An Eagle Flight: A Filipino Novel Adapted from Noli Me Tangere

by José Rizal

  "You would seem to speak reasonably, Elias, if one had not already hisown convictions. But let me ask you, Who demand these reforms? Youknow I except you, whom I cannot class with these others; but arethey not all criminals, or men ready to become so?"

  "Go from pueblo to pueblo, senor, from house to house, and listento the stifled groanings, and you will find that if you think that,you are mistaken."

  "But the Government must have a body of unlimited power, to makeitself respected and its authority felt."

  "It is true, senor, when the Government is at war with the country;but is it not unfortunate that in times of peace the people shouldbe made to feel they are at strife with their rulers? If, however,we prefer force to authority, we should at least be careful to whomwe give unlimited power. Such a force in the hands of men ignorant,passionate, without moral training or tried honor, is a weaponthrown to a madman in the middle of an unarmed crowd. I grant theGovernment must have an arm, but let it choose this arm well; andsince it prefers the power it assumes to that the people might giveit, let it at least show that it knows how to assume it!"

  Elias spoke with passion; his eyes were brilliant, his voice wasresonant. His words were followed by silence; the boat, no longerdriven forward by the oars, seemed motionless on the surface of thelake; the moon shone resplendent in the sapphire sky; above the farbanks the stars glittered.

  "And what else do they ask?"

  "Reform of the religious orders,--they demand better protection----"

  "Against the religious orders?"

  "Against their oppression, senor."

  "Do the Philippines forget the debt they owe those men who led themout of error into the true faith? It is a pity we are not taught thehistory of our country!"

  "We must not forget this debt, no! But were not our nationalityand independence a dear price with which to cancel it? We havealso given the priests our best pueblos, our most fertile fields,and we still give them our savings, for the purchase of all sorts ofreligious objects. I realize that a pure faith and a veritable loveof humanity moved the first missionaries who came to our shores. Iacknowledge the debt we owe those noble men; I know that in thosedays Spain abounded in heroes, of politics as well as religion. Butbecause the ancestors were true men, must we consent to the excessesof their unworthy descendants? Because a great good has been done us,may we not protest against being done a great wrong? The missionariesconquered the country, it is true; but do you think it is throughthe monks that Spain will keep the Philippines?"

  "Yes, and through them only. It is the opinion of all those who havewritten on the islands."

  "Senor," said Elias in dejection, "I thank you for your patience. Iwill take you back to the shore."

  "No," said Ibarra, "go on; we should know which is right in soimportant a question."

  "You will excuse me, senor," said Elias, "I have not eloquence enoughto convince you. If I have some education, I am an Indian, and mywords would always be suspected. Those who have expressed opinionscontrary to mine are Spaniards, and as such disarm in advance allcontradiction. Besides, when I see that you, who love your country,you, whose father sleeps below this calm water, you who have beenattacked and wronged yourself, have these opinions, I commence to doubtmy own convictions, I acknowledge that the people may be mistaken. Imust tell these unfortunates who have placed their confidence in mento put it in God or in their own strength."

  "Elias, your words hurt me, and make me, too, have doubts. I have notgrown up with the people, and cannot know their needs. I only knowwhat books have taught me. If I take your words with caution, it isbecause I fear you may be prejudiced by your personal wrongs. IfI could know something of your story, perhaps it would alter myjudgment. I am mistrustful of theories, am guided rather by facts."

  Elias thought a moment, then he said:

  "If this is so, senor, I will briefly tell you my history."

  XLII.

  THE FAMILY OF ELIAS.

  "It is about sixty years since my grandfather was employed asaccountant by a Spanish merchant. Although still young, he was married,and had a son. One night the warehouse took fire, and was burnedwith the surrounding property. The loss was great, incendiarism wassuspected, and my grandfather was accused. He had no money to payfor his defence, and he was convicted and condemned to be publiclyflogged in the streets of his pueblo. Attached to a horse, he wasbeaten as he passed each street corner by men, his brothers. Thecurates, you know, advocate nothing but blows for the disciplineof the Indian. When the unhappy man, marked forever with infamy,was liberated, his poor young wife went about seeking work to keepalive her disabled husband and their little child. Failing in this,she was forced to see them suffer, or to live herself a life of shame."

  Ibarra rose to his feet.

  "Oh, don't be disturbed! There was no longer honor or dishonor forher or hers. When the husband's wounds were healed, they went to hidethemselves in the mountains, where they lived for a time, shunnedand feared. But my grandfather, less courageous than his wife, couldnot endure this existence and hung himself. When his body was found,by chance, my grandmother was accused for not reporting his death, andwas in turn condemned to be flogged; but in consideration of her stateher punishment was deferred. She gave birth to another son, unhappilysound and strong; two months later her sentence was carried out. Thenshe took her two children and fled into a neighboring province.

  "The elder of the sons remembered that he had once been happy. As soonas he was old enough he became a tulisan to avenge his wrongs, andthe name of Balat spread terror in many provinces. The younger son,endowed by nature with a gentle disposition, stayed with his mother,both living on the fruits of the forest and dressing in the cast-offrags of those charitable enough to give. At length the famous Balatfell into the hands of justice, and paid a dreadful penalty forhis crimes, to that society which had never done anything to teachhim better than to commit them. One morning the young brother, whohad been in the forest gathering fruits, came back to find the deadbody of his mother in front of their cabin, the horror-stricken eyesstaring upward; and following them with his own, the unhappy boy sawsuspended from a limb the bloody head of his brother."

  "My God!" cried Ibarra.

  "It is perhaps the cry that escaped the lips of my father," saidElias coldly. "Like a condemned criminal, he fled across mountainsand valleys. When he thought himself far enough away to have losthis identity, he found work with a rich man of the province ofTayabas. His industry and the sweetness of his disposition gainedhim favor. Here he stayed, economized, got a little capital, and ashe was yet young, thought to be happy. He won the love of a girl ofthe pueblo, but delayed asking for her hand, fearing that his pastmight be uncovered. At length, when love's indiscretion bore fruit,to save her reputation he was obliged to risk everything. He asked tomarry her, his papers were demanded, and the truth was learned. Asthe father was rich, he instituted a prosecution. The unhappy youngman made no defence, and was sent to the garrison.

  "Our mother bore twins, my sister and me. She died while we wereyet young, and we were told that our father was dead also. As ourgrandfather was rich, we had a happy childhood; we were alwaystogether, and loved each other as only twins can. I was sent veryearly to the college of the Jesuits, and my sister to La Concordia,that we might not be completely separated. In time we returned totake possession of our grandfather's property. We had many servantsand rich fields. We were both happy, and my sister was affianced toa man she adored.

  "By my haughtiness, perhaps, and for pecuniary reasons, I had won thedislike of a distant relative. He threw in my face the obscurity of ourorigin and the dishonor of our race. Believing it calumny, I demandedsatisfaction; the tomb where so many miseries sleep was opened, andthe truth came forth to confound me. To crown all, there had beenwith us many years an old servant, who had suffered all my capriceswithout complaint. I do not know how our relative found it out, but hebrought the old man before the court and made him declare the truth:he was our father. Our happine
ss was ended. I gave up my inheritance,my sister lost her fiance, and with our father we left the pueblo,to live where he might. The thought of the unhappiness he had broughtupon us shortened our father's days, and my sister and I were leftalone. She could not forget her lover, and little by little I sawher droop. One day she disappeared, and I searched everywhere forher in vain. Six months afterward, I learned that at the time I losther there had been found on the lake shore of Calamba the body of ayoung woman drowned or assassinated. A knife, they said, was buriedin her breast. From what they told me of her dress and her beauty,I recognized my sister. Since then I have wandered from province toprovince, my reputation and my story following in time. Many thingsare attributed to me, often unjustly, but I continue my way and takelittle account of men. You have my story, and that of one of thejudgments of our brothers!"

  Elias rowed on in a silence which was for some time unbroken.

  "I believe you are not wrong when you say that justice should interestherself in the education of criminals," said Crisostomo at length;"but it is impossible, it is Utopia; where get the money necessaryto create so many new offices?"

  "Why not use the priests, who vaunt their mission of peace andlove? Can it be more meritorious to sprinkle a child's head with waterthan to wake, in the darkened conscience of a criminal, that sparklighted by God in every soul to guide it in the search for truth? Canit be more humane to accompany a condemned man to the gallows thanto help him in the hard path that leads from vice to virtue? And thespies, the executioners, the guards, do not they too cost money?"

  "My friend, if I believed all this, what could I do?"

  "Alone, nothing; but if the people sustained you?"

  "I shall never be the one to lead the people when they try to obtainby force what the Government does not think it time to give them. If Ishould see the people armed, I should range myself on the side of theGovernment. I do not recognize my country in a mob. I desire her good;that is why I build a school. I seek this good through instruction;without light there is no route."

  "Without struggle, no liberty; without liberty, no light. You say youknow your country little. I believe you. You do not see the conflictcoming, the cloud on the horizon: the struggle begun in the sphereof the mind is going to descend to the arena of blood. Listen to thevoice of God; woe to those who resist it! History shall not be theirs!"

  Elias was transfigured. He stood uncovered, his manly face illumined bythe white light of the moon. He shook his mane of hair and continued:

  "Do you not see how everything is waking? The sleep has lastedcenturies, but some day the lightning will strike, and the bolt,instead of bringing ruin, will bring life. Do you not see minds intravail with new tendencies, and know that these tendencies, diversenow, will some day be guided by God into one way? God has not failedother peoples; He will not fail us!"

  The words were followed by solemn silence. The boat, drawn on by thewaves, was nearing the bank. Elias was the first to speak.

  "What shall I say to those who sent me?"

  "That they must wait. I pity their situation, but progress is slow,and there is always much of our own fault in our misfortunes."

  Elias said no more. He lowered his eyes and continued to row. Whenthe boat touched the shore, he took leave of Ibarra.

  "I thank you, senor," he said, "for your kindness to me, and, in yourown interest, I ask you to forget me from this day."

  When Ibarra was gone, Elias guided his boat toward a clump of reedsalong the shore. His attention seemed absorbed in the thousands ofdiamonds that rose with the oar, and fell back and disappeared inthe mystery of the gentle azure waves. When he touched land, a mancame out from among the reeds.

  "What shall I say to the captain?" he asked.

  "Tell him Elias, if he lives, will keep his word," replied thehelmsman sadly.

  "And when will you join us?"

  "When your captain thinks the hour has come."

  "That is well; adieu!"

  "If I live!" repeated Elias, under his breath.

  XLIII.

  IL BUON DI SI CONOSCE DA MATTINA.

  While Ibarra and Elias were on the lake, old Tasio, ill in hissolitary little house, and Don Filipo, who had come to see him, werealso talking of the country. For several days the old philosopher, orfool--as you find him--prostrated by a rapidly increasing feebleness,had not left his bed.

  "The country," he was saying to Don Filipo, "isn't what it was twentyyears ago."

  "Do you think so?"

  "Don't you see it?" asked the old man, sitting up. "Ah! you did notknow the past. Hear the students of to-day talking. New names arespoken under the arches that once heard only those of Saint Thomas,Suarez, Amat, and the other idols of my day. In vain the monks cryfrom the chair against the demoralization of the times; in vain theconvents extend their ramifications to strangle the new ideas. Theroots of a tree may influence the parasites growing on it, but theyare powerless against the bird, which, from the branches, mountstriumphant toward the sky!"

  The old man spoke with animation, and his eye shone.

  "And yet the new germ is very feeble," said the lieutenant. "If theyall set about it, the progress already so dearly paid for may yetbe choked."

  "Choke it? Who? The weak dwarf, man, to choke progress, the powerfulchild of time and energy? When has he done that? He has tried dogma,the scaffold, and the stake, but E pur si muove is the device ofprogress. Wills are thwarted, individuals sacrificed. What doesthat mean to progress? She goes her way, and the blood of those whofall enriches the soil whence spring her new shoots. The Dominicansthemselves do not escape this law, and they are beginning to imitatethe Jesuits, their irreconcilable enemies."

  "Do you hold that the Jesuits move with progress?" asked the astonishedDon Filipo. "Then why are they so attacked in Europe?"

  "I reply as did once an ecclesiastic of old," said the philosopher,laying his head back on the pillow and putting on his mocking air,"that there are three ways of moving with progress: ahead, beside,behind; the first guide, the second follow, the third are dragged. TheJesuits are of these last. At present, in the Philippines, we areabout three centuries behind the van of the general movement. TheJesuits, who in Europe are the reaction, viewed from here representprogress. For instance, the Philippines owe to them the introductionof the natural sciences, the soul of the nineteenth century. As forourselves, at this moment we are entering a period of strife: strifebetween the past which grapples to itself the tumbling feudal castle,and the future whose song may be heard afar off, bringing us fromdistant lands the tidings of good news."

  The old man stopped, but seeing the expression of Don Filipo he smiledand went on.

  "I can almost divine what you are thinking."

  "Can you?"

  "You are thinking that I may easily be wrong; to-day I have the fever,and I am never infallible. But it is permitted us to dream. Why notmake the dreams agreeable in the last hours of life? You are right:I do dream! Our young men think of nothing but loves and pleasures;our men of riper years have no activity but in vice, serve only tocorrupt youth with their example; youth spends its best years withoutideal, and childhood wakes to life in rust and darkness. It is wellto die. Claudite jam rivos, pueri."

  "Is it time for your medicine?" asked Don Filipo, seeing the cloudon the old man's face.

  "The parting have no need of medicine, but those who stay. In a fewdays I shall be gone. The Philippines are in the shadows."

  XLIV.

  LA GALLERA.

  To keep holy the afternoon of Sunday in Spain, one goes ordinarily tothe plaza de toros; in the Philippines, to the gallera. Cock-fights,introduced in the country about a century ago, are to-day one of thevices of the people. The Chinese can more easily deprive themselvesof opium than the Filipinos of this bloody sport.

  The poor, wishing to get money without work, risks here the littlehe has; the rich seeks a distraction at the price of whatever loosecoin feasts and masses leave him. The education of their cocks costsboth
much pains, often more than that of their sons.

  Since the Government permits and almost recommends it, let us takeour part in the sport, sure of meeting friends.

  The gallera of San Diego, like most others, is divided into threecourts. In the entry is taken the sa pintu, that is, the price ofadmission. Of this price the Government has a share, and its revenuesfrom this source are some hundred thousand pesos a year. It is saidthis license fee of vice serves to build schools, open roads, spanrivers, and establish prizes for the encouragement of industry. Blessedbe vice when it produces so happy results! In this entry are foundgirls selling buyo, cigars, and cakes. Here gather numerous children,brought by their fathers or uncles, whose duty it is to initiate theminto the ways of life.

  In the second court are most of the cocks. Here the contracts are made,amid recriminations, oaths, and peals of laughter. One caresses hiscock, while another counts the scales on the feet of his, and extendsthe wings. See this fellow, rage in his face and heart, carrying bythe legs his cock, deplumed and dead. The animal which for months hasbeen tended night and day, on which such brilliant hopes were built,will bring a peseta and make a stew. Sic transit gloria mundi! Theruined man goes home to his anxious wife and ragged children. He haslost at once his cock and the price of his industry. Here the leastintelligent discuss the sport; those least given to thought extend thewings of cocks, feel their muscles, weigh, and ponder. Some are dressedin elegance, followed and surrounded by the partisans of their cocks;others, ragged and dirty, the stigma of vice on their blighted faces,follow anxiously the movements of the rich; the purse may get empty,the passion remains. Here not a face that is not animated; in this theFilipino is not indolent, nor apathetic, nor silent; all is movement,passion. One would say they were all devoured by a thirst always moreand more excited by muddy water.