets, so that by a quarter before eight fabulous prices werebeing offered for them. The appearance of the building, profuselyilluminated, with flowers and plants in all the doors and windows,enchanted the new arrivals to such an extent that they burst out intoexclamations and applause. A large crowd surged about the entrance,gazing enviously at those going in, those who came early from fearof missing their seats. Laughter, whispering, expectation greeted thelater arrivals, who disconsolately joined the curious crowd, and nowthat they could not get in contented themselves with watching thosewho did.
Yet there was one person who seemed out of place amid such greateagerness and curiosity. He was a tall, meager man, who dragged oneleg stiffly when he walked, dressed in a wretched brown coat and dirtycheckered trousers that fitted his lean, bony limbs tightly. A strawsombrero, artistic in spite of being broken, covered an enormoushead and allowed his dirty gray, almost red, hair to straggle outlong and kinky at the end like a poet's curls. But the most notablething about this man was not his clothing or his European features,guiltless of beard or mustache, but his fiery red face, from which hegot the nickname by which he was known, _Camaroncocido_. [46] He wasa curious character belonging to a prominent Spanish family, but helived like a vagabond and a beggar, scoffing at the prestige which heflouted indifferently with his rags. He was reputed to be a kind ofreporter, and in fact his gray goggle-eyes, so cold and thoughtful,always showed up where anything publishable was happening. His mannerof living was a mystery to all, as no one seemed to know where heate and slept. Perhaps he had an empty hogshead somewhere.
But at that moment Camaroncocido lacked his usual hard and indifferentexpression, something like mirthful pity being reflected in hislooks. A funny little man accosted him merrily.
"Friend!" exclaimed the latter, in a raucous voice, as hoarse as afrog's, while he displayed several Mexican pesos, which Camaroncocidomerely glanced at and then shrugged his shoulders. What did theymatter to him?
The little old man was a fitting contrast to him. Small, very small,he wore on his head a high hat, which presented the appearance of ahuge hairy worm, and lost himself in an enormous frock coat, too wideand too long for him, to reappear in trousers too short, not reachingbelow his calves. His body seemed to be the grandfather and his legsthe grandchildren, while as for his shoes he appeared to be floatingon the land, for they were of an enormous sailor type, apparentlyprotesting against the hairy worm worn on his head with all the energyof a convento beside a World's Exposition. If Camaroncocido was red,he was brown; while the former, although of Spanish extraction, hadnot a single hair on his face, yet he, an Indian, had a goatee andmustache, both long, white, and sparse. His expression was lively. Hewas known as _Tio Quico_, [47] and like his friend lived on publicity,advertising the shows and posting the theatrical announcements,being perhaps the only Filipino who could appear with impunity in asilk hat and frock coat, just as his friend was the first Spaniardwho laughed at the prestige of his race.
"The Frenchman has paid me well," he said smiling and showing hispicturesque gums, which looked like a street after a conflagration. "Idid a good job in posting the bills."
Camaroncocido shrugged his shoulders again. "Quico," he rejoined ina cavernous voice, "if they've given you six pesos for your work,how much will they give the friars?"
Tio Quico threw back his head in his usual lively manner. "To thefriars?"
"Because you surely know," continued Camaroncocido, "that all thiscrowd was secured for them by the conventos."
The fact was that the friars, headed by Padre Salvi, and some laybrethren captained by Don Custodio, had opposed such shows. PadreCamorra, who could not attend, watered at the eyes and mouth, butargued with Ben-Zayb, who defended them feebly, thinking of the freetickets they would send his newspaper. Don Custodio spoke of morality,religion, good manners, and the like.
"But," stammered the writer, "if our own farces with their plays onwords and phrases of double meaning--"
"But at least they're in Castilian!" the virtuous councilor interruptedwith a roar, inflamed to righteous wrath. "Obscenities in French,man, Ben-Zayb, for God's sake, in French! Never!"
He uttered this _never_ with the energy of three Guzmans threatenedwith being killed like fleas if they did not surrender twentyTarifas. Padre Irene naturally agreed with Don Custodio and execratedFrench operetta. Whew, he had been in Paris, but had never set footin a theater, the Lord deliver him!
Yet the French operetta also counted numerous partizans. The officersof the army and navy, among them the General's aides, the clerks,and many society people were anxious to enjoy the delicacies of theFrench language from the mouths of genuine _Parisiennes_, and withthem were affiliated those who had traveled by the M.M. [48] and hadjabbered a little French during the voyage, those who had visitedParis, and all those who wished to appear learned.
Hence, Manila society was divided into two factions, operettistsand anti-operettists. The latter were supported by the elderlyladies, wives jealous and careful of their husbands' love, and bythose who were engaged, while those who were free and those whowere beautiful declared themselves enthusiastic operettists. Notesand then more notes were exchanged, there were goings and comings,mutual recriminations, meetings, lobbyings, arguments, even talk ofan insurrection of the natives, of their indolence, of inferior andsuperior races, of prestige and other humbugs, so that after muchgossip and more recrimination, the permit was granted, Padre Salviat the same time publishing a pastoral that was read by no one butthe proof-reader. There were questionings whether the General hadquarreled with the Countess, whether she spent her time in the hallsof pleasure, whether His Excellency was greatly annoyed, whetherthere had been presents exchanged, whether the French consul--, andso on and on. Many names were bandied about: Quiroga the Chinaman's,Simoun's, and even those of many actresses.
Thanks to these scandalous preliminaries, the people's impatience hadbeen aroused, and since the evening before, when the troupe arrived,there was talk of nothing but attending the first performance. Fromthe hour when the red posters announced _Les Cloches de Corneville_ thevictors prepared to celebrate their triumph. In some offices, insteadof the time being spent in reading newspapers and gossiping, it wasdevoted to devouring the synopsis and spelling out French novels, whilemany feigned business outside to consult their pocket-dictionarieson the sly. So no business was transacted, callers were told to comeback the next day, but the public could not take offense, for theyencountered some very polite and affable clerks, who received anddismissed them with grand salutations in the French style. The clerkswere practising, brushing the dust off their French, and calling toone another _oui, monsieur, s'il vous plait_, and _pardon_! at everyturn, so that it was a pleasure to see and hear them.
But the place where the excitement reached its climax was the newspaperoffice. Ben-Zayb, having been appointed critic and translator of thesynopsis, trembled like a poor woman accused of witchcraft, as he sawhis enemies picking out his blunders and throwing up to his face hisdeficient knowledge of French. When the Italian opera was on, he hadvery nearly received a challenge for having mistranslated a tenor'sname, while an envious rival had immediately published an articleref
erring to him as an ignoramus--him, the foremost thinking head inthe Philippines! All the trouble he had had to defend himself! Hehad had to write at least seventeen articles and consult fifteendictionaries, so with these salutary recollections, the wretchedBen-Zayb moved about with leaden hands, to say nothing of his feet,for that would be plagiarizing Padre Camorra, who had once intimatedthat the journalist wrote with them.
"You see, Quico?" said Camaroncocido. "One half of the people havecome because the friars told them not to, making it a kind of publicprotest, and the other half because they say to themselves, 'Do thefriars object to it? Then it must be instructive!' Believe me, Quico,your advertisements are a good thing but the pastoral was better,even taking into consideration the fact that it was read by no one."
"Friend, do you believe," asked Tio Quico uneasily, "that on accountof the competition with Padre Salvi my business will in the futurebe prohibited?"
"Maybe so, Quico, maybe so," replied the other, gazing at thesky. "Money's getting scarce."
Tio Quico muttered some incoherent words: if the friars were going toturn theatrical advertisers, he would become a friar. After bidding hisfriend good-by, he moved away coughing and rattling his silver coins.
With his eternal indifference Camaroncocido continued to wander abouthere and there with his crippled leg and sleepy looks. The arrivalof unfamiliar faces caught his attention, coming as they did fromdifferent parts and signaling to one another with a wink or a cough. Itwas the first time that he had ever seen these individuals on suchan occasion, he who knew all the faces and features in the city. Menwith dark faces, humped shoulders, uneasy and uncertain movements,poorly disguised, as though they had for the first time put on sackcoats, slipped about among the shadows, shunning attention, insteadof getting in the front rows where they could see well.
"Detectives or thieves?" Camaroncocido asked himself and immediatelyshrugged his shoulders. "But what is it to me?"
The lamp of a carriage that drove up lighted in passing a group offour or five of these individuals talking with a man who appeared tobe an army officer.
"Detectives! It must be a new corps," he muttered with his shrugof indifference. Soon, however, he noticed that the officer, afterspeaking to two or three more groups, approached a carriage and seemedto be talking vigorously with some person inside. Camaroncocido tooka few steps forward and without surprise thought that he recognizedthe jeweler Simoun, while his sharp ears caught this short dialogue.
"The signal will be a gunshot!"
"Yes, sir."
"Don't worry--it's the General who is ordering it, but be careful aboutsaying so. If you follow my instructions, you'll get a promotion."
"Yes, sir."
"So, be ready!"
The voice ceased and a second later the carriage drove away. In spiteof his indifference Camaroncocido could not but mutter, "Something'safoot--hands on pockets!"
But feeling his own to be empty, he again shrugged his shoulders. Whatdid it matter to him, even though the heavens should fall?
So he continued his pacing about. On passing near two persons engagedin conversation, he caught what one of them, who had rosaries andscapularies around his neck, was saying in Tagalog: "The friars aremore powerful than the General, don't be a fool! He'll go away andthey'll stay here. So, if we do well, we'll get rich. The signal isa gunshot."
"Hold hard, hold hard," murmured Camaroncocido, tightening hisfingers. "On that side the General, on this Padre Salvi. Poorcountry! But what is it to me?"
Again shrugging his shoulders and expectorating at the same time,two actions that with him were indications of supreme indifference,he continued his observations.
Meanwhile, the carriages were arriving in dizzy streams, stoppingdirectly before the door to set down the members of the selectsociety. Although the weather was scarcely even cool, the ladiessported magnificent shawls, silk neckerchiefs, and even lightcloaks. Among the escorts, some who were in frock coats with whiteties wore overcoats, while others carried them on their arms todisplay the rich silk linings.
In a group of spectators, Tadeo, he who was always taken ill themoment the professor appeared, was accompanied by a fellow townsmanof his, the novice whom we saw suffer evil consequences from readingwrongly the Cartesian principle. This novice was very inquisitive andaddicted to tiresome questions, and Tadeo was taking advantage of hisingenuousness and inexperience to relate to him the most stupendouslies. Every Spaniard that spoke to him, whether clerkling or underling,was presented as a leading merchant, a marquis, or a count, while onthe other hand any one who passed him by was a greenhorn, a pettyofficial, a nobody! When pedestrians failed him in keeping up thenovice's astonishment, he resorted to the resplendent carriages thatcame up. Tadeo would bow politely, wave his hand in a friendly manner,and call out a familiar greeting.
"Who's he?"
"Bah!" was the negligent reply. "The Civil Governor, the Vice-Governor,Judge ----, Senora ----, all friends of mine!"
The novice marveled and listened in fascination, taking care to keepon the left. Tadeo the friend of judges and governors!
Tadeo named all the persons who arrived, when he did not know theminventing titles, biographies, and interesting sketches.
"You see that tall gentleman with dark whiskers, somewhat squint-eyed,dressed in black--he's Judge A ----, an intimate friend of the wife ofColonel B ----. One day if it hadn't been for me they would have cometo blows. Hello, here comes that Colonel! What if they should fight?"
The novice held his breath, but the colonel and the judge shook handscordially, the soldier, an old bachelor, inquiring about the healthof the judge's family.
"Ah, thank heaven!" breathed Tadeo. "I'm the one who made themfriends."
"What if they should invite us to go in?" asked the novice timidly.
"Get out, boy! I never accept favors!" retorted Tadeo majestically. "Iconfer them, but disinterestedly."
The novice bit his lip and felt smaller than ever, while he placeda respectful distance between himself and his fellow townsman.
Tadeo resumed: "That is the musician H----; that one, the lawyerJ----, who delivered as his own a speech printed in all the books andwas congratulated and admired for it; Doctor K----, that man justgetting out of a hansom, is a specialist in diseases of children,so he's called Herod; that's the banker L----, who can talk only ofhis money and his hoards; the poet M----, who is always dealing withthe stars and _the beyond_. There goes the beautiful wife of N----,whom Padre Q----is accustomed to meet when he calls upon the absenthusband; the Jewish merchant P----, who came to the islands with athousand pesos and is now a millionaire. That fellow with the longbeard is the physician R----, who has become rich by making invalidsmore than by curing them."
"Making invalids?"
"Yes, boy, in the examination of the conscripts. Attention! Thatfinely dressed gentleman is not a physician but a homeopathist _suigeneris_--he professes completely the _similis similibus_. The youngcavalry captain with him is his chosen disciple. That man in a lightsuit with his hat tilted back is the government clerk whose maximis never to be polite and who rages like a demon when he sees a haton any one else's head--they say that he does it to ruin the Germanhatters. The man just arriving with his family is the wealthy merchantC----, who has an income of over a hundred thousand pesos. But whatwould you say if I should tell you that he still owes me four pesos,five reales, and twelve cuartos? But who would collect from a richman like him?"
"That gentleman in debt to you?"
"Sure! One day I got him out of a bad fix. It was on a Friday athalf-past six in the morning, I still remember, because I hadn'tbreakfasted. That lady who is followed by a duenna is the celebratedPepay, the dancing girl, but she doesn't dance any more now that avery Catholic gentleman and a great friend of mine has--forbiddenit. There's the death's-head Z----, who's surely following her to gether to dance again. He's a good fellow, and a great friend of mine,but has one defect--he's a Chinese mestizo and yet calls himself aPeninsular
Spaniard. Sssh! Look at Ben-Zayb, him with the face of afriar, who's carrying a pencil and a roll of paper in his hand. He'sthe great writer, Ben-Zayb, a good friend of mine--he has talent!"
"You don't say! And that little man with white whiskers?"
"He's the official who has appointed his daughters, those three littlegirls, assistants in his department, so as to get their names on thepay-roll. He's a clever man, very clever! When he makes a mistake heblames it on somebody else, he buys things and pays for them out ofthe treasury. He's clever, very, very clever!"
Tadeo was about to say more, but suddenly checked himself.
"And that gentleman who has a fierce air and gazes at everybody overhis shoulders?" inquired the novice, pointing to a man who noddedhaughtily.
But Tadeo did not answer. He was craning his neck to see PaulitaGomez, who was approaching with a friend, Dona Victorina, and JuanitoPelaez. The latter had presented her with a box and was more humpedthan ever.
Carriage after carriage drove up; the actors and actresses arrivedand entered by a separate door, followed by their friends and admirers.
After Paulita had gone in, Tadeo resumed: "Those are the nieces ofthe rich Captain D----, those coming up in a landau; you see howpretty and healthy they are? Well, in a few years they'll be dead orcrazy. Captain D---- is opposed to their marrying, and the insanityof the uncle is appearing in the nieces. That's the Senorita E----,the rich heiress whom the world and the conventos are disputingover. Hello, I know that fellow! It's Padre Irene, in disguise, witha false mustache. I recognize him by his nose. And he was so greatlyopposed to this!"
The scandalized novice watched a neatly cut coat disappear behind agroup of ladies.
"The Three Fates!" went on Tadeo, watching the arrival of threewithered, bony, hollow-eyed, wide-mouthed, and shabbily dressedwomen. "They're called--"
"Atropos?" ventured the novice, who wished to show that he also knewsomebody, at least in mythology.
"No, boy, they're called the Weary Waiters--old, censorious, anddull. They pretend to hate everybody--men, women, and children. Butlook how the Lord always places beside the evil a remedy, only thatsometimes it comes late. There behind the Fates, the frights ofthe city, come those three girls, the pride of their friends, amongwhom I count myself. That thin young man with goggle-eyes, somewhatstooped, who is wildly gesticulating because he can't get tickets,is the chemist S----, author of many essays and scientific treatises,some of which are notable and have captured prizes. The Spaniards sayof him, 'There's some hope for him, some hope for him.' The fellow whois soothing him with his Voltairian smile is the poet T----, a youngman of talent, a great friend of mine, and, for the very reason thathe has talent, he has thrown away his pen. That fellow who is trying toget in with the actors by the other door is the young physician U----,who has effected some remarkable cures--it's also said of him that hepromises well. He's not such a scoundrel as Pelaez but he's clevererand slyer still. I believe that he'd shake dice with death and win."
"And that brown gentleman with a mustache like hog-bristles?"
"Ah, that's the merchant F----, who forges everything, even hisbaptismal certificate. He wants to be a Spanish mestizo at any cost,and is making heroic efforts to forget his native language."
"But his daughters are very white."
"Yes, that's the reason rice has gone up in price, and yet they eatnothing but bread."
The novice did not understand the connection between the price ofrice and the whiteness of those girls, but he held his peace.
"There goes the fellow that's engaged to one of them, that thin brownyouth who is following them with a lingering movement and speaking witha protecting air to the three friends who are laughing at him. He'sa martyr to his beliefs, to his consistency."
The novice was filled with admiration and respect for the young man.
"He has the look of a fool, and he is one," continued Tadeo. "Hewas born in San Pedro Makati and has inflicted many privations uponhimself. He scarcely ever bathes or eats pork, because, according tohim, the Spaniards don't do those things, and for the same reason hedoesn't eat rice and dried fish, although he may be watering at themouth and dying of hunger. Anything that comes from Europe, rottenor preserved, he considers divine--a month ago Basilio cured him ofa severe attack of gastritis, for he had eaten a jar of mustard toprove that he's a European."
At that moment the orchestra struck up a waltz.
"You see that gentleman--that hypochondriac who goes along turninghis head from side to side, seeking salutes? That's the celebratedgovernor of Pangasinan, a good man who loses his appetite whenever anyIndian fails to salute him. He would have died if he hadn't issued theproclamation about salutes to which he owes his celebrity. Poor fellow,it's only been three days since he came from the province and look howthin he has become! Oh, here's the great man, the illustrious--openyour eyes!"
"Who? That man with knitted brows?"
"Yes, that's Don Custodio, the liberal, Don Custodio. His brows areknit because he's meditating over some important project. If theideas he has in his head were carried out, this would be a differentworld! Ah, here comes Makaraig, your housemate."
It was in fact Makaraig, with Pecson, Sandoval, and Isagani. Uponseeing them, Tadeo advanced and spoke to them.
"Aren't you coming in?" Makaraig asked him.
"We haven't been able to get tickets."
"Fortunately, we have a box," replied Makaraig. "Basilio couldn'tcome. Both of you, come in with us."
Tadeo did not wait for the invitation to be repeated, but the novice,fearing that he would intrude, with the timidity natural to theprovincial Indian, excused himself, nor could he be persuaded to enter.