Rizal's prose

REPUBLIC OF THE PHILIPPINES OFFICE OF THE PRESIDENT

JOSE RIZAL NATIONAL CENTENNIAL COMMISSION

OFFICIALS AND EMPLOYEES DIOSDADO MACAP AGAL President, Republic of the Philippines

CHAIRMAN

ALEJANDRO R. ROCES Secretary of Education

VICE路CHAIRMEN

RODRIGO PEREZ, JR.

and

Actg. S ecretary of Finance

SANTIAGO DELA CRUZ Suprem e Commande r Order of the K nights o f Riza l

MEMBERS

MARIA KALAW-KATIGBAK Chairman , Committee on Education, Senate

SALIH UTUTALUM Chairman, Commit t ee on Education, House of Representatives

CARLOS P. ROMULO President, University of the Philippines

GERONIMA T. PECSON Chairman, Unesco National Commission

CARLOS QUIRINO Actg. Direct or, Bu reau of Public Libraries

BENIGNO ALDANA Director, Bureau of Public Schools

JESUS E. PERPINAN Director, Bureau of Private Schools

LUIS MONTILLA Chairman, Phil ippine Historical Committee

EUFRONIO M. ALIP President, Philippine National Historical Society

JOSE P. BANTUG Cultural Attache, Philippine Embassy to Spain, 1953-1955

LEONCIO LOPEZ RIZAL Charter Member, National Research Council

VICENTE OROSA Ex-Secretary of Public Works and Communications

EDUARDO QUISUMBING Ex-Director, Na t ional Museum

LUIS MONTILLA Executiv e Director

VEDASTO G. SUAREZ Assis tant Director and Secretary

COMMITTEE ON PUBLICATIONS

LEONCIO LOPEZ RIZAL, Member LUIS MONTILLA, Member JOSE P. BANTUG, Member VICENTE DEL CARMEN, Secretary

Publications of the

JOSE RIZAL

ATIONAL CENTE

IAL COMMISSION

WRITINGS OF JOSE ftlZAL

Volume III Book Two

PROSE ./

LEl\iT~~i\L\'L

EDITIO

'Osre , JOSE RlZAL

MA}.'ILA CEl'ITEN IAL COMMISSION

~ATIONAL

1 9 G2

2892 D~ ~~,

-RlJ /'+ 2 )3

FOREWORD

The Jose Rizal National Centennial Commission is charged by law with the preparation for a fitting and dignified celebration of the First Centenary of the birth of the National Hero of the Philippines, Jose Rizal.

The objectives set for the Commission to meet include, among others, the publication of all the works of the Hero in the original languages in which they were written as well as their translations into English and the principal languages of the Philippines.

Appearing in several volumes, the greater part of the Centennial Edition consists of Centennial issues for the general diffusion of Rizal's ideas. The whole set covers the whole field of the Hero's writings, namely, reminiscences and travels, all his extant letters known to the Commission; poems and prose works, the novels Noli me Tangere and El Filibus terismo, his edition of Morga'S Sucesos de las Islas Filipinas, political and historical writings, facsimiles of some of his other works and selected excerpts from his philosophical thoughts.

Besides the above \Ve have additional volumes containing the excerpts of the writings about our hero by his contemporaries and others - Filipinos and foreigners as well as poems dedicated to him; a bibliography of his wtitings and published works of others about him; a Rizaliana album containing pictures, sketches, maps and other items associated with the life of the Hero.

Tl;1is is the entire range of the Centennial Edition which the Jose Rizal National Centennial Commission takes pleasure to present to the reading public - to know from his own works who Jose Rizal really was, and to evaluate and appreciate his contributions to the welfare of his country and of mankind. There is no better way of paying homage to the memory of Rizal, aside from the cultural buildings to be constructed in his honor, than to collect all his works and those about him by others, and prepare them for easy understanding of the people for whose cause he chose to die.

, JOSE E. ROMERO (Secretary of Education) As Chairman

TABLE OF CONTENTS Foreword ....................................................................................................

The Council of the Gods ..................................................................

Love of Country ........................................................................................

On Travel ....................................................................................................

The Sense of the Beautiful ..................................................................

Revista de Madrid ..................................................................................

A Pompous Gobernadorcillo ................................................................

A Freethinker ..............................................................................................

Memories ....................................................................................................

Rizal's Impressions of Madrid-Letter to Dr. F. Blumentritt ....

Juan Luna ..................................................................................................

Rizal's Response to the Welcome of the President of the Tourists' Club of Leitmeritz, Austria, Mr. Joseph Krombhols, as Reported by Professor Blumentritt ............................................

Suan's Animals ........................................................................................

The Vision of Fr. Rodriguez ............................................................

By Telephone .............. .............................................................................

Mariang Makiling .......... ...........................................................................

After Mass ..................................................................................................

The Legend of Dona Geronima The Enchanted ..............................

The Tortoise and the Monkey ..........................................................

A Reminder to those Fond of Lawsuits ............................................

Reminiscences of a Cock ....................................................................

The Lord Gazes at the Philippine Islands ....................................

Dapitan ........................................................................................................

The Ancient Tagalog Nobility ............................................................

Sinagtala and Maria Maligaya ............................................................

Tvv'o Brothers ..........................................................................................

The Significance of Palm Sunday ......................................................

The Feast of Saint Isidore ................................................................

Marie Colombier: The Pistol of the Little Baroness ..................

The Kite and the Hen ..........................................................................

A Soiree at the Home of Mr. B ......................................................

Alphonse Daudet: Tartarin Sur Les Alpes ..................................

Tne Fisherwoman and the Fish ..........................................................

Essay on Pierre Corneille ....................................................................

Unter Den Linden ....................................................................................

v 1 15 22 29 33 40 44 54 67 70

74 75 81 96 103 111

122 124 126 127 129 163 170 179 204 205 208 211 213 215 217 219 221 224

THE COUNCIL OF THE GODS

by I

JOSE RIZAL

AN ALLEGORY

Oi\TE ACT :Meeting of the gods at Olympus Jupiter, seated on the throne of gold and precious stones and holding in his hand the c:Y"'Press sceptre, the eagle at ills feet whose steel plumage reflects a thousand diverse colors, thunderbolts, his terrible weapons, lie on the floor. At his right is his wife, the jealous Juno, with resplendent diadem and the showy peacock. At his left, the wise Pallas (llIiner~a)) daughter and counselor, adorned with her helmet and the terrible egis, "Wearing the green olive and bearing gracefully her heary spear.

In se~ere contrast is Saturn, muffled up and looking from the distance at such a beautiful group. In graceful disorder are found the beautiful Venus, reclining in a bed of roses, crowned with fragrant mYlile, and caressing La e; the divine Apollo strumming softly his gold and mother-of-pearl lyre and playing with the eight Muses, (1) while 1ars, Bellona, Alcides, and l\1omus close that select circle. Behind Jupiter and Juno are found Hebe and Ganymede. Towards the right side of Jupiter is Justice seated on her tlu'one, holding in her hands her attributes.

(1)

The Muses were nine sisters, daughters of Jupiter and Mnemosyne, goddess of memory.

Here are the names of the eight mentioned here: Calliope, muse of heroic poetry; Melpomene, muse of tragedy; Tallia, muse of comedy; Polimnia, muse of rhewric; Erato, muse of lyric poetry; Euterpe, muse of song and music; "Crania, muse of astronomy, and Clio, muse of hist.ory.

Published in La Solidaridad, vol Y, no. UJ2, pp. 984-987 . 30 April 1893.

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SCENE I The Gods and Goddesses and the eight Muses mentioned.

Terpsichore (2) arrives first, and after her the Nymphs, the Naiades, and the Undiness, dancing and scattering flowers to the music of Apollo's and Erato's lyres and the flute of Euterpe. After the dance, all arrange themselves on the sides of the stage.

SCENE II Sayings and Mercury (Mercury arrives, removing from his head his Phyrigian cap, and speaks:) Mercury.

Jupiter.

Minerva.

(2)

I have carried out your orders, sovereign Father; Neptune and his court cannot come, for they are afraid to lose the empire of the seas, on account of the present boldness of men, Vulcan has not yet finished the thunderbolts that you ordered him with which to fortify Olympus, and he is finishing them; with regard to Pluto ...

(Interrupting Mercury) Enough! Neither do I need them. Hebe, you Ganymede, serve the nectar so that the immortals may drink.

While Hebe and Ganymede carry out the order, Bacchus and Selene, the latter on foot and the former on a she-ass with the wand in her hand and young ,?-ne~branches on the temples, arrive SIngIng: One who wishes to live And enjoy Abandon Minerva: Take care of more vineyards ...

(Aloud) Silence! Don't you see that the powerful Jupiter is going to speak?

Terpsichore, muse of the dance, is the youngest of the nine sisters.

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Selene.

Momus.

Minerva.

Jupiter.

And what? Has the conqueror of the Titans become angry? The Gods drink nectar; consequently anyone can express his joy in the manner he pleases; but I already see that my disciple has offended you and you take for a pretext ...

(In a cunning voice) Defend him, Selene, so that they may not say that your disciples are impertinent.

(Tries to answer, but Jupiter stops her with a gesture. Then Minerva expresses her contempt with a smile so disdainful that it alters the delicate severity of her beautiful lips.)

After all the gods have drunk of the immortal beverage, Jupiter begins to speak: There was a time, sublime gods, when the prou~ sons of the earth pretended to climb Olympus and snatch away the empire from me, anp laying u mountains over mountains, they would have succeeded without doubt if your arms and my terrible thunderbolts had not cast them headlong into Tartarus, burying the others in the bowels of the burning Aetna. Such a fatal even I wish to celebrate with the pomp of the immortals, today that the Earth, following her eternal career, has returned to the same point in her orbit, where it formerly revolves. Thus, I, the Sovereign of the Gods, want the feast to begin with a literary contest. I have a superb war trumpet and a lyre and a laurel wreath nicely made; the trumpet is of metal that only Vulcan knows how to make, more precious than gold and silver; the lyre like that of Apollo, is of gold and mother-ofpearl, made also by the same Vulcan; but its strings, work of the Muses, have no rivals; and the wreath, woven by the Graces, of the best laurel that grows in my immortal gardens, glitters more than those of all of the

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Juno.

Venus.

kings of the Earth. The three are worth equally, and the one who has best cultivated letters and virtues, will be the owner of such magnificent jewels. Present to me then the mortal whom you consider worthy of them.

(She rises in an arrogant and haughty attitude.) Jupiter, permit me to speak first, as your wife and mother of the most powerful gods. Noone better than I can present to you the most perfect mortal, the divine Homer. And in truth, who will dare dispute him the supremacy, just as no other work can compete with his Iliad, brave and bold, and his reflective and prudent Odyssey?

Who, like him, has sung your grandeur and that of the other gods so magnificently as if he had surprised us on Olympus itself and attended our assemblies? Who contributed more so that the fragrant incense of Arabia may be burnt abundantly before our images and they should dffer us rich hecatombs whose delightful fume rising in fanciful spirals was so pleasing to us that it appeased our ire? Who, like him, narrated the most sublime battles in the most beautiful verses?

He sang to the divinity, to knowledge, virtue, valor, heroism, and misfortune, running over all the tones of his lyre. He is the one who receives the prize; for I believe that no one has made himself more deserving of our sympathies.

Pardon me sister, and wife of the magnificent Jove, if I do not agree with your respectable opinion. And you Jupiter, visible only to the immortals, be kind to my supplications. I beg you not to permit that the singer of my son Aeneas be defeated

by Homer. Remember the lyre of Virgil who sang our glories and modulated the complaints of unlucky love; his sweetest and melancholy verses move the soul; he

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Juno.

Venus.

Momus.

praised piety incarnated in the son of Anchises; his battles were no less beautiful than those that took place at the feet of the Trojan walls. Aeneas is greater and more pious than the enraged Achilles. In short, in IllY opinion, Virgil is very much superior to the poet of Clio. Is it not true that he possesses all the qualities that your sacred mind has conceived?

Having said this, she gracefully fits herself in her bed like the gracious Undine who, half-inclined on the white foam of the blue waves, forms the most precious jewel of the beautiful and poetic lake.

(Irritated) How! Why is the Roman poet to be preferred to the Greek? Virgil, only an imitator, has to be better than Homer?

Since when is a copy better than the original? Ah, beautiful Venus (In a disdainful tone.) I see that you are mistaken and I'm not surprised, because not dealing with love, you are out of your senses; moreover, the heart and passion never knew how to discuss. Let the matter alone; I beg you for your numberless lovers ...

(Blushing, interrupts) Oh, most beautiful Juno, as jealous as revengeful! In spite of your good memory, which always remembers the golden apple that was unjustly denied to your renowned and never sufficiently praised beauty, I'm displeased that you forget that your favorite Homer has made us appear so coarse. Yet, if you find this reasonable and true, let this be in seasonable time, and I felicitate you for it; but as for me, the gods of Olympus may speak ...

(Interrupting Venus.) Indeed! Let them say that you praise Virgil because they say that he behaved well towards you; that Juno

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Juno.

Momus.

Juno.

Momus.

Minerva.

defend Homer, for he is the singer of vengeance; that you caress each other and pay each other polite compliments. But you, Jupiter, why don't you intervene in the disputes, and you are there like an ignoramus standing and gapinE at the trilogies in the Olympic festivals?

(Aloud) My husband! Why do you permit this deformed and ugly monster to insult us thus? Throw him out of Olympus for his breath is offensive. Moreover . ..

Glory to Juno who never insults for she only calls me ugly and deformed! (The gods laugh.)

(She becomes pale, her forehead wrinkles, and she throws a fulminating glance at ever-yone, especially at Momus.) Hold your tongue, god of jest! By the Stygian lake .. .

But Ie us leave th t alone and let Minerva speak whose opini?n has always been mine since remote times'.

Indeed! Another one like you, illustrious jacknapes; you are where you don't belong.

(Pretending not to hear him. Lifts up her helmet, uncovers her grave and smooth forehead, mansion of intelligence, and with a silvery and clear voice, exclaims:) I beg you to hear me, powerful son of Saturn, who stirs Olympus when you knit your terrible eyebrows, and you prudent and venerated gods who preside and rule men, don't take my words ill, always subject to the will of the giver, if perchance my reasons lack weight in your eyes, deign to refute them and weigh them on the balance of Justice. There was in ancient Hesperia, beyond the Pyrenees, a man whose fame has already crossed over the space that separates the world of mortals from Olympus, bright like swift lightning. From being

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an ignored and obscure man that he was, he became a toy of envy and ruinous passions, overwhelmed by misfortune, the sad fate of great geniuses. It seems nothing else but that the world, extracting from the Tartarus all sufferings and tortures, has heaped them upon his unhappy person. But, despite so many sufferings and injustices, he did not want to return to his fellow beings the pain that he had received from them, rather for being so reasonable and big to take revenge, he tried to correct them and educate them by publishing his immortal book-Don Quijote. I'm speaking then of Cervantes, of that son of Spain who later was to become her pride and who now suffers the most frightful poverty. Don Quijote, his great literary work, is the whip that punishes and corrects without shedding blood but rouses laughter; it is the nectar that contains the virtues of the bitter medicine; it is the alluring hand that guides energetically human passions. If you ask me for the obstacles that he overcame, please listen to me a moment and you will find out.

The world was invaded by a certain kind of madness, the sadder and more furious the more it was spread by the imbecile pens of feverish imagination; bad taste was spreading everywhere and money was being spent uselessly for pernicious reading, when here appears that brilliant light that dispels the darkness of the mind; and like timid birds that use to flee away upon sighting a hunter or upon hearing the whiz of the arrow, so errors disappeared, bad taste and absurd beliefs buried themselves in the night of oblivion. And though it is true that the singer of Ilus in his sonorous verses, opened first the temple of the muses and celebrated the heroism of men and the wisdom of the immortals; and that the swan of Mantua

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Apollo.

exalted the piety of the one who saved the gods from the fire in their country and gave up the delights of Venus in order to follow your will (you the greatest of all the gods) and the finest sentiments came out of his lyre and his melancholy strain carries the mind to other regions; it is no less true that neither one nor the other improved the customs of their century as Cervantes did.

Upon its appearance, Truth returned to its seat, announcing a new era to the then corrupt world. If you would ask me for its beauties, in spite of the fact that I know them, I send you Apollo, the only judge on this point and ask him if the author of Don Quijote has burnt incense on his immortal altars.

With the pleasure with which you gather in se~ne nights the complaints of Philomene so will my reasons be pleasing to you, my father. The nine Sisters and I read in the gardens of Parnassus that book of which Minerva ~peaks. It~ gay style and its pleasant accent sound to my ears like the sonorous fountain that springs at the entrance of my gloomy cave. (I beg you not to accuse me of being impassioned because Cervantes had dedicated to me many of his beautiful pages.) If in extreme poverty, generator of hunger, poverty, and misfortunes that continually pursue the unfortunate, a humble son of mine has learned to elevate to me his songs and to harmonize his accents in offering me a very much more beautiful and precious tribute than my glittering charriot and ungovernable horses; if in the fetid underground, a dismal prison for a soul that aspires to soar, your fine pen learned to spill torrents of dazzling poetry that are much more pleasant and richer than the waters of the golden Pactolus, why should we deny him superiority and not give

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Juno.

Venus.

Minerva.

Mars.

him the victory as the greatest genius that the world has seen? His Quijote is the favorite book of the Muses and while it jestingly consoles the sad and melancholy and enlightens the ignorant, it is at the same time a history, the most faithful history of Spanish customs. I'm of the same opinion then as the wise Pallas and may I be forgiven ?y: the other gods who do not share my OpInIOn. If his greatest merit consists in having endured so many misfortunes, for the rest he surpasses no one, if he does not come out vanguished, I shall say also that Homer, blind and poor, implored once public charity (which Cervantes never did) going through towns and cities with his lyre, his only friend, and living in the most abject pov~rty. You remember this very well, ungrateful Apollo.

And what? And Virgil had he not also been poor? Did he not support himself for a long time with bread alone, a gift of Caesar? The melancholy that one breathes in his works, does it not say enough of his sensitive and fine heart, of how much he must have suffered? Could he have suffered less than the brilliant Homer and the gay Cervantes?

Undoubtedly this is all true; but you ought not to overlook that Cervantes was wounded and imprisoned for many years in the inhospitable land of Africa where he drained the last dregs of the cup of bitterness, living with the continuous menace of death.

(Jupiter makes gestures of being in conformity with Minerva.)

(He rises and speaks in an angry and thundering voice.) No, by my sword! No! Never! So long as one drop of immortal

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blood courses in my veins, Cervantes will not win. How can I permit that the book that throws my glory down to the ground and ridicules my exploits should turn up victorious? Jupiter, I helped you at another time; therefore attend now to my reasons.

Juno.

(Exalted.) Do you hear, just Jove, the reasons of the valorous Mars, so sensible and strong? Light and truth caper in his words. How then, shall we allow that a man whose glory time respected (and let Saturn say it) should be placed below that adventurer and armless man, the irony of society?

Mars.

And if you. father of the gods and of men, doubt the force of my reasoning, ask those others, if there is someone who dares to suppor their argUlments with his arm.

(He steps proudly to the middle, defying everybody with his glance and his blade.) ~ With proud countenance and dazzling glance, she takes a step and exclaims in a quiet voice.) Rash Mars; you forget the Trojan camps where you were wounded by a simple mortal; if your reasons are based on your sword; mine will not be afraid to fight you on your ground. But so that I may not be accused of being imprudent, I want to show you that you are very much mistaken. Cervantes followed your standards and served you heroically in the waters off Lepanto where he would have lost his life if fate did not destine him to a greater purpose. If he threw down the sword to pick up the pen, it was through the will of the immortals, and it is not to despise you as

Minerva.

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Jupiter.

you might have imagined in your mad raving. (And more softly he adds:) Don't be ungrateful then, you whose magnanimous heart is beyond rancour and odious passions.

He ridiculed knighthood, because it was no longer suitable to his century; moreover, those are not the struggles that do you honor but the pitched battles; you know it well.

These are my reasons, and if they do not convince you, I accept your challenge.

(She said, and just as a dim cloud, charged with lightning approaches another in the middle of the ocean when the sky darkens, so Minerva walks slowly, clasping her formidable shield and holding the lance in a posture to attack, the terrible messenger of destruction. Her glance was tranquil but terrifying; her voice had a sound that inspires terror.)

Bellona staIfds beside the irate Mars, ready to help him.

Apollo, seeing the attitude of Bellona, throws down the lyre, picks up the bow and pulls out from the golden sheath an arrow and placing himself beside Minerva, he stretches the bow, ready to shoot.

(Olympus, about to fall to the ground, trembles; the day turns dark and the gods tremble.)

(Irritated, he brandishes a lightning and shouts: ) To your seats, Minerva, A polIo; and you Mars and Bellona, don't irritate my heavenly ire.

(As carnivorous and terrible beasts, closed up in their iron cage, obey meekly the voice of the strong tamer, so those gods took their -11-

Justice.

Jupiter.

respective places, frightened by the threat of the son of Cybele, who, seeing their obedience, adds more softly:) I shall close the debate: Justice will weigh the books with her honest impartiality and whatever she says will be followed in the world while you will respect her unalterable judgment.

(She comes down from her seat, stands in the middle of the gathering, holding her always impartial balance, while Mercury places the Aeneid and Don Quijote on the dishes. After oscillating for a lon.g time, the needle at last rests in the middle, declaring that they were equal.

Venus was astonished, but keeps silent.

Mercury remOiVes from the dish the Aeneid, sublStituting the Iliad.

(A smile is delineated on the lips of Juno, a smile that was rapidly dispelled when she sees the two dishes where the Quijote and the Iliad rise and fall.)

The minds were in suspense: no one speaks, no one breathes. (A Zephyr is seen flying which immediately perches on the branch of a tree, in order to await also the decision of Destiny. ) At last both dishes stop at the same height and there they remain fixed.)

(With solemn voice.) Gods and Goddesses: Justice believes them equal: bow then your forehead and we give to Homer the trumpet, to Virgil the lyre, and to Cervantes the laurel; while Fame will announce throughout the world the decision of Destiny, and the singer Apollo will intone a hymn to the new celestial body who from now on will shine in the glory of heaven and occupy a seat in the temple of immortality.

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Apollo.

(He strums the lyre at whose sound Olympus is illuminated and he intones a hymn of glory that resounds majestically throughout the theatre.) God bless you the greatest man, favorite son of the Muses, center of intense light that will illuminate the worlds!

God bless you! Praise to your name, beautiful luminary, around which in the future a thousand intellects will revolve, admirers of your glory. God bless you, magnificent work of the hand of the Mighty, pride of all Spain; the most beautiful flower that girds my temples, I salute you! You will eclipse the glories of antiquity. Your name written in letters of gold on the tern pIe of immortality will be the despair of other geniuses! Mighty giant, you'll be in vincible! Placed like a superb monument in the middle of your century, all glances will be focussed on you. Your strong arm will vanquish your enemies as a voracious fire devours dry straw. Go, inspired Muses, and weave immortal wreaths of fragrant myrtle, beautiful laurel, and purple roses in honor of Cervantes! Pan and you, Selene, Faunus, and gay Satyrs dance on the carpet of shady forests, in the meantime that the Nereids, Naiades, the boisterous U ndines, and the playful Nymphs, scattering a thousand fragrant flowers, will beautify with their songs the solitude of the seas, the lakes, the cascades, and the rivers, and they will agitate the clear surface of the fountains in their varied games.

(The Muses, nymphs, naiades, and others dance and also Bacchus, Momus, Selene, and Ganymede, the principal dancer being the muse Terpsichore; Apollo, and Erato play the lyre; Euterpe, the flute; Clio, the trum-13-

pet, and Calliope, the clarion. In the meanwhile the gods and goddesses arrange themselves on both sides of the stage and their throne~ and seats are taken to one side. The Filipino march is played. A second curtain is raised; in the background, fantastically lighted, is seen a bust of Cervantes at whose left side stands a full-size statue of Rizal crowning him. The Philippine national march will then be substituted with the Spanish royal march.)

Curtain.

)

Translated from the Spanish by Dr. Encarnacion Alzona, 21 October 1958.

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LOVE OF COUNTRY

Here is a beautiful subject, and because it is beautiful, it is very hackneyed. Learned man, poet, artist, laborer, merchant, or soldier, old or young, king or slave - all have pondered it and devoted to it the most valued fruits of their intelligence, or of their hearts. From the cultured European, free, and proud of his glorious history, to the African Negro dragged out of his forests and sold for a paltry sum; from ancient peoples whose shadows still hover over their somber ruins - the tombs of their glories and sufferings - to the modern nations, full of activity and life, all, all have had and have an idol whom they call Motherland .- beautiful, brilliant, sublime but implacable, haughty, and exacting. A thousand tongues have sung to her, a thousand lyres have offered her their most sonorous music; the most favored intellects, the most inspired poets, have displayed before her view, or her memory, their most resplendent fineries. She has been the universal cry of peace, of love, and of glory, because she is in the hearts and minds of all men, and like the light enclosed in limpid crystal, she goes forth in the form of the most intense splendor.

And will this be an obstacle to us who wish to treat of her? And can we not dedicate to her something, we whose only sin is to have been born later?

Would the XIXth century serve as an excuse for us to be ungrateful? No. The rich mine of the heart has not yet been exhausted. Her remembrance is always prolific, and no matter how little inspiration we have, positively we will find in the bottom of our soul, if not a rich treasure, a mite, poor but an enthusiastic manifestation of our sentiments. In the manner then of the ancient Hebrews who offered in the temple the first fruits of their love, we in foreign land will dedicate our first utterances to our country, enveloped in morning clouds and mist, always beautiful and poetic, and

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the more idolized by her sons when they are absent and far away from her.

And this is not surprising, because it is a very natural feeling; because there in our country are our first memories of childhood, a merry ode, known only in childhood, from whose traces spring forth the flower of innocence and happiness; because there slumbers a whole past and a future can be hoped, because in her forests and in her meadows, on every tree, on every blade, on every flowe r~ you see engraved the memory of a being you love, as her breath in the perfumed breeze, her song in the murmur of the fountains, her smile in the rainbow of the sky, or her sighs in the confused moans of the night wind.

It is because you see there with the eyes of your imagination, under the tranquil roof of your oId home, a family who remembers you and awaits J Ou, thinking of you and worrying about you; in short, because in her sky, in her sun, in her seas, and in her forests, you find poetry, tenderness, and love and even in the cemetery there is a humble tomb awaiting you to return you to the soil. Will there be a genie who will bind your heart to the soil of our native country, who beautifies and adorns everything, showing us all objects in a poetic and sentimental aspect and captivating our hearts. Because under whatever aspect she may appear, whether she is dressed in purple, crowned with flowers and laurels, powerful and rich; whether she is sorrowful and solitary, clad in rags, and a slave, entreating her slave sons; whether she is a nymph in a pleasant garden beside the blue waves of the sea, gracious and beautiful as the dream of deluded youth; whether she is enveloped in a shroud of snow, sitting fatidically on the ends of the earth under a sunless and starless sky; whatever her name, her age, or her fortun e might be, we love her always, as the child loves his mother even in the midst of hunger and misery.

And how strange! The poorer and more wretched she is, the more one is willing to suffer for her, the more she is adored, the more one finds pleasure in bearing up with her. It has been observed that the people of the mountains and wild valleys and those

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born on barren and dismal land are the very ones who remember more vividly their country, finding in the cities a terrible boredom which compels them to return to their native land. Is it because love of country is the purest, most heroic, and most sublime human sentiment? It is gratitude; it is affection for everything that reminds us of something of the first days of our life; it is the land where our ancestors are sleeping; it is the temple where we have worshiped God with the candor of babbling childhood; it is the sound of the church bell which has delighted us since a child; they are the vast fields, the blue lake,. the picturesque banks of the river which we pass by in a nimble little boat; the limpid brook which laves the cheerful little house nestling among flowers like a love-nest; or the tall mountains which inspire us this pleasant sentiment?

Will it be the raging storm that lashes, and knocks down with its terrible force everything it finds on its way; the lightning which, escaping from the hands of the Almighty, annihilates everything; will it be the avalanche or cascade, matters of perpetual motion and endless menace? Is it all this that attracts, captivates, and entices us?

Probably these beauties or tender remembrances fortify the bond that unites us to our native land, engendering a pleasant feeling of well-being when we are in our country, or deep melancholy when we are far away from her, the origin of a cruel disease called nostalgia.

Oh! Never sadden the stranger who arrives at your shores; do not awaken in him that vivid memory of his country, the comforts of his home, because then you will evoke this sickness, tenacious phantom that will not abandon him until he sees again his native land or he arrives at the border of the tomb.

Never pour a drop of bitterness in his heart, for in such circumstances the sorrows are exaggerated, compared with the happiness of the lost home.

Weare born, then, grow up, we get old, and we die with this pious sentiment. It is perhaps the most constant if there is constancy in the hearts of men, and -17-

it seems that it does not abandon us even in our very tombs.

Napoleon, seeing dimly the dark bottom of the grave, remembers his France whom he loved extremely, and in his exile, he entrusts to her his remains, confident that he will find more comforting rest in her midst.

Ovid, more unfortunate, and divining that not even his ashes would return to Rome, dying on the shores of the Black Sea, consoled himself with the thought that if not he, at least his verses would reach the Capitol.

As children we love games; as adolescents we forget them; as young men we search for our ideal; disappointed, we weep over it and we go seeking for something more positive and more useful; as fathers, our children die; and time rubs out our griefs as the air of the sea obliterates the shoreline as the ship moves away from it.

But, on the other hand, love of country is never effaced once it ha.s penetrated the heart, because it carries with it a diVine stamp) which renders it eternal and imperishable.

It has been said that love has always been the most powerful force behind the most sublime actions. Well then, of all loves, that of country is the greatest, the most heroic and the most disinterested. Read history, if not, the annals, the traditions. Go to the homes, what sacrifices, self-denial, and ears are shed on the sacred altar of the nation! From Brutus, who condemned his sons charged with treason, to Guzman the Good who allowed his son to die in order not to fail in his duty, what dramas, what tragedies, what martyrdom have not been enacted for the welfare of that inexorable divinity who has nothing to give you in return for your children but gratitude and blessings!

And notwithstanding, with the pieces of their hearts they raise glorious monuments to their motherland; with the work of their hands, with the sweat of their brow, they have sprinkled and made fruitful her sacred tree, and neither have they expected nor received any reward.

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See there a man sunk in his study. For him his best days are passing away, his sight weakens, his hair turns gray and gradually disappears with his illusions; his body stoops. For years he has been after a truth; he solves a problem; hunger and thirst, cold and heat; sickness and misfortune have successively confronted him. He is going down his grave and avails of his agony to offer to his motherland a rosette for her crown, a truth - fountain and origin of a thousand benefits.

Turn your eyes to another direction: a man tanned by the sun scratches the ungrateful soil to plant a seed.

He is a farmer. He too contributes with his modest but useful work to the glory of his nation.

The motherland is in danger! Soldiers and leaders as if by charm spring from the ground. The father leaves his children, the sons leave their parents and all rush to defend their common mother. They bid farewell to the quiet pleasures of the home and hide under their helmets the tears that tenderness draws. They all leave and die. Perhaps ilie is the father of many children, fair and pinkish like cherubs; perhaps he is a young man of smiling hopes - a son or a lover-it does not matter. He has defended the one who gave him life; he has fulfilled his duty. Peter or Leonidas, whoever he might be, the Motherland will know how to remember him.

Some have sacrificed for her their youth, their pleasures; others have dedicated to her the splendors of their genius; others shed their blood; all have died, bequeathing to their Motherland an immense fortune: Liberty and glory.

And what has she done for them? She mourns them and proudly presents them to the world, to posterity and to her children to serve as an example.

But alas, if at the magic of your name, oh, Motherland, the most heroic virtues shine; if in your name superhuman sacrifices are made, on the other hand, . . t路Ices ...., wha t InJus -19-

From Jesus .Christ who, all love, has come to the world . for the welfare of humanity and dies for it in accordance with the laws of his motherland, to the most obscure victims of modern revolutions, how many, alas, have not suffered and died for you, usurped by others.

How many victims of rancor, of ambition, or of ignorance have not expired blessing you and wishing you all kinds of happiness!

Fair and grand is the Motherland when her children, at the cry of battle, get ready to defend the ancient land of their ancestors; cruel and arrogant when she sees from her throne the terrified foreigner flee before the invincible phalanx of her sons. But when her sons, divided into rival factions, destroy one another; when anger and rancor devastate fields, towns, and cities; then ashamed, she tears away her robe and hurling her sceptre, she puts on mourning clothes for her dead sons.

Whatever our condition might be then, let us love her always and let us wish nothing but her welfare.

Thus we shall labor in conforfITlity with the purpose o路f humanity dictated by God, which is the harmony and universal peace of his creatures. You who have lost the ideal of your souls, you who, with wounded hearts, have seen your illusions disappear one by one and like the trees in autumn you find yourselves without flowers and without leaves, and desirous of loving, find no one worthy of you, there you have the Motherland: Love her.

You who have lost a father, mother, brother, wife, child, in 'short, love . upon which you have founded your dreams, and you find in yourselves a deep and horrible void, there you have the Motherland: Love her as she deserves.

Love her! Oh, yes! but not as they loved her in other times by performing ferocious acts, denied and condemned by true morals and mother nature; by making a display a fanaticism, destruction, and cruelty, no. A more promising dawn appears in the horizon - a soft and gentle light, the messenger of life and peace -

-20-

the dawn, in short, of true Christianity, the prelude to happy and peaceful days.

It is our duty to follow the arid but peaceful and productive paths of science which lead to progress, and thence to the unity desired and asked by J eSllS Christ on the night of his sorrow.

Jose Rizal Barcelona, June 1882

Published for the first time in Dia?'iong Tagalog, Manila 20 August 1882; then in La SolidGffidad, Madr id, 31 Octobel' 1890, Vol. II, No, 42, pp. 246-248. .

Translated from the Spamsh by Dr. Encarnacion Ab:ona.

-路路 21路路-

ON TRAVEL

by LAONG

LAAN~

.. Who has not traveled? Who does not love to travel?

Indeed, traveling is the dream of the young when they became conscious of the life around them; it is a book for mature men, at the age when the mind is eager to learn; and in fine, it is the last farewell of the old man when he takes his leave of the world to undertake the most mysterious of all voyages.

Travel is a caprice in childhood, a passion in youth, a necessity in Il!anhood, and an elegy in old age.

Don't read to children Robinson Crusoe or Gulliver's Travels if you d0t\t wish to Ibe annoyed with queries about those countnes whose magic spell pricks their sensitive imagination. Don't describe to the young the emotions, episodes, and adventures in strange or unknown countries. Keep out of their sight Julius Verne or Mayne Reid, for if you don't you would disturb their sleep and add to their budding desires, already numerous and vehement, another one which will make them regret their sUbjection or the modesty of their fortune. Unseen wonders have so much charm; the contemplation of nature is so alluring!

The desire to travel as well as to know is so innate in man that it seems that Providence has put it in each one of us, so that, spurred by it, we may study and admire His works, communicate and fraternize with those who are far from us and united form a single family-the aspiration of all thinkers. * One of Rizal's pen names.

Original in Spanish, published in La Solidaridad, Year I, No.7, pp. 75-77.

15 May 1889, Barcelona.

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For this purpose He has. made man a cosmopolite.

He has created seas so that ships can glide through their drifting billows with the wind to push and drive them on and the stars to guide them even in the darkest night. He has created rivers which ran through different regions.- He has opened in the rocks gorges and paths and thrown bridges across them.. He has given the Arab the camel for the vast desert and the inhabitants of the polar regions the reindeer and the dog to pull their sleds.

Travel and Human Progress Advancement All the advancement of modern societies is almost all due to travel. In fact, since the remotest antiquity, men have traveled in search of knowledge, as if it were written on the waters of the sea, on the leaves of trees, on the rocks of the roads, on monuments and tombs.

The Greeks used to go to Egypt in quest of learning from her priests; they read the papyri and they humbled themselves in the, contemplation of those g'igantic tombs-somber symbols of the national idea - they sought inspiration in their funeral grandeur, as the scholars of Europe today study their hieroglyphics, and from there returned philosophers like Pythagoras, historians like Herodotus~ lawmakers like Lycurgus and Solon, and poets like Orpheus and Homer. And religion, civilization, science, laws, and customs then came from Egypt, only when they reached the smiling shores of Aeolis., * they shed their mystic garments tg don the simple and charming costume of the daughters of Greece.

Later, from the furrow made by a plow a people sprang up-virile, enterprising, great, proud, and sublime. From their Capitol, casting their eyes around, their ambition was aroused by the world, worthy spoils of boundless greed. They sent out their eagles and tbeir legions, and they returned with all nations yoked to their carts. Greece, a molecule absorbed by that victorious mass~ did with Rome what Egypt did with * The coast of Asia Minor adjacent to the Island of Lesbos or Mytilene in the Aegean Sea,

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her: She taught her children, adorned her squares and streets with the works of art of her artists; and all her learning, science, philosophy, fine arts, and literature were transmitted to Rome, losing something of their original grace and beauty though gaining, on the other hand, in grandeur and majesty, reflecting the genius of the arrogant conqueror. Then there occurred in Rome what is now taking place among civilized nations with regard to French influence: Hellenism penetrated everywhere; its poetry and its language became popular and its customs were imitated and its philosophy practiced. Knowledge then, and civilization, which until then had been the patrimony of the East, imitating the natural course of celestial bodies, turned their steos toward the W.gst, but upon reaching the heart of the world, they stopped as if to teach all nations and races.

Then Iberia, Gaul, Germania, Britain, and even Africa were sending their sons to _the city-the emporium of power, learning,,. and riches-to see, to admire, and to study in the spacious precinct within its walls whatever the mind of man had conceived up to that time. Going to the source of light in order to illuminate the earth is a spectacle mankind offers at all times. And the tendency towards perfection forms part of the essence of man, as gravity is of the esSence of bodies, as the idea of clarity in the concept of day.

And as natio'ns became old and lost the sap which at one time nourished them, others much younger were born to inherit the precious treasure accumulated by the great human family at the cost of time and sacrifices.

In vain did the North let loose tempests to bring death to the gay cities of the South; in vain did ignorance and barbarism suck on the tomb of the mistress of the world._ If knowledge fled frightened, it was to strengthen herself in the solitude of the cloisters thence to come out again, rigid and severe, guided by Christianity to enlighten the barbarous hordes who attempted to drown her.

Then universities were founded. To them traveled from all parts of the world throngs of men doing what the Greeks did in -Egypt, the Romans in Greece, and

路-24-

the whole universe in Rome and Byzantium. In all epochs and in all ages in history, travel has been the powerful lever of civilization. because only through travel are the heart and mind of man developed, educated, and enlightened; because only through travel can be seen and studied all the progress of man - geology, geography, politics, ethnology, linguistics, meteorology, history, fauna, flora~ statistics, sculpture, architecture, painting, etc.-all that form part of human knowledge are laid open to the eyes of the traveler.

He who only knows the surface of the earth, the topography of a country, only through an examination of maps and plans in his study will have an idea of the subiect-I don't deny-but an idea similar to what he would get about the opera of Meyerbeer or Rossini by reading only the reviews in the newspapers. The brush of a landscape artist like Claude Lorraine, Ruysdael, or Calame* can reproduce on the canvas a sun ray, the coolness of the heavens, the verdure of the fields, the majesty of the avalanches and mountains, the inhabitants and animals of a region and even the movement impressed on the grass by the light fluttering of the zephyr, and something more perhaps, but what can never be stolen from nature is that vivid impression that she alone can and knows how to impart, that movement, that life in the music of her birds and trees, that aroma or fragrance peculiar to the place, that inexplicable something that the traveler feels that cannot define and which seems to awaken in his distant memories of happy days, sorrows, and joys gone-by, never to return; and amid the bustle of the world, though one is already forgotten, to love the image of a dear one of his vanished youth, beings that no longer exist, friendships. .. what more do I know? Melancholy sensations produced by the expression, physiognomy, or air of the country or by a spirit, nymph or god, as the ancient people would say. For example, you could see painted the sea beating the shores of Italy one beautiful afternoon when the sun gilds with its most magic rays * Claude

Lorrain (1600-1682), French painter; Jacob van Ruysdael (1628?-1682) and his uncle Salomon (1600?-1670) were Dutch painters; Alexander Calame (1810-1864), Swiss landscape painter. (E.A.)

-25-

the little white houses that wreathed the rocks girdled with emeralds and garlands of flowers; the water and the foam that dashes in the hidden bosoms of the rocks, with all the ideal realism of those places, if that expression can be used; but you will miss the fragrance, the life, the movement, the grandeur. You would not embellish those privileged places immortalized by so many poets nor pass in review all that smiling and poetic spectacle as one contemplates it from a boat, caressed by the sea breeze which swells the sails, glidip.g so gently like the wings of a dream on the brow of a child, like the first word of love on the lips of a virgin, like the chords of a distant orchestra in a silent night.

'Vhat emotions, what varied sensations, stir the heart at every step when one travels in a foreign and unknown land! There everything is new-customs, languages, faces, buildings,-everything is worthy of observation and reflection.

Just as it is said that man is multiplied by the number of languages he possesses and speaks, so also is his life prolonged and renewed as he goes traveling in different countries. He lives more, because he sees, feels, enjoys, and studies more than one who has seen only the same fields and the same sky and to whom yesterday is the same as today and tomorrow; that is, his whole life, all his past, his present, and perhaps his future, can be reduced into the first dawn and the first sunset.

What revolution does not take place in the ideas of one who leaves his native land for the first time and travels through different countries. A little bird that has seen only the dry grass of his nest now contem plates panoramas, immense seas, cascades, rivers, mountains, and forests - everything that arouses the enthusiasm of a dreamy imagination. His judgment and ideas are rectified; many prejudices are dispelled; he examines close at hand what before he had judged unseen; he finds new things that suggest to him new ideas; he admires man in his greatness as he pities him in his wretchedness; the old, blind exclusivism is converted into a universal and fraternal appreciation of the rest of the world and he ceases to be an echo

-26-

of other people's opinions in expressing his own, based on direct observation and first-hand information. Friendly intercourse with people, a certain calm and sensible discernment in all his actions; profound reflection, a practical know ledge of all the arts and sciences, if not deep and complete, at least indelible and secure-these are the advantages that an attentive and studious man can derive from travel.

A book can describe the inhabitants, history, monuments, products, religion, and everything pertaining to a country. Although this knowledge is useful and sufficient, it does not satisfy the discriminating reader who always longs to see things for himself; and sooner or later he forgets it, for路 it is not fixed in his memory unlike that which he has actually seen, felt, and analyzed which leaves an unforgettable impression.

Modern nations have realized the advantages of this kind of study as shown by their efforts to multiply their media of communication.

Through this m.ethod a travel brings back to his country the good practices that he has seen in other countries and he tries to apply them with the necessary modifications; another, the riches and objects that his own country lacks; this one, religion, laws, and customs; that one, social theories and new reforms, thus introducing social, religious, and political improvements.

An index of the progress of a country is the good condition of its means of communication and routes of commerce, just as the index of a man's health is the perfect circulation of the blood through the vessels of the anatomy; because without those routes, there cannot exist relations between the different parts of the country and the other nations; without these relations the bonds between men and nations cannot be understood; without these bonds, there cannot be either unity or strength; and without strength or unity, man cannot attain perfection or even progress.

Thus can be understood the eagerness to open roads, tunnels, and highways, build bridges, ships, locomotives, and railroads; and as if the earth is too small for so -27-

much activity, even the air is being invaded, hitherto the exclusive kingdom of birds and clouds.

Travel then, emigrate and immigrate, as all beings of the earth are in continuous movement from the winged insect that wanders from flower to flower, from plant to plant, and from one meadow to another, even the globe, that little traveler of the infinite spaces, like the swallow in search of a better clime, the seed carried off by the wind, the fish in the unknown abyss of the seas, or man exploring and surveying his vast domains.

India has already opened her magnificent temples and shows her colossal idols as China has opened the gates of her walls, exhibiting her rare and wonderful products. Africa and the poles open their great deserts and will soon sit at the banquet of progress, being indebted to Livingstone,/ Stanley,2 and Nordenskjold 3 for their progress and happiness.

)

David Livingstone (1813-1873), Scotch explorer in Africa.

Sir Henry Morton (1841-1904), British explorer in Africa.

S There were two Swedish explorers with the name Nordenskjold: (1) Baron Nils Adolf Erik Nordenskjold (1832-1901), Arctic explorer, and (2) his nephew, Nils Otto Gustaf Nordenskjold (1869-1928).

1

2

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THE SENSE OF THE BEAUTIFUL

,

by

JOSE RIZAL

The spirit of man is reflected in all his actions, as that of a society in those of its members and of a nation in the general manifestation of its citizens.

There are barometers for the moral, intellectual, and scientific level, just as there are for atmospheric changes barometers even more constant if possible, more numerous and durable. The social oscillations that humankind undergo, the changes, those ascents, those falls, the tiresome crises through which it passes, sometimes successively and sometimes alternatively, everything that characterizes and defines the essence of the human being with regard to what is perfectible, changeable, transitory, and inc nstant, its progress, decadence, its stationary condition, the smallest step, the most imperceptible movement, everything is manifested, everything proclaims and acknowledges that sentiment scattered in nature, given to man by God and perfected by man. Only that, being superior to physical instruments, its footprints are engraved, its effects usually last, it speaks to generatiQns. It is not the bird that flies whose trails are the air, it is not the ship that leaves behind broad spreading wake, indeed, many times, but even more fleeting, like illicit love; it is not the gleam of tropical light that shines at night like a flash of lightning from the earth; its path is like that of a thunderbolt that can be austere and sublime but creative, delicate; it tears a tree in pieces, it opens rocks, it makes furrows in the earth until the depths of its bosom. This sense is the sense of the beautiful.

In the physical world air fills the space and penetrates in all cavities; the dark bottom of the grotto, the splendid halls of palaces, a piece of paradise that -29-

is sheltered in the dark forest under interwoven branches, the green gallery of a garden, the fanciful oriental kiosk, the dark dungeon, the infected hut, the study of the scholar, the burrow, the calyx of a flower, the proboscis of an insect, the smallest pore that atoms respect, it occupies everything, everything is the dominion and mansion of the air, now in movement, now in repose, pure, pleasant, or vitiated. Air fills also the world of ideas in which all the beings of divine creation float and that fluid is the sense of the beautiful. It is pure and heavenly in contact with poetry and the infinite like the blue of the seas and of the forests; it is vitiated and harmful in abject and degenerate societies like that in the marshes and the sewers; it snatches, impels, and is touching in moments of struggle and agitation as the air in the stirred tempests, as the pervert when he drags himself on the ground, pure and transparent when it rises to the skies, it is the life of the ideas, it is the charm that bathes the objects of the intelligence and the heart, forms their perspective and their beautiful gradations; it transmits to the soul light that does not blind, the sounds of music that do not go out of tune or stun, and it is truly the vehicle of the most sublime, the most universallanguage, that geniuses and sensitive hearts speak.

It reproduces beauty, it divines the delicate, it intones hymns to the great and exalts it; and on the road of life it is unfortunately the only plant that bears flowers without a mixture of thorns.

The one who forsaw the inequality and the diverse fate of men gave them this sweet sentiment so that when they are tired of struggling on earth, they rise with it to other regions to be relieved. It is a flower that the prisoner in Indian stories cultivates. Man has understood it thus and has cultivated it.

As we said it filled the bottom of the soul and certainly, it seems that from there it tends to escape so that it accompanies all its productions, all its manifestations. This perhaps at first would seem inexact but it is not so in any respect if it is considered well.

We may be mistaken perhaps as to the way, we may differ in opinion, but it is certain that we, thus pursue

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a thing pleasant, beautiful, that delights us, shadow of happiness, a moment without suffering, something great, something that does us good, that moves us.

Desiring to give it form, to express it, find for it a symbol, a garb, man in time invented the fine arts.

Perhaps music was born first, because since the beginning man would weep and suffer and desiring to express his sorrows and his wishes, in the absence of languages, he modulated sounds. Still later, as his eyes became accustomed to the spectacle of nature, as its beauties, divined at the beginning and felt afterwards, and later understood, excited his mind and enraptured his heart, man, who is no more than a mirror that copies and reproduces whatever surrounds him, \.Ve say, wished to imitate the external objects, and invented painting, the only art that gives man the right to call himself the image and likeness of God. And in fact painting, reproducing whatever God has created, creates also like Him; only that between their two creations there is the difference between the limited and the infinite, between the work of a God and the production of a man. The sea offers your eyes a powerful nymph, there where you have the desert and the air does not refresh its smallest wave; it unfolds before you smiling panoramas, shady forests, skies that smile with their brilliant and fanciful clouds, expanding horizons, full of profound melancholy, noble passions, heroism, grandeur, and sweet sentiments. If since your childhood you have seen only the mist and you have counted the years by the ice or the snow, it will make you enjoy the paradise you have dreamed about: The splendid vegetation of the tropics, the purest and transparent air, a light that will make you feel the tepid warmth of spring, and that playing over the elevated crowns of the trees, over the crystal waters of the rivers and the lakes, it will form delicious penumbras full of love and mystery, cascades of silver and diamonds which will make you remember the dreams of the Orient or the divinities of paganism. If, on the contrary, disgusted with life] stunned and tired of the splendor that surrounds you, you wish to make your soul feel cold jerks, new feelings to prepare it

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for its sweet emotions, with its magic wand it will carry you to the kingdom of death: The whitest mountains of ice, dark horizons, a leaden sky and like lead, cold and insensible, without a life nor a flower that may gladden the spirit, everywhere the monotony of death, the grandeur of agony. It will take you to the past times of our ancestors, it will remind you of their sacrifices, the dramas of the past, the tears of effusion in your cradle so that the sacred plant of liberty and progress may bloom. A dear memory, a tenuous and delicate poem, a story of the heart - all these little things which form the few happy moments of life are all kept, all preserved by this art, the most universal of man's conceptions.

Of the fine arts painting is the only one that belongs to men. The bird sings inimitable hymns under the crown of a tree or intones elegies on a dry tree branch; the murmuring of the leaves is not merely a sound, it is music as music also is the murmuring of the fountain, the murmur of the waves and the moan of the wind. The beaver builds his burrows like a skilled architect, the spider constructs the delicate rays his aerial habitation. . . . *

* End of the MS.

Incomplete.

Translated from the Spanish by Encarnacion Alzona.

Photostat copy of the Bureau of Public Libraries.

15 November 1957.

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REVISTA DE MADRID

The Cold - Mr. Estanislao Figueras - Birth of a Princess - Bargossi and Bielsa - To Dr. Velasco - Genrna Cuniberti - Commander Mayet - Modern Idolatry - Free Trade Meeting - Hispano-Filipino CircleManila Periodicals.

The cold has increased.

The trees are shedding their pompous dresses and converted into dry skeletons, complete the sadness of foggy days. A fine rain, an even finer wind, horrible, freezing, that comes from the Guadarrama, as if this wants to remind Madrid that not in vain does it rise in the north; the pavement, at times soft and slippery; a thick mist tnat wraps all objects with its whitish veil giving them a particular aspect and expressionhere are the tones and lines of this penultimate month of the year, the simple notes of its funeral song intoned to the death of nature.

With the fall of the leaves many also fall sick and how many do not go down to the grave! The beggars have increased as soon as the season brought new necessities.

Lucky are those whose room, carpeted or matted, keep them from the cold; those for whom burns cheerfully the friendly flame of the hearth; those who breathe the tepid atmosphere that surrounds the stove! For them life is a pleasure, and the world, seen through the glass of their balcony, hermetically closed, is a varied and amusing spectacle.

When they sweep away the dried leaves, separated lifeless from the branches, when at every flutter of the wind new leaves cover what had been cleaned be-33-

fore, we seem to see the sad momentos, the importunate ideas troubling the last days of life. x x x On the twelfth of this month returned to the bosom of Mother Earth Mr. Estanislao Figueras, the eminent jurist, the illustrious democrat, the ex-president of the Spanish Republic.

A numerous cortege composed of friends, personal companions and politicians accompanied him to his last home.

Many houses displayed mourning hangings, wreaths, and black crepes.

All social classes were represented: Politicians, lawyers, physicians, journalists, laborers, and others.

They remembered his deeds, his celebrated phrases, his integrity, and his elevated political qualities.

An illustrious riter said: "We give and ret!lrn to the earth what is hers. In obedience to this common law, everybody dec ines and dies, not only to give to each one what is his but to give life to new beings." x x x An hour afterwards there is born to the purple of the throne a beautiful girl, a new princess.

Fourteen cannon shots, various white lanterns, and a white flag announced to the people of Madrid the happy event.

How many vanished hopes, how many smiling projects evaporated! The military, employees, and students saw in the birth of a princess, galloons, promotions, graces, and dispensations, they lay on it their calculations, awaiting more anxiously than the royal family itself the happy hour of birth.

Just as she was born in a crowned family, to the cooing of palace auras, amidst light, power, and gold; just as to her first cry only respectful voices respond;

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so also in the rest of her life, and again lies the saying that happiness flees from panelled ceilings. x x x Bielsa and Bargossi are going to contend for the crown.

To the enthusiastic public, to the Bielsaphiles and Bargossiphiles, neither Napoleon on the eve of the Battle of Waterloo nor Augustus preparing himself against Mark Anthony offer so much interest as the decisive fight of the two runners.

It is the eternal conversation of the day. "Are you going to see Bielsa? And you? I'm for Bielsa. I too.

Well I for Bargossi! Brute! Beast! How much do you want to lose? And you, Juanito? How much? How much ?"

Once on the plaza, registered and examined by the physicians, who pronounce them healthy and In good condition, they begin the race.

The condition is to make the greater number of turns in three hours.

After twenty-two rounds, B~elsa, the Aragonese, declares that he cannot continue running for he feels bad. He was already almost half a round ahead. He is led to the infirmary. Here's the sublime.

Bargossi who sings victory upon seeing his adversary withdraw from the race, instead of wreaths, laurel, or the oak branch, or other things that indicate triumph, receives from the enthusiastic public blows with bottles, shoes, and all the projectiles that were found at hand.

What, except enthusiasm is capable of giving such a sample of passion? One would say that it is modern ovation, realistic, in the style of Emile Zola!

Well, no sir; the enthusiasm was for the other who was the vanquished, according to the jury.

The public said that the Italian had narcotized Bielsa each time they crossed each other for, he carried chlo-35-

roform in his hair and handkerchief. It believed it was deceived, mocked, and exploited.

In order to restrain his ire against the Italian and Ducazal, the manager, it was necessary for numerous armed police to intervene and even then Mr. Abascal lost all the buttons of his swallow-tailed coat.

The women were the most furious. Bielsa was afterwards taken around in triumph, and Bargossi had to leave disguised and depart later for abroad guarded and defended.

What would he say on the road?

X

x

x

The Spanish Academy of Anthropological Sciences on the occasion of the first month after the death of the illustrious Dr. Velasco held at the Alhambra a session to render him a pious as well as enthusiastic tribute of admiration and gratitude.

Read were the most tender poems, speeches, and other compositions. Attracting attention was the speech of Mr. Letamendi for its lofty concepts, for its substance, for its correct Carlicism.

Afterwards was crowned the bust of the founder of the most famous Anthropological Museum that Spain has seen.

X

x

x

Genma Cuniberti, the precocious girl, a perfect miniature of Sarah Bernhardt, is calling most rightly the attention of the Madrid public.

Eminent authors have written plays for her specially to bring out all her incredible talent and her real artistic abilities. She dresses with marvellous propriety, incredible for her tender age; she expresses with naturalness and rare perfection all sentiments. No one is like her when she looks s,ad and raise her eyes to heaven!

On seeing her we cannot help but remember a thousand men and a thousand women. Others with -36-

proper education, under good teachers, can be so many Cunibertis.

She is the love and joy of numerous children who have seen her play different roles. Adults and old people do not stop admiring her extraordinary precocity.

x

x

x

Commander Mayet continues to carry to the upper regions of the air the representatives of the societies and dirt of the earth. A journalist, a young lady, a manager, an ass, and a young bull, thanks to him have come out of the lower spheres to soar to extraordinary heights.

Before, a bull-fighter was going to explore the regions of the air; I don't know why he didn't continue.

It seems that a young bull, on seeing his timidity, challenges him in that infinite arena where there are neither barriers nor prickers.

What would the bull say, the poor parish of labor, when, going out of his habitual occupations, he saw that he stood and rose above men, his executioners? Would he not have imagined when he felt that they were loading him and leading him, he who alone knew how to carry and to transport, had he not imagined that heaven would at last take pity on him and in reward for his virtue take him away to enjoy the vast fields full of straw and barley!

It is expected that Commander Mayet would afterwards carry with him a poor retired official for a new Satan, show him around Madrid, and tempt him with its wealth and magnificence after eighty or more days of fasting and rigorous abstinence.

It is no wonder that some one has called Mayet Commander Noah.

x

x

x

"Modern Idolatry" is the name of a drama shown at the Apolo, the work of the well-known author Mr. Cano.

-37-

The public did not receive it with frigidity but with terror and at times, revulsion.

The argum~nt of the drama is too much belabored and lacking in naturalness in certain passages. It has very beautiful scenes; true masterpieces of sentiment and strength, like that between mother and daughter.

Almost all the personages are disgusting, repugnant, and there are moments of real anxiety as three times the revolver is picked up and goes from hand to hand. One receives a violent and brutal shock watching this play.

A better work was expected from the recognized pen of Mr. Cano.

x

x

x

On Sunday, 26th, the Free Trade Society held a meeting at the hall of the Alhambra to discuss Tariff reforms.

Mr. Figuero~a presided. He explained briefly and concisely the obJect of the meeting. Messrs. Castaneda, Pedregal, Azcarate, Moret, and Rodriguez spoke.

The audience V{as large a'nd select. The speeches were interrupted by' enthusiastic applauses.

X X x The Cfrculo Hispano-Filipino has already published the second number or the Revista.

"Our Excuses, National Subscription, The Royal Birth, Industrial and Artistic Education in the Philippines, The Case of Surigao, Manila Chronicle, Fortnightly Chronicle, Manila, Minutes, and Documents" were the articles published.

This Revista, the only voice of the Filipino colony in this capital city, struggles against many obstacles for its maintenance and progress. It expects protection and support from its sister publications and fellow countrymen.

X

x

x

The Manila newspapers which arrived yesterday produced an indescribable, profound, and painful im-

-38-

pression on account of its sad and horrible report on the losses suffered and misfortunes which had befallen the country that all consider their homeland, and Where they have families and love.

An "Ay!", an exclamation of pain and horror, was heard at every unfortunate news and all the news brought by the newspapers were unfortunate!

In the face of so much misery and sorrow the Filipino colony send to their country and their families the sincere expression of their sorrow and mourning.

Laong-Laan Madrid, 2 November 1882. wvb

}

Translated from the Spanish by Encarnacion Alzona.

Photostatic copy used.

27-28 January 1959.

-39-

A POMPOUS GOBERNADORCILLO

All the leading men of Binondo were invited: the curate, mayor, the prosecuting attorney, the lieutenant of the Veteran Civil Guard recently established, a Franciscan friar a very good frIend of Capitan* Pepe, the curate of Tondo, two or three foreign merchants, and some other persons. Capitan Pepe was giving the dinner in commemoration of the anniversary of the death of the curate's mother which occurred there in Calahorra, so that he said to his guests: "Please go to our house; we have a feast for the death of Dona Calorra, mother of the curate."

We can go there even if we are not invited following the example of the army volunteers, those butterflies who go wherever there may be light, music, or dinner.

They are the air that creeps in everywhere. It is enough for one of them to know or not the owner of the house so that all mayor may not be introduced.

Capitan Pepe is a man of about forty or forty-five

years; short in stature, stout) fair in complexion, hair long in front and short hehind, slightly narrow forehead, round and small head, short and robust neck. He is a man who knows how to assume the look of a conqueror or sultan when dealing with his fellow countrymen and inferiors and the posture of a buffoon, serious when he addresses the curate and various officials. Rich, he owns five houses on Rosario and Anloague streets; he has several contracts with the government. He would rather change his religion than quarrel with the curate; he orders two masses said each week for the suffrage of the souls in purgatory; on Sundays and holidays he hears the ten o'clock mass and afterwards goes to the cockpit of which he is the contractor. Often he is seen at the head of an orchestra to felicitate the curate, the lieutenant of the Civil Guard, the mayor, and if I remember correctly, even the Chinese who is a very * In the Philippines the gobe1-nadorcillo of the town is popularly adl1ressed as capitan and his wife capitana.

-40-

good friend of the Civil Governor. He ponders his speeches and sings hymns specially composed in praise of the good Father. Manila knows him for his balls and banquets; the government employees protect him; the sacristans adore him. He is the one who presented to the Virgin of Antipolo a gold staff with precious stones for having been appointed gobernadorcillo. On account of this gift the curate of Binondo who was a Dominican was displeased, but Capitan Pepe settled the question diplomatically by giving to the Virgin of Binondo a gift of a mantle embroidered with gold, worth one thousand 路pesos. God rewarded his piety by making many families voluntarily pour into his hands their savings of many years . . So that in that same year he paid two hundred pesos for four solemn masses at the Church of Antipolo with fireworks, music, and plenty of bell ringing. Never did the glory of one man rise to such height. His rivals were many old women zealots, and it is told that more than once he lost in this contest to a widow who was the heiress of ber children, brothers, and nephews and who was then enjoying great fame in the sacristies and confessionals.

Capitan .Pepe, adhering to his policy, treated God as he did men. And so gifts showered when he wished to get something from the curate, mayor, or Civil Gov~ ernment, also when he wished to win a good sum at the cockpit, he prepared -for it with solemn masses two or three days ahead; if he won, he increased his masses, distributed money to the sacristans, presented capons and turkeys to the curate; if he lost, he blamed the insufficiency of the candles and the bell ringing, the poor voice of the priest who officiated at the masses) and he beat his breast twice or thrice, then dips his hand in his pocket for another mass with more noise and illumination, and his 路hope is revived.

This man - for after all he is a man - was at peace with everybody. The old women, excepting one, praised his morality and good customs. The curate extolled him before everybody, offering him as model to rich and mighty persons. The grace of heaven in fact showered on him: The opium contract yielded him much money; his gamecocks almost always won; his houses for rent were better and better.

-41-

One day, a certain brother of the Third Order, * perhaps to mortify him, told him that Jesus Christ had said that it was easier for a carabao to go through the eye of a needle than for a rich man to go to heaven.

And as the brother said it with ~ certain unction, assuring him that he had read it in a novena, ** Capitan Pepe became very much worried and he went to consult with the parish curate. This latter consoled him in the following words, uttered with great seriousness and in very bad Tagalog: "It's necessary to know hovy to interpret the words of our Lord. Jesus Christ alluded to the rich who give nothing to the Church, who do not remember to order masses to be said, to give alms, to make donations. You see Pepe (at this point the Capitan was touched) "Abraham, David, Solomon, Job, and other saints were very rich, but as they did not forget God and they ordered masses to be said for the souls in purgatory, they were loved by the Lord. Go ahead, Pepe," (here a tear of tenderness appeared in the eyes of Capitan Pepe) "continue on the good path and don't imitate those impi0us men who never give anything to the Church. Look here, I'm going to tell you a secret, but don't divulge it, keep it in the bottom of your heart; I'm telling it to you because I like you very much, Pepe."

(Capitan Pepe cries openly). "Last night I dreamed that the angels were bearing you to heaven amidst flaming torches and firecrackers ' :.;tnd the impious were going to hell headlong, lifting up their hands towards you in a supplicating manner."

Capitan Pepe replied to this with sobs, gave ten pieces of four duros for a solemn mass, kissed the curate's hand, and left.

The day when he was appointed Gobernadorcillo!

The mass for his investiture was a day of rejoicing for all the sacristans, employees, retired officials, carabineers, constables, and ... what notes in verse, what gifts! *A

religious fraternity. E. A. booklet containing the appropriate prayers for nine days In honor of a saint and contains his biography and the miracles he had performed. E. A.

** A

-42-

His term as gobernadorcillo was a continous feast.

The swallow-tailed coat made by Alberto Reyes was seen everywhere, day and night, now at the processions, now at the cockpits, now presiding over the meeting of the alderman of Binondo or the Chinese porters, bearers of ham, turkeys, apples, mangoes, chickens, perennial companions of Capitan Pepe, lictors as they would be called in ancient Rome, when he visited the officials in the walled city and the governor general in IVlalacafiang. Hence his relations with the gods of Olympus, his familiarity with certain grandees . . .

During the time of his largesse and genuflexions, that is, while he ruled very little in Binondo there were heard most facetious opinions, the most original a.nd varied judgments. In case our reader is not from Manila, we are going to relate here two of the least facetious, but which characterize him.

Two men were discussing how much money one had loaned to the other. The other asserted that the amount was less, both supporting themselves with some pape~'s, receipts, letters.. and others, and becoming irritated .. .

End of the MS. Incomplete

* 13-2 Translated from the Spanish by Encarnacion Alzona.

11 November 1957.

-43-

A FREETHINKER

I have never seen in my life a being more repugnant than the freethinker. Since my childhood I have feared him; in my adolescence I had horror of him. Now I do not know any more what to think of him.

When we are children, they accustom us to see under this name a being damned by our holy religion, or at least by our priests, a soul devoted to the devil, because he does not think like us, nor like the ministers of our God. Already adolescents, hardly out of childish games and the lap of our mothers, we lay aside the kites and little wooden horses to discuss the eternal principles of morality, to explore the depths of the soul, to discover and to refute so many philosophical systems, to penetrate the immaterial regions, labyrinths perhaps of metaphysics, and guided by master hands, we go as far as to decipher all the enigmas that pave the road of life.

When, with faith in the soul love in the heart, and confidence in all our being, yv:e go accepting, without objection or doubt, without sufficient discussion or reservation, everything our great teachers tells us, everything presented to us as dogmatic and infallible; then, full of light and religious zeal, we conceive a horror for those strayed sheep who have become known with the name of freethinkers.

"Proud!" We would tell them, "Hollow and vain souls who do not accept more than what your reason dictates to you; who reason without considering our holy and wholesome principles; you, of puny conception, narrow-minded, you do not understand our luminous beliefs; alas, poor you!"

And with as much charity as philosophy we saw them condemned for all eternity. Absolutelyexclusivists, as all partisans of truth should be, which is only one and all the rest is falsehood, we avoided their contagion; we shunned their presence; we closed our eyes and our ears to their writings and their words.

-44-

And I am not speaking here about those freethinkers, who are sham, fashionable, imitation, or pretentious, nor; we destroyed their objections and reasoning. There are two or three distinctions that they did not use to understand and we made them return to our corral like meek little lamb, friendly as ever. What could they do against us, we who have been nourished with scholastic juices? Catholic since the age of five years, a philosopher at fourteen, a metaphysician at fifteen, a theologian at sixteen, we new Davids knocked down those Goliaths in the twinkling of an eye, stupefying old women with our learning.

No, I do not refer to those freethinkers; they do not deserve the trouble of discussing with them. I refer to those men abandoned by the hand of God, who persevere in evil, who close their eyes to the light, to those who are convinced of what they say, who have reasoned much, and who die in final impenitence, as my teacher says. Ah! They nave eyes that do not see, they have ears that don't hear; their heart is like stones where nothing can be planted or can sprout.

I have had the sad luck of knowing one of the~e unfortunates and m.uch as I have wished to convert him I have achieved nothing.

He was a famous physician whom all his colleagues called a wise man, a man of profound and wide learning in the different branches of human knowledge. Although he had only lectured to me on the subjects of which he was a professor, I had admired him and bowed my head. But as soon as he entered the philosophicoreligious ground, I no longer listened to him and I laughed at his explanations.

And nevertheless, he seemed to be right, so clear were his proofs and so crushing were his arguments.

But trained as I have been since my tender youth, I never fell for such deceitful appearances of the devil, and I placed faith against reality, dogma against reason, and never did I lack an opportunity to put in a distinction that satisfied me greatly.

Aside from all this, the physician L. was a man of very simple ways without being rude, natural manners -45-

without being ever familiar, and he liked to talk with us, to discuss even philosophy, but never attacking our religion, expounding from time to time his own opinions, respecting always those of others. So that if it were not because we found him a.little more liberal perhaps than he be, we might have come to love him; but an enemy of my God ought to be also my enemy.

Seeing that a soul so precious and enlightened was being damned irremissibly, if I, failing in Christian charity, would not deign to instruct him in the true religion, to make some rays of light penetrate his darkened intelligence, I made a firm determination of converting him, of giving him part of the truth that was overflowing my mind and my heart.

And so taking advantage of a day when he was very sad, I approached him, ready to discuss with him to bring him to the right path. vVhen afflictions descend on the soul, they are a sign that God wishes to prepare one for the good things. Or, as a great Dominican preacher, who delighted me in my childhood, would say: "When the fresh rain of the celestial tears falls on the arid ground of -the barren heart of the soul, drops of grace fertilize the ground that the heat of hell has dried up, and then the planter of the Church can plant in those irrigated furrows the divine seed of the commandments of our Holy Mother the Church.)'

I was already toying with the idea that I was going to convert a great man, for which I will deserve forgiveness for my sins. And so one day finding him pensive in his little garden, I approached him with the idea of leading him on a theological discussion.

- "Ah!" he exclaimed with his natural affability upon seeing me. - "You come very timely; please look at this grafting. .. how nature has worked here. .. it is just admirable .... " And he became pensive.

- "God, you would like to say," I hastened to rectify his phrase.

-46-

- "God or nature, my friend, it is the same to me," he replied with a sad smile. "Y ou know very well that one of the many meanings that the scholastics give to the word natura is God. For the rest, I do not engage in finding out if it is God himself who works thus or nature ordered by God. But let us lay this aside, as it is a dry question and we would get nothing clear.

Let us talk about yourself."

- "No, no," I said. "On the contrary, let us talk about this; it is a conversation that I liked very much because it informs me about many things and it strengthens my beliefs." He smiled sadly and replied: - "Tell me something about your country that I like to see so much, and nevertheless it seems to. me that I shall die without seeing it. At my age ... " - "At your age," I replied, "you should no longer think of trips; there is one that ought to preoccupy you more and we are going to talk about that."

- "Have you ever done it?" he asked me, guessing my words.

- "No, but others have done it, as you and I will do it."

- "Are you sure?"

- ."I'm very sure."

- "But, how do you know that that journey is made?

Who has told you about it?"

- "How? Who ? Well ... our Holy Mother the Church."

- "And who told her about it?"

- "Jesus Christ in his Gospels."

"Who wrote the Gospels?"

"The Apostles."

"Are you sure?"

"Of course I'm! Besides ... " "Perfectly, if you're sure I congratulate you, God can't ask you for more because you act as you think,

-47-

and you think as you believe, and you believe according to your conscience. God does not ask the impossible."

And looking at his watch, he invited me to eat with him, for it was already time.

I realized that he was avoiding all discussion, and not wishing to exasperate him, I postponed to another day the conversion, promising myself better success.

What encourage me most in the task that I had undertaken was that I observed in him, besides his upright moral sense, a natural attachment to or a kind of sympathy with our Holy Religi.on. His wife and his daughter were Catholics, they heard Mass, they confessed, they took communion, and fasted at all times as the Church ordered. On his part, though he did not practice the sacraments, his life was sufficiently exemplary. He had not a single vice. He treated the poor gratis, giving them even medicine. He distributed alms. And he never spoke ill of anyone or even of the government, which is all that can be said.

What a pity I said to mJrself many times that so many virtues were not being utilized and that such learning and such abnegation should end in hell! It was true that I did not forget him in my prayers, which it seemed to me, must have contributed towards keeping him in that state.

As I was saying, he had a daughter who was very good, quite pretty, and very charming.

Resolved to be his shadow (in the good sense), I decided to make love to his daughter in order to have more opportunity to speak to him and to find him at home and to see if between his daughter and I, we might succeed to bring him to the right path.

You will tell me that the road I have chosen is a little long. Perhaps you are right, but it is the surest.

Everything for the love of God! So I made love to the girl, but God, to try me, decreed that she would not accept my love in spite of my lively protestations, of my frequent visits, of speaking to her about heaven, and of my hopes. I --48-

came to believe one moment that the devil, fearing the realization of my plan, hindered through all possible means my holy aspirations, but reflecting a little, I concluded that it could not be so for the following reason: The devil, very astute, very tempting, would have favored our love in order to distract me, draw me away from my path and make me enter in other roads.

Convinced therefore that everything was a divine design I became more and more encouraged, seeing in it the unmistakable sign that all I was doing was agreeable to His eyes.

I availed myself of all occasions to discuss with him, and as he was well versed in the Holy Scriptures, the Gospels and the works of the Holy Fathers, I had also to study these foundation of our religion in order not to be left behind.

He did not accept the Christian doctrine. I spoke to him about the four hells found in the center of the earth, according to Father Astete, and he answered me with a smile.

As to the rest, he did not deny anything I said, but neither did he accept all that I said.

One day I asked him if we had a soul and if he believed in it. He replied: - '-'Do you believe in it?"

- "Yes, and I'm convinced that it exists, and how it exists, and why it exists."

- "Much better," he replied, and he spoke of other things.

However, once in the class, he said that as we did not have an exact knowledge of what was matter, as we did not know its qualities, and consequently we cannot deny what we don't know or to what kind of being it belonged exclusively.

On another occasion he said that man conceives ideas of a material form and always under one form, and that he has never an exact notion of what is

-49-

infinite or what is limitless, and all that is imagined or is formed in the mind is analogous with external objects.

Once, on the occason of a great event, he said in the midst of his enthusiasm that man, in order to be responsible for his acts, in order to deserve the prize or penalty, ought to act only according to his conscience and his reason, without allowing himself to be led by other men's opinions; because the instant he acts to the influences of another, he loses his character as a free man and he no longer acts according to himself but according to others. He maintains, however that conscience ought to be enlightened and freed from all pressure. He said also that God does not ask of man the impossible, and consequently he does not demand that he call white that which is black and black that which is white. If my reason tells me that it has to be so, I ought not to believe that it should be the opposite. That I should reason with more or less clarity is not incumbent upon me; it is not my duty to be wise but to be a man of conscience and of conviction.

However, I do nob reject knOjiWledge so long as it can illumine me."

I noted that I was scarcely advancing in my two conquests. The father as well as the daughter remained still standing and were not surrendering. Notwithstanding, I observed that the father was sticking more and more to his opinions and the daughter was softening from day to day, though imperceptibly.

I saw there so clearly the hand of God and I was almost touching the fruit of so much work when one day the father fell ill, never to rise again. A young physician, a relative of the family, took charge of treating him; he enjoyed a great reputation and the sick man himself appreciated him as a physician and as a friend.

It is needless to tell you that I have gone there to watch beside his bed two or three nights, now watching for every moment to speak to him about God, now talking with his daughter, who was becoming more and more pensive every day and also more amiable towards me. I was already getting very much interested in her, perhaps because I was seeing in her the -50-

instrument of God for laudable ends; and I can assure you of the purity of my thoughts. And I even would be capable of marrying her if that would be necessary.

All for the love of God. The patient, however, was noting that he was nearing the grave and several times he said so. I still remember the night preceding his death. We were all gathered in the bedroom - he in his bed, his wife, his daughter, and 1.

Pale, emaciated, with a sad and deep expression on his face, breathing wearisomely, but bathed always in a kind of tranquil atmosphere that gave his features a singular charm.

His wife, seated in a chair, was praying fervently and silently. Her whole gaze was concentrated on her husband, but, what a gaze! It could be seen that she was recalling a happy past.. . There was not even one crucifix.

The daughter, who has not slept for two nights, was seated in an arm-chair, motionless. Her glance was wandering, not fixed on any object. How beautiful she seemed to me with her wanness and her suppliant eyes. If the sick man were a Catholic, I would have taken her for his guardian angel, guarding him to transport his soul to heaven, but unfortunately, it could not be so.

- "Come near," said the sick man, in a faint but affectionate voice. "Come near, the moments are precious to me. .. I know that my hour is near and shortly perhaps I may see God and enter what has always been unknown to me ... " - "Yes," I hastened to reply, "you're going to appear before God, receive then the sacraments."

- "My friend," he answered me with a short gesture and fixing on me a grateful glance, "thank you for your good wishes; but let's not talk about that ... I'm going to die and I need to devote this time to my family."

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The sobs of the mother and the daughter, long repressed, could be heard.

- "How? You weep, you who believe in the othel' life?" he exclaimed. "I'm the one who ought to cry for I don't know what will become of you ... " - "Oh! as to that, please be at ease," I interrupted vigorously.

- "What will become of you?" he continued. "Come, my daughter, come near, put your hand in mine ... they're cold . .. it is because death is ap2roaching. . . I no longer feel well the warmth of yours."

- "Papa, Papa!" the daughter cried, weeping and kneeling.

The wife was also kneeling at the foot of the bed.

- "Don't cry... rather listen well to me... in the immense doubt about the future. . . now that I'm going to leave your life, only one thing preoccupies me ... listen my daughter: I know you're in love, though you have never told ~e about it, but I know it... is it not true? .. Well then."

- . "Oh, don't bother yourself about that, Papa. .. if you don't like him, I'll not love him."

My heart fluttered, and I went nearer to hear better.

- "No, not at all," replied the sick man. "I approve of your choice and I wish you to marry him."

I was on the point of falling on my knees to thank him when the door opened and the physician entered, much moved. The appearance of the room surprised him.

- "I was waiting for you, my son," the sick man said to him. "Come, kneel down. . . like that. . . I give you my daughter. .. make of her a good wife. .. I bless your love .... " And he expired.

I do not know what happened to me; I no longer was conscious of what occurred afterwards ...

-52-

Whenever I think of that soul that has been lost forever and I was not able to save him .. I who hcwe worked so hard. .. Ah ! The final impenitence!

The punishment that God gives to those freethinkers . . . Horror! ...

Since then, seeing the hand of God withdrawn from these unfortunates, I no longer think of converting any one. May they be damned!

And for that, I have had to make love to his daughter.

End

}

- . 53-

MEMORIES

I

From certain points in the immense space above, one beholds the sun, beautiful clouds, seas, continents, islands, rocks, grottoes, birds, springs, and flowers, in a word, an entire smiling world, colossal, animated, or sublime. The eagle traverses those beautiful regions defying the fury of the sea which, like a gigantic tomb or a monster of a thousand gullets, roaringly awaits its prey. The humble little birds renounce such magnificent panorama and content themselves with their shady forests, leaping from branch to branch, from flower to flower, around their rustic nests.

Let then the bird with mighty wings rise to the lofty spheres of the sky and of light. We shall content ourself with strolling thnmgh the fields we frequented in our chiltihood and youth evoking the beloved shadows of tlie past: The memories.

Yes, we will reminisce; we will evoke those beings that are dosing there in the melancholy horizon of memory, wrapped in the mysterious gauze of time that augments beauty and diminishes defects, and like an egotistical and jealous divinity, makes us hate the present so that we may sigh only for the past. We will evoke those beings of ethereal nature, the personification of the vague, the sweet, and the sentimental,. like the water sprites of the lake and the sylphs of the air that are born and multiply with our years, perhaps the transformation of our dead illusions; in short, those beings, merciful friends, who will com'e to console us in the solitude of life when we have already lost everything - love, energy, confidence, and enthusiasm.

Ah! But we seek simple objects and we encounter a colossal world in continuous growth which revolves over there in that other infinite space of memory. What

-, 54-

a world that assimilates all the ruins of the present and the conceptions of the future! There is the outside world, but more ideal or more vulgar, more sad or more sublime, according to the prism through which it is seen or known. And are we capable of grasping it all and weak Atlas, will not its great weight annihilate us?

Let's confine ourselves then to certain memories 01' to one alone. And now that time and space separate us from the place and the personages, let's enjoy portraying them and giving them life that they may become our com patriots in distant countries. They are the sweet reflections of the morning of one day. Well may one entertain himself with their memory for at nightfall the sky may darken and a tempest loom in the distance.

II It was the month of April 187 . . . I've been out of college for a few days. Like the earth and the meadows I was the in the spring of life. I was about sixteen years old and I was dreaming of the most ideal illusions. Everything seems to me good, beautiful, and angelic like the morning breezes, like a child's smiles, or the mysterious language of the flowers. The memories of college, my professors, friends, and comrades, my studies, recreations, and strolls have not yet been erased from my mind and filled almqst all my thoughts. What dreams and what projects I cherished then! I saw the world through a glass that beautified it and rendered it poetic. I saw it through my imagination, not yet wounded hy the slightest disappointment, and it seemed to me that its scenes and its personages all were worthy of love, veneration, and sacrifice. As a child I was confident I would not find on my path either dramas or tragedies but eclogues and idylls. I believed in the good, and if I was timid, if I had a certain instinctive fear, if I thought of evil that I believed was invented to make a .contrast with the good, it was because there were two men in me: One, natural, confident, cheerful, and ready to allow himself t() be seduced by the first impression; the other artificial,

-55-

so to speak, distrustful, worried, the effect doubtless of education and theories. This gives rise to struggles, afterwards doubts and hesitation, and if sometimes nature wins, it was only a false victory, leaving behind as ineffaceable traces, irritation, a melancholia, child of unsatisfied vague desires. Undoubtedly if in that epoch a fairy had appeared to me who, divining my aspirations (which I myself didn't know well) had promised to fulfill them, undoubtedly I would have allowed myself to be led regardless of all my theories and precautions.

In this moral state that one cannot analyze when one is experiencing it and only comes to understand it when it has already passed, like Virgil's goddesses, for the light and the aroma they leave behind, I was spending my vacation beside my family in my picturesque town. My recreations were the simplest and most primitive: Taking a bath in the springs and streams, fishing in the river or in the lake or going around the countrysides on hQrseback.

One day in the beginning of April it occurred to me to take a bath in a famous rivulet of a neighboring town along the shore like mine. In a light and cool carromata (l ) drawn by one horse, I was driving along the rustic road that led to it. The fields at that time were covered with light, flexible and leafy sugar canes, the green and tall Maquilin, (2) the elegant and manybranched cupang, (3) the huts, the springs-all plunged me not into meditation or reflection but into a kind of dream of inexplicable joy that is felt and enjoyed and disappears as soon as one wishes to analyze it.

The sun which was then rising, scattering everywhere light and color, promised a bright and warm day. New Josiah would have liked to detain it in its morning, not for the grand purpose of vanquishing five kings but for the simple desire to enjoy the light. But neither the sun nor the years now can be stopped as in Bibli(1)

A Philippine two-wheeled cal't made of wood and bamboo aud hol'SCox-drawn.

Makiling Mountain betwep-n Laguna and Batangas provincf:s.

Fwrkia jav anica (Lam.) Merr.

01' (2) (3)

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cal times, and against our Sybaritic leanings we have to follow the invariable course of destiny.• After passing the dangerous gorge that limits my town and divides it from that of N ... an enchanting landscape greets the eye. The town's church with its parish house in the distance, amidst coconut trees and bamboos, on the right the slope of th(;! mountain and on the left the wide lake, calm and placid, sending forth to the shore its soft waves that die murmuring on the fine sand. A cool breeze agitated the glistening leaves of the trees and bushes near the lonely and deserted road. Some goats and sheep nibbled the thick grass near the shore.

After driving some distance I stopped before a small house on the edge of the road. It was clean and cool like the India ,of the banks of the Pasig, surrounded by nanca(4 ) and guy aba (5) trees amidst towering palm trees. It seemed to be waiting for the bather desirolls of immersing himself in the cool water of the nearby stream. Those environs breathe peace and tranquility rendered even mop~ pleasing by the rustling of the canes, that music of Philippine forests, a silent concert, so to speak.

I went down and got ready to take a bath.

There was a path which, beginning at the road in front of the house, follows the bank of the Dampalit(6) and at certain intervals breaks into paths leading down to the river. On both banks of the stream, which were not very high, grew and rose all kinds of plants, the children of the exuberant and tropical vegetation. The canes, bananas, and papaya entwined now by their miV11 branches) now by innumerable vines, parasites, and climbers, form ed a green dome which provided the stream with a gentle shade protecting it against sun and wind. At the fo ot of these trees a multitude of plants and bushes mottled with tiny yellow, red, and blue flowers wavered, touching closely the crystal-clear water. Under that shady bower the scanty but cool (4) (5) (6)

Artocarous het erophy llus Paidiu?n guajava Linn.

Name of a spring in Los Banos, Laguna, a bat hing-place.

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and crystalline current glided tortuously through stones, fields, and fine sand.

Three women seated in a group on huge stones were washing clothes and disturbing the stillness with the rhythmic beat of their beatles. I moved away from that clatter and going up the current, I looked for a better spot. As I went further up, I noticed that the stream was turning more somber and cooler and the plants and flowers were more beautiful and varied. Flying now in pairs, now pursuing one another were lovesick butterflies of varied hues, dragon flies, blue, red, and purple, and various kinds of insects, happy amid that flowery Eden. On seeing these flowers of the air amuse themselves on the wild flowers, on hearing their monotonous buzzing - song of gladness or hymn of joy, perhaps of joy - and one considers the brevity of their existence, well could man envy them if he didn't have other purposes.

I was thus taking a bath going upstream and I was already feeling fatigued when I heard a fresh tiny voice humming a gay song. At that point the rivulet made a sharp turn which made me suppose that the singer ought to be very near. Wishing to know her I continued my fluvial stroll and what a pleasant sight then came into view!

She was a young woman of fourteen or sixteen summers, fair, slim for her age, with her black tresses loose, almost reaching her heels. She wore a red skirt girded under her shoulders, a black tapis (7) over it which traced the contour of her virginal form. Over her round shoulders was a white soft towel which hid them. Youth, friendly fairy of woman and love, filled her with an indefinable charm. It seemed she was chasing a butterfly.

A few steps from her was an old woman of about seventy years, frothing gogo(S) in a basin. Around her were a basket of fruits and clothes.

(7) (8)

A rectangular piece of cloth worn over the skirt and fastened at the waist.

Entada parseta.

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Upon hearing the noise I made both turned their eyes toward me, the old woman as if inquiring and wondering, the young woman surprised and blushing.

The old woman continued her work and the young one stopped singing. I gave them the most stupid and dumbest greeting that the old woman returned coldly and the young one graciously. The latter seeing that I said nothing continued chasing butterflies.

I stood still and confused before that young woman who, were it not for her companion, I would have taken for a naiad of the brook. I wanted to withdraw, but a certain concern prevented me; I wanted to proceed, but I didn't know why I didn't dare. I was quite embarrassed in that equivocal position. At last I made up my mind and with an effort I tried to walk.

I had hardly taken two steps when the young woman, turning to the old one asked: -"Is it already ten o'clock, grandma 7" -"Probably, Minang", answered ~he grandmother after looking through the dome of branches to peer at the sun. "Come over then and wash your hair with gogo so that we can go home."

-"Just a moment, grandma. I'll catch this butterfly and afterwards we're going home."

And she walked away following her prey. I had time to contemplate and examine her. Her face was very winsome and expressive. Her face was a perfect oval, her eyes were large and black with long lashes, her forehead was smooth and pure, her mouth was pleas~ ing and seemed to be always exhaling an entreaty or a wish.

As to the rest, the butterfly seemed to be mocking her eagerness and her solicitude. It would alight on a flower as if waiting for her, then soon it would flyaway hurriedly, then as if inviting her, it would go near her, almost touching her beautiful lips, at times it would go high up, at other times it traced circles around her, now touching lightly the water, now stopping a moment on a tree branch to fly instantly to another, always

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playful and CaprICIOUS like Virgil's Galatea. All these pranks drew from Minang various exclamations.

As for me I wished also to follow this other butterfly and I walked cautiously along the river.

The flower of the air stopped finally on a tiny flower that was wavering on the bank of the rivulet. Leaning forward she approached it cautiously with her right hand extended, ready to take possession of the voluble insect, and with the left in a gesture as if saying: Wait.

Years have already passed by and yet I still seem to see her in that delightful pose, standing in the midst of so many flowers. She was almost touching the lustrous wings and she took so much care and she was so excited that I saw her pointed fingers tremble as if they could crumple those velvety colors.

But I didn't know why through my stupidity I slipped, making so much noise that the butterfly was frightened and flew away instantly.

"Ah 1" she exclaimed and her eyes depicted sorrow and pity. And she threw me a look full of reproach and accusation. Then standing still, her arms hanging, she followed with her eyes the object of her chase disappear in the labyrinth of branches. A sad smile appeared on her beautiful lips.

I was confused and embarrassed and looked also at the butterfly. I wanted to give excuses and to apologize but I couldn't think of anything to say at the moment. She turned away and sighing, she approached slowly her grandmother. I then made up my 'mind to walk away. A few steps farther I saw two butterflies which were flying and quivering with joy and love.

On seeing them so beautiful, so much in love, so gay, I felt pity to sacrifice them and their days of love and happiness to my self-love. Perhaps they were making a declaration of love!

An egoist I pursued them and in a few moments I caught one. My heart was beating with joy and nevertheless I continued chasing the other one which soon fell into my hands.

-- 路 60-

One who has won immortal laurel in the Olympic games and returned riding in a squeaking cart to his impressed mother country that awaited him was no happier than I with my two innocent victims. I was thinking of what I was going to say to her and I was preparing the most gallant .speech. I saw her intent on opening a green coconut. She undoubtedly noticed me because she turned her face towards me. On seeing the two butterflies which I was holding carefully with both hands she uttered a little cry, and looking at me with a smile full of gratitude she stood up.

I forgot everything I had thought of telling her and all I could utter was the following: -"Miss", I said to her in Tagalog. "For sometime you've been trying to catch a butterfly; but my stupidity deprived you of that pleasure. If you would kindly accept these that I'm offering you, you would do me a great favor. Take them, for though they aren't very pretty, they are two."

-"Oh! They're even prettier' , she replied, taking the butterflies and examining them. "I thank you very much for the trouble you've taken .... I'm sorry you've taken seriously a childish whim . . . I was about to thank you for having prevented me from committing a cruelty. But", she continued, changing hel; tone and half smiling, "I see that you're a very skillful hunter."

-"l\1iss", I replied with a little more aplomb, "my skill is due to my ardent desire to please you."

-"I too had the most ardent desire and nevertheless you say how futile it was. Ah, but I'm very much rattled. I've had the butterflies for sometime and I've not yet thanked you for them. Do you know that these are very pretty?"

-"You can't imagine my satisfaction on knowing that they please you."

She thanked me with a look and turned to her interrupted tasl$, after having carefully wrapped in a piece of paper the two butterflies.

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-"You may get hurt," I said taking the knife and the coconut whose husk showed her futile attempt to open it.

-"Many thanks. But letting you do it, am I not abusing your kindness?"

-"N ot at all," I replied.

-"Be careful, Minang," exclaimed the grandmother," in playing with the butterflies."

-"I've wrapped them grandma." And turning to me, "Is it true", she added, "that these very beautiful- wings can cause blindness with their dust'?"

-"They might well do; but nature has endowed us with eyelashes to drive away the harmful molecules.

And above all when one has very long eyelashes one is protected against any injury."

I offered her the coconut or better, the cool virgin water contained in that natural tumbler.

She offered it to her grandmother who thanked her for it. She asked me to drink first but I declined and didn't do it until after she had drunk.

We continued talking if not familiarly at least with case and frankness so much so that the grandmother looked at us from time to time with an air that seemed to say: How quickly these young people become friends!

And she was right. There's no time like childhood or youth to make friends. Anyone would say that at that age human hearts are so full of confidence and affectionate sentiments that at the least contact they flow out. Just go on board these big ships that make long voyages touching different points. There you'll see men and women of all races and countries, you'll hear spoken everywhere French, English, Spanish, German, Italian, and others. From the first day the children, who do not believe that they belong to any flag and consider themselves citizens of the world, ' foregather, play together, run around, shout, and make commotion, and if they are surprised that they cannot understand one another in their language, they use an-62-

other, the universal language of joy and the heart. The youth, ah, imitators of the adults, let pass a few days and their friendship becomes more or less close depending on their mutual understanding or on their congeniality. On the other hand, in order that adults may talk with one another, it is necessary for a chance to occur or another person bring them together who becomes the guarantor of the probity of the man introduced.

They are men and they have a right to mutual distrust!

Going back then to the restless look of the grandmother, I say that I felt slightly alluded, especially when, seemingly consulting the sun, some of whose rays were penetrating through the leaves, she exclaimed: -"It'll soon be twelve, Minang; it's already late, and we must go home. Pick up your clothes for we are going to change there in the little house in front."

She started picking up her jewels and other belongings and putting on an elegant pair of Biiian wooden clogs and wrapping around her over her bathing suit an Ilocano blanket, she started to leave.

-"We live in the town. Though we arrived here only two days ago and our house is still topsy-turvy, we offer it to you."

- "The same, Miss. In the neighboring town where I live, you have a most humble servant."

-"Ah, you're from C . . . . ?" From here can be seen its church and several houses."

And opening an elegant parasol, she stretched her hand to me to bid me goodbye.

-"I'm also going home no-路..v", I replied bowing, "and if you'll allow me to accompany you, I'll have the honor of holding your parasol."

The old woman picked up the basin and the .clothes, which the young woman didn't permit. She carried the basket of fruits and at my request she gave me the rest to carry.

Through the path that I said ran along the rivulet's bank we walked to the street until the little house in

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front. The house-owner who ought to know them, received them gladly. I ordered the carromata to be readied to conduct them to their house, for the sun was insupportably hot.

After a while she appeared dressed simply. A red cotton skirt, a silk tapis, a blouse of white linen, and a painted kerchief constituted her whole attire. On her small ears hung tv-vo large pearls, the size of a grain of corn. Her hair loose and knotted at the end covered her back.

I offered them the carromata to conduct them to their house. The young lady declined, thanking me.

- "Don't think you are giving me the least trouble," I added. "By necessity I've to go to the town and I can drop you where you wish. Moreover, may I remind you that it's not good to expose yourself to the sun. . . . " - "The gentleman is right", replied the grandmother.

"Let's take advantage of this opportunity to offer him our house."

They climbed the carromata and I sat beside the driver.

And we entered the town.

HI Near the shore and in the midst of tall and elegant coconut trees, bananas, bongas, (9) and bamboo, a modest nipa house of the simplest construction. A garden separates it from the road, if that can be called a garden where grow, thanks not to assiduous care but to the fertility of the soil, two or three rose-bushes of Alejandria, (10) tuberose, daisy, and sunflower planted in clay pots and supported by bamboo sticks topped with eggshells. Grass was groWing everywhere, though at one end gardeninKhad begun. An old decaying bamboo fence supported by bushes of gumamela(ll) and adel(9) A?'eca catechu Linn.

(10)

A pink rose locally called Alejandria, that is, Alexandria.

(11) H. Tosa.sinensis.

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fa (12) and sampaguita (13) concealed from the eyes of the

wayfarer the dwellers of that garden.

A narrow and stony path led to the little house which one ascended on a staircase, half stone and half wood, composed of ten steps. A maid and a dog came out to meet us.

They invited me to go up which I did gladly.

The interior of the hQuse was very curious.

Everywhere cleanliness and good taste prevailed.

It seemed that a painstaking hand had been arranging the heterogenous objects of the furniture. It was composed of built-in bamboo benches around the room, shining little lacquer tables with centerpieces filled with flowers, light rattan chairs, a very old commode whose top served as an altar for numerous images of the celestial Virgin and a crucifix, a primitive sculpture of Paete. In one, corner of the parlor were carefully placed four leather valises and an elegant dressing case inlaid with nickel.

-"It was only tW(1) days ago that we arrived at this town", said the old woman to me. "You see everything in disorder. The house is just as we found it on our first day. But, notwithstanding we are offering it to you with our best goodwill."

I thanked her, and showing me the dining-room, they pointed out there was even tableware. In fact the table was well set. It was covered with a white and fine linen tablecloth, th_e dishes were gold-banded porcelain, each piece with a gilt monogram. The tableware was of silver marked with the same monogram as the dishes.

-"The maid has placed three covers", said the old woman to me, "hoping that you would honor our humble table."

-"A thousand thanks", I replied, "but they're waiting for me at home and I can't accept the honor."

(12)

(13)

Nerium oleander.

Jasminum sambac.

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-"We're very sorry. If on this occasion you can't accept, we hope it will not be so on the next."

I took leave of them, impressing well on my imagination the details of the house. Minang from the window hailed me with her hand.

I was thinking, who could those two women be?

From what town did they come and to what family did they belong?

That old woma.n who was not fond of talking and that pensive and frank young woman, what were they doing there? Why were they alone? That they were a distinguished family can't be doubted. Their manners said so.

Filled with curiosity and wishing to discover the problem involving those two women I reached home.

I promised to pay them a visit as soon as possible.

Will be continued

)

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RIZAL'S IMPRESSIONS OF MADRID LETTER TO DR. F. BLUMENTRITT

Madrid My dear Friend: When some one from northern Europe talks about Spain you would hear only sighs, praises for the blue skies, the perfumed breezes, the beautiful women of the black eyes, deep and ardent, with their mantillas and fans, always gracious, always full of fire'. of love, of jealousy, and sometimes of vengeance. That is true, because one always talks longingly about what one does not have, what one has not seen. One misses, one covets the blessings of another. It is really true that the sky of Spain is of a limpid blue, even in winter when it is horribly cold; that the air is perfumed, especially in Valencia and Andalucia, only the perfume is not always exquisite nor pleasant. It is also true that the women are beautiful, passionate, naive, natural, and piquant, born to love, living for love and dying for having loved; that is true. One talks of all this when one is in a country covered with snow; when one only hears a language hard, coarse, and piercing to the ear, when one feels the cold penetrating to the narrow of the bones, when one sees girls who are tall, blonde, pretty but serious, without a smile on their lips, without a sparkle in their eyes, walking a little like men with a rapid and hurried pace in going about their business or to the factory. But before this poetry of Nature which creates the rose on a thorny stem, the most beautiful flowers with a poisonous fragrance for him who dares to smell them, being lured by their beautiful colors, you will also find in Spain when you are there, things which will make you miss the counTranscribed in Retana. W. E.: Vida y E scritos del Dr. Jo se Rizal.

Madrid, 1907. Pages 100-102. Letter is taken from Rizal's notebook: Clinica. It has no date. In French.

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tries of the north. I will not tell you about Andalucia, which I know only slightly, as I have been there only a few days. If I should dare describe its climate and customs, I fear that I will say only nonsense, exaggerations, or extraordinary things. I would prefer to tell you about Madrid where I have sojourned a long time and whose customs, climate, secret or public history, I believe I know a little, at least during the time I was there.

Madrid is one of the gayest cities of the world which combines the spirit of Ellrope and the East, which has adopted the orderliness, the conveniences, the bon bon of civilized Europe without disdaining, without repelling, the brilliant colors, the ardent passions, the primitive customs of the African tribes, of the chivalrous Arabs whose traces are still recognizable everywhere, in the look, feelings, and prejudices of the people and even in their laws. Coming from abroad you will be struck by the ife, the brilliant colors, and a certain unaffected manner that you will observe in the streets.

You will see soiled linen decorating the balconies, like family banners. The laun~ry-women take the opportunity to exhibit to the public the secret of the dressing-rooms and the clothes of their masters. But don't walk with head up, looking at the balconies to admire the girls who crown them amid flowers and climbing plants because you run the risk of stepping on something which will compel you to change your shoes.

Be careful, when some one approaches you to ask for information; don't say that you are a stranger. That may make you the butt of a bad joke. He may then think of a thousand snares to fool you and foreigners hardly can escape them. Don't ask the policemen for any information; that is useless, that is wasted words.

They will answer you quietly that they don't know it, that they have just entered the service the day before. If you press them for some explanations in the hope of making use of their know ledge, they will give you a maze which they themselves do not understand.

The best in Madrid is the middle class. It is amiable, distinguished, educated, frank, dignified, hospitable, -68-

and chivalrous. It is also a little aristocratic in its tastes.

It loves kings, titles, honors, withal remaining republican. It mocks curates and priests. It is not much of a practicing Catholic, but it is always Catholic; it has a horror of Protestants, Jews, and freethinkers. It is always proud of the history of its own country. It believes that it is the best in the world, but as soon as it hears of a crime or fault committed by its compatriots, it cries: "There! Weare still savages, we are Vandals, we still have African blood, etc."

The true Madrilenian is gradually disappearing. Remaining is the low class of people, the rabble which is the filth and mire of Madrid. Everytime I think of this society, I imagine the rabble as the rubbish and the bourgeosie as the flower that grows in smoked ground. The aristocracy is divided into two classes: The old and the new. rrhe old is still a little proud, but it is a frothy pride: It disappears as soon as it is touched. The new stands between the bourgeosie and the old aristocracy. It is difficult to define its boundaries. It is amiable, sometimes a little ridiculous for putting on a false appearance and pretending to conceal the newness of its escutcheon, forged day before yesterday.

The climate of Madrid is horrible. In the morning one does not know if it will be cold or warm at midday. From the Guadarrama River, which is along the side, blows a wind that causes much pneumonia. The houses are poorly constructed; the floor is made of bricks. Although a house may have one or two chimneys, one shivers in winter and gets rheumatism in it.

Fortunately one spends his life in cafes and restaurants where one talks of politics and bullfights, argues, debates, shouts, smiles, fights without being sure of the motives or causes of the differences of opinion. Much more can be said of Madrid, but I have no more time to talk of them.

(Tr. by E. A.) (Retana, W. E., Vida y Escritos del Dr. Jose Rizal. Manila Filatelica, 1907. Pages ... )

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JUAN LUNA

An a r ticle published in the weekly La Ilustmcion, Barcelona, with Juan Luna's picture on the cover , 28 February 1886.

Being a friend and compatriot of the illustrious artist imposes upon us a duty: Parsimony in praises and in judgment. The praises of a friend hurt more than the censure of an enemy and make foreigners laugh. The past of Luna is short; it is the flame hidden in the bosom of the earth cleaving a passage through a thousand difficulties. Juan Luna was born on 23 October 1857 in Badoc, Province of Ilocos Norte in the Island of Luzon. To be notable seems to be an inherent quality of his family name. Manuel, his elder brother, dead in the flower of youth, was an excellent musician and ge~uine artist, in the words of the intelligent, and according to Juan Luna, had more ability than he in painting. Jose, younger than he, is today one of the most skilled surgeons in the Archipelago with a very brilliant future. The others, who are still studying, have begun to obtain prizes in contests. The parents of Luna moved to Manila to enable their children to continue their education and there Juan Luna spent his childhood, which, like that of all Filipinos, was without either promise or hope. Our artist studied the elementary course in the Jesuit College and proof of the amplitude of the horizon that the Philippines opens to her youth is that Manuel and Juan, whose aptitudes their parents could not have ignored, had to study piloting, a career that, however good it may be, did not fit their inclinations. At the age of seventeen Luna with his brother were already sailing the China sea, first as assistants and later as pilots. However, to both the sea offered something more than a simple road for the ship. Manuel heard harmonies in the surge of the waves and Juan saw combinations of light, modulation, and color. But let us study the life -70-

of the painter. His vocation was awakened when he saw the drawings of his brother Jose; he found them easy and he copied them. Much later he entered the Academy of Manila and afterwards studied under an Indio painter of the Philippines - not of India - called Guerrero and under him he studied the natural and for the first time painted in color. There we saw his first canvases, .painted however in that country which is an enemy of art but whose children are all born artists, and under the direction of an almost self-taught teacher. But, soon the teacher's palette, like the lithographs of the Academy before, ceased to offer mysteries to his talent and application and his family at last decided to send him and his brother to Europe.

Since he arrived at Madrid he has had as teacher Mr. Alejo Vera. He confesses that to him he owes his taste and style. Nevertheless, the Academia de San Fernando awarded him a prize in the one year that he studied there. With Vera, who saw in his great hopes and was fond of him, he toured Italy, the favorite, the inspiration of the teacher, establishing himself beside him in Rome, without ceasing to listen to his advices. There in that city where every artist gathers his freshest laurels, he became the friend of Mariano Benlliure, the creator in Spain of the smiling sculpture.

There also he painted his first picture Dafnis y Cloe (Daphnis and Chloe) awarded by the Liceo de Manila with a silver palette. In Rome also, inspired by his illustrious teacher's Los ultimos dias de Nurnancia (The Last Days of N umancia), he painted La muerte de Cleopatra (The Death of Cleopatra) which obtained a second prize at the Exposition of 1881 at Madrid, attracting the attention of the entire press which was vividly impressed. I was then, a few months later, that a councilor of Manila presented a motion to the city council for the granting of an extraordinary pension to Luna. The motion, supported and favored by the Filipino colony at Madrid and the Spanish painters at Rome, had the rare fortune of being heeded and contrary to custom, granted. The Philippines ought to keep in her memory and to love the name of Mr. Francisco de Rodoreda, one of the few who had faithfully taken an interest in the sons of that country.

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In July 1883 he began the Spoliarium without dreading any obstacle whatever. At the end of the eight months and of great sacrifices, he finishes it and astonishes all who passed through his studio on Via Margutta. The great Niorelli salutes it enthusiastically and recommends it to the admiration of his pupils. The Roman press, astonished at encountering his name, proclaims it pUblicly. The Spoliarium is exhibited in the Palazzo de la Esposisione, given by the Italian government for the purpose and aU Rome and the Kings themselves pay a tribute of admiration to "the foreigner who treats with so much feeling national affairs."

A few days afterwards, the Spoliarium attracted the attention of all Madrid in the Exposition of 1884. To speak of the impression that it produced, of the polemics that it raised, is to repeat what everybody knows.

It obtained the first of the first medals. and the Filipino youth in Europe presented the illustrious artist a palette surrou~ded with laurels. The Spoliariurn that thrills, seizes, ana agitat~s violently, drying the tear that looms in the eyes, is the condemnation of the barbarism and despotism of great pedp1e towards a small one that thirsts for ligHt and libe ty. The first copy made of it was ordered by a Russian!

Barcelona, that recently admired this most notable canvas, shall have the good luck of preserving it in her bosom thanks to its acquisition made by her Provincial Delegation.

At present Luna is finishing El pa.cto de sangre (The Blood Compact) drawn from Philippine history in which Chief Sicatuna ana Legazpi, first governor of the Archipelago, bleed themselves in token of eternal amity.

Chosen is the moment when Legazpi raises to his lips the cup-ful of blood. This picture is the first in the history of our country that. faithfully reproduces the costumes and customs of the time, already erased from the memory of the people, but preserved in foreign museums. At the same time he is drawing on pasteboard La Batalla de Lepanto (The Battle of Lepanto) that the Senate has ordered to serve as companion to La Rendici6n de Granada (The Surrender of Granada).

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We do not wish 路to advance any judgment, but we believe that if his past has been beautiful and great, Luna, who does not sleep on his laurels, is thinking of a more brilliant future, and he still reserves days of glory for his native land and his parents who see their hopes fulfilled in their children. In China, a rare country pm' excellence, where the nobility of the son extends to the father, but not that of the father to the son, the progenitors of such illustrious citizens would have been already elevated to the nobility and treated with complete veneration; but in the Philippines the contrary is done, because though she is near the Celestial Empire, she is not China, despite what is believed in Spain.

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RIZAL'S RESPONSE TO THE WELCOME OF THE PRESIDENT OF THE TOURISTS' CLUB OF LEITMERITZ, AUSTRIA, MR. JOSEPH KROMBHOLS, AS REPORTED BY PROFESSOR BLUMENTRITT

The vegetation in my native land is certainly richer and all its landscape is variegated with brilliant colors; but this country of Bohemia is also beautiful for its simplicity and idyllic scenery. But what I admire among you is the love for the native land, the appreciation of its beauty, the intimate contact between man and nature. To the tourists here nature is the object of admiration and of a very special cult that serves to exalt the soul. When we are afflicted our nerves are agitated, we cannot bear neither the echo of the best music in the world nor the consolation of friends nor the distractions of socif llife. But as it happens in European countries inhabited by Germanic peoples, accustomed to read the expression of nature, we find the best solace in the solitude of the forest, in gazing at the clouds that cross the space above, in admiring the beauty of the flowers, and in listening to the innocent song of the little birds. We forget our afflictions and troubles, the hand of the Creator caresses us, and on our return home, we feel refreshed, for nature has gladdened what formerly had saddened the soul. For this reason, I admire the activity of the members of the Tourists' Club, because, instead of taking the traveler to the noisy life, to the bars and bright spots of the cities, they invite the man with a heart and soul to acquire new strength for the struggle of life in the bosom of nature, pure, sublime, and enchanting.

Copied from Dia Filip1irlO, 19 June 1921, p. 47.

Reported by Professor Blumentritt_ It is not a verbatim report.

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SUAN'S ANIMALS

As I was born on the day of St. Solomon at midnight sharp, when it was full moon, I possess the rare gift of understanding the language of animals. If someone does not believe me, he has only to be born under the same conditions as I and instantly he will be convinced.

We had a very big lot where lived together cocks, hens, ducks, geese, pigs, and where pigeons also come down to peck the cereal that our servant Suan throws out in the morning. He was a plain man but very skillful in certain surgical operations by which the most tricky animals became chaste and fattened deliciously.

For some time my father had observed that the fowls were becoming lean and were dying, leaving only bones and feathers, that the eggs were becoming fewer, though we had 'more than fifty hens. that the capons as well as the turkeys were losing the metaJlic gloss of their feathers and the squabs in the dovecot were becoming fewer and seemed puny. Neither my father nor Suan could explain this phenomenon. There was no prevailing disease or epidemic; the palay(l ) and the maize given them were of the best quality; our cat was always so very well fed that he would not eat the squabs; no wild cat walked about in the vicinity nor does anyone know of any iguana around - an animal known to be fond of eating eggs - and our Suan was of such an integrity that borders on simplicity.

Although I paid little attention to household matters and I didn't care much whether the hens and capons were becoming lean or not, nevertheless the calamity aroused my interest, as the chickens I used to catch to play cockfight with my cousins - which we armed with an orange spine like a spur - were continually losing, running away from the fight, and allowed themselves to be beaten in the most disgraceful manner.

I decided then to find out what was happening among (1)

Unhusked rice

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our animals and utilize my knowledge of their language, a gift I have hidden from everyone for fear of being bothered and which I didn't cultivate as I did many other talents that God had endowed me upon being born on St. Solomon's day at midnight sharp at full moon.

One beautiful siesta then, one of those so inviting to sl~ep or to swinging in a hammock suspended from the branches of a tree, while all were resting, I went to our orchard. I climbed a makupa(2) tree, I sat on a branch, and I got ready to listen to the conversation of the animals. A short distance away, lying in the dust and the muddy place were some pigs, some sleeping and others half-awake; further away, under a coffee tree and perched on a broken jar were resting and napping turkeys, ducks, and geese, while on one side some hens, cocks, and chickens were walking about silently and sadly, trying not to go too near the group of pigs.

According to what I could observe and gather from the whisperings and pecking of the fowls, our animals live among themselves as do the good Christians and men of goodwill on the earth, with their policemen, mistrust, accusations, vexations, suits, calumnies, violence, murmurings, complaints, threats, jails, gallows, cannons, laws, confessionals, pulpits, civil guards, carabineers, and so forth. There reigned among them the most complete order and the most affectionate fraternity, excepting this or that grunt of a pig, this or that fight, pecking, and the like. Among them, the pigs are the foremost animals worthy of all kinds of respect, first because they are very fat, and fatness has always been the distinctive mark of gOQd social standing; and secondly because they slept much and sleeping much signifies a tranquil conscience and financial independence; thirdly because they were grumblers and vociferators, and as it's known in our courtyard as well as in our world, the one who talks the most and shouts the loudest is the one who succeeds to get the most. But what makes them most respectable in the eyes of the 2

Eugenia java(nica Lam.

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community according to what I heard from the gossip of two old hens, was the repulsive filth in which they lived. Among the animals filth and foulness are considered a virtue and thus they regard the geese as saints and they ?-nnounced everywhere the notable traits of their saintliness, such as never taking a bath, going to and staying in unspeakable places, repugnant smell, and the like.

I thought that my observations would not go beyond this and I was getting ready to go down when Suan appeared with the food for the pigs. They woke up, raise their snouts, made two or three grunts which signified enthusiastic greeting, agitated their broad ears, and one of them, a lean pig, very ugly, shouted: -"Come near, all of you, and listen! The grand pig is going to speak!"

At my surprise, I saw that the animals came along obediently. First, fame the turkeys wheedling and walking slowly; then lollowed the geese and the ducks; behind them came the cocks, hens, and chickens; and lastly the pigeons which showed much fear and distrust.

-"Listen! The grand pig is going to speak!" repeated the one playing the role of barker, with an imperious grunt. ' : 1,j I

I looked around for the grand pig and I noted that it was Botiok, so baptized by Suan for being the fattest of all. He has been castrated for about two years and my father was about to confine him in order to kill him within a year. He was a respectable animal; his belly was dragging; his cheeks were hanging, and his eyes were already sunken which I'm sure could no longer see. He was lying on the ground and snoring.

- "He's meditating the sermon!" said the geese and ducks in a low voice.

- "He's in ecstasy!" added the hens.

In the meanwhile the pig barker murmured in his ears:

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- "Grand B6tiok, get up, it's necessary that you growl because mealtime is approaching."

B6tiok opened his eyes and answered with a grunt.

"It's necessary that you growl," repeated the barker in a low grunt. "We have noticed a certain discontent among the chickens and many cocks are beginning to murmur; mealtime is near; get up and growl."

-. "And what shall I tell them?" asked B6tiok, yawnIng. - "Well, anything, tell them to be humble, submissive obedient .... " I was so interested in what was going on that I was all eyes and ears.

B6tiok, though somewhat in bad humor, tried to get up, agitated his little tail, and after opening several times his mouth and jolting his ears, granted in the midst of the general expectation.

- "My brothers in Suan! We the pigs are the superior race; you're the inferior race. Who'll deny it? None of you has a snout as long and movable as ours ... " - "Ticaticatoccatoc!" interrupted a turkey. (in turkish language this means: "We too have a long, hanging, and red crest. As you see, the turkish language is concise and energetic).

- "Yes, brother turkeys, replied B6tiok, you've a long and red crest, it's true, but you haven't our broad ears."

- . "But we've a beard", replied another turkey that had a lock of hair in the breast.

And he wheedled and walked majestically.

"Yes, all that is true, brother turkeys," continued B6tiok who seemed unwilling to quarrel with the proud corporation of turkeys. "It's true you've crest and beard and we don't, but you don't enjoy the high honor of having been touched by the hand of Suan, our God and Lord, you aren't consecrated, that is, you aren't castrated like us, in this you're inferior!"

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- "There are also castrated cocks!" a hen dared to chirp in sufficient bad humor.

- "Yes!" said B6tiok contemptuously.

(Note :) Several pages are missing in the MS-Suan's Animals.

The following seems to be a draft. E.A.) Our servant Siloy was considered God. In fact it was he who fed them, castrated them, talked with them, and caressed them now and then. I said that the pigs for being castrated gave themselves airs and though it's true there were also castrated cocks they were not appreciated and were being discredited for belonging to another race, and at most were allowed to become servants or assistants. The pigs considered themselves the wisest; nothing could be believed or said in the courtyard without first consulting them.

What a pig didn't know, no one could know. They pretended t9 explain everything with mysterious grunts that I myself many times couldn't understand no matter how attentive I wa. They moved little and when they walked they do it with such solemnity that on more than one occasion :r' had a desire to genuflect before them.

However, there was among them a very famous one that Siloy called B6tiok that my father had reserved for Christmas. It has been five years since he was castrated his belly dragged on the ground, his cheeks were hanging, and his eyes were so sunken that he could hardly see and for that reason he was always lying down and snoring.

- "He's meditating!" said his brothers to the geese and hens who repeated and announced it: "He's meditating, "he's in ecstasy!"

The only moving and agitating thing about him was his coiled tail, especially when Siloy scratched his skin with a bamboo stick, a thing that increased his prestige and made him Siloy's representative in the courtyard.

- "Don't eat "all the cereal Siloy throws to you 111

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the morning", he said to the fowls; "Leave one half for the pigs so you'll be more liked."

Our cocks and hens did what he ordered them and they went elsewhere to look for food.

- "You see that big house, tall, and full of blue and white paintings?" he said one afternoon to the animals who were listening to him. "Well, there lives Siloy who made this courtyard, the paZay, maize, the bog, the water-closet, the left-overs, the banana peels that we pigs eat; Siloy whose representative I'm, lives there. If you're meek, obedient to my commands, I who am Siloy's favorite will see to it that you're taken upstairs where you'll live eternally amidst grains of paZay and you'll be happy in the company of the great pigs who have already gone there in reward for their fatness and filth. There you'll find huge muddy places, peels of all kinds of fruit, huge troughs ... " - "Piok!" interrupted a tiny chicken that I've caught the day before to play cockfight with my cousins; "Well, I was there yesterday when Dimas took me and I didn't see anything like that!"

- "Nguun!" grunted the pig; "Dimas is the evil spirit and instead of taking you to that house, he took you elsewhere to deceive you."

As Siloy was considered the Aburamazda of the courtyard, Dimas was Ahriman, the evil spirit. For being always very mischievous with my dogs a:s with the born enemies of the pigs it was natural that he should enjoy a bad reputation among these animals.

- "What I saw were other beings better than Siloy and with better plumage.

- "False! Idolatry, heresy, excommunion!" shouted several pigs in unison. "Make penitence, repent of your error, otherwise Siloy wnl condemn you to live in the pool !"

As chickens are very much afraid of water, my chicken kept quiet. * 13-2

Translated from the Spanish by E. Alzona. 16 Aug. 1957 Phostotat copy in the Bureau of Public Libraries, Manila.

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I

THE VISION OF FR. RODRIGUEZ

Sitting at ease in a comfortable armchair and satisfied with himself and with the dinner he had had Fr. Jose Rodriguez one night was dreaming of the money that he was getting from Filipino purses for his booklets, when suddenly, as if by magic, the yellow light of the lamp turned brilliantly very white, the air was filled with a delicate perfume, and a man appeared without knowing whence or how he came.

He was an old man of regular stature, brown, slender whose white beard contrasted with his lively and bright eyes that gave his countenance an extraordinary animation. A priest's cope covered his shoulders and a mitre his head that with the staff that he carried in his hand gave him the look of a bishop.

On seeing him Fr. Rodriguez murmured yawning: -

"Francies of my fecund imagi . .. "

The vision didn't let him finish the phrase; it struck him on the occiput with the staff.

- "Eh! Painful jokes!" exclaimed the friar, holding the aching part, while he was rubbing an eye; "I see now that it is not a dream, but pal!"

The stranger, irritated at this familiarity, then dealt him with his staff heavy blows on his belly, making him jump from his seat, seeing that the thing was getting serious.

- "Eh! Fr. Pedro! Why? Is that the way you collect indulgences? That was not good conduct! Alas!

Alas! Pardon!"

The strange bishop, even more irritated, was not satisfied with just attacking his belly, but he directed his blows to the head, believing it to be the most sensitive part; but unluckily the head of Fr. Jose Rodriguez was very hard, and the staff broke. It was already

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time: the poor friar, paler than his house habit and mortally frightened, had fallen and was walking on all fours, being unable to stand up.

On seeing him in such a pitiful state, the ire on the face of the stranger was assuaged. Stopping his blows he placed his broken staff on the table and exclaimed with contempt: -"Homo sine homine, membra sine spiritu! et iste appellatur filius meus! (Man without the qualities of man, body without a soul! And you call yourself my son!)

On hearing that vibrant voice and that language incomprehensible to him, Fr. Rodrigllez became even more confounded. That man could not be Fr. Pedro, nor any disguised comrade of his! No indeed! He could not be!"

-"Et tamen", he continued, tanta est vanitas vestra, ut ante me, Patrem vestrum . . . sed video, loquor et non audis! (And yet such is your vanity, as before me, your Father . . . but I see; speak, and you don't listen.)

And moving his head in disgust, after a few seconds, he spoke in Spanish with a foreign accent: - "And are you the ones who call yourselves my children? And your pride has gone to such extent that you not only want now that the rulers and the ruled fear and adore you but you neither recognize nor respect me whose name you dishonor and whose merits you abuse? How do I find you? Insolent towards the unfortunate and cowardly towards those who do not fear you! . . . i Surge et audi!" (Rise up and listen).

The voice was so imperious and the gesture so significant that Fr. Rodriguez understood it. He rose up trembling all over, he tried to rise upright and retrogradely he moved to a corner.

Moved by this proof of obedience, so rare now among those who take a vow of obedience, contempt gave way to compassion on the countenance of the personage who, -82-

suppressing a sigh, continued in a more familiar tone, though without losing his dignity: - "For you, for your stupidities, I've been obliged to leave that region to come here! And what trouble it took me to find you and distinguish you from the rest! All resemble you, with slight differences: addled heads and full stomach! There they don't stop teasing me because of you and above all you. It was useless to pretend to be ignorant of it. It was not only Lopez de Recaldo, or rather Ignatius de Loyola, who mocked me with his eternal smile and humble air; it was not Dominic alone, the one with aristocratic pretensions and a little star of false stones on the brow, who laughed at me; even the very simpleton of Francis, do you understand?, indulged in joking me, joking me, who has thought, reasoned, and written more than all of them put together!"

- "Your order is great and powerful", Ignatius said to me lowering his head, "it resembles an Egyptian pyramid: large at the base (you are the base), but the higher it goes the smaller it becomes. . . !" And he walked away murmuring humbly: "What a difference between the base and the apex !"

- "Doctor", Dominjc said, "why didn't you do with your knowledge what I did with the nobility that I left to my children as an inheritance? All of us might have gained something!"

- . "My friend", said Francis, or rather Giovanni Bernardone, compunctiously, "if it would serve God that I sho1,lld return to earth to preach t9 the brutes and the birds, I'll preach at your convents ... . " . And he laughed in such a way that, though thin, he seemed about to burst.

In vain did I answer them that their sons were no better than you and that if we were to put out dirty linen we would have to cover our noses; but, no 1, who can go against three, and what is worse, having you on my side? Do I say three? Pedro, that old fisherman, attracted by the laughter, left the door and reproached me to my face the dirty trick you played on

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his priests, snatching away from them their curacies despite the fact that they were ahead of you at least twenty years on these Islands, and were the first ones to baptize in Cebu as well as here in Luzon."

- "It is already seen", he added, "as my sons are lazy and disunited, and yours lie, shout, and agitate more than they do, they succeed to make the ignorant believe them and they triumph. But I'm glad: let us see if the house ends with me!"

- I say the same thing about mine!" "And I!" "may th~ same thing happen to mine!" exclaimed various VOIces.

But old Pedro did not stop until he could take revenge. Yesterday he pJayed me a bad trick. Not only did he confiscate a suspicious-looking package brought by an Indio who had- just arrived, but also, instead of directing him towards the group of imbeciles, he accompanied him to the place where we were. This unfortunate brought as provision a package full of your booklets that his parish priest had given him, promising him indulgences in the other life. His arrival, knowing that he had booklets written by Augustinians, and snatching them from him were all one. I wanted to hide but I could not. What mirth and hearty laughter! The little angels came in a mass. The musicians of the Celestial Father lost their beat. The Virgins, instead of looking at their music scores, read the booklets, so that they sang out of tune and the very pig of old Anthony began to grunt and twist its tail.

I was abashed; I saw that all were pointing their fingers at me and were laughing. Zarathustra, however, the grave Zarathustra, didn't laugh. With a haughtiness that humbled me he reprimanded me in this manner: - "And is he your son, that one who claims that my religion is pagan and that I'm a pagan? Have your sons so degenerated? They have confused with idolatry and polytheism my pure religion, the mother religion of the most perfect religions. They no longer know that paganism comes from the word pagani-

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inhabitants of the fields - who were the ones who remained most faithful to Greek and Roman polytheism.

You will tell me that they do not know Latin, therefore, let them speak more modestly. Tell them that paganus comes from pagus from which are derived the words pages, payes, paien, paese, pais, etc. Tell those unfortunates that the religion of Zend-Avesta was never professed by the peasants of the Roman people. Tell them that my religion is monotheist, more monotheistic even than the Catholic Apostolic Roman religion, which not only accepted my dualism but has deified various creatures. Tell them that Paganism in its widest and corrupt sense meant only polytheism; that neither my religion nor that of Moses nor that of Mohammed was above pagan religions. Tell them to read your works in which in every passage you speak of the Pagani. Repeat to them what you said about the religion of the Manicheans, a corrupt daughter of my doctrine, professed by you and which has influenced your works, still influences your religion and which at one time made the Roman Church vacillate.

Yes, I have placed the principle of evil before the principle of the good: Ahura-Mazda, God; but this is not admitting two gods, as you said very rightly. To speak of health and of sickness, you said, is not to admit two healths. And what? Have they not copied my principle of evil in Satan, the principle of hell?

Tell them that if they don't know Latin, at least they should study religions, inasmuch as it is impossible for them to know the true religion!"

Thus spoke Zarathustra or Zoroaster; but Voltaire?

Voltaire, who learned about what you recounted concerning his death, approaches me and with a gentle smile, shakes my hand and thanks me.

- "Why?" I ask him.

-"Your sons, mon cher Doateur de l' E glise (my dear Doctor of the Church)", he replies, "prove and continues proving with facts what I maintained with wor d s .... " -"And what do you maintain then?"

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- "That they were, besides being ignorant, impostors."

I had no other alternative but keep quiet, for they were right. Know that he died at 84 years of age, preserving such a lucid mind that when they came to importune him by drawing from him a confession he replied, "Let me die in peace," and he expired. But 1 don't scold you for that; you have only said what some one has hinted to you. The worse is that Voltaire has been trying to ask God to have you taken to Heaven alive and in your habit. And asked why he liked it, he replied, "So that he may amuse us!"

Pedro, seeing the indulgences that the Archbishop put in your pamphlet, in order to deceive buyers, said: - Why didn't it occur to me" he said, beating his bald pate, "\~7hy didn't it occur to me to enrich with indulgences the fish that I sold when I was a fisherman? We-would have made ourselves rich, and Judas, instead of selling the Master would have sold sardines and tinapa! *N either would I have had to apostatize cowardly nor vvould they have martyrized me afterwards . . .. In truth I tell you that my namesake has more pesquis: he has taught me about making money in spite of the fact that I'm a Jew. - "Of course! For your namesake is Galician!" replied a voice.

It was that of a little old man who had arrived some years ago. They called him Tasio. The latter turned to me and said: _tty ou are a great Doctor, and though you have contradicted yourself several times, as you have written the books of the Retractationem and Your Confessions, I consider you a priveleged talent with a very vast erudition; and inasmuch as you don't resemble at all your sons who make black white and white green when they try to defend themselves, I shall tell you my complaints, so that as their Father you could conect them. * Tinapa is Tagalog name lor smoked fish. (E. A.)

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"There on earth there is an unfortunate of your Order who has committed, among many stupidities the following: 1. That he wants to make one Indio called Rizal responsible for ,,,hat I said in my earthly life, only because this Rizal has included it in a book he wrote. As you see, if this reasoning is followed, Rizal would also be responsible for and share in the ideas expressed by the friars, civil guards, gobernadorcillos, etc.; and you Holy Doctor, would also be for the words you put in the mouths of heretics, pagans, and above all of the Manicheans. 2. That he wants that I think and speak like him, for he accuses me for saying "the Bible and the Holy Gospels." It is all right that he, like all fanatics, believe that they form one single thing; but I, who have studied the original Hebraic Bible, know that it does not contain the Gospels; that the Hebrew Bible, being the creation, history, treasure, and patrimony of the "Jewish people, the authority on it is tl).e Jews, who_do not accept the Gospels; that the Latin translation beipg .inaccurate in some points, it would be wrong for the Catholics to lay down the law here - "they who try to ,a ppropriate what is not theirs and interpret the translation "in tln.eir manner and in their favor, altering the spirit of the texts. The Gospels, moreover, except Matthews, were written in Greek.

They were posterior, and in substance as well as in fact, demolish the laws of Moses; proof of that is the enmity between Jews and Christians. How then, knowing thi. do I have to speak like a fanatic or an ignorant friar? I don't demand that any friar speak like a freethinker; they must not demand either that I speak like a friar. Why do they want that two things distinct and contradictory in "certain points be confused under one single name? That the Christian populace do so may _be Dverlooked, but I should not nor can I do it.

Besides, -mentioning the two separately is due to the thought that-the two works inspire, two lawgivers, two religions, on which they want to base the Catholic religion. Your son, moreover, reasons divinely when he says: "I didn't know that the Holy Gospels were distinct from the Bible and not a part of it." Tell him, Holy Doctor, that in all countries, a part, however important it might be, is always distinct from the whole. ~- 81 ;-~-

Example: The important thing in Fr. Rodriguez is the habit, but the habit is distinct from Fr. Rodriguez, otherwise, there would be a dirty Fr. Rodriguez, another spick and span, another wrinkled, another wide, another short, another greasy, another pressed, and another new tam,quam tabulaa rasa, (like a smoothed table), etc. The habit, besides should be distinguished from the friar, because a piece of cloth, however dirty it may be, cannot be presumptuous, nor a despot, nor ignorant, nor obscurantist. 3. He gives me a quotation to prove Purg:atory: "St. Matthews", he says, "chapter 12, verse 36", and he quotes wrongly. For Purgatory is not deduced from this verse nor anything resembling it, and if not let us see: The Hebrew text says: Wa' ebij omar lakarn kij 'al kal dbar 1"eq aschar iddabru 'abaschim yittbu heschboun biom hammischphat. The Greek text: Lego de hY1nin hoti pan renw, argon, ho ean lalesosin, hoi anthropei, apodoscusi peri autou legon en hemera kriseos. Translated into Latin this says: Dico auten vobis, quo iam omne verbum otiosum quod locuti fuerint homines, 1-eddent rationem de eo in die judicii: in Spanish: Y digo s, que toda palabra ociosa, que dijeren los homb1"eS, daran cuenta de ella en el dia del juicio. * As you see, Doctor, from these four texts no other thing is deduced except that Fr. Rodriguez will render on Judgment Dayan account so long that perhaps the session may be prolonged until the following day, for he has already said numerous stupiditi . But I already see, your son~ like one who has informed, wanted to cite verse 32 which says: "And anyone who may say a word against the Son of Man will be forg:iven; but he who says it against the Holy Ghost shall not be forgiven either in this world or in the next." From this they have wanted to deduce Purgatory; deduce, that is! 4. As to why St. Ireneus, St. Clement of Alexandria, and Origines, three in all, and who were not among the first Christians, had any remote idea of Purgatory, does not mean that the Christians of the early centuries believed in him, so long as it is not established that three means the totality, though in * In English: And I tell you that men will give an account on Judgment Day of every idle word that they had uttered.

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the totality there might be ideas entirely contrary. And the proof that it is not so, you yourself, Holy Doctor, who is his Father, who flourished in the fourth and fifth centuries and you are the greatest of the Fathers of the Church, you denied explicitly the existence of Purgatory in various parts of your sermon CCXCV which begins with these decisive words: Frecuenter caritatem vestram, nemo se decipiat, fratres; Duo enim loca sunt et tertius non est ullus. Qui cum Christo regnare non meruerit, cum diabolo absque dubitantione ulla peribit.

And then you said in De consolatione mortuorum: Sed recedens anima quae carnalibus oculis non videtur, ab angelis suscipitur et collocatur, aut in sinu Abrahae, si fidelis est, aut in carceris inferni custodia si peccatrix est. And I can cite to you a multitude of yours texts, for to you Purgatory was only a thing not impossible (impossibile non est) despite the fact that you had denied definitely: tertius non est ullus. Add to this what St. Fulgencio, who flourished after you in the fifth and sixth centuries, said in chapter XIV of De Incarnatione et Gratia, etc. Quicumque regnum Dei non ingreditur, poenis aeternis cruciatur. - 5. That your son either does not know how to read or acts in very bad faith.

How then from my phrase: "The Protestants do not believe in him and neither did the Greek fathers, for they miss etc. he has formed: "The Greek fathers did not believe in Purgatory"? How did he make of a present tense the past only to torture the phrase and deduce from it "the Holy Greek Fathers"? I was speaking in the present tense, and in my time the "Holy Greek Fathers" no longer existed but the fathers belonging to the Greek Church did. Besides this, as I was following the historical order, it would be wrong for me to speak first of the Protestants and afterwards of the Holy Greek Fathers who believed what they could in their time and when I lived on earth was for me the past. Now, they, more enlightened, believe what we all believe. And with this bad faith he calls afterwards slanderer, impostor, and ignorant the one who recorded my words. But such a manner of acting is proper of Father Rodriguez who in another pamphlet takes the "rays of the sun" for "the sun", following his

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system of confusing a part with the whole, all in order to slander the author of the book and call him Mason.

Ask him then who is the impostor, the slanderer, and the ignorant? - 6. That instead of accusing others of ignorance and of pretending to be well-read, he ought to be more careful. He is the one who has hardly read you, in spite of the fact that you are his Father and it is his duty to know what you said. Had he done it he would not have said so many stupidities nor would he betray himself, showing the scanty foundation of his knowledge. I know where he gets them: from some little books that Sarda and Salvany published in Cataluna in order to maintain obscurantism . . . " But the little old man could not continue, because the voice of the Highest called me before his throne. Trembling I approached and prostrated myself.

-"Go to the world", said the Omnipotent Voice, "and say to those who call themselves your sons that I, who have created millions of suns around which turn thousands of wor~ds, each one inhabited bv millions and millions of beings ~reated by Me in my infinite kindness, don't wish to serve 'as an instrument of the base passions of a few creatures, precisely not the most perfect.. a handful of dust that the wind carries away, insignificant part of the inhabitants of one of mv smallest worlds!

Tell them that 1 don't want that in my name the poverty and ignorance of their brothers be exploited; that 1 don't wish that in my name that the mind and thought that I have made free be shackled; 1 don't wish that in my name any abuse be committed nor a sigh be drawn nor a tear be shed or a single drop of blood be spilled; 1 don't wish to be represented as crueL revengefuL subiect to their caprices and executor of their wills. That thev do not make of me, 1 who am the Good, a tyrant 'and a bad Father; that they should not pretend to be the only possessors of light and eternal life. How? I who have given to each being air, light, life, love, and food so that he may live and be happy, would I deny to the rest, for the benefit of a few and certainly not the best, the most essential, the most transcendental, true happiness? 1m pious, absurd, absurd!

Tell them that 1 am the Whole and that outside of

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Me nothing exists and nothing can exist without my will and consent. I have no enemies nor can I have any; nobody is equal to me, nobody can oppose my will! Tell them that their enemies are not mine, that never have I identified myself with them, that their behavior is vain, nonsensical, and blasphemous. Tell them that I forgive error but I punish iniquity; that I forget a mistake against me, but I persecute the oppression of an unfortunate, for I am infinitely powerful, and all the outrages of all the inhabitants of all the worlds, a thousand times centuplicated cannot hurt an atom of my glory; but the least outrage against the poor, against the oppressed, I am going to punish, for I have created nothing, I have not given being to anybody so that he may be unhappy and serve as a toy of his brothers. I am the Father of all that exist, I am the destiny of every atom; that they let me love my creatures whose miseries and necessities I know: that everyone fulfill his duty, that I, the good God, know what I must do!"

Thus spoke the Omnipotent, and I have come here to carry out his will. And I say to you: - "That the miseries of the unfortunate Indio whom you have impoverished and brutalized have reached even the throne of the Highest. So many minds darkened and mutilated by you, so many violated virgins, have reached there. The cry of so many men banished, tortured, and killed at your instigation has reached it; the tears of so many mothers, the misery of the orphans, all mixed with the noise of your orgies! Know that a God exists (perhaps you doubt His existence and you only use His name to achieve your aims) and that God can one day ask you for an accounting of your iniquities.

Know that He does not need the money of the poor nor is His cult reduced to lighting candles, burning incense, saying Masses, believing blindly what somebody said, though it may be repugnant to reason, no. He has luminaries greater than your sun, flowers more fragrant than those of the earth, music in the harmonious concert of the spheres. He suffices unto Himself. He created the mind, not to enslave it, but in order that on its wings man may be happy and tend to soar to Him.

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He needs nobody. He created man, not for Him but for man himself. He did not need him nor does he need him. He is happy in Eternity.

You seize the idea of Purgatory, you want to defend it using all weapons even the most ignoble. Why~ instead of spending time in affirming what you never saw, don't you preach love for one's fellowman, charity?

Why, instead of those penalties, don't vou nreach solace and hope to sweeten somewhat the evils of life? Why? Because the true doctrine of Christ would not bring you money and what you want is gold, gold, and gold, and for this you make use of Purgatory to get money from timorous souls. Why afflict the orphan and the widow with horrible tales of the other life iust to strip them of some money? You forget what the Apostle said: Nolo vas ignorare fratres, de dormientibus, ut non contristemini, sicut qui spem non habet. (We will not have you ignorant, brethren, concerning them that are asleep, that you be not sorrowful, even as others who have no h~e. First Epistle of St. Paul to the Thessalonians, chap~er IV, 12.) And what Isaid: Haec enim est christinaeVidei summa: vitam veram expectare post nwrtem. (Here is the resume of Christian faith: To hope for the true life after death.)

But you, lacking in charity, act against Christ and for your despicable interest you want to meddle in divine judgments. All the strength of your arguments is based on that there are souls who are not sufficiently sinful to be condemned nor sufficiently pure to enter heaven. Who authorize you to place yourselves before the judgment of Him who weighs and considers the smallest thought, who knows it is impossible to demand divine perfection from beings of clay, here on the earth subject to miseries, necessities, and oppressions? Who tells you that He will iudge like you who are of limited intelligence? Who tells you that here we do not expiate our sins with the miseries to which we are subject? If I at one time could admit the shadow of that possibility, now more convinced of Divine Kindliness and of the misery of man I have absolute confidence in Him, certain that His conduct and his judgment have to be infinitely more just and better than mine. Abandon 1

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then your eagerness to accumulate riches; you already have enough; do not judge the souls of others in order to snatch the last mouthful from the poor: leave them in the hands of their Creator and do not interpose your accusations just to get from them the little money that you leave them. Remember what Fulgencio said: Et si mittetur in stagnum ignis et sulphuris qui nudum vesti-

mento non tegit, quid passurus est qui vestimento crudelis expliat? Et si rerum suarum avarus posesor requiem no habebit, quomodo aliaenarum rerum insatiabilis raptor? (And if the one who did not give clothes to the naked were sent to the pool of fire and sulphur, what would happen to the one who cruelly stripped him of his dress? And if the avaricious possessor of his own things cannot be satisfied, what will happen to the insatiable thief of other people's things?) Consider that Satan on Judgment Day can say about you to Christ:

Tui aut em christiani, pro quibus ideo crucifixus et mortuus es, ut mortui ipsi non timerent, sed essent de resurrectione securi, non solum lugent mortuos voce et habitu, sed etiam ad ecclesiam procedere confunduntur; aliquanti etiam ipsi clerici tui et pastores ministerium suum intermittunt, acantes luctui, quasi insultantes tuae voluntati. (Your Christians, however, for whom they crucified and killed you so that when they are dead they would not fear you but would be assured of resurrection, not only mourn their dead by word and by act, but they even push one another to go to church to mourn them. Even some of your priests and pastors interpose their ministry, ready for the mourning as if to insult your will.)

Preach then the religion of hope and of promise, for you, more than any body else, have need of forgiveness. Don't talk about sterness nor condemn anyone, lest God hear you and judge you according to the laws that you have concocted. Always bear in mind what Christ said: Vae vobis Scribae et Pharissae hypocritae

qui clauditis regnum coelorum ante homines: vos non intratis, nee introeuntes sinitis intrare! (Woe to you Scribes and Pharisees, hypocrites: because you shut the kingdom of heaven against men, for you yourselves do not enter in; and those that are going in, you suffer

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not to enter.St.Matthews, ch~pter XXIII, 13.) Less covetousness and more charity!

Now what I'm going to tell you particularly is this: That you are a wretched fool, that you say many stupidities, but this is almost not your fault: I couldn't expect anything else from you and I would not like to punish you for them. But you had the boldness not only to insult the others for which you have sinned against truth and charity, but also to praise yourself and still in italics so that everybody may notice it. You said speaking about yourself: "This Father, I know very well".

Either you lied or your "Don Pepe" who, it turns out, did not know you, and as for you he does not know you, I assure you; "though somewhat stubborn" (what somewhat? Don't you see that my staff was broken on your head which seems nothing else but stone? But there was no need for you to say so, because everybody knows that to be hard-headed is a quality of coarse and uneducated people.) "However, he does not always speak in vain". This, until a certain point, is true. Every word of yours is an obj~ ct of laughter, on earth as well as in heaven. "Nor <1oes he say things without having thought them out"; (perhaps; only your thinking must be very limited.) For this stupid vanity you deserve that I impose upon you a penitence, a penalty, once and for all, because you are not to compel me to come to reprimand you every time you say stupidities. My life is not devoted to correcting your foolishness.

And the Bishop started meditating: - "Undoubtedly to have to judge you according to your manner of thinking, you ought to go to hell or to your purgatory, at least. But no, God will not be guided by your judgment . .. Moreover, you cause a certain indirect good by making many cultured people laugh at your expense and for this a certain abnegation is necessary. Should I make the Indios upon encountering you not to remove their hats nor kiss your hand? That would be good to punish your arrogance, but the poor Indios would afterwards be banished or at least imprisoned, and it is not good to increase the evil that you do.

Should you suffer what you attribute to Voltaire inter-

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preting it as a punishment? You almost deserved it, because it seems that you applauded that evil; but some credulous persons could have believed you, and on seeing you afterwards suffering the same penalty, they might think that you have something in common with that man of talent; no, it is not that. Shall I leave you handless and dumb? It would be the best punishment, but your brothers are going to interpret it as a test to which God submits you... no, this time you don't catch me. What shall I do with you?"

- "Ah!" he continued after meditating; "in your sin you will find the penitence: I condemn you to say and write nothing but stupidities throughout your life so that the public may laugh at you, for what you say serves for nothing else but that. And on Judgment Day you'll be judged as you deserve!"

- "Amen" replied Fr. Jose Rodriguez.

After saying this the vision disappeared, the light of the lamp again became yellowish. the soft fragrance vanished, and the following day Fr. Jose Rodriguez was writing with more vigor greater stupidities.

Amen!

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BY TELEPHONE

In the year 1900 the Philippines for the first time was connected to the Metropolis by means of the telephone laid out by an Anglo-Catalan company called The Trans-Oceanic Telephone Company, so well-known in its time for its truly bold ideas.

Thanks to the perfection of the apparatus from Madrid could be heard the mystic sighs of the friars praying before the sacred images, their prayers full of piety, their humble phrases, their words of conformity and resIgnation and even the thanksgiving with which they received the alms of rice and fish given by the people who pitied them for their fasting and abstinence. Such was the perfection of the telephone that even the "silence" that prevailed in the refectories was audible, and by the noise of the mastication it was definitely known that the most gluttonous of the friars did not eat over five mout~ful daily.

- " How poor and how virtuous are these priests!" exclaimed at Madrid the moved democrats.

- "How poor and how virtuous are these priests!" repeated the telephone in the Philippines and it was proclaimed everywhere, in the convents, churches, etce-

tera.

And the friars on hearing this further reduced the number of their mouthfuls for fear that an Indio might go hungry. They taught the boys reading and writing and they instructed them by force in the Castilian tongue, suffering not a few times insults and slaps from the boys' parents for daring to open their eyes.

- "Blessed be God! replied the friars and they turned the friars and they turned the other cheek: "All for God and Mother Spain!"

And they continued teaching as soon as the despotic Indio moved away, if the government, at the instigation

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of the parents, did not bring them to court for teaching, an offense that constituted a great crime, imperilling the integrity of the mother country.

- "The Minister of Overseas Colonies telephoned one day from Madrid to the procurator of the Augustinians at Manila, at the request of the Indios, offering to our corporation an estate so that the priests would not die for hunger and might live with some comfort. What do I answer him 7" The telephone transmits the message to the convent of the Augustinians.

- "Jesus I Jesus I Holy God, Terrible Saint, Immortal Saint I God save us from all temptation I" exclaim all the friars on hearing the news, they fall on their knees, and they cover their ears.

"Lord I Lord!" moans the provincial really beating his breast and not in the way one does to deceive the people to get money from them. "I've lost Salvadorcito's soul by sending him to Madrid as Procurator I He was so good, so humble, so simple, so candid, when he was here I Now he is lost I To make us such propositions . . . so sinful I Alas I Alas! Alas! Domine, delerinquiste eum?

Lord, why have you abandoned him?"

And the whole Convent of St. Augustine moaning and all the friars beating their breasts and flagellating one another to make penitence and to bring back to the right path the soul of Salvadorcito Tont.

And at Madrid was heard (by telephone) the consternation in the Convent of St. Augustine. And Salvadorcito TonP with the candid air of a good lad exclaims: - "Indeed they had jailed all my brothers for not reading the booklets that the Indios publish against 1 Salvadorcito Tont was Fr. Salvador Font of the Order of St. Augustine, who, as parish priest of Tondo, Manila was notorious for his defiance of the rules of his Order. In 1887 he was asked by the University of Santo Tomas to censure Rizal's Noli me tangere and he rendered an adverse report branding Rizal as a heretic ad blasphemer. But i t was kmown that he picked from the novel the most stinging passages and published them first privately and later he pr inted a large number which circulated freely in Spai.n. He hid his identity under the n01n de plume of "A Spaniard of long residence in the Philippines."

In 1889 Fr. Font was appointed by the Augustinians their representative in Spain. (E. Alzona)

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them, insulting them with ecclesiastical approval! Afer all, it's well done! Who orders them to answer and reply?"

"We, the imitators and ministers of Christ, if they insult us in the booklets, ought to be compelled to read them, above all if they have indulgences, and they ought to prohibit us to answer and defend ourselves. That is why we have the vow of pride. .. Forthwith I'm going to the Minister to ask him to order any priest of my faith to be flogged who, for pride, does not say amen to every thing and respect the truth. Thus, he will see that, though I'm a plain man, I don't lack love for justice ... " And he looks for his shoes with holes because the ones he is wearing have no soles. The good Augustinian has to walk until the Ministry for he does not have a cent to pay for carfare. And in spite of the fact that he had taken a vow of riches!

- "Salvadorcito, Salvadorcito!" shouts the telephone.

Salvadorcito re ognizes the voice of the Provincial and trembles. Salvadorcito is very obedient.

- "At your service, Father!" he replies and kneels beside the telephone in order to be more respectful, though the vote of pride prohibits it.

- "How have you allowed yourself to be tempted by the enemy of evil, accepting in a moment the proposal to give as an estate?"

- "How, my son? Didn't you see in it a trap that the enemy is laying out for us, undoubtedly inspired by the damned Rizal so that thus we would become rich, proud, powerful, and dissolute, because the hapless Calambaino does not want any other thing but for us to fulfill our votes of riches, pride, and lechery that the blasphemous founders have adopted? Nothing, don't listen again to such offers. Nothing! We here not only work and build our churches with our hands, not only do we plant and help the poor, but also we give away the little that they give us to the rich and proud so that they may tyrannize us, so that their avarice may increase and they may exploit and ruin us further, so

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that they may put us in jail, banish us, etc. . . . Thus we propagate the law of Christ everywhere, we preach it on the islands where they banish us, more imitators come along. . . Hence, there is not a single Igorot, there is not a single heathen in the mountains, all have been baptized, and all exploit us for being Christians. What you should propose to the Minister, so that our teaching may triumph, is for him to imitate the Roman praetors, sending us cruel, sanguinary rulers who trample the laws and persecute us. Thus the sleeping will wake up, the lukewarm will be encouraged, the attention of the indifferent who are numerous, very numerous, will be attracted ... Remember that in order to make a cause triumph it is necessary to persecute it ... Go and may they persecute us!. In the meantime I impose upon you as penitence, on you who are neither windy nor a comedian, that you let yourself be photographed in different positions, but always in a meditating attitude, writing a sermon, holding a pen and seated beside a lamp, with eyeglasses, though you may not need them. Do you understand? Expose the photographs to the public so that everybody may say, though he may not believe it: "What a thinker he is! What a grand orator Salvadorcito Tont must be! He is always writing sermons. Neither has he time for picture-taking!" This will make you suffer, because ,though you have vows of riches, pride, and lechery, you don't mind them ... ! Don't forget to have yourself photographed in pensive attitude and as a comedian! With God!" - "Yours will be done! moans Salvadorcito resignedly and his whole house is filled with lamentations.

Salvadorcito was so humble that it martyrized him to appear in public, though it might only be in photograph. Hence when he had to preach, he used a sonorous and hollow voice to frighten his listeners and see if they would let him alone.

- "Salvadorcito, Salvadorcito!" the telephone shouts agaIn. - "At your service, Father!" replies the good procurator and this time he goes on all fours in order to hear more reverently his provincial.

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- "Ask the Minister not to make Father Rodriguez bishop; tell him that he is very busy searching and composing words derived from Calamba, now Calambano, now Calambaino, Calaino, Calainos. If you could see how much trouble it costs him! He sweats, which is a pleasure to see. He has no time to be bishop, though he could be useful, for he is condemned by Our Father St. Augustine to be stupid his whole life. Let them not make him bishop for God's sake!"

- "It is not the Minister who wants to make him bishop; it is the Dominicans who thus manage to avoid the office for their spirit of pride !" replies Salvadorcito.

- "Well, tell the Minister that for bishops there is nothing like the Dominicans. Here I know one who is such a friend of the Indios and enemy of our Holy Faith that he does not permit the Chinese to take part in the ceremonies, for it is known that as soon as they leave the country they abandon Christianity; they become Christians for selfish reasons. The worse the Christians are the better they are. The Dominicans know it, and though the Chinese give and offer them money, they don't accept it. Oh no, no sir! They see to it that the Indios do not quarrel with the mestizos nor the latter with the Chinese, against the expressed order of divine and rule that Christ gave. For this disobedience they should be made bishops, a mitre should be placed over their heads as a sign of pride, like the Assyrian and Persian priests who wore it. This people follows Machiavelli, the wicked Machiavelli, who said that it was necessary to preach peace and concord.

Speaking about concord, you know Salvadorcito, that Fr. Baldomero and another one went to visit a school with this name, which is a girls' school, if your memory does not fail you . .. Naturally, neither did they visit the dormitories while the girls were dressing and changing their clothes nor did they speak with the prettiest, and the few times they exchanged words it was not in the dark nor behind the doors nor far from the rest. . . Ah! the martyrdom that they suffered, ah! they who are so decorous, so virtuous, so candid! And the nuns so churlish, so little accommodating, so little tolerant! All the time they were there they spoke only of God remaining tearful and compunctions!"

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- "Alas! Alas! Alas!"

- "What is happening to you, Salvadorcito?"

"Free me from being Procurator, because here I'm suffering what Baldomero and the other must have suffered in the girls' school .. . How many pretty girls and women. .. U y! I want to return to Manila! Madrid is lost!

- "Here the Indios will put you in jail and will banish you without trial! For writing a secret report . .. " - "Never mind!"

- "You'll die of hunger and you'll not go riding!"

- "Here I walk."

-"Look, you'll have to salute the Indios, or if not, they charge you administratively and banish you."

-"N ever mind! I prefer all this to living among pretty women ... " - "Look out, if you don't please the Gobernadorcillo in everything, he will accuse you of being anti. d ... " SpanIar - "I'll protest, I'll say that I love Spain."

- "They will not believe you because the Indios are very rich and they publish booklets against the friars with license from higher authorities . .. " - "Well, what must I do? What must I do?"

- "Stay there as Procurator!"

- "Alas!"

- "Give presents of Chinese and Japanese objects to the ministers, deputies, and senators to achieve your goal."

- "Yes, that is it, Chinese style! And what more?"

- "Wait until they make you bishop."

- "Alas! Alas!

- "And afterwards cardinal."

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"Alas! Alas! Alas!"

- "But for the present you must work so that the Government may bestow crosses, estates, and positions on our enemies ... " - "And if they rise in revolt and say that we are the ones doing it because we are bistirufelos."* Silence.

-"What do you say of bistirufelismo?" asks Salvadorcito.

Silence.

-"Father Provincial, what is bistirufelismo?

-"Bistirufelismo?" answers a voice at last. "Tell the Minister that it does not exist, but if he wants it to exist, let him believe in its existence, and it will exist.

Tell him that we have already suffered much, we suffer, and we shall suffer yet. but as in this life nothing is eternal, our sufferings will one day have its limit, on the day when we shall be convinced that the government is on the ide of our enemies."

* Anagram of filibusteros, the name given by the Spanish authorities to the Filipinos who criticized the government.

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MARIANG MAKILING

In my town a legend is preserved-the legend of Mariang Makiling. She was a young woman who lived in the beautiful mountain that separates the provinces of La Laguna and Tayabas. The place of her abode was never known exactly, because those who had the good luck of meeting her after getting lost wandering for a long time in the forests neither had been able to return nor had found the road nor agreed on the site and its description. While some give as her dwelling a beautiful palace, glittering like a gold locket, surrounded with gardens and beautiful parks, others affirm that they had seen only a wretched hut, with patched roof and sawali* walls. That such contradictory reports can give place to the belief that the ones as well as the others are lying gracefully is true; but it may also be true that Mariang Makiling, like many well-to-do people, had two dwellings.

According to eyewitnesses she was a young woman. tall, svelte, with large and black eves and long and abundant hair. Her color was clear light brown-kayumangging kaligatan, as the Tagalogs call it; her hands and feet, small and very dainty, and the expression of her countenance, always serious and dignified. She was a fantastic creature, half nymph, half sylph, born to the moonbeams of the Philippines, in the mystery of her august forests, and to the cooing of the waves of the neighbouring lake. According to the general belief and contrary to the reputation attributed to nymps and goddesses, Mariang Makiling remained always a virgin, simple and mysterious, like the spirit of the mountain.

An old female servant that we had - an Amazon who defended her house against bandits and killed one of them with a thrust of a spear - assured me that she had seen her in her childhood passing in the distance * Split bamboo woven in panels suitable for walls. (E.A.) Published in La Solidaridad, 31 December 1890, vol. II, No. 46, pp.

297-299. Signed Laong Laan.

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over the kogon* fields so nimble and so airy that she scarcely made the flexible leaves bend. They say that on Good Friday nights, \vhen hunters build bonfires to attract deer with the odor of ashes of which they are very fond, they have discerned her, motionless, on the edge of the most dangerous abysses, letting her long hair float in the wind, all bathed in the moonlight.

They say also that at times she has deigned to come near them. Then she saluted ceremoniously, she passed by and disappeared under the shadows of the nearby trees. As to the rest, all liked her and respected her, and no one ever dared to question her, to follow her, or to watch her. She also has been seen seated long hours on a rock, on the banks of a river. as if contemplating the slow course of the water. No old hunter is wanting who assures having seen her bathing in some hidden spring at midnight when the verv same cicades sleep, when the moon reigns in the midst of silence, and nothing disturbs the charm of solitude. In those same hours and in the midst of the very same circumstances the sound of her harp is also heard, mysterious and melancholy. i.rhose who hear it stop, because it moves away and is extinguished when it is sought.

Her favorite time for a stroll, according to what they say, was after a storm; then she was seen walking through the fields and where she passed life, order, and calm were reborn. The trees straightened up again their stooped trunks; the rivers confined themselves in their beds and the traces of the unchained elements were erased.

When the poor rural folks of the slopes of Makiling needed clothes or jewels for the formalities of life, she loaned them on condition that they would return them to her and give her besides a hen, white as milk, and which has not yet laid eggs, a dumalaga as they call it. Mariang Makiling waS very charitable and had a good heart. How many times has she not helped, taking the form of a simple country girl, poor old women who went to the forest for firewood or to gather wild fruits, slipping to them nuggets of gold, coins, lockets, and jewels! A hunter, who one day was pursuing a * Kogan is tall grass that grows profusely in the Philippines.

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(E. A.)

wild boar across the kogon fields and thorny plants of the thickets, suddenly discovered a hut where the animal hid. Out of the hut came immediately a beautiful young woman who told him tranquilly: "The wild boar belongs to me and you do wrong in pursuing it; but I see that you are very tired, blood is oozing from your arms and legs, come in, then, and eat, and then you can proceed on your way."

Confused and surprised and more, fascinated by the beauty of the young woman, the man entered, ate mechanically everything offered him without succeeding to say a single word. Before leaving, the young woman gave him some pieces of ginger asking him to give them to his wife for her cooking. The hunter placed them in the baat* of his salakot* and after giving thanks, he withdrew resigned. Half way on the road, feeling that the salakot was heavy, he removed many pieces and threw them away. But what was his surprise and his regret when the next day his wife discovered that what they believed to be ginger was solid gold, glittering like an ornamented ray of the sun!

But Mariang Makiling was not always bountiful and complacent with hunters. She took revenge also, though her revenge was never cruel. The lass always retained the tender heart of a woman . .One afternoon two famous hunters were coming down the mountain, carrying some wild boars and deer that they had caught during the day. They met an old woman who asked each one of them for a piece and considering the demand exorbitant they refused to give her. The old woman went away saying that she would inform the owner of those animals at which the hunters laughed loudly.

The night was already advanced and when the two were ne路ar the plain they heard a distant cry, very distant, as if it had come from the peak of the mountain. The cry was strange and it was: h ".. ' - H uyaa... uyo * Salakot

is a straw helmet used by Filipinos of old.

The baat is the hat band. (E. A.)

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And another cry even more distant answered: h " ' - H uyaa... uyo.

That cry surprised both hunters; they did not know to whom to attribute it. Their dogs upon hearing it 's traightened their ears, grunted a little, and approached them. ' Hardly had some minutes passed when the same cry resounded, but this time it was on the slope of the mountain. When the dogs heard it, they put their tails between their legs and they stuck to their masters as if looking for protection. The masters in their turn looked at each other astonished without saying a word, questioning each other with their glance. They were surori$ed that those who were uttering those cries had walked so much in so short a time.

Now on the plain the sinister cry resounded again; but this time it was so clear and so distinct that both instinctively turned their heads. Then, in the moonlight, they discerned tw colossal forms, strange, coming down the mountains very rapidly. One of the hunters.. the most intrepid, wanted to stop and load a rifle; but dragged by the other, he also started running with the speed that the weight he carried permitted him. But the strange beings were approaching, their footsteps could be heard. so that having arrived at a spring that they call Bukal, they threw down their burdens, they climbed a tree, and from there they awaited the arrival of the monsters, raising the trigger of their rifles. Their dogs, ' in the meantime, upon seeing themselves unprotected, full of panicky terror, started to flee towards the town without uttering a single bark.

The monsters arrived and their look curdled the blood in the veins of the hunters. The one who related to me this adventure, a nephew of one of the hunters, could never describe to me the shape of the strange beings. The only detail he gave me was their enormously long fangs that glistened in the moonlight - it was the only thing he heard from his uncle. In a few minutes they ate the wild boars and deer that they found on the ground, heading toward the mountains afterwards.

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Only then did the hunters recover consciousness, and the more spirited aimed, but the shot did not come out and the monsters disappeared.

It was never known that Mariang Makiling had

parents, brothers, or relatives: Characters of that kind come out of nature like the stones that the Tagalogs call mutya. Her true name was neither known; they called her Maria just to give her a name. They never saw her enter the town nor take part in any religious ceremony. She remained always the same, and the five or six generations that knew her saw her always young, fresh, nimble, and pure. But it is already many years that her presence has not been noted in Makiling.

Her vaporous silhouette no longer wanders through the deep valleys nor cruises the cascades in the calm moonlight nights. The melancholy accent of her mysterious harp is no longer heard, and now lovers marry without receiving from her neither jewels nor gifts. Mariang Makiling has disappeared or at least avoids contact with men, Some blame for it the people of a certain town who, not only did not want to give the customary white hen, but also neither would return the borrowed clothes. Of course they reject energetically such an accusation, and they say that Mariang Makiling is offended because the Dominican friars want to strip her of her domains, appropriating half of the mountain. But an old woodcutter who spent sixty-five years of the seventy that he lived in the dense forests of Makiling knocking down the most venerable trees, has given me another version that, if it is not very well-known, it has at least greater appearance of probability.

On the slope of the mountain lived a young man engaged in tilling a small farmland and he was the support of his aged and sickly parents. Good-looking, spruce, robust, and industrious, he possessed a noble and simple heart, though he was somewhat taciturn and uncommunicative. His cultivated fields were considered the most beautiful and best tended. On them the locusts never desecended, the typhoons seemed to respect them, drought did not parch them, nor did the seed rot when

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the torrential rains inundated the neighboring fields.

Never did pestilence decimate his livestock, and if any went astray during the day, it surely returned at nightfall, as if an invisible hand had fetched it. Such fortunate luck some attributed to certain mutya, and amulets, others to the protection of a saint, and other to Heaven which protected and rewarded good sons.

However, the behavior of the young man was quite mysterious, he spent his leisure time wandering the mountain, seated beside some torrent, at times speaking by himself or seemingly listening to strange voices.

In the meantime the time for entering the military service arrived. God knows how much young men, and mothers above all, feared it ! Youth, home, family, good feelings, personal dignity, and at times honor, goodbye!

The seven or eight years of life in the barracks, brutalizing and vicious, in which rude interjections paraphrase military despotism armed even with the whip present themselves to the imagination of the young man like a long night that parche4 the most beautiful and sanest of his life, i'tf which one sleeps with tears in his eyes and dreams horrible nightmare, to wake up old, useless, corrupted, bloodthirsty, and cruel. Thus many have been seen cut off their fingers in order to be exempted from military service; others have pulled out their incisors at the time when it was necessary to bite the cartridges; others have fled to the mountafns, making themselves bandits, and not a few had committed suicide. However the best orecaution against this misfortune was marriage, and the parents of our young men decided to marry him to a well-bred and industrious girl, who lived not far in the same mountain.

Although the young man did not appear very enthusiastic about such a project, he accepted it nevertheless in order to escape the military service, and next, in order not to abandon his old parents. As he had no blemish whatever, the marriage was arranged quickly and the wedding day was fixed.

Notwithstanding, as the happy day drew near, the bridegroom became more taciturn and even less communicative. He disappeared for long hours, and when

-lOS路-

he returned, he was observed to be dispirited, and many times he did not answer when he questioned.

On the eve of the wedding, at night when he returned from the house of his future bride, there appeared before him a young woman of extraordinary beauty.-"I did not want any more to let you see me", she said to him in a sweet tone, mingled with pity and compassion; "but I come to bring you my gift, the dress and jewels of your betrothed. I have protected you and I have loved you because I saw you were good and industrious, and I had wished you had been devoted to me. Go! Inasmuch as earthly love is necessary to you; inasmuch as you have had no courage either to face a hard lot to defend your liberty and make yourself independent in the bosom of these mountains; inasmuch as you have had no confidence in me, I who would have protected you and your parents, go; I deliver you to your fate, live, and struggle alone; live as you can."

And having said this, the young woman moved away and was lost in the shadows. He remained motionless as if perified. Afterwards he took two or three steps as if to follow her, but she had already disappeared. He picked up silently the bundle that the young woman had deposited at his feet and entered his house.

The bride neither put on the dress nor wore jewels, and since then Mariang Makiling did not appear any more to the country folk.

The woodcutter who related to me this story never wanted to tell me the name of its hero.

Whether this is true or not, I don't know. Several times I have wandered through the slopes of Makiling and instead of devoting myself to killing the poor doves that tell their love on the high treetops, remembering Mariang Makiling, I have evoked her; I have listened attentively in the silence of the forest to perceive the harmonies of her melancholy instrument and I have stayed until nighttime to see if I could discern her ideal figure floating in the air half illuminated by a ray of moonlight that filtered through the dense foliage. I saw nothing, I heard nothing. Later I climbed until the very -109-

peak of the mountain (that famous ascent that the friars called filibustera, in spite of the fact that an officers and a soldier of the Civil Guard came with us, tourists,) and we saw delightful spots, enchanting places, worthy to be inhabited by gods and goddesses. Tall trees with straight and moss-covered trunks among whose branches lianas wove most beautiful laces embroidered with flowers; parasitic plants vyingly rare and varied from the filiform shape to the broad leaf, indented, crannied, or circular; giant ferms; palms of all kinds, svelte and graceful, which spread their symmetrical leaves in space like splendid plumage-all these and more we saw and admired, stopping on our way several times to remain enraptured; but neither the enchanted palace nor the humble hut of Mariang Makiling could be glimpsed.

} I

Translated from the Spanish by Encarnacion Alzona 25-26 September

1958.

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AFTER MASS

The music stopped and Father Agat6n's Mass was finished. The church reverberated with the murmuring and the clatter of the slippers of those who were going out. Crowding and perspiring on account of the heat and drowsiness, some were winking, some were yawning, and even making the sign of the cross and pushing each other in dipping their fingers in holy water placed in two nicked bowls near the door. In the bumping children whimpered, oldsters scolded, and mouth frothed, a young woman nudged, with knitted brow and looking sullently at the young man next to her, as if no more of the holy water dirty, muddy, dwelling-place of mosquito larvae, would be left her. Such was the grabbing for holy water just to wet the finger to make the sign of the cross on the forehead, nape, hypogastrium, and other parts of the body. The men held high their helmet or hat for fear of being crushed. The women held down their veils lest they fall; there were clothes that were crum pled, there were thin clothes that were torn, there ' were people losing their slippers and were insisting on going back to retrieve them, but they were pushed forward by the many shoves of town officials who were going out with raised staff, symbol of their authority.

So that to one who does not know Filipino custom this jostling and grabbing for water are frightening and he might think that the church was on fire, except that there were some women who remained seated trusting in God, who did not go out but prayed loudly and shouting as if they wanted to say: - "Here, you look at us: we are pious. Weare not satisfied with the length of the Mass!"

Perhaps if the majority were asked why they were jostling for that holy water, and what was its excellence five percent, at the most would be able to answer correctly. The ninety-five percent, dip their finger because it is the custom. He is a savage who leaves the -111-

church without making the sign of the cross. You may rather be a revenue officer than fail to observe custom.

However, if we are going to analyze the mind of all those people on that Sunday, Passion Sunday, and ask many why they were in a great hurry, whether i4 was fear to be suffocated and closed up inside, or whether it was the pleasant breeze blowing outside and moving every plant al)d flower in the patio, perhaps they might be able to say more. In the eyes of every one, in their glances and winking even inside the church can be read a secret question. . - "What happened .to the former parish priest?" was the question of an old pious woman who could not refrain from asking another beside her who was toothless and hollow-cheeked.

And in order to cover up her inquiry made especially inside the church, the old pious woman made the sign of the cross and excla~med, "Susmariosep" . ( Jesus Mary, Joseph 1) - "He didn't ~ven give us Holy Communion ...

What happened to him perchance?"

-"What really happened to him? He said Mass reluctantly. Didn't he? was the reply of the one asked -a stout pious woman who also made the sign of the cross, turned around, faced the altar, and bent slightly.

"Only thing lacking was for him to throw around the candles. Ah! Susmariosep!"

- "Perhaps he was already hungry!" said another woman who came near. She was well dressed. "Just think he didn't bless the child of my servant . . . Aba! The candle and the blessing were already paid for. I said, may he be freed fr,om the witchery. Aba! Then next Sunday my servant will again borrow from me to pay for the fee. Aba! He is oewitched! He has already broken many things! I'm in a hurry; I don't like the idea of not blessing everyone!"

This was the talk until they were out of the church.

There the men were gathered to await the young women who were coming out. Those who were standing there -112-

to observe and be observed, were jesting, teasing, and chatting about current happenings. However, on that day, the subject of the conversation was not the pretty girls, not the weather and the heat, but the haste of the curate while saying Mass. They hardly noticed the coming out of Marcela, the most prominent young woman of the town, daughter of Capitan Lucas, who was in power at that time. This Marcela had just come from Manila because of the death of her aunt, sister of her father, who raised her. That was why her dress was black, from the kerchief that covered her head to the stockings that covered her little feet that could be seen in her modest steps. Her straight body, her erect head, her gait, and walk revealed the principal criticism against her, which was her great haughtiness.

Although many who followed her with their glances were distracted, though the conversation stopped for a moment, the questioning about the curate was not forgotten.

- "What happened to our Agaton?" asked everybody.

"Our Agaton" was the pet name of the famed priest.

-"He couldn't even wait for the choristers to finish, ah!"

-"How he pushed about the missal ... " -"He said the Dominus vobiscum hastily " -"Our Aton is really devilish; he is abusing!

-"Some day he will just show his bottom to us .... " -"Maybe he is taking purgative .... !"

I will not relate all the comments of the men and the somewhat coarse jesting. What indeed was happening to the famous priest who used to move gracefully as if he had studied it before a mirror, who extended his arms and inclined his head so well while saying Mass? Why did he hurry the Mass and just murmured, though he was known to sing well and make his voice tremble when he says Oremus? He was list-

- 路 113路

less to the Mass, singers, communion, Oremus, and other shows, and he went about the Mass hurriedly as if he was not paid. Precisely the distinguished Marcela, the young woman on whom the curate had been calling every night since her ~rrival, was attending Mass. What happened to Fr. Agaton that he didn't give communion to all who were hungry for the flesh of the Lord, though he used to be very inquisitive at confession and zealous in giving communion?

While this was the topic of conversation at the door, the aristocracy were assembling in preparation for going up the convent to kiss the hand of the curate, in accordance with custom. If the minds of the townspeople were disturbed by every move of the curate and they were discussing nothing else but its cause, the aristocrats were also worried and it was obvious because they could hardly move especially the Captain, the famed Capt. Lucas, who was speechless.

That morning Was different from all others. He could only cough softly, look around, and it seemed he would not dare ta e a step and lead as formerly. The suspicion of those who noticed him was that he was afraid and he might have done something wrong.

Capt. Lucas was known to be brave, a real man, especially when he talked with a subordinate and inferior to him, though when he was in front of a priest, a Spaniard, or anyone who held office, his stiff neck bended, his stern eyes were lowered, and his usual shouts became a whisper.

Capt. Lucas would not dare go up the convent for fear of being rebuked by Fr. Agaton. It was true that he was good in ingratiating himself. There was no move, no smile, no glance of . the priest that he did not consider because of his desire to serve him and to become a captain again. During the Mass, Capt.

Lucas examined his mind: He gave generously for Masses, excellent funerals; he always kissed the priest's hand; just yesterday the priest playfully knocked him on the head and stroke his nape because of his gift of two capons that he had confiscated from a farm worker.

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It occurred to him that the priest might have heard that he had read a forbidden book, newspaper, and others with bold ideas, and he became afraid. But why should he show his anger at the Mass? Maybe he had been reported by his former rival, the wealthy Capt. Tibong, his contender for his position. There is nobody else but this one, so that when he looked at him from the corner of his eyes, Capt. Tibong looked glad and even seemed to be smiling. He became terrified and in his ears there sounded the stern rebuke, shouts, and scolding. He could almost see Capt. Tibong as captain and he would be jobless. He had a cold perspiration and he glanced with condescension at the seat of his enemy.

He was indeed very sad when the Mass ended and he went out as if dreaming. He pushed through the crowd, he dipped his finger in the holy water and made the sign of the cross listlessly, because his mind was faraway. Adding to his fear were the people's talk and comments and his conjecture about the cause of the curate's ire.

Capt. Lucas, like one being carried away by a flood without anything to hold on, was looking around in search of help. On the face of everyone, was the insulting laughter, the painful giggle, because everyone under him hated him and was tired of him. Only on the face of one clerk did he notice pity, on the face of Isagani, but a useless pity, like that on the face of an image.

In order to conceal his apprehension and fear, he pretended to be brave and to be angry. He observed around him and he remembered the curate's order concerning the following Palm Sunday. He spoke to the barangay heads and inquired from them about the bamboo and the posts to be used for the platform. Might lightning strike them for they wanted to be scolded by the curate. Because they were responsible. What did the bedevilled men do that they did not order bamboo to be brought to town? Would they tie the canvas to the sky? He would have them all

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whipped twenty-five strokes each if the curate scolded him on their account. . . .

He said many other things, and in pretending to be angry, he ended by being really angry. The barangay heads replied that there was still plenty of time, because if the bamboo and posts were ordered cut early, they would only pile up, and that would make the curate angry and he might run after them with a whip, like the last Candlemas.

Capt. Lucas didn't say anything more in behalf of the curate especially after he heard the curate pursuing the barangay heads with a whip. He could almost see that he also might be pursued, and already he seemed to feel the blow of the whip on his back.

He became depressed and thought of going home and pretending to be sick; but he thought also that the priest might get more angry with him because he had not kissed his hand. He hesitated, knitted his browthe two-finger-width brow that God had granted to him. He was debating between two fears - the curate's rebuke befo e everyone and the curate might not let him be captain again because of his anger.

At that moment a servant of the curate arrived in a hurry.

-"Hurry up", he said to the captain, "because the curate is waiting. He is very hot-headed today!"

-"What? Is he waiting for us?" confusedly replied Capt. Lucas who was stunned. "You! Hurry up!" he said to the heads, "You have already heard: He is 路t路 f or us .... " walIng They walked in a hurry crossing the plaza towards the convent. The former custom after Mass was for the aristocracy to go up the convent through the sacristy; but Fr. Agaton changed this custom. In his desire that everybody might see how the people respected him, he ordered that from the church they should pass through the plaza, the aristocracy walking in an orderly manner.

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The leaders then walked on, the captain at their head, the major lieutenant, Tenienteng Tato, at his left, and at his right the justice of the peace, Mr. Segundo. The townspeople respectfully gave way, the country folks with head uncovered were gazing, full of awe and humility before such honorable men. They walked through the clean street leading to the convent door. On each side were different kinds of plants to gladden the eye and nose of passers-by. The very read hibiscus was made even more brilliant by the dark green young leaves. Mixed with it was the tiny sampaguita1 creeping on the ground and saprkling in the gay sunshine. Beside the motionless frangipani, leafless but loaded with flowers, was the swaying oleander bearing fragrant blooms, the yellow-Ieafted San Francisco, the red flowers of the poinsettia, delightful to look it ....

However the gentlemen didn't notice any of these because their gaze was fixed on the window of the convent to which they were going. All the windows were opened and the spacious interior could be seen from the street. Because of the desire of Fr. Agat6n to let everybody see how his hand was kissed, on Sundays he ordered all windows to be opened which on ordinary days remained closed. Hence he often went near the window and he sat by it while his hand was being kissed, pretending to be looking at the young ladies coming out of the church.

They saw from afar the well-proportioned figure of the priest who was walking fast back and forth, his hands across his back seemingly very angry. He walked back and forth in the hall and now and then he looked out at the street and his eyeglasses were sparkling. When he saw the arrival of the gentlemen, he seemed to be shocked and he stopped walking and looked out the window. He bowed in a bored manner and then rested his two hands on the sill. Capt.

Lucas bowed forthwith. He immediately hastened his steps. His heart palpitated violently and he prayed to all the patron saints and promised to offer Masses provided he would not be scolded.

1

J asminum sambac Ilt.

~117-

At the stairs they were met by a servant who told them softly: -"You may all go home the master said".

-"And why?" was the surprised question of Capt.

Lucas.

-"He is very angry. . .. He has been waiting for you a long time. He told me to tell you that he is not used to waiting for anyone."

Capt. Lucas turned pale and he almost fainted when he heard this. He became dumb and couldn't answer at once. He wiped his forehead and leaned on the latch.

-"Is he mad? What is he mad about?"

-"I don't know, sir!" whispered the servant. "No one can approach him. He threw to the cook the cup of chocolate."

Capt. Lucas wiped again his forehead, and he couldn't speak.

-"Is Mrs. Anday there?" he asked softly.

-"She is here, sir, but she has been scolded also," replied the servant.

And he added very softly: "He slapped her!"

Captain Lucas gaped and he lost consciousness.

He slapped Mrs. Anday! Had lightning struck beside him he would not have been so surprised as when he heard that news. He slapped Mrs. Anday, though Mrs. Anday was the only one the curate bowed to!

Someone coughed inside.

-"You go home now because the priest may hear you and chase you!" the servant added.

Capt. Lucas didn't wait for the servant to repeat advice. He went down hurriedly followed by all the gentlemen for fear that Fr. Agaton might come out with the cudgel.

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When he had gone out, he began thinking to recover his courage. He wiped his face again and in order to have something to say to his companions, he said: -"What happened to Fr. Agaton?"

-"What happened to him really?" replied the lieutenant major.

-"Really, what happened to him?" asked the justice of the peace. And they all proceeded to the town hall.

It was true that Fr. Agaton's anger was not a mere joke.

After Mass and he had pulled off all his vastments, he went up the convent hurriedly, sat down at breakfast, and when he was burned by the chocolate, he threw the cup to the cook.

Mrs. Anday, who had just come from Mass, wearing her best jewels, was met by the priest and he slapped her so hard that she almost fell down the stairs. Hence she hurriedly went down and went home.

Nobody in the whole convent find out the cause of the priest's anger. He was still cool-headed before the Mass, he even smiled at the report that many candles had been sold and so he even gave the principal sacristan a half-peso. What did he notice during the Mass that he disapproved of? The church was full of people; the most beautiful girls were kneeling near the altar, and though Marcela was farther, she could be seen very well beside Mrs. Anday's seat. The principal sacristan could not explain it.

It was not usual for Fr. Agaton to have an attack of whimsy, like other priests. Ordinarly he was in good humor, pleasant, and gay, especially when there were many offerings of Masses, the funerals were elaborate, and all his orders were followed. He had been parish priest of the town of Tulig for ten years. He was still young when he came; he was only twenty-eight years old, and during that time he got alone well with the townspeople.

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It was true that he was a little hot-headed, he beat people hard when he was angry, and he banished some poor people to a distant place and imprisoned some for years; but all of this was a small speck beside his good disposition. The people went to him whenever they needed anything at the provincial capital. He was the one courted by whomsoever wished to become town captain or wanted to win in a litigation. He was the head, the defender, he was almost the shield of the people against any violent desire of other officials. It was true that he was somewhat naughty with women, especially when he had just arrived and was young, but the people could not say much against him. He married off well, all those women he had spoiled, and he gave them houses and capital, unlike other young men who destroyed but did not build. Moreover, he had stopped altogether ever since he came to know Mrs. Anday. Only now that Marcela had come home from Manila, o{lly now was he again disturbed. He visited her often~ for the young lady was beautiful and the father was his frienr, but nothing could be said out of the ortlinary. It was true that some poor people were complaining about the high fees, for funerals, baptism, and other church services. However, many people knew that poor people were always complaining and in truth the rich were satisfied with their parish priest and they even rivaled one another in paying him high fees.

The famous curate was almost a pearl of the town so that the concern of everyone was to study his wishes and compete with one another in complying with all his orders. They competed with one another in serving him, in giving him gifts, and as evidence, his kitchen and pantry were always abundantly supplied. For the curate was the white and new rice; for the curate was the fat chicken; the fleshy cow, the pig and deer caught in the trap, the birds shot, the big fish caught in the sea, the fat lobster and the best and delicious fruits. Besides these offerings of the rich, which enabled the priests and his servants to live without any expense, following one after another were the gifts of hand-woven handkerchiefs, the piles and piles of fire-

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wood from country folks who could not give enough and all the gifts of those asking for favors for fathers who were imprisoned, for a brother who had been arrested, for those whose work animals had been confiscated by the civil guard, for relatives at the provincial capital the cause of whose trouble was unknown.

For all this, just one letter, one message or one word, of the curate could free the prisoner, the detained would be able to go home, the animals would be returned, and those disturbed would have tranquility.

People could not say anything against Mrs. Anday; they praised and honored her. Because, in very difficult cases, for example in cases of robbery or banditry, the poor all went to Mrs. Anday and through her effective mediation no one was disgraced, no one was given the water-cure, no one was disappointed. That was why if people regarded the curate as a god with shaved head, they looked upon Mrs. Anday as the Virgin with the navel- she was kind and cheaper than some wooden Virgins who were worshipped.

It was not to be wondered at that Tulig became alarmed when it learned that the curate was angry.

If the bright sun suddenly darkened, if the abundant spring dried and the mountains quaked, who would not be uneasy and become afraid? Fr. Agaton to the people of Tulig was like the bright sun, sweet spring, the fragrant northeast wind, the fertile mountain side, and apart from this, he was the father of the soul.

No one had any foreboding that Fr. Agaton might lose his mind. The head of everyone would turn mad before that of Fr. Agaton. Hence at the town hall, after Mass, there was no other topic of conversation among the g~ntlemen except the cause of the priest's anger. Though they debated and sighed, they could not discover the cause, they could say nothing else but that our curate was angry. Because they heard that Mrs. Anday was slapped they could not ....

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-

,

THE LEGEND OF DONA GERONIMA THE ENCHANTED

Between San Pedro Makati and Malapad-na-bato, at the right bank of the Pasig River, is found a grotto whose entrance, a perfect arch, reveals the prosaic human hand; but nature and time have corrected it, adorning it with a beautiful lace of lianas and climbing plants. The entrance is walled up and the grotto is moving more and more away from the river, or more exactly, the river is moving farther away from her; for in 1863 our canoe almost grazed its entrance as it passed by it. At that time I heard the following legend about this cave and the one who spent her days there.

A Manila ar~hbishop in his youth and a certain love-affair with a maiden whom he promised to marry. Perhaps the fu ure prelate soon forget his promise, for shortly after he entered a seminary and became a priest. But not so the young woman who remained faithful, waiting for the return of the forgetful lover.

Some years passe-d by, and the news reached the ears of the poor maiden that her lover has become the Archbishop of Manila. She dressed like a man and defying the thousand perils of traveling at that time - a journey that lasted almost six or seven months - she went to Manila to ask for an accounting from her unfaithful lover. It is said that the Archbishop received her well and excused himself as best he could and gave her for her home the cave which can still be seen today. The imagination of the Filipinos gilded the legend of this unfortunate lover, assuming her to be enchanted. It is said that she was so fat that she had to enter the cave sidewise, for the width of the entrance did not allow her to enter it abreast. But what has I

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most attracted the attention of the Filipinos was her custom of throwing her silver table service into the river after her meals and getting it back when she needed it.

(This is the reason for her fame of being enchanted.

Perhaps there was a net spread out in the river, like the salambaw, which she used for this purpose, an ingenious and easy method of cleaning her utensils.)

Jose Rizal

Translated ' from ¡the Spanish by E. A. Photostat copy of the Bureau of Public Libraries used. 18 July 1957. , â&#x20AC;˘ 13-2 .:.'

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THE TORTOISE AND THE MONKEY

Once the tortoise and the monkey found a banana tree floating on a river. It was a grand trunk with many green leaves, with its roots whole, exactly as if a storm had just uprotted it. The . two took it to the bank.

-"Let us divide it," said the tortoise, "and each one plant his share."

They cut it in the middle, and the monkey being the stronger one, took for himself the upper part, thinking that as it had leaves, it would grow more rapidly.

The tortoise being weaker was left with the lower part which seemed dead though it did have roots. After a few days they met.

-"Good morning, Mr. Monkey," said the tortoise, "How is your banana plant 1 ' -"Oh!" replied the monkey, "It has been dead for a long time! And yours, Miss Tortoise 1" -"Mine 1 Very well, certainly! With leaves and fruits. Only I can't climb it to gather the fruits."

-"Don't worry about it", said the wicked monkey.

"I'm going to climb it and pick them for you."

-"Thanks in advance, Mr. Monkey," replied the tortoise gratefully.

The two went to the tortoise's house. As soon as the monkey glimpsed the beautiful bunch of bright yellow bananas between the bread green leaves, he hurled himself toward them, climbing with incredible agility and began eating them rapidly, laughing and grInnIng. -"But, give me some also! begged the tortoise, seeing that the monkey did not mind her in the least.

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-"Not even the pealing!" replied the rascal with two cheeks full.

The tortoise thought of taking revenge. He went to the river, gathered some thorns and shells and arranged them around the banana tree, hiding himself under a coconut shell. When the monkey came down he was hurt and began to bleed.

He went to look for the tortoise finding her with great difficulty.

-"You, infamous creature, here I have you at last I" he said. "You have to pay me for everything, you ought to die. But, as I'm very generous, I'll leave to you the choice of the manner of your death. Which do you prefer? I chop you in a mortar or I throw you into the water?"

-"The mortar, chop me in the mortar!" exclaimed the tortoise. "I'm so afraid to drown!"

-"Oh!" said the monkey laughing, so you are afraid to drown ? Well then, I'm going to drown you."

And taking her to the river bank, he threw her with all his might into the river. But soon the tortoise reappeared, swimming and mocking the deceived monkey, but nonetheless wicked monkey.

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A REMINDER TO THOSE FOND OF LAWSUITS

Once two friends found a clam near the sea. They debated as to who would have it.

-"I", one said, "saw it first".

-"But I picked it up", replied his friend.

They went to court and asked the judge to settle the question. The judge opened the shell, ate the meat, and divided the shell between the litigants.

A reminder to those fond of resorting to the courts of justice.

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REl'AINISCENCES OF A COCK

I saw for the first time not the light of day but night under a house. My cradle was a cane basket full of straw in which were found other little chicks like myself among the shells of broken eggs. In our midst was our mother whose warmth kept as a little from the cold, for our short plumage could scarcely protect us from the inclemency of the weather. I was very gay without knowing why, perhaps for the pleasure of finding myself at liberty, perhaps for finding other brothers and playmates or for enjoying the lukewarm contact of our progenitor. The case was that I was very cheerful and I chirped from time to time with such satisfaction that my mother turned her head to look at me as if surprised at the pleasure that enraptured me.

I tried to make use of my little legs and jumping from chick to chick I was chirping and talking with them as if congratulating them. They were ten and with me eleven fat, rounded chicks with their tiny beaks and a head rather big than small. We chirped and we were all full of the joy and satisfaction wholly of chickens.

"Little ones!" our mother would say to us, "Don't make so much noise; chirp softly for they are still sleeping upstairs." vVe kept quiet though we didn't know who were sleeping.

You'll be surprised that we know how to talk and we understand each other upon coming out of the egg.

You're a man and you can well doubt it, because men are born lacking everything and ignorant, for they have all the cares of their parents and other relatives, and as they live a long time, they have time to learn language and other usages. But we chicks have only our mother and we are so many children! A mother so poor and needy, without resources like us. What would happen to us if for the short life that man grants us we

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had to learn to talk and they had to teach us word for word? I have learned that the children of men take three, four, or more years to talk and be able to express themselves imperfectly. If we had to study, we who don't have much brain and memory, we would die before we could express one wish. Nature, then, provident and just endows us with many things that you men lack at the beginning, though later you perfect them in an incomprehensible manner.

Let us speak our language then, probably imperfect but very expressive. And while we little ones were discussing who could be those sleeping upstairs, indulging in our conjectures, our mother spoke to us in this manner: .

"Little ones, it's about half an hour ago that due to my pecking I broke the cover that hid you from the world; that is to say, that you're still very young to be able to unders and certain matters. What I can tell you for the pre ent is that just as you, like me, all belong to a man who feeds us and disposes of you as well as of me,' and a sigp accompanied these last words.

I didn't appreciate the value of the sigh and carried away only by curiosity, I asked her: -"What is tliat you call man?"

-"My son, man... man, wait, what shall I tell you? Oh yes, man is a chicken bigger than all of you, very powerful and very strong."

-"Bigger and more powerful than you?"

"Oh, very much more."

We were all stunned! What conjectures we were making, what suppositions! What could that chicken bigger and more powerful than my mama be? .

We were in the midst of these conjectures when we heard a loud, sonorous, prolonged song which seemed to be flung by joy, haughtiness, pride, and boasting.

Translated from the Spanish by Encarnacion Alzona.

An unfinished article by Rizal. Typescript.

10 March 1959

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THE LORD GAZES AT THE PHILIPPINE ISLANDS

Having been relegated to oblivion by the inhabitants of the earth, it has been centuries since God the Father had abandoned the business of this ,Yorld, leaving its management to the saints and other idols in vogue whom they worshipped in their madness. He devoted his attention to others suns and planets, more beautiful and bigger than ours and on whose surface a pure and simple cult was rendered to the Eternal Creator. Each time His omnipotent gaze encountered our little ball which, covered with clouds, rolled in the infinite space. He withdrew it with disgust like a resentful father at the sight of an ungrateful and bad son. And thus, the earth, abandoned to its idols, became enveloped in misery and grief, darkness descended on its surface, and in its bosom passions howled furiously like reptiles locked up in their dens. And the crying of the unfortunate ones and the voices of the victims filled the air, pierced the clouds, and rose to the throne of the Almighty.

Finally the Eternal Creator took pity and one day, putting on his eyeglasses, said to himself: - "Let us see what is going on among the asses on their orangecolored sphere I" God looked toward the earth and by chance he saw precisely a group of islands, mostly mountainous, surrounded by tempestuous seas and shaken by convulsive tremors as if they were coated with quicksilver. And God saw men of different races and color, with skirt, others with pantaloons, the top of whose head was shaven, leaving a circle of hair around it, while the head of others was shaven the opposite way with a large lock of hair in the center, long like that of women.

And all were cutting capers and saying a lot of nonsense, attributing them to Him, the Eternal Father, and * The MS had no title.

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others were cutting more capers and saying more nonsense in the belief that they were pleasing Him. The Eternal Father believed He was seeing visions. He fixed his eyeglasses and looked more attentively.

And He saw that a few who lived without doing anything, oppressed and enslaved the rest, belittled them, fooled them, and still not content, they insulted and mocked them. But what surprised most the Eternal Father was to see them all discontented, and in truth, the oppressors more than the oppressed.

- "Gracious, gracious I" H路e murmured, shaking his head with disgust, and stroke his beard; "It seems that business is going badly in those little islands. "Oh, come here!" He added in a loud voice calling the Archangel Gabriel who was passing nearby.

Gabriel approached Him. -"Do you know the name of those green islands scattered there below with strange inhabitants and stranger customs still?"

Gabriel looked.

-"Of course!" he replied; "for I had there before a temple and a square I" -"Thou, little Gabriel, you have there a temple and a square I" exclaimed the Eternal surprised. You allow such luxuries ... " -"Bah 1 but they have already dispossessed me 1 They have given them to a friar. There everything lands in the hands of the friars I" -"Friars, you say? What beast is that?"

-"Well. .. a friar, a friar is a difficult thing to explain", replied Gabriel perplexed. "A friar ... there's the quid. (1) I myself don't understand it I" -"And what's the name of those little islands?" asked God, looking with much curiosity towards the earth.

-"Well, Philippine Islands!"

(1)

Latin word meaning what.

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-"Aha! so that those are the notorious Philippines, from which come so much... But, tell me, why do they have a name that sounds Spanish when, according to what I hear, their inhabitants don't speak that lana guage?"

-"That's another quid, Eternal Father", replied Gabriel who has become fond of the word when he was in the Philippines; "The inhabitants of those islands are subject to the Spaniards!"

-"Subjects, Gabriel, subjects you say? I have created men free, men are born free. . . all men are equal ... !"

-"That's another quid!"

-"Stop those quibs, Gabriel, and explain yourself better."

-"Gracious! If I had to explain to Your Divine Majesty the things going on their below, we would not understand each other in seven days ... " -"But at least explain to me how having I created the earth for man, for him who cultivates it, and having made all men free and equal, the inhabitants of those islands have become subject to the Spanirds?"

-"Well. .. one Alexander VI in the name of your Divine Majesty ... " -"What, what? In my name? Gracious!" interrupted the Eternal Father losing his self-control; "who is this Alexander VI?" -"Well, that's another quid. . . am", replied Gabriel who could not forget his bad habits, "This Alexander VI, who pretended to rule the world in the name of Your Divine Majesty, was a rascal who had poisoned many, had amorous relations with his daughter ... " -"Jesus, Mary!" interrupted the Father, making the sign of the cross, " Jesus, Mary! And this rascal was ruling in my name, "Sanctus Deus!"

-"As Your Divine Majesty no longer paid attention to the earth... when the master sleeps, the servants and thieves take a holiday!" replied Gabriel with a -131-

certain tone of reproach. "Everybody knows that this Alexander was a crafty scoundrel so that he is execrated and condemned by all honorable men throughout Europe and civilized America and his name has become synonymous with the words immoral, assassin, poisoner, intriguer, incestuous. . . Only, only in those little islands is he esteemed. There they have dedicated to him an entire street which they have named after him!"

-"Is it true? But is that country mad?" But he continued, "You were saying that that scoundrel, misusing my name ... " -"He gave those islands to the Portuguese!"

-"To the Portuguese? But were you not saying that those islands are subject to the Spaniards? What have become then of my name and my prestige路?"

-"That's another. . . I say, I'll explain. Alexander VI, taking advantage of your oversight, divided the earth between the Spaniards and the Portuguese ... " -"But, who authorized him to dispose of the earth which was not his?"

-"Bah, bah! It shows that Your Divine Majesty has been unaware of what's happening on the earth for a long time. Well, the Popes would not stop at anything.

They dispose of the heavens, of the kingdom of Your Divine Majesty, and of Your Divine Majesty yourself!"

-"Dispose of me, dispose of the heavens, you say?" exclaimed God the Father rising.

-"Ay, ay!" Gabriel said; "and not only the Popes, who after all adopt certain airs and have a certain seriousness, but the last friar, tl1e last monkey, as we used to say there in Manila, pretends to send you orders, making you a kind of an executor of their wishes.

Ay, ay, ay!"

-'" Sus Maria, 'Sus Maria. Is it possible 1" exclaimed the Fathe.r taking hold of his venerable head: "Oh tempara, oh mores /* . . . But, go on, go on; you say that he divided the earth between the Spaniards and the Portuguese. "

I

* Oh, the times! Oh, the manners!

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-"And Spain bought them?"

-"No, Sir, quite the contrary! A Portuguese who had a friend in those places won them for the Spaniards ... " -"A Portuguese? So tha.t he turned traitor to his mother country? I don't understand you!"

-"Yes, Father, he turned traitor to his mother country, but he excused himself by saying that his king didn't want to increase his pay."

-"And for that he turned traitor to his king and to his mother country? What did they do to him afterwards?"

-"Erect a monument to him in the Philippines and baptize streets with his name as they did to the other."

-"Another! But do they honor all the rascals over there ?"

The Archangel Gabriel folded his wings. "Know that I no longer have my church", he murmured.

-"But Portugal; what did she do then?" asked the Father who was interested in the tangle.

-"She protested, and Charles, the king of the Spaniards, considering the reasons and for a good sum of money that he then needed, renounced to Portugal whatever rights he might have to those islands."

-"And Portugal took them then?"

-"No, Father. Charles again sent other expeditions to take possession of them without success, until his son at last subdued them by means of trenties, partly through good promises."

-"And that Charles and his son have monuments in the Philippines?"

-"Not yet, but they will have also in time," replied Gabriel.

-"And what did Alexander do on seeing that his orders were not followed? He protested, tried to establish order?'1

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-"Oh no! He had already died, poisoned in his turn.

But strange if he took his orders seriously!"

-"And what did men say when they see my sacred name impaired in such settlements?"

-"What can they say, Eternal Father, but that you don't exist or if You do you abandon them?"

The old God covered his face and then with a sor路 rowful look asked: -"Let's see, Gabriel; since you have been in those islands and it seems that you know them well, what do you think is advisable to remedy their ills?"

-"The Eternal Father is asking for my opinion?"

-"Yes, my son, because their voices have reached me even and I like to put an end to so much misery."

-"As for me I would take hold of those islands ... " And Gabriel made an expressive gesture like one who is crumbling something with his fingers.

-"Like this, EternC})1 Father, like this, and I would make new islands with new inhabitants. Like this, like this!"

-"Well, well," replied the old God in a paternal tone.

"It shows that you are young and you're not used to making mischief. Perahps you're still resentful for having been despoiled of your temple and your square in order to give them to ... how do you call him?"

-"Friar! " -"That's it, friar! What a strange name. I don't re路 member having created such a thing! But don't be revengeful; imitate me. See, they call me the God of Vengeance I who am all merciful! I've given them everything and I haven't any temple there, I who have made all men free, and they misuse my name in order to destroy my work. And nevertheless, not only do I not take revenge but now I wish to make them happy."

-"Well, well" replied Gabriel; "if Your Divine Ma路 jesty does not like to follow my advice, ask that of the others who enjoy great fame in the Philippines:

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There precisely is San Andres, patron of Manila, whose feast day every year is celebrated elaborately with flags, processions, drums, justices, disguised constables, nags, and other antiques!"

And the Archangel after paying his respects withdrew.

II

-"Listen, Andres, what do you know about the Philippines? The old God asked an old man who was passing by with a cross in the form of an X. The old apostle, hearing himself questioned, was scared, and dropped the cross on the sound of the name of the Philippines.

-"Well, what do you advise me to do to establish order in Manila?" The Father continued in a sweet voice, seeing that the other was speechless.

San Andres made a grimace upon hearing the words order and Manila and entrusted himself to all the saints.

-"Go ahead, speak! What do you advise 7" -"I, Lord, I nothing, nothing!" said at last the Apostle.

"I've nothing to do with that country; I want no dealings with those people; I'm a peaceful saint and of few words. Moreover, I'm not a man of learning. May they leave me in peace for they have already given me enough trouble."

-"But, aren't you the patron of Manila?"

-"No, no ... yes ... yes no, Father yes Father ... that's to say, yes ... yes ... but no no '" no."

-"But man, make yourself clear."

San Andres touched the back of his neck, fanned himself with the end of his cape for he was feeling the strain as when he was crucified, and making an effort was at last able to say: -135-

-"Look, Your Divine Majesty, I'm innocent! The story is this. Years after the Spaniards took possession of those islands, many Chinese came who wanted in turn to take them. There they fought, there they killed one another; I didn't meddle in anything, how could I do it? But the victors, in order to sanction their possession and give it an appearance of justice, wanted to drag me in, attributing their victory to my intervention, God save me! saying that the battle took place on my saint's day as if I had anything to do with the things that are done on that day. But the beauty of it is that that day is not my saint's day, because the Spaniards made a mistake in the calendar as a result of having navigated following the sun. Your Divine Majesty can therefore see how innocent I'm of the imputation."

-"And whose saint's day is the date of the battle?"

-"How do I know, Eternal Father," replied San Andres, preparing to leave. "Itseems it is a certain Proculo or a certain Evasio. The Calendar has many saints, let them assume the responsibility!"

Thev looked for the alluded saints but the little angels didn't know them and the Eternal Father without losing his patience, asked: -"But, let's see, what religion is followed in the Philippines?"

The blessed ones looked at one another; the angels asked themselves with their eyes like children who don't know their lesson, until one of them. more mischievous and bolder than the rest, a veritable enfant terrible, replied: -"The Christian religion!"

-"Who said that my religion prevails in those islands?" asked a clear and sonorous masculine voice; who dares to slander it?"

And a tall man, of a serious and stern physiognomy, of a gallant mien, and majestic bearing, advanced in the midst of the blessed, scarching with his eyes the bold little angel. In heaven they called him Jesus and -136-

he was one of the greatest founders of religions. The talkative angel, very much afraid and confused, hid himself behind his companions who were mocking him, saying to him: -"Aba, you well deserved it!"

-"What religion then is practiced in the Philippines?" asked again the Eternal Father looking at everybody; "Those islands then have no religion at all?"

Jesus became more severe and stern than ever, so that though many were looking at him, they didn't dare speak. At last, one who was much older, of Mongolian type, with moustache and bristle-beard, with brown skin and slanting eyes, after a lot of ceremony and bowings, replied in an insinuating and calm voice: -"The just Jesus has said the truth; his religion is not observed in the Philippines, and I dare say that his teaching is completely unknown there. But allow your unworthy disciple Kung Tsen to remind you that though it is true that your divine laws do not prevail there, on the other hand there they misuse your name and in your name commit offences and un-heard of iniquities. I know because my country is a neighbor of the Philippines and many heathens from my country become Christians there for purposes more or less reprehensible, more or less dishonest!"

Kung Tsen's words have much weight in celestial circles, so that Jesus, without being annoyed replied in this manner: -"I agree with Kung Tsen, but I can't be held responsible for the abuses committed in my name by some hypocrites, race of serpents, vipers, whitewashed sepulchres. If the name of the Father is misused, what would they not do with mine? My doctrine is written down and though disfigured, it's there shining, protecting.

They misuse my name because men forget me, because they don't remember that I who have preached love and charity, cannot accept any form of tyranny or oppression. I've taught them to reason, to analyze, to in*A

Tagalog exclamation.

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vestigate, why do they close their eyes? What fault have I if there are blind and stupid men on the earth?

To what ridiculous extent they want to drag me by worshipping me in parts and my vitals, forgetting my teaching, the moral basis of my work, the spirit of my preaching? I disown that race of hypocrites and I would have protested long ago if I didn't know that my mother was involved in the jest."

-"Pardon me, son," replied a good woman with a sweet face and merciful look; "They have misused my name even more than yours and if I have not complained it is in order not to give you any displeasure. Look, there they trade with my love, with my sentiments; they use my name to wring the last centavo from the poor, to ruin the married women, to stain the virgins, to submerge in ignorance and misery entire families.

Now they paint me black, now brown, now white; I who have always lived on my work and never have I asked alms from anyone; I've had to go from town to town, from house to house, begging in order to satiate with gold those who live in gaiety and abundance; they make me a cloak for their dirty linen and love affairs, seller of rosaries, scapularies, and belts, and if sometimes they dress me well, it is for the purpose of making more money as they do with a circus dancer. And not content with this they ascribe to me needs and weaknesses, they suppose that I'm revengeful, grasping, hard-hearted, at times they place me in enmity, contradiction, and rivalry with myself; they make me take a bath, dance; they dress me in ridiculous robes, and with me they commit all kinds of heresy and mischief. Now that you know it, I entreat you, my son, to take me out of these islands, because I can't endure more humiliation. Leave there the saints to deal with them; Agustin, Domingo, Ignacio(l~ are there .... " -"Nequaquam!"(2) protested St. Augustine, "There they have used me ill. My sons, if they are not plain writers, are quack preachers; the best among them is a comedian. I give them to you as a gift."

(1) (2)

St. Augustine, St. Dominic. St. Ignatius Loyola In vain.

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-"Mine are too fat!" replied mournfully the lanky St. Francis; "I prefer to associate with my little animals.

Let Ignatius take care of them, he being the most cunning and enterprising."

-"With much faith and will-power perhaps I could do something," replied Ignatius of Loyola with his fine smile. "My sons are well disciplined and obey my rules, but your sons, my dear Dominic, despite my complaisance towards them, try to obstruct my enterprises, to expell me ... If you could intervene .. . . " -"Who? I, intervene?" replied Dominic; "Yes, any day I First they make me jump with my scapular and my star of false stones. They are capable of anything when you threaten to take away their business. Let the Nuncio and St. Pe~er settle the question."

-"Who's talking about me?" asked a catarrhous voice like that of an old concierge.

It was St. Peter who came forward with his bald head and his hands covered with ink.

-"We were saying", replied St. Dominic, "that you ought to settle things in the Philippines inasmuch as you have a Pope .... " -"Please do me the favor of not talking about the Pope, please I" St. Peter interrupted. "See how my hands are covered with ink for marking indulgences. I'm stunned. Nothing less than put the Philippines in order I And if they hang me? So I'm to establish order in the Philippines where my sons serve as servants. as coadjuters, while your own suck the country I You do it yourself and if not, let them do it themselves."

'1 .. After saying this he went away because, he heard a knock on the door.

-"Yes, let them do it themselves I" -"Let them alone!"

-"Pray to God and help yourself I" -"Every country gets what it deserves I" -139-

-"Tyrants exist because the oppressed tolerate them!"

-"He who tolerate~ everything suffer the consequences !"

The saints said these and many other things in their fear of going to the Philippines. Seeing them all flee from the danger, the Eternal Father became perplexed.

-"But let's see. Let's find out first what's going on in the Philippines. . .. Who of you are up-to-date? No one? Gracious! But isn't there any Filipino over there .... " -"Yes, Eternal Father, there are many", replied St. John, who was carrying the statistics of heaven, "but they're so strange and so .... " -"Never mind; let them come; we will try to get something out of them. I've created everything from nothing!

-"The Filipinos, oyJ The Filipinos! Those who have been in the Philippines!" cried the angels all over heaven.

III An extraordinary activity was noted among the groups of the inhabitants of heaven. Many of the Filipinos were sleeping, others were hiding, believing they were going to be inspected, to be asked for their residence certificates, or to be made to work gratis in public works, etc., as they were accustomed to do on earth. Upon seeing them, the little angels winked at each other, pointing to them with the finger; the virgins were repressing their smiles, covering their faces with a fan to exchange little phrases; the old women fixed on their eyeglasses to see better; and the archangels, cherubs, and seraphs, who could not abandon their dignity, were nudging each other and coughing.

Soon there appeared a line whose end was lost in the distance, lengthening more and more. At its head walked the most distinguished, the oldest, those who

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had sour faces and a Good Friday-three o'clock-look.

The young people who had a modern look and affable manners remained behind, the first ones not permitting them to mingle with them.

St. John the Evangelist introduced the first, mentioning his merits and qualifications. He was a Spaniard with a stiff moustache and a stiffer look. He had died in Manila of dysentery.

-"His Excellency Policarpio Rodriguez Mendez de la Villaencina, a great Filipinologist, authority on the country, ac:cording to him, has traveled all over the islands, knows thoroughly the Indio and knows the why, how, and in what manner the Philippine Archipelago does not advance!"

-"A la bonne heure!,,(1) exclaimed the Eternal Father, opening his arms; "Well, talk, enlighten us; inspire us !"

The whole heaven became quiet, including the mischievous angels, aI d the indiscreet virgins stopped winking and smiling.

Sir Policarpio, etcetera, etcetera, coughed two or three times, looked right and left with great disdain, spat with such force that his saliva hit St. Dominic precisely in the center of the top of his head. Without taking the trouble of asking for pardon, he coughed again and with a slightly tipsy voice began to speak.

-"Take note and know that I know the country and I have an experience . . . well! All these present here would have liked to have it and I'm not speaking of Your Divine Majesty that ... you already understand me! Let no one come to me with sugar-coated tales; I call a spade a spade, because I'm like that, I like clarity, to the point! I've said it; there!"

And he spat again through his other fang and hi~ saliva hit precisely the ear of the good St. Francis.

The Eternal Father, who had been following the speech of Sir Policarpio attentively, was open-mouthed.

(1)

"Well done!"

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-"But the why, how and what ... ?"

-"Take note, know that I know the country well, and I've an experience .... " -"Keep quiet, good man, keep quiet!" the man behind interrupted him. "You don't understand what's being said; we are not in Manila but in the celestial court."

The one who spoke thus was a handsome man with very distinguished manners.

- ' "Well!" the Father said, addressing the second speaker; "You seem to know better the Philippines; enlighten us."

The one referred to smoothed his moustache, looked around him with a placid smile and remembering the chorus of virgins, he straightened up, and with a mellifluous and son'0rous voice said: -"Sacred Divine Majesty: The modesty which has always characterized me in all the public functions which I have attended - sometimes presiding over themfrom the popular street-meetings to the august sessions of the parliament of my country .... " -"To the point, man, to the point I" Sir Policarpio interrupted him.

-"Man, don't be rude! Let me speak!"

-"Keep quiet, man!"

-"You're envious!"

-"Celestial music!"

They became angry and were going to.fight had not St. Michael, the chief of public order up there, intervened and pacified them. The Eternal Father ordered them to withdraw. The little angels and the virgins tried to check their laughter.

There followed an old woman loaded with scapulars, candles, nevenae, belts, and other trifles.

-142-

-"This is Mrs. Antonia, a native of the Philippines," said St. John. "She wasted all her fortune buying those trinkets and spent eighty years mumbling prayers!"

-"Back!" said the Eternal Father", This man, what does he know about the Philippines?"

-"This", continued St. John, "is the head of abarangay who died in prison for debt."

-"And what does he know about the country?" asked the Eternal Father.

-"The curate, sir, the tax lists, sir, the curate, the tax lists, the tax lists, the curate ... " the wretched man babbled.

-"Let him go!" said the Eternal Father, sighing.

-"This is a lawyer who hold high positions in the country for having served well the friars."

-"Let's see; let the lawyer speak!"

The lawyer who was chubby and slow became excited, resting now on one foot, now on the other, coughed, without being able to utter a word, and at last ended by eructing. The virgins and the little angels could no longer restrain themselves and burst out into the most silvery laughter.

-"Quiet", said the Eternal Father; "well, speak, here you're amQng friends, and have confidence."

Upon hearing these affectionate words, the man began to weep and so he was made to withdraw. The Eternal Father touched his beard frequently.

-"The following man enjoyed the fame of being the smartest in his time, always had been in powers, had been judge, governor, director, etc."

-"Well, well, tell us about the Philippines; I want to be informed."

-"Ah, Your Divine Majesty want to be enlightened?

W ell, go to the friars, consult with the friars, hold on to the friars, flatter the friars, take the side of the fiars, agree with the friars .... " -143-

-"Well, you return to the friars!" ordered His Divine Majesty, becoming stern.

St. Michael took hold of the man, kick him at a certain point, and he went flying to the earth, becoming a clay receptacle upon arrival and landed in the infirmary of a convent.

-"How have such individuals been allowed to enter my kingdom without being purified first?" What was St. Peter doing?" said the Eternal Father in the meanwhile, showing great impatience.

St. John introduced an old man who came forward with much affected gravity.

-"This is one of the big guns in the Philippines;" sad St. John;" he was a friar all his life .... " -"Aha! So this is a friar!" exclaimed the Eternal Father, looking with curiosity at the ridiculous old man; "Let us see how the friar will explain himself! Well, speak."

-"Well, sir, here where Y0p, all see me," said the funny old man, "I'm a marvel; I've made the country prosperous, endeavoring to extract from it all the money I could get. I've flooded it with pastoral letters which had not been read; I have sang Te Deums, believing that the earthquakes had ended, and the earthquakes had returned; I have endowed with indulgences silly books in order to make them respectable and the public have laughed loudly; I've built ships with the people's money to defend them against the infidels, and the infidels got the ships, and the money disappeared ....

Well, I've made the Philippines happy, I've made it laugh, laugh, and laugh and must De laughing until now ... " - "So that the poverty I see is not true ... " - "No indeed, no sir, there's no poverty there! At my death I left to each of my heirs eight thousand pesos and consider that I had many heirs: two or three in each town where I had been! Poverty, no indeed, no sir ! Your Divine Majesty may ask all these friars; you -144-

see how fat and rounded they are are? Well they have just arrived from the country; Your Divine Majesty can see that all is abundance there!"

- "Go away, get out of my sight I" shouted the Eternal Father on seeing so much impudence and foolishness; "Go away before I get angry and I send you to earth transformed into filthy animals."

The Filipinos withdrew, confused and with deep regret, for there were among them some who could have said something discreet and sensible on Philippine affairs. But as they were at the end, no one suspected their existence I After a few moments of reflection, the Eternal Father in a stern voice addressed Jesus.

- "Inasmuch as they are committing there on the earth odious injustices in your name, it is necessary that you go down, investigate the evil, and inform me of what is happening there so it can be remedied."

- "Again among the Pharisees?" asked Jesus turning pale.

- "Yes, again among them I If you had written down your laws and words, if you had expressed yourself with clarity and precision, your historians would not interpretations, nor abuse your authority I What discushave forged you nor corrupt your teaching with their sions, what disputes, what wars and persecutions you would have saved mankind and how rapidly you would have advanced I" Jesus bowed his head and sighed.

- "But, fear nothing," continued the Eternal Father with more sweetness, "this time the bitter cup will pass you by, because, more prudent with the remembrance of the past, you will endeavor to go through unnoticed avoiding as much as possible contact with the Pharisees and Scribes. There will be no need that you be born of a virgin mother, a difficult thing there because, according to what they say, it is a sin to evade conjugal duty ... Neither is it necessary to behead fourteen thousand, on the contrary, it is necessary for you to get

-145-

there already grown up, a man, because if you are born there and you are educated there, you'll grow up ignorant, you'll become brutalized, and I'll have difficulty in bringing you back to reason. Avoid discussing with the doctors of law for they'll surely not let you get away alive and they will call you a rebel. God save you from having to throw out of the temple the sellers and merchants because they will file a case against you and above all be careful not to call serpents and a race of vipers the thousands of Pharisees that you will find there. Go, go down then for the love of humanity, for the prestige of your name and so that the passion you suffered would not be harmful to men, be long-suffering, be prudent, be observant."

And the Eternal Father turning to St. Peter who had come said: - "And you, why did you let so many imbecile and inhuman men who need centuries of purification and atonement enter my kingdom? Because you have guarded badly the gate, you'll return to the earth."

St. Peter cried out loudly and fell on his knees.

- "But, Lord, I was very busy marking indulgences!" he said, joining his hands.

- "You'll return to the earth and accompany Jesus in his pilgrimage", continued the Eternal Father firmly.

"As you have left successors on the earth who pretend to be the vicars of Jesus, it is proper for you to go there with him, because they commit many abuses there in your name!"

The two had no other alternative but to bow their heads and after receiving the paternl blessing, they sadly moved away.

- "Lord," said St. Peter crying to Jesus, "this time we can't escape! You have no idea of how they manage things there in the Philippines, but I have some news.

Pilate at least washed his hands, but there, there they defile them. When the Jews crucified you, they did not prosecute either your mother or your relatives or even your disciples; but Master, in the Philippines, ah, in the Philippines ... !! There in Judea, even with the

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cross on your shoulders, the women still showed you their sympathy, but in the Philippines, you have not accused yet and they already disown you so that they would not become suspects. Woe is me! Oh, oh!!" make puns of serious and grave matters!"

- "'Courage, Peter, courage. The fault is ours! You have left the keys there below and in founding my church I made a play of words with your name and the rascals took advantage of it. This teaches me not to IV

As they came near the earth, Jesus became more and more sad and pensive. His manly countenance was sorrowful and it might be said that night had descended on his features. He found that earth for which he had shed his blood preaching love with the same vices as before, perhaps worse; tears, mourning, and despair on one side, selfish laughter, gay blasphemies on the other, and everywhere the miserable and discontented humanity harassed with inextinguishable passions. As oefore, the poor was a victim of the rich ... the weak, a prey of the strong; laws for the disinherited; duties for the needy class; and for the rich, for the powerful, rights and privileges. Over this sea of misery and tears he saw, like small barren islands, some smiling and serene faces looking sadly around them, but the waves were roaring furiously around, throwing at them their bitter foam, condemning them, slandering them, insulting them, and amidst the shouting he heard his name J路esus.

- "Horror! whined Jesus, covering his face.

"Horror! So much useless suffering, so much agency in vain .... It would have been better if I had left mankind to redeem itself, to develop its own natural forces and the luminous spark with which the Eternal Father has endowed it! Why, if man has been able to draw out so many profound secrets from the dark bosom of nature and formulate his divine laws, could he not also discover and make shine the moral germ placed

by God in his conscience and in his heart? Was it by chance easier to analyze the properties of metal hidden

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in the depth of the earth than the demands of conscience that speak to us at all hours? Of what use is my martyrdom if among 'So fe,,,, fruits so many thorns would come out? What became of my work, of my passion and death? Have I suffered so that my name will sanction injustice, drown the conscience of man, and dim his mind ?"

St. Peter followed the Master with great difficulty.

- "Lord", he said, "we are getting near . . . but, what have you, Master, that your forehead is covered with blood. You weep and your tears are blood. . . It might be said that you are again in Gethsemane ... " Jesus shook his head mournfully.

- "May I feel nothing more than the pangs of death," he replied. "I would prefer a thousand deaths, a thousand Gethsemane, to the sorrow that now overwhelms me. When one dies for love or for the conviction that his death will do some good, death is a pleasure. But when after death, after the sufferings, comes disillusion ... Oh! Could I not convert lPyself into nothing, annihilate myself completely, destroy my conscience in order not to see the disastrous effect of my work ... I have come to the earth as light and men have used me to envelope it in darkness; I have come to console the poor and my religion gives favors and pleasures to the rich; I have come to destroy superstition and in my name superstition flourishes and lords it over perfectly; I have come to redeem peoples and in my name have been subjugated provinces, kingdoms, continents, entire races having been reduced to slavery or disappeared entirely. I have come to preach love and in my name, for trivial distinctions, for the craftness of the idle, men have hurled themselves on one another and have spread over the earth death and devastation, sanctiflying crime with the prestige of the divine. Horrible absurdity, monstrous error, stupendous blasphemy!"

And Jesus wept bitterly and disconsolately.

- "Yes," added, "it's fitting, it's my duty to redeem again mankind from the abyss in which it has fallen, and though I suffer a thousand deaths more eternal than the first, I'm not scared ... Away fear, away fear!

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This time it will not be love alone, they will be lovc, duty, and justice that will drive me to sacrifice ... " - "What, Lord, are you thinking of allowing yourself to be crucified again?" asked St. Peter trembling.

Jesus, absorbed in his meditation ,didn't reply. They were nearing the Philippines and they could glimpse the tall mountains crowning the islands that spread over the shining surface of the water phosphorescent in the light of the stars. In the distance they saw the red crest of a volcano like a blood stain on that unhappy land.

In the east it was beginning to brighten, the precursor of dawn.

St. Peter, uneasy for the turn that the decisions of the Master were taking, was rightly afraid to enter the Philippines; so, taking advantage of an opportunity at the moment they were passing near an island that did not belong to the group, said to Jesus: - "Master, it would be very convenient for us to stop at this island in order to prepare ourselves and get ready for such a perilous journey. It's necessary to knew first the conditions in that pen, and just as you fasted forty days and forty nights before facing the Jews, let'F; spend here three months, as all precautions are little for the Filipinos."

St. Peter hoped to distract his Master and at least gain time in order not to enter the Philippines. Jesus, absorbed in his meditations, allowed himself to be led by St. Peter who, taking advantage of the opportunity, took his Master toward an island, landing on a solitary place not far from the town. Dawn had appeared and the houses could be seen, white, square, with many windows like dovecots, standing on the slope of the mountain, which formed the island.

As it was necessary for them to leave behind their heavenly garments for the pilgrimage they were going to undertake, Jesus contrived to make of his cape a dark blue suit of good cut, without thereby following the canons of fashion. He cut his beard and long hair, and in order to have the true appearance of a Filipino, he stooped a little like a man accustomed to obedience

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and subjection. Seeing him thus disguised, even the pope himself despite his infallibility would take him for a Filipino of good family who is traveling for pleasure.

St. Peter on his part, having heard in heaven that the Chinese were the best-off in the Philippines, believed it advisable to convert himself into a Chinese, and he asked the Master's permission to do so but without success. Because of his baldness he scarcely had enough hair for a queue, so that he had all the look of a bald Chinaman. He had left some hair for a moustache, converted his cape into wide trousers and his tunic into a Chinese shirt, producing thus a ridiculous appearance that Jesus, on seeing him, had to avail himself of aUnis seriousness in order not to burst out laughing.

They entered the city which was beginning to be animated. The houses were opening and the streets were filling with servants, workers, beatmen, sailors, Chinese in the majority. St. Peter with his attire and queue, acquired the ability to speak Chinese and understood that they were in a Chinese port called Victoria ruled by the subjects of the queen of England.

- "We don't fit in here", said St. Peter; "we are on Chinese territory and governed by Protestants besides."

And he said to himself: "We fled from the rain and we fall into the sea."

And very sad and uneasy about his fate, good St. Peter walked with distrust, cursing inwardly his decision to go down to that island. In the Philippines, a country of Christians, at least he was known, and however bad it was, it was worth more than the good which is yet to be known.

Jesus, who was looking everywhere as if searching for something, observed some big houses that were alike, built in the same style, and it occurred to him that they could be hospitals or some public buildings for charitable purposes; but St. Peter who had a poor idea of the English and the Chinese, said that probably they were barracks. It seemed to him impossible

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that such unbelievers could have any other thing. And in order to be relieved of the doubt, they approached a young man, seemingly a Eurasian, and asked him: -"Of the Dominican fathers!" replied the young man.

-"Of the Dominican fathers!" repeated admiringly St. Peter. "Master, these houses belong to the sons of Dominic."

Surprised both contemplated the houses and admired their magnificence.

-"And Dominic who made us believe that his sons had taken a vew of poverty", repeated St. Peter.

-"Don't be surprised, Peter", said Jesus; "if I remember correctly, they have missions in China; perhaps the task is so great that they need thousands of missionaries to live here for the work of conversion."

They continued walking and they saw another long row of houses, not so large, but fairly well-built.

-"These must indeed be barracks." said St. Peter to himself and asked a man if they were indeed barracks.

-"Of the Dominican fathers!" replied the man asked.

-"Gracious!" said St. Peter, "and those I see over there painted red and white?"

-"Of the fathers also!" All, all belong to the fathers", the man replied making big gestures and pointing to many streets. "The fathers have many, many houses, here, there, everywhere."

-"Aha, aha! So that there are many Dominicans here?"

-"No, two only!"

-Two only? And who live in those houses?"

-"The Chinese."

-"The Chinese. Christians without doubt."

-"No !"

-"How? Chinese infidels live in houses built by Dominican Catholics?"

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-"Yes. The Chinese pay well and the fathers receive much money and they have many millions in the banks an d . . . ."

-"And how have they become so rich? Do they work hard, cultivate the soil? Are they engaged in industry?"

-"No !"

-"And where have they obtained the money to erect so many houses?"

-"From the Philippines! The Indios give them much money!"

-"So that the Indios of the Philippines ought to be very rich."

-"No, very poor!" They live in poor houses."

-"Poor, well I don't understand! And the Dominicans build houses for the heathen Chinese with money from the Philippines, while I in the Philippines, the Christians live in miserable huts!"

-"Yes." St. Peter approached his master to share with him his doubts, but he found him steeped in profound meditation.

From the point where he was Jesus saw the patio of a large building located some distance away. There were many men all dressed alike busy with lifting from the ground and placing them back some balls which seemed somewhat heavy. There was one who seemed to be supervising that work.

-"That's the jail", said an Englishman who was asked

by Jesus. "There go the convicts, the thieves, the forgers, the hardened criminals, the murderers. What you see is one of the tasks to which they are condemned.

There are other tasks besides, consisting of weaving burlaps, and mats, and turning the crank, etc.

-"And these wretches are all heathens?"

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-"No, among them are Christians; they are of different nationalities; there are some Englishmen; because here we draw no distinctions among the criminals. We have there men who had held high positions in the colony's government."

-"And your prestige?" asked St. Peter; don't you safeguard your prestige as Spaniards do in the Philippines ?"

-"Our prestige is not on our face but in our morality," answered the Englishman without even looking at St. Peter dressed as a Chinaman.

St. Peter agreed that despite everything, the Englishman might be right in appreciating moral prestige more than racial, but it was said that he was very proud and very conceited of his system, that the Catholics of the Philippines ought to understand him better, first because they were Catholics and second because there he enjoyed quite a fame.

They continued their walk and their observations and St. Peter was greatly surprised that despite the fact that it was a country of infidels, one could walk about safely; there were no carriages that knock down pedestrians; the Englishmen did not abuse the Chinese; the policemen did not rob or annoy the poor and if any person however rich and prominent he be abuse an outcast, he was taken to the courts, there he was tried in a short time without much red-tape, without making the complainant spend much, without making him come and go from one office to another, wasting time, and come out, after being horsewhipped, a victim of the administration's red-tape. As St. Peter lost his distrust, he approved the government of that island and planned to live forever there rather than go to the Philippines. The cunning saint proposed to Jesus our Lord: -"Master, would it not be better for us to take a house here where you can spend the forty days of fasting?"

-"Why fast?" replied Jesus who guessed Peter's intention; "I need all the strength of my body and soul;

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I need that all my being be in perfect equilibrium to face the difficulties of my mission. . . . Why fast? My body, conceived without the least stain, is not an enemy of my spirit that I should weaken it."

St. Peter understood the logic of the reply.

-"However, Master", he replied, "it will not be too much for us to stay here to study the conditions of the country we are going to visit. We can ask for lodgings from the Dominicans who have so many houses, for as I see it, the fields are not habitable.

Jesus agreed to St. Peter's proposition, and having inquired about the house of the Dominicans, they proceeded there.

-"A beautiful building !" exclaimed St. Peter on seeing the convent or palace occupied by two friars of the procuraci6n (Agency office); "I'm sure, Master, that they will grant us free hospitality and will treat us like brothers."

Unfortunately ÂŁor them they arrived at a bad time.

The friar procurator on that day had just lost a case against a Filipino over a paltry question of salary which he did not want to pay. He believed that he could have his own way considering the wealth of his Order and the case reached the higher courts of the city, scandalizing everyone. But the English judges were not intimidated and did justice, and the grand friar had to pay what he owed in accordance with law and right.

So that on that day he was in bad humor, and when the servant announced the callers and their purpose, thinking they were Filipinos, he threw them out of the procuraci6n house without ceremony, saying that the Procuraci6n was not for beggars and if they could not pay for a house, they may stay in the street.

St. Peter had not recovered from .his admiration; decidedly everything was turning the opposite; he thought ill of the city and found it free; he thought the friars were hospItable and found them severe and avaricious. Jesus alone was sadder and more pensive.

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Both went to a hotel and there they lodged, and while they were waiting for a boat that would sail for the Philippines, instead of spending their days on a desert or in solitude, as they had to live among the living and in towns and cities, they devoted themselves to the study of the customs of the earth and walked through the streets everyday, taking interesting notes.

The news spread in the city of Victoria that a mysterious stranger, perhaps the son of a rajah who was traveling incognito, was in town making studies and taking notes with the object of going to the Philippines afterwards to study that country. The news aroused the interest of the numerous inhabitants of Victoria who had relations with the Archipelago, especially the religious corporations which had extensive properties there, and they wished to maintain and preserve at any cost their questionable prestige, already im paired in many ways.

And thus it happened that one morning, while Jesus was meditating in his hotel room, he was visited by a gentleman of pleasant manners, honeyed words, and compliments at every step.

-"Pardon me", said the unknown man, "for introducing myself in this manner and perhans disturbing you, but I have heard that you're thinking of going to the Philippines on a pleasure trip ... perhaps to study the country ... perhaps with a government commission ... perhaps to write a book."

And the unknown caller smiled. but Jesus moved his head in an ambi~uous manner in such a way that the caller could not discover the object of the traveler.

-"As we know the country", continued the unknown caller, "and we have there numerous friends and part Isans ... we ...." 路 -"Bad beginning", said St. Peter.

As the majority of the houses for rent belonged to the Dominicans, they considered it useless to look for a dwelling and they decided to embark for the Philippines. They went to the beach and there they

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learned that a boat was leaving within a few hours.

The captain, however, demanded for their passport.

-"What passports?" said Jehovah; "I'm a Filipino and to return to the Philippines I need a passport? Since when has one needed a passport to enter his own house?"

The captain said that the government required it and the travelers had to get them. Jehovah paid three and a half pesos and St. Peter, for being a Chinese, sixteen pesos. St. Peter was furious.

-"Master, the world was not like this in our time!

There was more freedom," more brotherliness among nations 1 Have you not said that we were all children of your father?"

-"Yes, Peter, I've said so repeatedly and. I wish I had never said it! Some repeat it now in order to exclude others effectively."

-"Bad bginning\ for the journey, Master, bad beginning!" murmured {'to Peter boarding the boat.

One beautiful tnorning they entered Manila Bay. St. Peter who was very seasick during the trip was exceedingly glad that he was at last leaving the ship.

The China Sea was different from that of Galilee that he had seen. His Master didn't want to perform any miracle to quiet the waves. As he glimpsed in the distance the city, he became very talkative and with his rooster on his arm he bothered everyone with questions.

-"What building is that one we see on the left, with two towers that are embattled like a feudal castle or the refuge of bandits in Samaria?"

-"The church of St. Dominic!" replied the sailor.

St. Peter almost let go his rooster.

-"Church! ... St. Dominic!" he repeated in surprise, "Dominic living here like a feudal lord and we in heaven thought he was so. . . . He has without doubt much wealth kept there?"

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-"Much? Oh no I" replied the sailor;" Good fools they are to leave their money in th~ ,church. They have it elsewhere I" -"But how have they obtained so much wealth?" asked St. Peter. "They work hard? Till the soil? They engage in industry? ... If I remember correctly, Dominic had told me that his sons have taken a vow of poverty I" The sailor who understood him did not reply.

-"And that large, round cupola that we see toward the right, what is it?"

-"The Cathedral of St. Peter!"

-"Confound it I" exclaimed St. Peter, letting go his rooster; "Confound it! What name did you s~y?"

-"St. Peter."

-"My cathedral, mine, mine, something mine I And I didn't even know it. The rascals who came from the earth didn't tell me anything, nothing. But I'm glad, I'm glad I" In his desire to leave the ship and forgetting his precautions against the Philippines, he got ready to land.

But a sailor reminded him that he must first wait for the prescribed visit of the inspector and wait for the official permission to enter and disembark.

-"But, I have permission," replied St. Peter. "Hey, I've a passport which cost me sixteen pesos."

-"It's useless I" -"Why? But when we arrived at Victoria, the colony of Victoria, we had no need of passports or permission and that is a country of the Chinese and of infidels I" -"For that very reason, but this is a country of Catholics I" -"And for that?"

-"For the same reason; the Catholics call everyone brother I" -"Ah I" exclaimed St. Peter, and without understanding it, he considered himself convinced.

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At the end of two hours of waiting - because the one who was in charge of making the visit was chatting merrily with his friends-the launch of the captaincy came to notify them that they would be in quarantine off Mariveles.

-"What? We have to stay in quarantine?" indignantly protested St. Peter.

-"Yes, because we come from a dirty port."

-"But were you not telling me during the trip that many streets in Victoria are cleaner than those of Manila."

-"It is not because of that", replied the sailor. It is because there's cholera in Victoria."

-"Ah! But weren't you also telling me that there was cholera in Manila and your wife died of it and the curate didn't allow her to be buried because she died without confession? Why then do they prevent our entrance ?"

-"Because the regulation mu t be followed! Here they are strict with the regulation, you understand?"

-"Ah!" St. Peter exclaimed again, without understanding any better this time than before. And tell me, are we going to stay then forty days at Mariveles?"

-"N0, man, only three days".

-"Nothing of the sort; why then do they say quarantine?" .

-"Because quarantine means one, two, or three d.ays!"

-"Ah! But, and my question: Of what use? I'm going to demand back the sixteen pesos I've paid; I'm going to protest!"

St. Peter remembered that the Chinese do not protest, and sighing, he entreated his Master to transform him into any inhabitant of the earth.

-"Yes, Peter, but your passport? You know that the Eternal Father charged us to avoid here any entanglement with the authorities."

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St. Peter cursed the moment it occurred to him to transform himself into a Chinese. At the end of three days, spent off Mariveles, they were notified that they could enter Manila. But the ship's cargo of fruits was already spoiled and its trade ruined.

-"Bah," said St. Peter, "we can sell the silk handkerchiefs. " But the corporal on duty didn't allow him to land without first inspecting his valise, and on seeing the handkerchiefs, he freely appropriated two. St. Peter let him do it to win his goodwill so that he would give him the guide without whom, he was told, he could not disembark.

-"You'll see when I reach my cathedral and they find out who I'm 1" he said to himself.

A carabineer who saw him suspected him of bringing contraband and inspected him from head to foot.

St. Peter protested vehemently and had he still his sword he would surely have cut off the ear of the carabineer.

-"Prisoner, prisoner 1" shouted the carabineer fall of joy, upon discovering a roll of Mexican pesos, "Prisoner 1" And he dragged him holding him on the arm.

-"But they are mine, they are mine 1" St. Peter shouted.

-"Precisely 1" replied the carabineer.

St. Peter thought that the carabineer was mad; that the country was truly incomprehensible. Jesus, seeing him in that difficulty and remembering the recommendation of the Eternal Father, wished to take revenge on Peter for his conduct toyvards him at Jerusalem when he denied him; now in turn he wished to disown him. But his good and noble heart prevailed and he followed the two.

The carabineer took St. Peter to a nearby police station where there were a Spanish officer and several carabineers.

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They took all the pesos he was carrying; they took down his deGlaration. Jesus, seeing that they were going to prosecute his disciple, wanted to intervene.

With the same tone in which he spoke to the Pharisees when they asked him if they ought to pay tribute to Ceasar, he said to the European officer: -"Show me one peso of your own!"

The officer who had never read the Bible did not suspect the trick being !eadied for him. Without knowing what that Indio had in mind, he took from his pocket a Mexican peso identical with St. Peter's pesos.

-"This coin is yours and you spend it in this country?"

-"Of course, as that's from my salary. The Government pays us with that money."

-"Well if these pesos are free in this country and are used by the Government itself, why do you confiscate what this Chinese is bringing? And if you're going to accuse hi for it, why don't you accuse your Government?

The officer didn't know what to reply at the moment; he was confused. .

-"Because we don't want here Mexican pesos," he replied angrily.

-"Then why don't you throw into the river what you have?"

-"No, what we have it enough."

-"Have you taken a vow of poverty?"

-"Aba! what vow of poverty 1" replied one carabineer.

"We would be rich now if we have taken the vow of poverty."

The officer thought that Jesus was joking him and he could not find reasons to reply to his questions.

He got angry and called him a reformer and antiSpaniard. As a result, he or~ered the soldiers to inspect him carefully.

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They ran through his pockets and they found his diary which Jesus had written to present to the Eternal Father. When the officer read his remarks on the quarantine his face was illumined by a diabolical laughter.

-"Well! I already sensed that you're a rebell" he shouted addressing Jesus. "Ah, rascal! Ah, rebel! You attack established institutions, you indulge in making observations, now you find reprehensible and ridiculous what we do. You criticize the quarantine. To jail and prepare right away the complaint."

When St. Peter saw that things were taking a bad turn, he began little by little to sneak away, taking advantage of the confusion, and when he heard his Master called a rebel, going back to his bad custom, he went out of the station and walked away as fast as he could. Unfortunately it was mid-day and there was not one rooster to crow. He had a vague idea of the meaning of rebel that he had heard from some one in heaven, and without considering others, thinking only of his danger, he abandoned his Master.

Jesus walked absorbed in thought, with bowed head, while St. Peter, all curiosity, was looking here and there, turning his head, stopped.

. . . it is your kindness!"

And You, oh Maykapal, vanquished deity of my ignorant ancestors ,who cowardly fled upon the arrival of the Augustinians and other friars. I thank you for having provided me with muscles for laughing to celebrate the pleasant things which the God of the strong, your master and conqueror, has created. My ancestors were unfaithful to you, but now you are avenged of their cowardice and neglect. If some time you can get a passport and you wish to visit your former dominion

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do so and you'll see extraordinary things. The TikbaZang and the Tianak, your former companions, are still there, and we ourselves have hardly progressed in religion: You'll recognize at once the grand-children of your worshippers, and if you're a little cunning and you wish to perform miracles you can recover your dominion. MaykapaZ, MaykapaZ, impotent and us less God, stop me from laughing, give me back tears!

I!<

13-2 End of MS

Translated from the Spanish by E. Alzona using a photostat copy borrowed from the Bureau of Public Libraries, Manila. Finished 6 August 1957.

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DAPITAN

.. Whoever has a little sense of shame upon reading the above title should exclaim "Oh, yes!" but an "Oh, yes!" of satisfaction, of joy, of sufficiency as if it recalls to his mind a well known phase of his youth.

Because Dapitan, without any exaggeration, is the town that deserves to be the best known on earth, without excepting Rome or Paris, so much so that those who hear about it for the first time appear stupid or ignorant if instantly they don't wink an eye, or exclaim meaningfully "Oh, oh, Dapitan; well!"

As everybody knows, Dapitan is the capital of a politico-military province composed of various towns and barrios, all equally worthy of eternal fame and universal renown, called by the sonorous names of Dipolog, Ilaya, Libay, Libungan, Lindangan, etc.

It is located on a beautiful bay which looks toward the West, on a kind of island especially made for it as if to isolate it from the vulgar world, a beautiful river which, to accommodate it, has gladly consented to divide itself into two, its two silvery arms encircling it and bringing it toward the sea as an offering, for being the most beautiful thing that it could find in its tortuous and undulating pilgrimage through mountains and valleys, through woodland and plains. The casco of the town, as they call it prosaically, is formed by the church, a big church, but big - from whose two sides stretch two small heaps of little houses in opposite directions, and viewed from the mountain which shelters it behind, seems like the slender elytrons of a huge insect devouring the green plain beside the seashore. These two elytrons or wings are called, one Banono and the other Banting, and as the body of which they form part is Rizal says this is an introduction to a novel which he plans to

to write. It gives the origin of the name of the town of Dapitan and a description of it. The original document is in the Bureau of Public Libraries, Manila.

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the church, the insect and all the rest deserve special treatment. But we are going to lay them aside now and we will merely say that Banting is on the right and Banono on the left, and as in legislative chambers and parliaments both represent individuals and groups, distinct and even opposed and antagonistic in opinions, ideas, sentiments, and aspirations. In front of this insect, its grass trimmed, spreads the square on whose sides rise three buildings, which deserve to be called palaces - the Casa Real (Government House), that of the school and that of the captain of the guards, famous in more than one sense, as will be seen later -and the broad plain that reaches out until it merges with the sand of the seashore.

Dapitan is famous in various ways. Its red cotton blankets with stripes of bright colors are in demand everywhere, but cannot be found even at the weavers' who now weave only trifling things and can be seen dying of sleep and huddled up quietly under their houses. These blankets are almost their only industry -because one of the distinctions of the town is not to have any industry at all - except the fame it enjoys. They are sturdy, durable, and well-woven and are usually handed down from father to son, and only foreigners can obtain them as a special gift or in exchange for enormous sacrifices. Dapitan is renowned for its "affectionate" nipa houses, with fringed roofs through whose grooves can be enjoyed the caresses of the climate, the blue of the sky, the rays of the sun, the rain, and the night dew as if one is on the open field, barring the odor of fish which is reminiscent of the seashore. And we say "affectionate" houses because far from having the rigidity of other houses, now they are inclined towards the street, graciously greeting the solitary passerby, now they are thrown backward, as if saying "Hello! You here !'i, now they are leaning towards the neighboring house as if telling some secrets or exchanging confidences to the cooing of the coconut palms. Those streets covered with green carpet through which meanders between -164-

little forest of amor-seco (l ) a narrow lane for the use of its emaciated inhabitants, walking one behind the other, would be enough to make Dapitan an immortal town, if its famous church and even more famous cockpit, built under the shade of coconut groves, had not carried away the fame of the town to the limits of the known world. This cockpit almost ruined the celebrated Newtonian theory and the whole system of gravitation. The readers can imagine what would have happened if, instead of an apple falling on the head of the great English mathematician, it had been a whole coconut - as it happened to a gambler in the famous ~ockpit who immediately went to the next life to play cockfight with St. Peter, if our religious beliefs do not deceive us as they cannot - what would have become of Newton's theory?

In Dapitan everything is famous from the missionary who governs it to the madman who goes around the streets with a bunch of flowers talking and greeting everyone in Castilian and stopping in front of the governor's palace to deliver a speech and lay down the flowers as a symbol of his homage. All are famous -the governor who has the reputation of a saint among the pious women, the missionary has as a ruler, the teacher, the pharmacy clerk, the little vaccinator who invents the strangest diseases, the town mayor who becomes ill for wishing to get over his sickness by dancing before the image of St. James, the major lieutenant who is the minor lieutenant of everybody, because he has nothing even to eat, unlike the Chinese who has everything - all, all are famous, all are celebrities who merit a separate chapter, admiration, invocation, narration, and period.

But I have not yet spoken about the distinctive character of the town, the quality that makes it superior to Rome, Paris, Vienna, London, Madrid, Berlin and all the capitals of the Old and New World, to all past, present, and future civilizations. I refer to the grand chastity of all its dwellers, including plants.

(1) A weed whose abundant tin y brown seeds stick to the clothing of passers-by. The literal meaning- is "dry love '; the scientific name is Andropogon aciculatus.

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In Da pitan a flower does not whisper love in the ear of another flower, because there is scarcely any flower; the gentle breeze does not coo; the bird does not sing; the streets are lonely; and in the houses the sound of laughter is not heard; only the monotonous and lugubrious rosary that narcotize one from night until morning. No serenades nor love-songs are heard, the young man does not sigh for the young woman, and the houses which have been begun rot in loneliness because no love adorns it, every projected marriage being afterwards abandoned.

The proverbial chastity of Dapitan includes all creatures. No gossip is whispered about its missionaries nor the convent full of pious women which is adjacent to the church. As we have said, a bachelor governor enjoys the reputation of a saint among the women - a governor who had fought in glorious campaigns, and had been wounded in encounters and battles of all kinds. What more? All there preach and inspire chastity. The missionary has made his bull, a huge animal, all black like the habit of its master, the patient symbol of purity; the bull prefers the grass in the town square to the company of the pretty cow that approaches his meekly and timidly. On his part, the governor, imbued with the missionary's example, compels all his servants to live in holy continence, castrates all his roosters, puts in the stocks his servants who, because they are young, have partaken of the forbidden fruit; he does not tolerate in the palace the presence of any woman, for which reason his hens do not lay eggs nor does the number of tax-payers increase, and when his dog, a huge dog from Luzon, goes around the streets, the bitches go out to meet him, but instead of caressing him and smelling him, they bark at him and bite him with anger and fury as if there also existed a sixth canine commandment and as if it is told in some Bible hidden beneath the table that the canine race has also been damned by some forbidden bone eaten there in the paradise of its ancestors. But we believe that in this case of the dogs, they are only imitating their masters - like dog like master - the saying goes, and I firmly believe in sayings and therefore I deeply regret -166-

that they have not written the Gospels in the form of proverbs for thus there would not be infidels or unbelievers, and all of us would believe more in Him and allow ourselves to be roasted. I say that bitches imitate their mistresses. In Dapitan the women stray five varas away from the lane and go amngo the grass the moment they glimpse a man in the distance, and out of modesty they don't bark at him or bite him as bold four-footed females do. In short, as to love, Dapitan has only amores-secos.

Several learned foreigners and nationals, philosophers included, have tried to investigate the cause of such a phenomenon. Some ascribe it to the climate, there mellow and moderate: another to the sandy soil of the town: others to the coconut, to the tuba;2 and not lacking is one who attributes it to the moro-moro dance which all dance from the patron saint St. James to the last school-boy. As for me, being sentimental, I attribute it to the sadness that reigns over the town, to the solitude of its streets where one doesn't see any one play, not even children thus converting the town into a huge cloister of the convent at the siesta hour of the friars; and if they forced me, I'm going to point to the lay brother of the convent whose elongated figure is enough to frighten away love as a scarecrow does to the sparrows.

Learned philologists and archaeologists, deeply interested in the fame of Dapitan, have attempted to investigate its antiquity. Blockhead thinks it was founded by the Phoenicians; Naseweis, basing his opinion on the evidence furnished by Niemand and Lugenzunge, considers it the ancient Cartheginian city founded on the ruins of a Greek colony. On the other hand, Dr. Stultus, agreeing with the celebrated ethnographer Grandtaupe and the archaeologist Asinelli, maintains the bold theory that Papitan is an ancient Chaldean colony, an opinion rightly opposed by the scholar Dr. Van der Niesen who cannot see anything Chaldean (Caldea) there where there is no lime (cal), not evcn for chewing betel-nut.

(2)

A popular beverage tapped from the heart of the coconut tree.

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Our learned Peninsular and Philippine nationals, in view of the divergence of opinion among the foreigners, have adopted another method and have analyzed the word Dapitan. They offer varied and numerous versions of the etymology of the word. The newspaper man Desbarrados after analyzing the word, gives the most credible interpretation and unearths the following legend. When Magellan touched Mindanao, the inhabitants of the island went aboard his ship to sell to the foreigners their merchandise and buy in exchange European goods. The Indios brought with them Mexican pesos and the Spaniards in return gave promissory notes for everything, but they could not finish the transaction. Some alleged that Mexican pesos were prohibited and the others that the promissory notes had no five-cent stamps. At this point the ship began to whistle - "Dad, dad que pitan!" ("Give, give, they are calling !") shouted the sailors making signs to the Indios to make them understand the meaning of it and driving them awa y from the ship. Forty-three years later when Legazp\ reached the same places, he asked one of the islanders what was the name of the country, and the terrified Indios remembering what their ancestors have recounted to them fled, shouting "dad,.. quipitan!" and therefore Fr. U rdaneta called the territory Daquepitan, a name which was later changed to Dacpitan and still later to Dapitan, because of the difficulty of pronunciation. The version of Mr. Desbarrados is based on ancient chronicles and manuscripts whose antiquity is so great that they have been lost; but the research being done in the Royal Archives of the Indies in Seville seems to promise more complete details and perhaps yield the name of the ship in which Magellan came, which Navarrete in spite of his efforts could not ascertain and which has exasperated more than once Don Cesareo Fernandez Duro.

This is what is known of Dapitan, a land of chastity, a peaceful land, a lonely land, a land where all are celebrities except an unlucky exile who came from the other extreme of the world, from a flowery island of America.

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The story of this unknown exile will be the subject of the following chapters.

As can be seen, this is an introduction to a novel.

Its manuscript forms part of a bul~y package which I have been able to obtain in my recent trip to Manila and which contained papers coming from Dapitan belonging to Rizal. They are mainly manuscripts, rough drafts, separate articles, and notes in the handwriting of our scholar and patriot. Among these papers I didn't find anything related to the work to which this fragment is an introduction, despite the careful search I made. The most probable thing is that it was never written, which is to be deplored because it is presumed to be a great loss to our literature.

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"THE ANCIENT TAGALOG NOBILITY"

It was about the month of September of 1635, sixtyfour years after the arrival of the Spaniards at Manila and one hundred fourteen since the signing of the first treaties of amity with the inhabitants of the Philippine Islands.

Spain at that time was engaged in continuous wars with the Dutch and the people of the South in whi.ch the Filipinos played the roughest and most arduous part.

At home the government watched over the Chinese and repressed at times harshly but with skill the weakening efforts of some provinces to shake off the yoke.

Catholicism, in spite of the zeal of the missionaries did not prevail yet in all the pacified provinces, as the provinces which were controlled by means of the diplomacy of the musket or of preachings and promises were called. Numerous Indios, entire families, towns, and even extensive regions remained faithful to the past, placing a firm barrier to the missionaries who, humble and pouring out gifts and promising heaven and eternity, preached and cathechised, accompanied very often with muskets and harquebases by way of ad hominem argument or for self-defense, and built little by little rustic churches in the midst of the mysterious whizzing of bullets and the chanting of the Catholic rites - things which piqued and stunned the imagination of the inhabitants of the Philippines. In various parts they still preserve, though at great pains, the ancient traditions and customs of the time when they were independent, now as a protest, now as a fence, now by custom, now by conviction and tenacity.

It was the epoch when two peoples were beginning to amalgamate: One of the smallest and youngest in the Asiatic regions, accustomed to a relative peace by reason of its position and history, and the other a

*.

* This MS has no title.

E. A. An argument based on the conclusion of the opponent. E. A.

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European great power in the last phase of its apogee and though already on the decline, still preserved superior forces and the conqueror's vigor with the vivid memory of a past that made it the first conquering nation of the time, in command of men, wealth, ships that subjugated four-fifths of the world, for then the sun never set on the dominions of Spain.

Controlling the destiny of the Philippine Islands then as captain-general was Sebastian Hurtado de Corcuera and Fr. Hernando Guerrero as archbishop and head of the religious corporations.

It was about three o'clock in the afternoon. The sky with storm clouds threatened with a coming rain; the bamboo groves on the banks of the Pasig, then called Manila River, were wavering their flexible and elegant stalks over the risen water of the riv~r, shaking off over it some of their dried leaves which, fallen from their stems, because the plaything of the air, fluttering for a moment in the space above, tracing graceful and fluctuating curves, until they fall on the water to mark the course of the waves and the spiral of the whirlwind.

On the left bank, through the trees and thick underbush, as if a voiding the gay houses of the encomenderos and rich merchants of Manila who have there their poetic houses surrounded by orchards and gardens, a man was walking towards Malapad-na-bat6, a rock then twice as tall and more colossal than it is today, and at whose feet the waters of the river squirm and knock furiously on account of the sharp curve, becoming a very great peril to small craft, for which reason the inhabitants of the region venerated it and made offerings to the spirit that they supposed dwelt in that immense mass.

The man who preferred the underbush to the easy path that the road offered, seen from afar, seemed to be a man in the full vigor of his age. So sure was his -171-

sfep and so 'strong was his arm that in order not to bend his bo'dy and lower his head, he bent and broke with ease the branches that obstructed his path, as if they were stems of a flower bush. However, seen at close range, he was an old man from seventy to seventyfive years, of' tall and erect stature, vivid and deep eyes, and well-defined and hard features.

He was attired in the manner of the inhabitants of 'Luzon, with a graceful putong (headdress) wound around his head with the two ends, exquisitely embroidered, hanging down his back over his long and abundant white hair. The putong as well as the short shirt and the rich blanket which covered his body from the waist to the knees passing between his legs with graceful and numerous folds were of black silk with gold stripes. His jewelry consisted of chains, bracelets, earrings, and rings of gold and precious stones. Altogether, as in' his look and carriage, one could guess that he was it 'r'e mnant of the , ancient Tagalog nobility that ' was disappearing little by little, fleeing to the remote corners of the ' provinces.

The old man carried no yveapon. For a long time the ' Filipinos have been forbidden to use it; only the gatherer of kindling wood and country folk were permitted as today to carry a crude gulok or machete with short ,:edge and long handle.

After some difficulty he reached at last the peak, about twenty steps from the tip of the rock, where he 'witnessed a funeral spectacle. It was a poor funeral, judging by the four or five persons, half-naked and ragged, who accompanied it and by the wretched bamboo litter on which lay the corpse of a man of about forty. or forty-five years wrapped , in a humble mat. , Among those present who attracted attention and forme'd a striking contrast were a young man dressed half Filipino and half Spanish wearing a rosary around his neck as a sign that he was a Christian and an old man dressed in the manner of Terrenate or Tarnate, short trousers, short loose jacket, and sash. The young man had not removed his putong, was standing, and -172-

seemed to be there more for curiosity than foraffection, while the old man was sitting on the .ground, inclined toward t}:le corpse, a picture of utter路 dejection, and speaking in a trembling and monotonous voice as if in a painful delirium.

The others who seemed to be country folk were half-naked and remained impassive . .

The arrival of the old man dressed in black attracted the attention of everyone except that of the man dressed in the manner of those of Ternate who continued to utter incoherent phrases without raising his eyes from the face of the corpse.

The new arrival, without being aware of the impression he had made, uncovered, removing his 'putong, and bowed - his head covered with abundant white hair - in an attitude of meditation. This action seemed to have be~n dictated to him by the young Christian who was there, who also uncovered, though without abandoning his air of curiosity.

That was the corpse of Prince Tagulima, son and heir of Zaide, Sultan ' of Ternate, who was brought with the leading Kachiles as prisoners to Manila in 1606, counting on the promises of the Jesuits and. on the ambiguous safe-conduct which Governor Pedro de Acuna had sent him. Acuna forgot generosity and justice and only remembered that it was convenient to take possession of one of the richest Spice Islands, and to insure its possession by taking hold of its royal family.

The friar Fernando de los Rios, Procurator of the Philippine Islands, referring to this sultan, said to Philip II:

"Acuna, for his failure to fulfill his promise to the King of Ternate, was the reason why all the people of the Moluccas became the enemy of the Spaniards ...

It is true that while Acuna lived the king was tr.eated with respect and decency; but in the time of Juan de Silva, I saw him living in one room, flooded by the rain that fell all over him and they were starving him to death. Having gone there to see him. one day, he knelt before me and begged me to ask the governor

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to put him in a place where he would not get wet and to provide him .with his subsistence as he was dying of hunger and was often obliged to beg, for otherwise he would not have anything to eat. I give Your Majesty this information for the sake of your good name among those peoples who might believe that Your Majesty has ordered such treatment for a prince that at one time made all the islands of those seas tremble with fear."

Sultan Zaide lived in that condition for more than ten years until his death. The Kachiles, his companions, were also dying one by one, except Kachil Ampara, the old nurse of Prince Tagulima. Age and the great change in his fortune have altered not a little the mind of Old Kachil who now attends the burial of the son of his lord . . Kachil Ampara was murmuring in a monotonous VOIce:

-"When you were born there were feasts, banquets, dances ... we f\eed slaves; a prince had been born; a prince more handsome than tpe sun had been born....

I taught you the language o:fi the flowers, to express your ideas through them; I taught you how to handle the kampilan, your small kampilan, as long as a dagger.... But here we forget everything ... everything has ended ... Ternate is now very far and nobody remembers us."

Old Kachil made a sign to the men and they lowered the corpse into the grave.

-"Wait!" said Kachil Ampara, and gathering some dried leaves within his reach, he scattered them into the grave over the corpse while he spoke in the same monotonous accent: -"Deliver these flowers to your father on my behalf, oh Tagulima! They are not the ones I sent him when you were born to announce his happiness! These are different flowers; they are the flowers of the Philippines! He should know what they mean .... Now, salaam! Don't ask for ~eapons and trophies over your tomb . . . like the moon that hides in the middle of the night when everybody sleeps in silence, not a sigh

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laments its setting, no one weeps over the dying light...

Taguliman, salaam! salaam."

And Kachil himself with trembling hands began to scatter the earth over the corpse.

As the others got re~dy to cover the grave, the robust old man who until then had remained in profound meditation, advanced towards the border of the grave, and removing his necklace of solid gold, dropped it into the grave saying in a low voice: -"May the spirit that dwells in this sacred rock watch over your tomb; may May Kapal, the Creator~ lead your shadow to where your ancestors are so that you may protect from there the destiny of our country, better than when you lived on earth!"

And having said this, he picked a handful of earth and scattered it over the corpse. Then the men began to fill the grave in the midst of a profound silence.

When they have finished filling the grave and were about to move away, they heard hurried steps and a young priest, a Jesuit, with an irritated look, appeared, believing that some Pagan rites were being held there.

There were then Jesuits and several student novices in the neighboring Colegio del N oviciado which was tablished in Buenavista, San Pedro Macati, or San Pedro de los Mentes as it was then called.

The young Christian became pale when he saw the Jesuit; the grave-diggers were about to leave but stoppd upon seeing that the old man came forward and crossed his arms. The Jesuit stopped and both looked at each other from head to foot.

The Jesuit realized that the man before him was unlike those with whom he dealt everyday. He was seeing for the first time that old man and to his regret his look was imposing.

-"What brings you here, sir?" asked the old man in a firm and calm voice in Tagalog, for he spoke first.

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-"The religion of the one and only God," replied the Jesuit, getting ready to bring out a cross. "And you, what brings you here?" he asked in turn.

-"Also the only God, the great May Kapal!" replied the old man.

At the sound of this name the indignation of the Augustinian was aroused and , his fanaticism as a missionary was excited.

-"May Kapal, May Kapal!" he repeated, So you have come here to pay ho.mage to your God ! May KapaZ, that is the name of a false God; he is not the true God."

And he looked everywhere as if searching for the remains of the heathen sacrifice.

'- "Young man", said the old man, soothing him: "man' should n0t pretend to give a name to that Being; . . . We call Him the ' Creator and the Creator of all things cannot be a false God I" - ' "False, false, false-!" r~peated the Augustinian, taking out a crucifix; "There is only one true God: ours; yours is a false God, he does not exist; and the proof of this, we who follow his sacred law, see how He helps us, see how we triumph in all fights, o~ soldiers conquer all the blind followers of Satan; our God, the God of our armies, is the only true and mighty God, and Jesus Christ. . .." , The old man bit his lips and replied with a certain air of despair mingled with contempt.

-"You conquer because you have superior weapons; but May Kapal is May Kapal, a Being who creates and not a Being who destroys.... Your religion now dominates .... by force ... the day will come when force will also dominate your ' religion."

And having said this, the old man walked away.

-"Vade retro, Satan(l, vade retro!" (l ) the young Jesuit began to exclaim, tracing crosses in the air with (1)

"Go away, Satan, go a way! "

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the crucifix in his hand while the old man disappeared across the bamboo groves.

The other Indios had also walked away, leaving behind the young Christian, Old Kachil, and the Augustinian.

The Jesuit noted the rosary he was wearing around his neck and taking him by the arm, he asked him: -"You are a Christian?"

-"Yes, Father", he replied babbling.

-"Who was that old man?"

-"I don't know, Father. Nobody knows him."

-"What are you doing here among the infidels?"

-"I came to see out of curiosity."

-"Curiosity, curiosity is the mother of all sins; and the- Catalona?" -"There was none, Father."

-"Why was there none? Who is this old man?"

The boy then explained that nothing was done there except bury the corpse of a man said to be one Prince Tagulima.

The missionary examined the grave beside which remained seated Old Kachil, motionless as if nothing was occurring near him.

The missionary then, in order to give a proof of his Christian zeal and his value to the faith before the eyes of the neophyte, began _to remove with his foot the fresh earth over the grave, trampling on it, and scattering the earth with contempt.

Old Kachil raised his head, a ferocious expression tightened his features, his eyes flashed, he straightened himself, and jumped over the young novice to strangle him. The young missionary uttered a cry.

There was a fight for a moment. Both rolled on the ground. The young man wishes to intervene to defend the priest, but it was useless. Old Kachil had used in

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that struggle all the vitality that remained in him. The young priest felt that the arms of his enemy were loosening and getting rid of them he rose and saw with horror that he had at his feet a corpse with eyes open and fingers twitched.

He made the sign of the cross and left the place running, thinking that that place was cursed. The young man followed him.

The sun was hidden at the time and drops of rain began to fall.

At night, in the Colegio del Noviciado the incident was recounted in a marvelous way. Father Pedro de S ... in the enchanted rock of Malapad-na-Bato had found infidels performing rites to Satan. The devil who appeared as an old man richly attired was put to flight by the sign of the cross; and their priest whose life was protected by the devil died suddenly for having touched the habit of the priest. The old man who disappeared miraculously was the devil undoubtedly; he was richly garbed and n.o one knew him there and no one had seen him before, and above all, his replies could only come from the tenuous spirit of darkness. The incident was much commented; the chroniclers that same night recorded it in their manuscripts.

Now let us see if the old man who disappeared was really the devil.

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SINAGTALA AND MARIA MALIGAYA

In Maalat, or Malate as the Spaniards call it now, lived the old Tagalog nobility of Manila. It was then a beautiful town, with picturesque farms, orchards and flower gardens, with little houses of stone, wood, or bamboo surrounded with spacious porches which were partially covered by a green curtain woven by beautiful vines mattled with flowers. Malate was then the place where the rich residents of Manila spent their Sundays in splendid and gay feasts that were held now on the nearby beach. "de el viento riza las calladas elas con blando murmullo en la arena", as the Filipino poet Alaejo said; now in the little woods near the gardens, under the shade of the coconut trees and areca palms, of the banana trees and bamboo groves, amidst the music of guitars, the sweet moan of the sea and the song of the birds that then were not much persecuted.

Dispossessed of their old homes in Manila and Tondo, the Filipino nobility had been given here a new site, certainly not an ill-chosen place, along the seashore and above all within reach of the cannons of the bastion of San Andre~, just in case something would occur.

When they were assigned Maalat for their town, the governor, in the tone of one who is doing a favor, had told them: "In this way you will always be under the protection of the mighty arms of Spain, convincing you more and more of how useful to you is her friendship, because she always defends with tenacity, with the tireless efforts of her arms, with the balls of her mighty cannons, your security and your home against any enemy whoever he be."

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Providence has willed that this occasion should never arise; Limahong's hordes twice went there; the pirates of the South at one time had the audacity to extend their piratical incursions to Manila Bay and made captive defenseless residents of Maalat; the English took its church from where they bombed Manila, causing damages; and Providence has willed that not a single cannon be fired to protect its inhabitants because then, who knows if the story might turn out in reverse?

But laying this aside, let us return to the impotent remnants of the Tagalog aristocracy. . At the time of our story, the house of the descendants of Rajah Matanda or Lakandula was still standing there; there was still the wooden stairway at the bottom of which fell unconscious and unhappy old man upon hearing the news of the death of his son, the Rajah Bago - who had just abdicated the lordship of Tondo - horriJJly beheaded in prison, a victim of an unfounded suspicion. The Spaniards had believed that L~mahong's squadron was Bgrnean, ~ummoned by the dIscontented eleme ts headea by RaJah Bago and the leader Numanatay. In order to be safe from them and their revenge, they imprisoned the two and in one hour they were found beheaded. They said that the author or authors of the crime were not known; the p~ison was not guarded and anybody, soldiers or assassins, who so wished, could get in there; and in one hour the assassins could thus have entered. It was路 impossible for Labazarris 0 Lavezares to determine who was responsible for the criminal attack. The rulers then must not be accused of this horrible crime, but the victims themselves who could have escaped, and did not, by taking advantage of the condition of the prison which must have resembled a den of malefactors where it was difficult to pinpoint the author of the double assassination committed within one hour. In that epoch of great faith there was not wanting someone who attributed the assassination to an 路 elf .or ghost, etc. As to the rest, for the death of these two leaders the old Lakandula was indemnified excessively by Labazarris with a rich silk dress and a -180-

gold chain, a gesture which indicated little remorse and therefore the innocence of Labazarris, because at that time such gifts were trifles; silk costumes were common, and the poorest had a gold chain, if we are to believe the historians 路 who lived in those happy times.

Not far from this house was that of the family of Rajah Soliman, with its little tower, beside whose windows, tradition says, the dispossessed Rajah in his last days spend whole hours, silent and immovable, v'lith his gaze fixed toward Manila, his former dominion.

Between these two houses there was another, not as large nor as notable as its neighbors, but with a better cultivated garden with many beautiful flowering plants.

Under the shade of the palm trees of different species, like the coconut palm, the buri, ( 1) and the bonga, (2) under the share of the ilang-ilang (3 ) and the bending and sonorous bamboo canes, climbing on the fence was the . sampaga with its white flowers; the ground was covered with clumps of kamantigue and rising from among the whimsically piled up stones were the graceful stalks of the tuberose and clumps of lilies with their colored flowers jutting out of the dark green leaves.

There were immense clams covered with moss placed here and there, now on the ground, now over the stones, to collect rain water, while on the grass carpet, like gigantic flowers, could be seen scattered here and there, white coral and polyparies called by the Tagalog stone flow ers because of their shape and flowerlike look. wv.

Just as the garden was beautiful and well cultivated so was the house old and neglected. Parts of it were falling in ruins but happily disguised by the pumpkin and pea vines that covered them. Looking at that 路contrast. one would say that the house was unoccupied if it were not for the sound of a guitar br kudyapi that could be heard at times through the window and of a kind of sad, melancholy song in a soft feminine voice belonging to a woman who seemed to be practicing a new song.

(1) (2) (8)

Corypha elata.

Adornidia Merrillii.

Canangium odoratum.

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The neighbors knew her well. She was Maligaya, beautiful twin to Maria Sinagtala, two young women who were well-known in the town for _their beauty and their family background.

On the father's side they descended from Numanatay, the leader who had been beheaded along with the son of Lakandula; their mother was a granddaughter of Lakandula and was called Isabel. The father called Maambun was a Pagan, like all his ancestors, and had to be baptized in order to marry Isabel with whom he was in love. Reproached by his father, the terrible Kaman dagan, a month after his marriage, he declared before the whole family that he was remaining faithful to the old religion and that he had no other name but that of Maambun.

-"And the baj)tism?" they asked him.

-"The water has evaporated and scarcely have I touched the skin of my head," he replied calmly. "And what does that matter to you? Do I not take a bath daily, I take lime, and I anoi~t my hair with oil?"

-"And the words pronounced over your head by the Spanish priest?" his terrified wife demonstJ:ated.

-"I didn't understand one word", he replied with a shrug of the shoulders; "and although he spoke for a long time, not even the acolytes understood him and they were answering him. Of what use are the words if they are not understood?"

-"Therefore, why did you accept baptism?" asked an uncle of Isabel.

-"Well, in order to get married. I said to myself that a little water will not change the blood of Maambun. It has occurred to these foreigners to wet all our heads and as this rare madness has contaminated the relatives of my future wife, let us give in to them.

That is not the difficult part, but to learn and memorize those very strange things of three or four are one, of a mother who is a virgin, of a father who is not a father, and I don't know what else that I have already forgotten. They are such strange and complicated stories,

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as everything they teach. But don't tell this to the priest as he might meddle and separate us. The important thing is that I'll be a good husband to Isabel, as were all my ancestors who were never baptized, and let me believe what my ancestors taught me and not what these foreigners say.

It was not difficult for Maambun to make his relatives, many of whom were Christians, to accept this new arrangement. For the sake of peace, Kamandagan, father of Maambun, urged them to abandon Maalat and live in Mainit or Los Banos, a poor settlement recently ceded to the Franciscans by the Augustinians. Mainit was more or less as poor then as it is today, in spite of the fact that it had one lone hospital as deserted as the present one and was also built at the expense of the Indios of the town. In his wretched corner Kaman路路 dagan owned property which he visited from time to time whenever he came back from his long and mysterious trips. There Maambun and Isabel went to live and there the twins were born.

In accordance with the custom of the Tagalog when twins were born, the first one followed the fath er's condition and was named Maligaya; the second one that of the mother and was baptized in Bay with the name Maria Sinagtala.

There the two sisters grew up and were educated.

Although Sinagtala had been baptized, she lived and grew up as a Pagan, her religion being reduced to going to Bahy to hear mass on a Sunday, watch this or that procession, and no more. It was also true that her mother did not do more.

From time to time Old Kamandagan visited them there and tried to imbue the minds of his granddaughters with hatred of the new rulers and of their religion, telling them about past events, events in which both the Spaniards and their religion always appeared in the darkest colors, But this lasted a short time, because Kamandagan would again disappear for a long time.

In fact, this son of Numanatay had sworn eternal enmity against those he believed to have been the as-183-

sassins of his father, and as an Indio of those times, he held on oath of revenge as very sacred. In 1585 he was ' already suspected of having taken part in the conspiracy between Pampanga, Manila, and the Borneans, a conspiracy which failed thanks to the revelation of a woman, wife of a soldier. Whether this rumor was true or not, the fact was that many were hanged and shot with harquebuses, and the young Kamandagan narrowly escaped by "fleeing to Northern Luzon. Some believed that he took part in the uprising in Cagayan in ' 1589, occasioned by the tribute and the exactions of the encomenderos. Not wanting was someone wh ~' believed him to be a god that four years later appear~d in Bohol, stirred the inhabitants to rebellion, supported three stubborn fights, 'and escap~d from there miraculously in order to start the war in Leite and Cagayan.

Nobody could say whether these rumors were true or not, for ,then a~ now, suspicion and false rumors were the order of tne day and not ' infrequently the innocent suspects and accused ended up like today by putting themselves beyond the pale of the law to escape the torture and vexations which were the inevitable consequences of such accusations. However, for the sake of the truth, we declare that Kamandagan was absent from Manila when these disturbances occurred.

On account of the expedition to Formosa in 1629, Maambun was compelled to leave his family and join the expeditionary troops, dying in the taking of Tanchay. This made Kamandagan, finding his grandchildren without a father, to abandon his mysterious journeys and settle beside them. The girls were then about eleven years old.

Thus, they lived three or, four years and the sisters grew up ' into beautiful and graceful young women, attracting the attention not only of the curate of Bay but also _of the encornendero who, with less bashfulness than the' curate, one day sent his servants to fetch the girls. Naturally, Kamandagan opposed it, and the ser路 vants then tried to use force but in an evil hour. Old Kamandagan with a stake which he pulled out of the

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mud killed two, letting th.e others flee so that they could tell the encomendero to come in person, according to him. And without being upset and without haste, he put the mother and the two girls in a parow to go to Manila and await him there.

The encomendero of Bahy did not show up. Kamandagan was sought but he had disappeared.

The young women and their mother went to live in the old house of their father which they found almost in ruins. After a few months, the mother died and at the . . moment our story begins they were still In mournIng. Maria Sinagtala was embroidering and Maligaya was playing the guitar.

They were two young women whose resemblance had confused unaccustomed eyes. There were more life and arrogance in the face of Sinagtala while in that of Maligaya, more sweetness, more candor. However, they have the same oval face, the same forehead, the same small hands with pointed and well shaped fingers.

-"Last night I dreamed", said Maligaya, interrupting suddenly her singing.

-"And what did you dream, Ate?" asked Sinagtala without raising her eyes from her work.

She called her Ate, as an older sister, for having been born a few moments before her.

-"I dreamed that grandfather was coming! ... and bringing us Ilocana blankets and Chinese silk."

Sinagtala then raised her eyes and replied slowly.

-"If grandfather is dead, that means he is asking for masses and alms to rescue his soul from Purgatory where he is being tortured, but. "

-"But?" "According to babaylan (priestess) Katipuna, that signifies", she replied, lowering her voice, "that grand-185-

father's soul is watching over us and has not abandoned us."

-"And who do you think is right?" asked Maligaya.

Although the older one, she always deferred to the opinion of Sinagtala in tacit recognition of her superior intelligence and stronger character.

-"Who is right?" Sinagtala repeated mechanically, looking out towards the sea through the window. "Who knows? The white priests read many books and they say they know many things ... but between believing that my grandfather is watching over me and is roasting there in the fire ... grandfather was so good. However, as you are not a Christian you should believe what the babaylan says while I, as I have been bap路 d. . . . " t lze -"Y es. Yo don't believe what the priest says."

Sinagtala did no reply.

-"If I were a Christian" continued Maligaya.

-"If you were a Christian, what?"

-"I would believe!" replied Maligaya, lowering her head and touching some strings of her guitar.

Sinagtala knit her eyebrows and looked for a moment at her sister who remained with head bowed.

-"I do believe what grandfather said," she replied in a dry tone, "and if it were not for our mother whose condition I have to follow, never would I go to church nor listen to those sermons which, as grandfather said, only tended to lower us in our own eyes in order to degrade us and to make it easy to enslave us. When I was baptized I was only a child and if I had been asked before it, I would not have consented to it. I can't believe; that is my fault; my reason improves, what can I do? I do enough by going to church, kneel, pray, and listen to the sermon. What more can they ask?"

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Maligaya was listening to her sister with a halfopen mouth.

-"Don't get angry, sister; I'm not saying it to you as a rebuke", replied Maligaya, "I was saying it solely for . . . . " -"For what?"

-"What do I know?" answered the young woman blushingly and resumed her playing on her guitar, and for some minutes the sisters did not exchange a word.

-"Martin is delayed!" said Sinagtala taking advantage of a pause of her sister.

With these words she indicated that her resentment has passed away. Martin was a singer in the Church of St. Augustine and a suitor of Maligaya.

-"It is true," she replied indifferently.

-"Now I know," exclaimed suddenly Sinagtala with a naughtly air, "why you would believe in what the priest say if you were a Christian; I have guessed it."

And she stood up smiling to embrace her sister.

- "And what have you guessed?" asked Maligaya with a certain anxiety as if wishing to read the thought in the eyes of her sister . . . -"Ive guessed", she continued smiling "that you wish to be a Christian; well I have guessed it."

Maligaya bit her lips and looked at her sister with increased concern.

-"And why should I wish to be a Christian?" she asked with a broken voice in spite of her smile and jesting tone.

-"Because Martin is a Christian", replied Sinagtala smiling.

Upon hearing this Maligaya laughed merrily and openly which confused her sister. Anxiety had disappeared from her face and she laughed joyfully.

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Then it was Sinagtala who became worried and replied seriously.

-"Why are you laughing so much?"

-"Because of your idea to make me a Christian to marry me to Martin; poor Martin I" And the cruel girl began to mimic the walk and left-handed manners of the unlucky suitor.

-"Then, if you don't love him", replied Sinagtala seriously, "why don't you tell him so frankly?"

-"Ive told him but what can I do if he insists on coming?"

-"Because you give him hope; you make him teach you how to play the guitar; you converse with him; you ask him many questions about his life, his church, about the saints, as if everything concerning him interests you and you wish to become a Christian so that some day you may marry a Christian whom he believes to be himself, without doubt."

-"Well, I regret it," replied Maligaya, thoughtful; "but what can I do? I don't have the courage to imitate you; it hurts me to treat harshly persons who like me dearly.... I can't help it. I can't give Martin the hints you gave to those young men you were talking with in the garden yesterday."

"-Who? Those clerks and servants who work in the palaces in Manila?"

-"They are sons of principales". (1) -"Worse I Wretched like slaves; neither do they blash nor recent working as servants there where their ancestors had been the lords. Those? Without any ambition but to get from the Spanish master a smile of compassion, whose happiness is to hold a position that permits them to live at the expense of the rest, humble toward the Spaniards and tyrannical toward their own compatriots; what remains to them of their old nobility?"

(1)

Leading citizens.

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Maligaya with head bowed did not reply.

-"Frankly," continued Sinagtala in a saddened tone, "I prefer to die single than marry and entrust my happiness to the hands of a slave."

-"And when you die," Maligaya asked, "who will hold your hand to cross the narrow bridge that leads to heaven? Katipunta says that those who die single have no one to help them go to heaven because they were useless in this life. Woman, she says, is a flower that ought not to be sterile but to give fruit."

-"Yes, that is what our ancient religion says; but the white priests prefer the virtue of virginity to that of maternity. That is why they always extol! the young women who close themselves up in that convent in Manila they call Santa Clara!"

-"Is that what they say?" asked Maligaya in admiration.

-"Yes, according to them it is little less than sin to procreate. It seems that their God has created man and woman only to run around a beautiful garden that they call paradise. Well now, the devil induced them to sin and men were born .... " -"So that men are the work of the devil and not of God?" -"Perhaps", according to them.

-"How strange! And whom do you believe, Katipunta or the priests?"

-"How do I know? But.... " -"But?" -"Must I tell you everything that I'm thinking of?" she asked, looking at her sister from head to foot.

-"And what do you think?"

-"That it is advisable for us to believe what the white priests say. It's a horrible sin to bring fo rth -189-

beings whom we know will become unhappy slaves.

But let us set aside these questions and we are going to water our plants.

-"It's useless", replied Maligaya, looking towards the garden; it was already beginning to rain.

Sinagtala put away her work and began to tidy up the house.

In the meantime night was approaching; the bell of the Maalat Church sounded the Ave Maria. Upon hearing it Sinagtala stopped her chores and prayed as her mother had taught her, while Maligaya lighted the lamps. Meanwhile the old woman-servant had not arrived.

-"Martin is not coming anymore", said Maligaya, laying down her guitar.

-"Here he comes; I hear footsteps."

In fact, uneven footsteps were heard, which became more and more p onounced; they were Martin's own footste ps, who was slightly lal e. He went up the stairs of the batalan;(2 ) then the sound of pouring water was heard, because Martin, like all the Indios then, never entered a house without first washing their feet, for which there was always a jar of water ready at the entrance of the houses.

Maligaya stood up to receive him.

Martin was a young man, between twenty and twenty-two years, thin, of slender body, with a pleasant and attractive countenance, stamped with a sad and resigned smile. Obliging, refined, and attentive towards all, he always spoke in a low voice. Those who did not know him said that music was all he knew and Maligaya was his only love.

He always brought something for the two sisters; if not flowers, some devotional article because Martin was very devout. That afternoon he was bringing a candle for Sinagtala and a music sheet for Maligaya.

(2)

Back service porch.

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-"I've come late," he said upon entering, "because a great mishap has occurred in the convent."

-"What has happened?" the two sisters asked, worried and curious, noting the terror which has not totally vanished from the countenance of the young man.

-"Do you remember that gunner who was here last year looking for your grandfather?"

-"Who? That one who wanted to sleep here on the pretext that grandfather was hiding and was coming? And in order that he would leave us alone I had to give him my gold chain?"

-"The same one?"

-"And what? Planning to come again?" asked Maligaya terrified.

-"Bah!" replied the young man, trying to smile. ','Jesus, Maria, Joseph! God forgive him!"

-"And well, what?" asked Sinagtala impatiently.

-"We have been hiding him in the convent but at last they have caught him."

-"That they will probably hang him?"

-"N 0, at last? The new governor found out at last his cruelty and abuses."

-"And then you remember that he had a beautiful slave whom he liked very much but always maltreated her whenever he was drunk?"

-"Yes, and what?"

-"The archbishop compelled him to marry her or to sell her to another. He wanted to marry her, but the slave, who could not stand him preferred to be sold to marrying her former torturer."

-"And well, well!"

-"The gunner met her this afternoon on Calle Real del Palacio and stabbed her to death."

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Maligaya shuddered.

-"And afterwards he hid in our church to escape from the police. As you know, among the Christians, even the greatest criminal once inside a church is already free from the law. That is why they choose the neighborhood of churches to commit their crimes, and they say that this gunner has selected our church for that purpose. There is nothing more sacred than a church, and the Church of St. Augustine is the most sacred of them all, though they say that the site it occupies was the place where my ancestors had their pig pens, because our house stood where the sacristy now is."

And Martin sighed, smiling.

-"And why do you say that they will hang him, if the church is sacred?"

-"That is precisely the scandal; that is why I've come late. The governor who, according to the priests, is not much of a Christian because he has been contaminated with the vices of the heretics in Flandersthe country of the Dutch enemies - ordered the convent and the church to be fenced, forbidding anyone to go out, which in the opinion of the priests is not only an impiety but also a manifest insult to God." -"And what happened?"

-"That I could not go out. The priests at first planned to oppose the order and someone suggested that the gates be defended by an armed force, saying that the soldiers would not dare touch the priests because they would be excommunicated and because to lay hands on a priest is to lay hands on God and they will be damed eternally.... They are already looking hurriedly for swords and harquebuses. We the sacristans and singers were armed to defend the convent, which seemed to us dangerous and useless because we are not sacred like they and they could very well get us and harquebus us without offending an angel or being excommunicated. They therefore placed us at the gates

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while they, who were sacred, withdrew to the interior far from the danger, and what happened? When the soldiers forced open the gates, the sacristans ran away and I got a blow with the handle of a spear. The soldiers searched the convent despite th~ threats of the friars who uttered terrible prayers in Latin, throwing out benedictions .which would have frightened good Christians but the servants of Satan as the priests call them, did not mind them. . . . They took the gunner from the convent by force and handed him over to the general of the artillery."

-"And do you believe they are going to hang him?"

-"The priests say that the governor will not dare do it; because that would be against the rights of the convents and consequently affend God. Immediately they went to see the archbishop, whom you know is an Augustinian, to com pel the governor to return the prisoner to his convent, as something that belongs to them. And the governor has to do it out of fear of the archbishop, who ca excommunicate him and condemn him for all eternity."

-"Is the archbishop then so powerful?" asked Maligaya.

-"Well!" replied Martin; "If you were a Christian, you would not ask me such a question. The priests say that the one we now have already has done miracles when he was still in the convent, and he was only then a mere friar. Now that he is an archbishop and puts on a miter - that long and pointed hat with pearls and diamonds - if he wishes, he can make God come down, make night of day or stopped the sun three days and three nights, according to Brother Francisco."

-"Well, very different was the other archbjshop", replied Maligaya. "We saw him precisely on the day we arrived from Los Banos. He was walking barefoot in the procession, his head covered with ashes and a halter around his neck. He looked like the old drunkard in Bahy who was punished by the curate to go around

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like that for having entered the church drunk and without removing his putong."

-"Well, the archbishop was not punished by anyone, but he did it voluntarily in order to catch the thief of the Holy Sacrament."

-"To catch a thief, what a curious way! The curate of Bahy as well as the encomendero, when something is stolen from them, look for the thieves by horsewhip路 ping the servants and slaves and depriving them of their food; how silly are the Spaniards! And tell me, was the thief caught?"

-"No", replied Martin, trying to look saddened, "the holy archbishop did not get anything except that he died of grief, believing that they have stolen God, which was an immense misfortune."

-"But, is it possible to steal the God of the Christians ?"

-"Of course", replied Ma~tin, "that is precisely the greatness of our Religion; witI} a piece of bread we can make the very same God, body, soul, and blood; God the Omnipotent who created the sky, the earth, and everything that you see . . . . " Maligaya was absorbed in thought.

-"And if the one who stole God sells Him as a slave?" she asked anxiously.

-"That was precisely what the archbishop feared.

He might have been sold to the Chinese, rvloros, or infidels whom you know are enemies of our God and for a long time he suffered much. The books speak of a woman who took communion in order to sell to God a Jew who, being an enemy, was put in boiling oil, but God in the form of a most beautiful boy dashed out and he would not burn. This was what the archbishop feared might happen. But, it seems that. as he confessed to a priest, the thief had given the body of God to an infant of two months and sold only the

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precious stones and the gold. If the Archbishop had only known this, he would not have died of grief."

Maligaya was thoughtful.

-"Tell me, Martin, do the Spaniards obey everything their God commands?"

-"The good do, but not the bad ones."

There was another pause and finally Maligaya as if making up her mind, said to Martin.

-"Martin, I'm going to ask you a favor. " -"Command me."

-"Take me one day to your God." Martin raised his head.

-"Don't be afraid/' she said smiling, "I'm not going to do anything to Him; I'll prepare flowers, honey, and a perfumed silk cape for him. I'm going to play him my most beautiful pieces."

Martin made the sign of the cross and looked with fear at Maligaya, believing that she was not the same Maligaya, who used to talk with him, but the devil who had taken that form to tempt him. Remembering what he had heard many times from the friars, he formed his fingers into cross and presented it to Maligaya.

a

But the young woman continued looking at him with inquiring eyes as if wishing to know what all that signified. Convinced that she was not the devil, Martin who loved her blindly, again became calm little by little and did not know what to answer and was about to give in, relying on the promises and good intention of the young woman who was incapable of committing any crime and had no other defect except that she was not a Christian. Who knows, he also thought, that through this means she would be converted and God, performing a miracle with his advent, persuade

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her heart. ... Brisk foqtsteps that they heard changed their thoughts. Startled, both sisters stood up looking at each other.

-"Grandfather!" exclaimed Sinagtala, becoming pale.

Sinagtala knew the footstep of all their relatives and friends.

Their gazes were fixed on the door.

The footsteps were heard again and soon the old man appeared, the same one yve saw on the rock of Malapad-na-bato, attending the funeral of Prince Tagulima.

When the two sisters saw him .advance toward them smiling, with gestures to keep silent, convinced that he was not a phantom, they flung themselves toward him to kiss his han.,d, but he drew them instead to him and embraced them.

The two sisters could not keep their tears and they cried for joy.

-"Who is this young man?" asked the old man, pointing to Martin.

-"He is a grandson of Gad Sindana," replied Sinagtala, "and teaches Maligaya the kudyapi."

-"Oh!" exclaimed the old man, greeting Martin affectionately. "Gad Sindana was the son of Gad Tandul whom I knew when I was a child. He was the bravest in his time and died full of glory and honor before the arrival of the Spaniards. Happy was he! The house of your ancestors occupied We lot where now stands the church of the Augustinians. Who could have made Gad Tandul believe it? His descendants will never return to the land of their ancestors!"

-"That is why", replied Martin resignedly, "I have made myself a singer and sacristan in the church, at least to be able to live in the same place where at one time lived in glory my ancestors."

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-"So you are a Christian!"

-"So were my parents; my grandparents never wanted to be baptized."

-"And so to be able to live on the lot of your ancestors you have become a singer and a sacristan; this is to sing, praise, and serve this God in whose name you have been despoiled of the home, residence, and tomb for centuries of all your ancestors, whose ashes were not suspected in order to erect their altars and temples! Oh! Gad Tandul I" And a bitter smile appeared on the countenance of Kamandagan.

Martin felt offended and replied.

-"I'm not to blame; my parents were to blame and those of their time who did not know how to defend either their home or their liberty. They were born free while I was borJ} here in this town and I've been educated in subjE}ctiQn. I serve, yes, but God and not man as do the other young men, also sons of principales.

-"You're right, 'young man," answered Kamandagan seriously, "but a good son ought never to accuse his elders, but he should correct the mi.stakes they commit or had committed. But don't be offended, neither is it your fault. You, the youth of today, especially the Christians, are being wisely educated to despise your past, your race, beliefs, and traditions so that seeing yourselves constantly being humbled and keeping before your eyes your own inferiority, you will obediently place your neck under the yoke and become slaves. Young man, you are not to be blame; at least something remains in you: Your love for the home of your ancestors."

And sweetening the tone of his voice, he continued: -"Dine with us tonigh~., young man; I've been away for a long time and I appreciate your friendliness towards my granddaughters. Don't decline, because I read in the eyes of my granddaughters that there's nothing prepared, and they may think that you refuse to share our poverty."

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Let us leave them talk about family affairs, which the reader can easily guess, and we are going at last to the city of Manila, the Mistress of the Orient, feared and respected by her neighbors at that time.

The Most Illustrious Fray Hernando Guerrero was in his office filled with the greatest consternation for what had happened in Saint Augustine Church.

To add further to his confusion there were two Augustinians right in his office - the Provincial and his notorious favorite, the Vicar General Pedro Monroy.

The Provincial of the Augustinians had prepared a ~~ speech.

-"Consider, Most Illustrious Sir," the Provincial said, "the insult inflicted on your Order, not only on the sacred asylum of the Convent, where at one time, Most Illustriou~ Sir, you spent such peaceful hours, now impossible because its sacred virginity hag been violated; conside'I', Most Illustrious Sir, not only the crumpling of eccle~iastical immunity, the pillar of religion, the foundation of society, and consequently the powerful lever of the world, but also the outrage to Divine Majesty, because, Illustrious Sir, this outrage is not to the Convent~ not to ecclesiastical immunity. not to the right of asylum, it is to God Himself: "Not to you but to me", God said to Samuel; the abuse is directed not to man but to God. Consider, Most Illustrious Sir, that Divine Majesty may ask you for a reckoning for having surrendered its rights, consider that Most Illustrious Sir." Awed by this oratory the Archbishop inclined his head, joining both hands in a suppliant attitude.

-"What should I do?" moaned the good Archbishop.

-"What we tell you," replied the Vicar General, pounding the table with his fist. Your Most Illustrious Sir should ask the governor emphatically to return the prisoner to his asylum or else suffer excommunione latae sententiae, make penitence, and proclaim " -198-

-"But don't Your Graces know", answered the tearful archbishop, "that the governor will not do what he is told, that threats have no effect on him ...."

-"Yes, when the threats are not carried out."

-"What? Would he dare oppose the great power of the Church?"

-"He's not afraid of it", said the Archbishop, "because he has the Jesuits on his side."

-"Then the Jesuits must be compelled to come to our side and help the Church. Your Most Illustrious Sir is the archbishop and you have ample powers to compel them to do so."

-"The Jesuits will have to follow the four Corporations", added the Provincial; "They'll never dare to go against us".

The poor old man shook his head.

-"The Jesuits fear no one; have they not gone against us on the question of the Presidio ( citadel) of Sambuangan? What did the religious corporations get from warring against them, from discrediting that port, from arousing the discontent of the Indios whose tribute had been raised to maintain that citadel; N0 thing, the Presidio continued, the governor supported them, they won, an-d they laugh at the enemy! Ah! The Jesuits are cunning."

The Provincial bit his lips and the Vicar General stamped his foot on the floor.

-"But, let us see, Most Illustrious Sir," said the Augustinian, trying to control himself; "it is Your Most Illustrious Sir's duty to protect your flock as a good shepherd, ye~ or no?"

-"Of course it is my duty", replied the happy archbishop.

-"It's the Sacred Order of the Augustinians of which your Most Illustrious Sir, is a son, a pillar of the Church, the strongest pillar, yes or no?"

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-"Everybody knows that I'm" -"Can the edifice of Christianity last without danger if its strongest pillar ~~ver in the face of the blows of its destructive enemy, yes or no?"

-"But to what do all these questions lead, Father Provincial?" asked the archbishop in a complaining tone. "I'm the first to admit the great importance of our Order and I wished I had never left the tranquility of the cloister. So happy in my life ...."

And with the back of his hand he wiped out a tear.

-"Well then," continued the implacable Provincial, "you should defend energetically the immunity of asylum, not only as an ecclesiastical asylum but also as the asylum of your convent."

-"But couldn't prudence find another solution?"

-"When it concerns the defence of a right, it is sinful to resort to subterfuges, [Most Illustrious Sir; God who is truth ought to defend his rights without mundane considerations. First the rights of God and afterwards let the world turn topsy-turvy."

-"But take note, Most Illustrious Sir, that Don Sebastian is wilful."

-"Well, we are more! And let us see who is the stronger. He can't stay here more than nine years, while you, Most Illustrious Sir, will be here all your life, and we the Corporations for all eternity. If Mr. Sebastian Hurtado de Corcuera is such a great politician as he pretends to be, he will try not to go against us, because here he could lose all his good fame. Nothing, Your Excellency, in this question you must show firmness, because if you show signs of giving in, you'll never recover the lost ground. You, Most Illustrious Sir, ought to demand the return of the prisoner to us under penalty of excommunione latae sententiae as the Vicar General advises, so that the ecclesiastical courts may judge the case as merely an ecclesiastical one and -200-

afterwards he is returned or not as it deems convenient; but first, let everybody see that the smallest privilegp. that the Corporations enjoy must be respected. Do this Most Illustrious Sir, and be assured that we shall always be on your side supporting you in everything; otherwise, if the Corporations see that their prelate abandon them in claiming their rights, who knows if afterwards they would also abandon their prelate. You, Most Illustrious Sir, know there is a certain resentment between you and the governor and it is convenient for you to have allies, and because it seems that the enemy is provoking, it is good to answer his arrogance, so that he would not be encouraged."

These last reasons made the archbishop thoughtful, who replied only with a sigh.

-"And Most Illustrious Sir should not forget that it is desirable to save from death this Francisco Nava", added the Vicar General intentionally, knowing the weakness of the archbishop. You, Most Illustrious Sir, is very nearly the cause of his misfortune and of his crime."

-"How?" asked the frightened archbishop.

-"Because you, Most Illustrious Sir, were the one who compelled him to separate from her."

-"But that is my duty."

-"Undoubtedly, but the truth is, as Francisco Nava said, he alone was compelled to separate from his paramour because he is a poor man, while others were overlooked. And they say that after the separation, he said: "The Archbishop would be responsible for whatever I might do."

At this point the good old man lost completely his serenity and delivered himself to the hands of the Vicar General and the Provincial. The good man believed that in a certain way he was the cause of that misfortune and accused himself of weakness in overlooking other sinners among whom were some friars.

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-"Very well, very well, God forgive me!" he replied, "Do what Your Graces believe should be done.

Save that unfortunate man."

-"Well, first send an official communication to the governor who took the prisoner from his asylum."

-"Yes . . . but try to soften the language as you already know that Don Sebastian is stubborn."

The Vicar General repressed his smile and wrote on a sheet of paper the following: "Mr. Governor: Francisco Nava, a gunner, was forcibly taken from the sacred asylum that ecclesiastical immunity bestows on the venerable convent of the Augustinian fathers. As Archbishop I order Your Excellency to comply with your duty as an obedient son of the Church to return immediately the prisoner to his asylum, thus giving an example of humility and of a good Christian; for, on the contrary, you would become liable to a very grave spiritual penalty that later Your Excellency would regret."

-"It's very good," said the good old man, taking the paper, but could you not change a little the phrase as Archbishop 1 order. Mr. Corcuera is very jealous of his powers as governor and this may vex him; please put 1 beg you; and I say the same thing about the threat at the end."

-"Because if you, Most Illustrious Sir, do not threaten, you produce no effect," objected the Vicar General.

-"Sometimes threats produce the opposite of the desired effect," he replied timidly.

-"Yes, Your Excellency, but when one meets a character like that of the governor, one should not go about softly; when one handles iron one must use hammer and fire."

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The good archbishop bowed his head and replied, -"Very well, but take out that phrase, as Archbishop."

While the Vicar General was putting the letter in final form the Provincial said to the archbishop as a consolation: -"Your Lordship will see what effect the letter will have on the governor; watch how it will destroy his airs."

And he winked maliciously.

After the letter was finished and signed, they called the most cunning page to take the letter with the instruction to deliver it to the governor himself and to observe his reaction to it.

The page promised to do so.

)

Translated from the Spanish by Encarnacion Alzona using a photostat copy belonging to the Bureau of Public Libraries.

Manila. 31 July 1957. * 13-2

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TWO BROTHERS

I know some brothers with whom a domineering aunt lives. The said aunt, in former times, was rich and strong and that was why she could meddle in the life of the brothers. But in the course of time she became weak and poor, including the nephews. She oppressed and bound them, and to every plea or aspiration the proud aunt replied with scolding and punishment. In view of this, one of them asked and said to himself: "The answer to force is force, when justice is deaf.

Will my blood relations help me should I decide to save ourselves? Until now, if one of us shall dare or dare to answer, he is alone, because the others do not help. But it seems they are changing. If we should dare again to use all our strength and act all together, will the others help? The road to be traversed is very dangerous, but the profit is tremendous; the capital is large, greater tha~ life, because it involves the lives of others. Can they J,?romise that they will respond and they will not stop, inasmuch as the failure or the weakness of one will endanger all?"

This is the question, but I don't know the reply of the others.

Translated fl'om the Tagalog by Encarnacon. Alzona 17 November 1958

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THE SIGNIFICANCE OF PALM SUNDAY

In this brief essay, whose original is written in French (Berlin, 1887), Rizal gives an illuminating interpretation ot Palm Sunday as well as some reflections on Christianity.

Palm Sunday, which the Catholic Church celebrates in commemoration of the triumphant entry of Jesus in Jerusalem, inspires many curious reflections.

This entry amidst an enthusiastic people hailing and acclaiming God's envoy, the just Man who was compassionate towards the sufferings of his fellow-creatures, amidst the strong which had gathered to welcome Him who had blessed poverty, consoled the wretched, the poor, the outcast, amidst the cries of joy, songs, olive branches, palms - this entry, we believe, determined the future of the just and the destinies of humanity throughout the centuries. Perhaps if Jesus had not entered Jerusalem triumphant and acclaimed by the populace, his passion would not have taken place and consequently Christianity would not have become what it has been. This entry decided the fate of the jealous priests, the Pharisees, of all those who believed themselves the only ones having the right to speak in the name of God, of those who could not admit the verities said by others, because they have not been said by them.

That triumph, those hosannas, all those flowers, and those olive branches, were not for Jesus alone; they were the song of victory of the new law, they were the canticles celebrating the dignification of man, the liberty of man, the first mortal blow directed against despotism and slavery. The sight of Jesus riding on a donkey and hailed by the people disgusted and moved to action the proud who saw their kingdom, their power, -205-

their abuses, their happiness endangered. Palm Sunday was the commencement of the epopee.

If Jesus had not been crucified, if he had not become a martyr of his doctrine, perhaps, divine as his doctrine was, it would have remained in the heart of Jud.ea, ignored by some unfortunate families who would not themselves have had. the courage to support it, as we see in the case of :Peter, who was the first to deny his Master, and in the case of all the dIscIples of Jesus who disappeared as soon as things had become menacing - this religion would have been lost w~th the Jewish nationality. We would not have heard of it any more, as we did of Brahmanism, Buddhism, Sabaism, except as a study solely of historic curiosity.

Perhaps this religion would have reached us disfigured, mutilated, bastardized, like so many others of which we know nothing but some absurdities, at which we would scoff because thus have we learned them from travelers and ml~sionaries. And then, instead of adoring Jesus, we would have taken him for a fool as we have done with Zo oaster, Buddha, and Manu. Instead of bowing our heatl to his doctrines, we would have discussed them jestingly with bantering smiles.

It was the poor who first accepted Christianity; yes, it was the poor who, seeing in their priests not the ministers of God but despots, hailed in Jesus the Man of God, the Man to whom poverty was not a stigma and who could deliver them from their misfortune. The poor are among those least contented with their fate, who always search for something to relieve their suffering, and who accept everything that is new in their desire to change their present state. Not seeing around them but tears and privations, they are like a drowning man who clings to anything he can seize, no matter if it is a burning iron, no matter if it is the sharp blade of a poisoned dagger.

The poor have given power to Christianity for it was their friend, their religion. The potentates, the rich, and the kings did not accept it until later, some having -206-

been obliged to do so, others for political reasons, and the rest being merely carried away. They first accepted it in order not to be crushed by it and afterwards to master it, making it their instrument to subjugate peoples.

Why then in our times is Christianity no longer the religion of the poor, of the unfortunate? Why are the rich its most powerful and devoted partisans? Has it ceased to promise happiness to those who suffer and has it placed itself on the side of those who rule and dominate?

)

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THE FEAST OF SAINT ISIDORE

Que me voulez-vous tous,

a moi qui vais mourer?

(Alfred Musset)

On the fifteenth of May is celebrated at Madrid the feast of its patron saint, St. Isidore, together with his wife, Santa Maria de la Cabeza.

It is remarkable that Madrid, the least industrial city of Spain, the least dedicated to agriculture, the least democratic, in spite of its republican ideas and the muddy rabble of its slums, Madrid, where the surrounding fields are barren and uncultivated as the rocky fields of Arabia, has for its patron, a laborer, a man of the common people - Saint Isidore, born, it is said, in the environs.

It is said that while he was hearing Mass, angels plowed his field an\i that at one time, in order not to leave the Holy Sacrifice, he didn't listen at all to one of his friends who came to tell him of the danger his animals were in. On his return he found, it is said, that his cattle had killed the wolves which attacked them. If he lived in our time, Saint Isidore, in spite of the Holy Mass, would be dismissed from the field and instead of being in our chapels, he would be tried and probably imprisoned.

Nevertheless, it seems that this story has remained in the imagination of the people or of the entire nation, because the Madrilenians in particular and the Spaniards in general, always await similar miracles to happen not only while they hear Mass, a thing unfortunately rare enough, but also when they listen to their great orators, or when they attend their bloody bull-fights. They neglect everything - fields, business, family, country, and interests.

It is also recounted of this saint that at one time when his master visited the fields, he saw angels pull-208-

ing the ploughs. But he did not recognize the holiness of his laborer until one day, when, dying of thirst, he asked Isidore to give him something to drink. Thereupon, Isidore with his pickaxe knocked on a stone, from which gushed forth a jet of fresh water and this made the master fall on his knees before him in admiration. It is in this position that the saint is always painted. The landowner was called Vargas. The wife of Saint Isidore, Saint Mary, was older than he, according to tradition.

The feast is not famous for any grand or impressive ceremony of the Catholic religion - no procession, no illumination. The Mass is said in the church called Saint Isidore at Lavapies. But the memory of this saint is celebrated with a Bacchic orgy in the meadow called Pradera de San Isidro, near Manzanares, three quarters of an hour from Madrid. They go there by vehicle, on horseback, by bus, and on foot. From one o'clock in the afternoon, the crowd throngs the stony highway, bathed by a burning sun. Joyous cries, songs, guitars, tambourines are heard all along the way, mingled with the neighing of horses and the whistles of the bus and tramway conductors; colors of all sorts, picturesque costumes, flags, handkerchiefs glitter, enlivening the barrenness of the countryside where here and there are planted some rickety trees, shadowless and leafless. Each one brings his own provision which must be eaten on the grass: bottles of wine, sausages, eggs, olives, etc.

The famous meadow lies on the right side of the road: a chapel on a high point of the land, a cemetery on one side, sheds in which are sold cakes and statuettes, some religious, the majority profane as well as indecent, like that of an old couple - an old and thin woman in underwear seated on a chamber pot and the old husband also in underwear on another chamber pot--and others still more naturalistic. Beside the bed, where one will see small reclining figurines, will be found images of the Virgin, Saint Isidore, and others. These sheds lead to the chapel which sometimes remains closed. The cakes sold here are called rosquillas, all of which are advertised to have been made by a relative of Aunt Javiera, who must have been a great manufacturer of -209-

cakes. You'll read on one shop: Rosquillas of the true granddaughter of Aunt Javiera; on another: True Rosquillas of a genuine relative of Saint Javiera, etc., etc.

The popular dance, the fandango, is danced to the music of the guitar. They eat on the grass reclining, seated, intoxicated, men and women mixed together, embracing one another before everyone, rolling on the turf like bacchantes and satyrs. We ourselves have seen a young girl lying flat on the belly of a young man while another was seated on both of them, making lascivious and shameful movements. One sees things that are not seen elsewhere. It is veritable orgy - a Bacchanalia like one which used to be held in the time of the pagans. And when night comes... one can no longer guess what they do.

}

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Marie Colombier:

The Pistol of the Little Baroness

The Pistol of the little Baroness is a novel which deals with a thousand things other than metallic pistols; perhaps, the author wants another pistol too dear to the little baroness? Well done. Then to speak more exactly, the author might have written better under the title The Pistol Shots or The Immortal Little Baroness, for these pistol shots do not do her much harm. On the contrary! The novel is written with wit, sometimes piquant, never coarse, sometimes a little obscure. It has some incomprehensible scenes for those who don't know what the matter is; for example, the dinner at Auteuil. Another will not understand why the two young girls wrangled over Mlle. Fernande with so much tenacity. Mr. Zola is most explicit and his descriptions inform sufficiently even those who don't know anything beforehand. Is it a defect or a good quality? The most piquant scene is that where the little baroness accidentally finds herself with her cousin. She talks to him of taking advantage of the soft and comfortable sofa and that will not go out of the family.

It's a little transparent because the author adds that he lifts her up and conducts her to the bed. The scenes which are not beautiful but disgusting are those with the young Englishman and in house number 52. Those scenes are rather sad than amusing. The author is not fair. She depicts foreign women with too strong colors.

(Certainly there is vice everywhere and in all classes of society and the more one goes up the more vice one finds, because idleness, wealth, and comfortable life are three favorable things for its development, but we ought not be believe that the whole class, the whole species, is perverted.) It's quite true that when a woman of the North becomes passionate, she is wild and more terrible than a woman of the South. I find an excuse for the little baroness in her husband's misconduct, in her mother's life, in the books she has read, and ~

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in human nature itself that is never content and never has enough. I don't believe in thp, virtue of Mlle. Marion, who goes to visit also the dinner at Auteuil with one Mr. Lynx and has acquaintances like the Lionne and others. Is that so perhaps because the author is a comedian? I can't believe that Marie Colombier, author of The Pistol oj the Little Baroness is a woman. She talks too much like a man in making her descriptions; she almost never speaks like a woman. She describes things from a masculine and not a feminine point of view. Notwithstanding, the book has also some traits of comedy; for example, the scene before the performance of Past Midnight between Mlle. Marion and the little baroness.

I don't believe that this novel will become immortal despite the strokes of talent found in it. Many and better ones have been written in this genre. The scene of the Cafe des Ambassadeurs is the most beautiful, the most Parisian, the most vivid. If the whole book were written in the same fashion, it would have been one of the most entertaining nevels of Parisian life.

Is the book immoral? That depends on who reads it. To those who understand that it is necessary to live, that matter has certain demands that must be satisfied like the demands of the spirit, that sensual relations between man and woman are culpable only when they are not directed towards their end, or when they hurt a third party-to these the book is indifferent.

To the others who permit everything, the book is good and bad to those who forbid everything.

Translated from the French by Encarnacion Alzona. Partly transcribed from Craig's F1路e(I1,ch Composition Exercises by Rizal and partly photostatic copy.

26 February 1959.

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THE

KITE~

AND THE HEN

It was during the time when the animals were still living in peace and without hatred, when the lamb grazed while talking familiarly with the wolf, when the stag played with the dog in the forest, and the rabbits and the lions joked each other and slept together; it was during this time when our little story took place.

As we have just said, the animals enjoyed an octavian peace, if that can be said, since Caesar Octavius was not yet born, nor were his ancestors. Nothing disturbed this peace, the memory of which is always regretted by the unhappy animals of today which, in remembering it, shed warm and bitter tears.

But this peace, this tranquility, did not prevent each one of them from having his own trinkets and jewels, whose ownership was religiously respected, and which were their most beautiful ornaments in their Qalls, feasts, or parties, which everybody was obliged to attend.

Mrs. Hen was the intimate friend of Mr. Kite who had a pretty ring which the former had coveted for quite a long time. Mr. Kite was exceedingly proud of his trinket. Everytime he appeared in society, which happened often, it was sure to dazzle the eyes of the female kites until he believed himself to be the equal of Messrs. Vultures and Eagles.

But one fine day, Mrs. Hen was invited to the ball of the pheasants which all the fowl and pheasant aristocracy would attend. Mrs. Hen felt obliged to dress herself up as elegantly as possible because she longed to be the queen of the ball and to draw the general attention on herself, I know not for what reasons of coquetry or jealousy, entirely feminine. She went to her good friend Mr. Kite to ask him if he would be kind enough to lend her his magnificent ring, promising to â&#x20AC;˘ Latin: milyus. A cruel and sanguinary bird. in the world of birds.

(E.A.)

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It represents the tiger

return it as soon as the ball ended. Mr. Kite could not find any valid reason for refusing her his ring, and, although he regretted it very much, he sacrificed his worship of his ring to their old friendship, not however without giving her a million advices and remarks on how to take care of it.

Mrs. Hen, dressed up very elegantly, went to the ball, and became the queen of the festival. There was a lot of dancing, the roosters sang the most beautiful pieces from their operas; the pheasants displayed their most brilliant plumage of gold and purple and like of which the forests had never before witnessed. At the height of her intoxication with her triumph, in the midst of a thousand toasts to her beauty and elegance, Mrs. Hen failed to perceive the loss of the ring which, having become detached, had fallen in a mountain of rice and wheat, accumulated for the meal.

Toward the close of the festival, she saw, or rather, she did not see the ring of which she had been so proud and so happy. I dare not depict her painful anxiety, terror, and the vain attempts she made to recover it; I dare not say either what passed between her and Mr. Kite who was at the height of despair when he learned of the loss of his jewel.

Mrs. Hen was accused before the tribunal of animals

by Mr. Kite and then it became a sensation topic of conversation of all the beasts and the fowl in the neighborhood.

After many pleadings, the eagle and the vulture condemned Mrs. Hen to give from time to time to the said Mr. Kite a chicken, which Mr. Kite would take at his choice until the return of the famous ring, the cause of future unhappiness.

Since then, the hen has searched for ever and everywhere, in the sand as well as in the wheat, 2nd all her unfortunate descendants, shedding very bitter tears, will continue to search until the end of time or of their race. In the meantime, the kites will demand without pity from the innocent victims of their grandmother's coquetry.

Translated from the French by Encarnacion Alzona.

Photostatic copy.

25 February 1959.

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,

A SOIREE AT THE HOME OF MR. B ....

Three days beforehand, I received an invitation from the family of Mr. B. at Berlin to spend Monday evening, the second day of Easter~ at their house. At first I wished to excuse myself, considering that it had already been a long time that I had not visited this family, as I lived quite far from them. It seemed to me rather improper to go there solely on day~ when one can amuse oneself.

But the next day, I received a visit from Mr. B. himself to persuade me further. Thereupon I gave as a pretext a trip to Potsdam which was exactly what we, my friend and two students, were going to make. It is true that at seven thirty, we would have already returned home, but I added that I would not then be ready to appear at the party where there would be many people.

But the family was too amiable to be stopped by such excuses and they begged me to take dessert at least, which would be served at nine-thirty o'clock.

Pushed to this extreme, I could not excuse myself any longer without passing for an impolite person: I had to accept and with thanks. We made our excursion to Potsdam from which I returned in good time to prepare myself for the party and not have the air of a fool.

At precisely nine o'clock, I arrived at the home of Mr. B's family.

At the entrance, I could already hear voices, joyous laughter, the clanking of dishes. They were at the table taking dessert. Mr. B. welcomed me with marks of friendship; I greeted Madame who reproached me kindly for having come late and made me sit among the young folk.

There were three young ladies, two young gentlemen; my place was still empty. They posed me four, five questions at a time, but fortunately, since these questions were nearly all alike, I answered them with a single rep]y and that sufficed. The ladies were much -215-

amused to learn that I was a Christian and they were greatly astonished when I spoke of the history of the German fatherland.

-Is the history of Germany studied in your country?

-Is Bismarck known there?

-And do you know who was Frederick Barbarossa?

-My God, how big is the world!

That made me recall a scene in Theodora of Sardou that I saw at the Porte St. Martin where a prince, Gallic or Frankish, I don't know anymore with certainty, was asked by young ladies of Byzantium of Constantinople whence he came and what was the name of his native land.

--"I was born at Paris," answered the young barl;>arian tranquilly.

--"Paris!" cried the young ladies, "What is it? Where is that?"

And yet in those times, Paris was already known in history for more than three hundred years.

The granddaughters of ancient barbarians, though they still have the blonde hair and blue eyes of their grandmothers, of those Germans who astonished the patricians of Rome, these granddaughters, these Berliners of today, are, to tell the truth, more informed than were the young ladies of Constantinople. They all know pretty nearly where Manila is.

We sang and danced; we played games afterwards, and the party ended at half an hour past midnight. I had an opportunity to speak French, Italian, English, and German; I showed once more that dancing was not my forte.

It was one of the most entertaining soirees among the ten or twelve that I attended in Berlin.

The young barbarian from the Philippine Islands will always smile at the memory of this soiree at the home of the grandchildren of the ancient barbarians of the time. It is the world which turns round and round.

Rizal Translated from the French by Encarnacion Alzona.

Photostatic copy.

25 February 1959.

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Alphonse Daudet:

TARTARIN SUR LES ALPES

A Book Review

Tartarin sur les Alpes is an amusing and charming novel by Alphonse Daudet dealing with the adventures of a Tarascone named Tartarin. The main point of this novel is to put on relief the noisy, lively, changeable character of the inhabitants of the South of France through their contact with men of other countries. The work is satirical, but a gay, inoffensive satire, even when it speaks of the exaggerations characteristic of these good Tarascones who make and unmake stories, wonderful tales, without doing it intentionally, lying without being aware of it, believing perhaps everything they say but al\ with the best heart, without the least intention of doing wrong to anyone or of deceiving any body: It's just a hB.bit of seeing things under a brighter light, more glittering, more picturesque, it's always the imagination that prevails over reality, it's the poetic spirit that everywhere dominates. rhe criticism that the author makes of the phrases and words peculiar to the phrases and words peculiar to the good Tarascones is only a pleasant accessory of the novel, though I fear that it is a little too exaggerated. The exposition of events, of adventures, is nature, the portrayal .of characters is charming, the personages are vivid, speaking and acting according to their sentiments, education, and nationality, with piquant and satiric strokes. There's only one passage where I find a little of the improbable, and it's the scene that leads to the denouncement. Perhaps the author has been constrained to let that pass to give way to the meeting over Which Bompard will preside at the Club des Alpines and to mock also the oaths of fidelity and friendship of his heroes. This is the adventure of Tartarin and Bompard when both cut off at the same time the rope that tied them together.

It's not easy to understand why Tartarin should believe in the fall of his friend when the rope was caught -217-

between two pieces of glacier. Tartarin went in that direction: It's understandable for Bompard to believe that because he walked ahead: He would have felt held up behind and he would have believed that his friend has fallen; but Tartarin who followed him would have seen that the rope was soiled and that could not have made him believe that his companion had a misha p. But one cannot always write according to the veracity and reality of things. Every human work has its faults. It must not be forgotten either that that is very painful to the people of the South and the author, a southerner himself, perhaps had not forgotten the customs of his country, despite his sojourn in the North of France. The novel is full of life, of charming traits, of unexpected sallies, and it is very worthy of the reputation of the author of Sappho.

Translated from the French by Encarnacion Alzona 12 March 1959 Photostatic copy

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THE FISHERWOMAN AND THE FISH

Once upon a time a very small fish which, very much satisfied with the river in which it lived} asked God for nothing else but a little moss and many small stones to run over, to slide through as in a labyrinth. The fish didn't know what was a fish-hook, it had never seen a net, so small and unknown was the river in the heart of the mountain.

It happened once that a young lass went to dress and to look at herself in the limpid water of the river.

The lass saw the fish and wished to have it. She went down to the water and with her small and pretty hands tried to catch it.

-"Come," she said, "you're pretty and small; you're in danger, the other fish can well swallow you up one beautiful day; put yourself under my protection, and I'll show you things you've never seen before. Come to my home, I have kitchen pots, plates, cups, forks, knives, and in the hearth there burns a very beautiful fire: There you'll never get cold."

-"I don't understand you," said the fish. "Of what good are all those things that you speak of? Is it something like a stone covered with moss or like the fine and comfortable sand of my home?"

-"N ot all! They're a thousand times more beautiful than all you've seen, more comfortable than all that."

-"That I need?" asked the fish.

-"Why, I believe so! You'll be charming and ravishing when first I put you in a fish-kettle; it's a thing expressly made for you. It's shiny, brilliant even more than your scales."

-"And afterwards?"

-"You'll have fire underneath."

-"What's fire?"

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_HIt's very difficult to describe it; it would be better to feel it. Look ! You see the sun? It's a piece of the sun." _HOh! It must be lovely!" said the fish fluttering with joy. "And afterwards?"

-"Afterwards, I'll put you on a plate."

-"What's a plate?"

-"A plate ... a plate, it's like a sun, as big as the sun, but with flowers, with birds painted on it."

-"And you say that I shall be in that marvelous thing?" asked the fish which was dreaming of the impossible, as it seemed to him lovely to be on the sun painted with flowers and birds.

-"I assure you!" replied the lass; "Only come with me, and you'll see that I keep my word."

The fish still doubted. He wanted to be sure and he looked at the girl in the face. Never in his life had he seen a fish more eautiful t~an this lass. She has a mouth entirely pink:' big, black eyes, and gorgeous hair.

The fish fell in love with her and replied sighing, while the water sent up little bubbles to the surface; -"Well, I prefer to be in your pink mouth, lie down on your lips than on the plate and the fish-kettle. If you promise me to do what I ask you, I follow you.

Otherwise I stay, because for me there's no happiness except to touch your pink lips and your little white teeth. You like?"

-"Why, yes; if you ask nothing but that, I agree: I love you so much."

-"Oh! How good you are!" exclaimed the fish and he jumped into the girl's hands.

For this reason, we say at home: "He's as intelligent as a fish"; but the Germans say: "I'm sane like a fish."

There's the intelligence in a healthy body.

Translated from the French by Encarnacion Alzona.

Partly transcription and partly photostatic copy.

2 March 1959.

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ESSAY ON PIERRE CORNEILLE

In the study of French literature when one reaches Pierre Corneille, one feels the need of stopping as one does upon arriving at a large city after a long trip through small villages, dismal roads, or gloomy and dangerous woods. After a long and tiresome work of looking for a little gold in a heap of straw and sand, if a gracious fairy all of a sudden opens to you the doors that hide the treasures of the Thousand and One Nights, you'll become dazzled, immobile, bewildered, and you)ll certainly not know where to begin the pillage, what object to seize first, so much richness and abundance will disturb your senses in order to leave you the right to appreciate. I experience a similar thing when I have to speak of Pierre Corneille whose literary personality is so great that it can't be encompassed at a glance. In the meantime we shall try to say some. thing, we are gOIng to repeat all that has been said about him, that is to say, everything we remember having been said about him, for to make a complete and exact resume of Corneillian ideas is an almost impossible task.

The indisputable merit of Pierre Corneille is his having raised the dramatic art from the chaotic state in which it was, his having made it grow until a certain degree of perfectibility that it could be considered that, after him, it progressed very slowly in proportion to the gigantic step that he had given it. Before Corneille dramatic literature was so poor, so puerile, that one can very well understand the enthusiasm that his Cid aroused. Even the first works of Pierre Corneille remain so far behind his Cid, Horace, Cinna, and Polveucte that one is tempted to say that those works do not belong to one author alone. That provided Voltaire a chance to say that Corneille had a sprite that inspired his good thoughts in the marvellous places in his works and abandoned him in others. The most brilliant period -221-

of his genius is the period of four years (1636-1640) which begins with the Cid, the work of his flourishing youth, and ends with Polveucte, his masterpiece.

Monsieur de Nisard compares his productions to the first blush of a flower, charming when it is just halfopen, beautiful when it is fully opened.

The first time that the Cid appeared on the scene, it must have produced a marvellous effect. It must have astounded, dominated, as those sudden apparitions, unexpected things, that one does not understand, which nevertheless impose themselves, like every work of genius, on the common man as well as on the learned themselves. Before him the theatre offered only dried imitations of ancient literature, good for the minds of the ancient, but incomprehensible to other people which has other ideals, other sentiments, and other ways of living.

The Cid is a tragedy whose appreciation has never been unanimous. Neither the Academy asked by Rirhelieu and which spe ks through the mouth of Chapelainl nor Voltaire in his magnificent Commentaire sur Ie Theatre de Corneille, nor Lessing in his Hamburgische Dramaturgie in which he criticizes the French dramatic art, are agreed and they do not see the subject from a similar point of view. At the same time, others look upon its beauties as defects; for example, the two verses of Chimene: Son flane etait ouvert et pour mieux m' emouvoir Son sang sur la poussiere ecrivait mon devoir/ where M. Voltaire finds affectation while M. de Nisard finds in it a charming truth. Chapelain finds Chimene an unnatural girl; the others, on the other hand, find her a charming human figure of a girl and lover who is torn between her sense of duty and love. Nevertheless, the Chapelain, French poet, at Richelieu's request, wrote: "Les sentiments de l'Academic sur Ie Cid" ("The Opinion of the Academy on the Cid") (E.A.) 2 Free translation: Her bosom was open and the better to stir me up Her blood wrote my duty on the dust (E.A.) 1

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characters of Corneille are heroic but human; they are not great like those of the Iliad, but that precisely constitutes their fine quality, that gives them thejr most beautiful charm, because we see that they encourage us to imitate them, and their, their passions touch us very closely, because we see a resemblance between them and ourselves. The force, the energy, and the sublime are the dominant characteristics in Corneille. It is said that he has created the tragic language and that it is he who has traced for Moliere the road through which one goes to the smiling and pleasant world of comedy.

Translated from the French by Encarnacion Alzona.

Photostatic copy of the original in French.

23 February 1959.

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UNTER DEN LINDEN

Dear Friend: You would like me to give you some information on this City of Berlin, born day before yesterday, big at present and still growing and tomorrow perhaps, who knows what she will become in the future? Well, inasmuch as the first thing shown to foreigners is the promenade called Unter den Linden (Under the LindenTrees) I wish to tell you about it, just as I loved to talk about the grand boulevards when I was at Paris, the bull ring in Madrid, the colosseum in Rome, etc.

The Berliners as well as I are right in taking note of this promenade, avenue, or boulevard - it can bear anyone of these names. Here you'll find the palaces of the imperial family, of some embassies and generals, the arsenal, the ministries, the most beautiful department stores, the fashionable hotels and restaurants, etc.

The Unter den Linden is thirteen hundred meters* long from the Brandenburger Tor (Brandenburg Gate) where it begins, until the Schlossbrucke (Castle Bridge) where it ends. The general aspect of this avenue in winter is rather lovely. From the Brandenburg Gate with its handsome Doric columns* and crowned with a Quadriga, * * you'll concern in the distance, in the midst of naked trees, through the mist, in imposing monument of Frederick the Great, * * * pupil and friend of your Voltaire.

This monument stands right in front of the imperial palace opposite the window of the ground floor, perhaps in order that the reigning prince may always re* It's 60 meters wide. (E.A.) * Twelve immense Doric columns. (E.A.) ** The Quadriga is a team, of four horses ***

in copper with a Victoria bearing the eagle staff. In 1807 the French took the Quadriga to Paris as war booty, but in 1814 it was brought back and decorated with an hOlI Cross. (E.A.) It's 13 meters high the figure of Friedrich with the horse alon;:! being 5.65 meters. Around the base are groups of generals ministers, and other famous contemporaries of the King. On the lower part of the monument are inscribed the names of 74 famous persons. (E.A.)

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member the glories of his grandfather. On the Pariser Platz, alongside the Brandenburg Gate, you'll notice a building whose roof is distinguished from that of other houses and palaces. That roof will remind you of the roof of Parisian houses, made of slate, placed one on top of the other like scales. This building is the palace of the French embassy. It could be said that this nation would like to preserve its genius even in the heart of Germany. Don't think that this promenade has any resemblance to the grand boulevards. It's wider, planted to chestnut and linden trees in the middle, set in fours; its sidewalks are less crowded; there's less traffic on them. Not all the houses are shops and department stores, though you would always find there leafers, cocottes, courtesans, perhaps many military men who stroll about, shoulders raised, horizontal, thanks to their epaulets, which give them a triangular figure, the base above and the tip below. The sidewalks as well as the street are well paved, well-tended, and kept in repair; asphalt is used there as in the grand boulevards. One finds here the advantage of a path* purposely made for horsemen which is so beautiful thaJt one does not see many of them.

Life on this promenade begins in the afternoon lasting until evening, especially when the weather is good: Then one finds here a human or feminine wave, because there are more woman promenadors than men, moving towards the Brandenburg Gate in order to go to the park where they spend the afternoon in the little restaurants there. Towards evening the people become fewer, but from ten or eleven o'clock until midnight or two o'clock of the morning begins another life: One sees another spectacle of which I'll give you a little description when I shall have time and humor to speak about Berlin at night.

If you wish to read newspapers, I recommend to you the Cafe Bauer. There you'll find also a Japanese newspaper and other things which are not newspapers but are also as entertaining. You'll find this cafe on the corner of Friedrichstrasse. 1

*The Bridle path. (E.A.) Cafe Bauer is 1

on the corner of Fl'iedl'ichstrasse and Untel' den

Linden. (E.A.)

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On this avenue also is the only passage in Berlin that I know - the Kaiser-Galerie. 2 It has nothing to envy its counterparts at Paris and London. Over there are pretty shop-windows, a panopticum, a kind of Musee Grevin 3 or Mm e. Tussaud's.4 If you wish a good advice from your friend, don't enter it, keep your fifty pfennigs. All the figures are of wax and their names are below at the base. That is not done without reason, for otherwise you'll not recognize the personages. I saw a so-called Napoleon I who resembles him as you and I do; a Gambetta whose head is low, a Victor Hugo who begs, a Voltair who has all the look of a valet.

Goodbye.

(Rizal)

3

The Kaiser-Galerie (Passage) is roffed over by glass. (E.A.) The famous exhibition at Paris of wax figures of world personages.

4

Madame Tussaud's famous waxwork exhibition at London.

2

(E.A.)

Translated from the Fl'e11Ch by Encarnacion Alzona 27 February 1959.

Partly photostatic and partly transcription.

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(E.A.)