CHAPTER XXXV
Comments
News of the incident soon spread throughout the town. At first allwere incredulous, but, having to yield to the fact, they broke outinto exclamations of surprise. Each one, according to his moral lights,made his comments.
"Padre Damaso is dead," said some. "When they picked him up his facewas covered with blood and he wasn't breathing."
"May he rest in peace! But he hasn't any more than settled hisdebts!" exclaimed a young man. "Look what he did this morning in theconvento--there isn't any name for it."
"What did he do? Did he beat up the coadjutor again?"
"What did he do? Tell us about it!"
"You saw that Spanish mestizo go out through the sacristy in themidst of the sermon?"
"Yes, we saw him. Padre Damaso took note of him."
"Well, after the sermon he sent for the young man and asked him why hehad gone out. 'I don't understand Tagalog, Padre,' was the reply. 'Andwhy did you joke about it, saying that it was Greek?' yelled PadreDamaso, slapping the young man in the face. The latter retorted andthe two came to blows until they were separated."
"If that had happened to me--" hissed a student between his teeth.
"I don't approve of the action of the Franciscan," said another,"since Religion ought not to be imposed on any one as a punishmentor a penance. But I am almost glad of it, for I know that young man,I know that he's from San Pedro Makati and that he talks Tagalogwell. Now he wants to be taken for a recent arrival from Russia andprides himself on appearing not to know the language of his fathers."
"Then God makes them and they rush together!" [97]
"Still we must protest against such actions," exclaimed anotherstudent. "To remain silent would be to assent to the abuse, and whathas happened may be repeated with any one of us. We're going back tothe times of Nero!"
"You're wrong," replied another. "Nero was a great artist, whilePadre Damaso is only a tiresome preacher."
The comments of the older persons were of a different kind. Whilethey were waiting for the arrival of the Captain-General in a hutoutside the town, the gobernadorcillo was saying, "To tell who wasright and who was wrong, is not an easy matter. Yet if Senor Ibarrahad used more prudence--"
"If Padre Damaso had used half the prudence of Senor Ibarra, you meanto say, perhaps!" interrupted Don Filipo. "The bad thing about it isthat they exchanged parts--the youth conducted himself like an oldman and the old man like a youth."
"Did you say that no one moved, no one went near to separate them,except Capitan Tiago's daughter?" asked Capitan Martin. "None of thefriars, nor the alcalde? Ahem! Worse and worse! I shouldn't like tobe in that young man's skin. No one will forgive him for having beenafraid of him. Worse and worse, ahem!"
"Do you think so?" asked Capitan Basilio curiously.
"I hope," said Don Filipo, exchanging a look with the latter, "thatthe people won't desert him. We must keep in mind what his familyhas done and what he is trying to do now. And if, as may happen,the people, being intimidated, are silent, his friends--"
"But, gentlemen," interrupted the gobernadorcillo, "what can wedo? What can the people do? Happen what will, the friars are alwaysright!"
"They are _always_ right because we _always_ allow them to be,"answered Don Filipo impatiently, putting double stress on theitalicized word. "Let us be right once and then we'll talk."
The gobernadorcillo scratched his head and stared at the roof while hereplied in a sour tone, "Ay! the heat of the blood! You don't seem torealize yet what country we're in, you don't know your countrymen. Thefriars are rich and united, while we are divided and poor. Yes, tryto defend yourself and you'll see how the people will leave you inthe lurch."
"Yes!" exclaimed Don Filipo bitterly. "That will happen as long asyou think that way, as long as fear and prudence are synonyms. Moreattention is paid to a possible evil than to a necessary good. Atonce fear, and not confidence, presents itself; each one thinks onlyof himself, no one thinks of the rest, and therefore we are all weak!"
"Well then, think of others before yourself and you'll see how they'llleave you in the lurch. Don't you know the proverb, 'Charity beginsat home'?"
"You had better say," replied the exasperated teniente-mayor, "thatcowardice begins in selfishness and ends in shame! This very day I'mgoing to hand in my resignation to the alcalde. I'm tired of passingfor a joke without being useful to anybody. Good-by!"
The women had opinions of still another kind.
"Ay_!_" sighed one woman of kindly expression. "The young men arealways so! If his good mother were alive, what would she say? When Ithink that the like may happen to my son, who has a violent temper,I almost envy his dead mother. I should die of grief!"
"Well, I shouldn't," replied another. "It wouldn't cause me any shameif such a thing should happen to my two sons."
"What are you saying, Capitana Maria!" exclaimed the first, clasping her hands.
"It pleases me to see a son defend the memory of his parents, CapitanaTinay. What would you say if some day when you were a widow you heardyour husband spoken ill of and your son Antonio should hang his headand remain silent?"
"I would deny him my blessing!" exclaimed a third, Sister Rufa, "but--"
"Deny him my blessing, never!" interrupted the kind Capitana Tinay. "Amother ought not to say that! But I don't know what I should do--Idon't know--I believe I'd die--but I shouldn't want to see himagain. But what do you think about it, Capitana Maria?"
"After all," added Sister Rufa, "it must not be forgotten that it'sa great sin to place your hand on a sacred person."
"A father's memory is more sacred!" replied Capitana Maria. "No one,not even the Pope himself, much less Padre Damaso, may profane sucha holy memory."
"That's true!" murmured Capitana Tinay, admiring the wisdom ofboth. "Where did you get such good ideas?"
"But the excommunication and the condemnation?" exclaimed SisterRufa. "What are honor and a good name in this life if in the other weare damned? Everything passes away quickly--but the excommunication--tooutrage a minister of Christ! No one less than the Pope can pardonthat!"
"God, who commands honor for father and mother, will pardon it,God will not excommunicate him! And I tell you that if that youngman comes to my house I will receive him and talk with him, and ifI had a daughter I would want him for a son-in-law; he who is a goodson will be a good husband and a good father--believe it, Sister Rufa!"
"Well, I don't think so. Say what you like, and even though you mayappear to be right, I'll always rather believe the curate. Beforeeverything else, I'll save my soul. What do you say, Capitana Tinny?"
"Oh, what do you want me to say? You're both right the curate isright, but God must also be right. I don't know, I'm only a foolishwoman. What I'm going to do is to tell my son not to study any more,for they say that persons who know anything die on the gallows. _MariaSantisima_, my son wants to go to Europe!"
"What are you thinking of doing?"
"Tell him to stay with me--why should he know more? Tomorrow or thenext day we shall die, the learned and the ignorant alike must die,and the only question is to live in peace." The good old woman sighedand raised her eyes toward the sky.
"For my part," said Capitana Maria gravely, "if I were rich likeyou I would let my sons travel; they are young and will some day bemen. I have only a little while to live, we should see one another inthe other life, so sons should aspire to be more than their fathers,but at our sides we only teach them to be children."
"Ay, what rare thoughts you have!" exclaimed the astonished CapitanaTinay, clasping her hands. "It must be that you didn't suffer inbearing your twin boys."
"For the very reason that I did bear them with suffering, that I havenurtured and reared them in spite of our poverty, I do not wish that,after the trouble they're cost me, they be only half-men."
"It seems to me that you don't love your children as God commands,"said Sister Rufa in a rather severe tone.
"Pardon me, eve
ry mother loves her sons in her own way. One motherloves them for her own sake and another loves them for their sake. Iam one of the latter, for my husband has so taught me."
"All your ideas, Capitana Maria," said Sister Rufa, as if preaching,"are but little religious. Become a sister of the Holy Rosary or ofSt. Francis or of St. Rita or of St. Clara."
"Sister Rufa, when I am a worthy sister of men then I'll try to bea sister of the saints," she answered with a smile.
To put an end to this chapter of comments and that the readermay learn in passing what the simple country folk thought of theincident, we will now go to the plaza, where under the large awningsome rustics are conversing, one of them--he who dreamed about doctorsof medicine--being an acquaintance of ours.
"What I regret most," said he, "is that the schoolhouse won't befinished."
"What's that?" asked the bystanders with interest.
"My son won't be a doctor but a carter, nothing more! Now there won'tbe any school!"
"Who says there won't be any school?" asked a rough and robustcountryman with wide cheeks and a narrow head.
"I do! The white padres have called Don Crisostomo _plibastiero_. [98]Now there won't be any school."
All stood looking questioningly at each other; that was a new termto them.
"And is that a bad name?" the rough countryman made bold to ask.
"The worst thing that one Christian can say to another!"
"Worse than _tarantado_ and _sarayate?"_ [99]
"If it were only that! I've been called those names several timesand they didn't even give me a bellyache."
"Well, it can't be worse than '_indio,_' as the alferez says."
The man who was to have a carter for a son became gloomier, whilethe other scratched his head in thought.
"Then it must be like the _betelapora_ [100] that the alferez's oldwoman says. Worse than that is to spit on the Host."
"Well, it's worse than to spit on the Host on Good Friday," was thegrave reply. "You remember the word _ispichoso_ [101] which whenapplied to a man is enough to have the civil-guards take him intoexile or put him in jail well, _plibustiero_ is much worse. Accordingto what the telegrapher and the directorcillo said, _plibustiero_,said by a Christian, a curate, or a Spaniard to another Christian likeus is a _santusdeus with requimiternam_, [102] for if they ever callyou a _plibustiero_ then you'd better get yourself shriven and payyour debts, since nothing remains for you but to be hanged. You knowwhether the telegrapher and the directorcillo ought to be informed;one talks with wires and the other knows Spanish and works only witha pen." All were appalled.
"May they force me to wear shoes and in all my life to drink nothingbut that vile stuff they call beer, if I ever let myself be called_pelbistero!_" swore the countryman, clenching his fists. "What,rich as Don Crisostomo is, knowing Spanish as he does, and able toeat fast with a knife and spoon, I'd laugh at five curates!"
"The next civil-guard I catch stealing my chickens I'm going to call_palabistiero_, then I'll go to confession at once," murmured one ofthe rustics in a low voice as he withdrew from the group.