El Filibusterismo. English

by José Rizal

  CHAPTER I

  ON THE UPPER DECK

  Sic itur ad astra.

  One morning in December the steamer _Tabo_ was laboriously ascendingthe tortuous course of the Pasig, carrying a large crowd of passengerstoward the province of La Laguna. She was a heavily built steamer,almost round, like the _tabu_ from which she derived her name,quite dirty in spite of her pretensions to whiteness, majestic andgrave from her leisurely motion. Altogether, she was held in greataffection in that region, perhaps from her Tagalog name, or from thefact that she bore the characteristic impress of things in the country,representing something like a triumph over progress, a steamer that wasnot a steamer at all, an organism, stolid, imperfect yet unimpeachable,which, when it wished to pose as being rankly progressive, proudlycontented itself with putting on a fresh coat of paint. Indeed, thehappy steamer was genuinely Filipino! If a person were only reasonablyconsiderate, she might even have been taken for the Ship of State,constructed, as she had been, under the inspection of _Reverendos_and _Ilustrisimos_....

  Bathed in the sunlight of a morning that made the waters of the riversparkle and the breezes rustle in the bending bamboo on its banks,there she goes with her white silhouette throwing out great cloudsof smoke--the Ship of State, so the joke runs, also has the vice ofsmoking! The whistle shrieks at every moment, hoarse and commandinglike a tyrant who would rule by shouting, so that no one on boardcan hear his own thoughts. She menaces everything she meets: now shelooks as though she would grind to bits the _salambaw_, insecurefishing apparatus which in their movements resemble skeletons ofgiants saluting an antediluvian tortoise; now she speeds straighttoward the clumps of bamboo or against the amphibian structures,_karihan_, or wayside lunch-stands, which, amid _gumamelas_ and otherflowers, look like indecisive bathers who with their feet already inthe water cannot bring themselves to make the final plunge; at times,following a sort of channel marked out in the river by tree-trunks,she moves along with a satisfied air, except when a sudden shockdisturbs the passengers and throws them off their balance, all theresult of a collision with a sand-bar which no one dreamed was there.

  Moreover, if the comparison with the Ship of State is not yet complete,note the arrangement of the passengers. On the lower deck appear brownfaces and black heads, types of Indians, [1] Chinese, and mestizos,wedged in between bales of merchandise and boxes, while there on theupper deck, beneath an awning that protects them from the sun, areseated in comfortable chairs a few passengers dressed in the fashion ofEuropeans, friars, and government clerks, each with his _puro_ cigar,and gazing at the landscape apparently without heeding the effortsof the captain and the sailors to overcome the obstacles in the river.

  The captain was a man of kindly aspect, well along in years, an oldsailor who in his youth had plunged into far vaster seas, but who nowin his age had to exercise much greater attention, care, and vigilanceto avoid dangers of a trivial character. And they were the same foreach day: the same sand-bars, the same hulk of unwieldy steamer wedgedinto the same curves, like a corpulent dame in a jammed throng. So,at each moment, the good man had to stop, to back up, to go forward athalf speed, sending--now to port, now to starboard--the five sailorsequipped with long bamboo poles to give force to the turn the rudderhad suggested. He was like a veteran who, after leading men throughhazardous campaigns, had in his age become the tutor of a capricious,disobedient, and lazy boy.

  Dona Victorina, the only lady seated in the European group, could saywhether the _Tabo_ was not lazy, disobedient, and capricious--DonaVictorina, who, nervous as ever, was hurling invectives against thecascos, bankas, rafts of coconuts, the Indians paddling about, andeven the washerwomen and bathers, who fretted her with their mirth andchatter. Yes, the _Tabo_ would move along very well if there were noIndians in the river, no Indians in the country, yes, if there werenot a single Indian in the world--regardless of the fact that thehelmsmen were Indians, the sailors Indians, Indians the engineers,Indians ninety-nine per cent, of the passengers, and she herself alsoan Indian if the rouge were scratched off and her pretentious gownremoved. That morning Dona Victorina was more irritated than usualbecause the members of the group took very little notice of her,reason for which was not lacking; for just consider--there could befound three friars, convinced that the world would move backwards thevery day they should take a single step to the right; an indefatigableDon Custodio who was sleeping peacefully, satisfied with his projects;a prolific writer like Ben-Zayb (anagram of Ibanez), who believed thatthe people of Manila thought because he, Ben-Zayb, was a thinker;a canon like Padre Irene, who added luster to the clergy with hisrubicund face, carefully shaven, from which towered a beautiful Jewishnose, and his silken cassock of neat cut and small buttons; and awealthy jeweler like Simoun, who was reputed to be the adviser andinspirer of all the acts of his Excellency, the Captain-General--justconsider the presence there of these pillars _sine quibus non_ of thecountry, seated there in agreeable discourse, showing little sympathyfor a renegade Filipina who dyed her hair red! Now wasn't this enoughto exhaust the patience of a female Job--a sobriquet Dona Victorinaalways applied to herself when put out with any one!

  The ill-humor of the senora increased every time the captain shouted"Port," "Starboard" to the sailors, who then hastily seized theirpoles and thrust them against the banks, thus with the strength oftheir legs and shoulders preventing the steamer from shoving its hullashore at that particular point. Seen under these circumstances theShip of State might be said to have been converted from a tortoiseinto a crab every time any danger threatened.

  "But, captain, why don't your stupid steersmen go in thatdirection?" asked the lady with great indignation.

  "Because it's very shallow in the other, senora," answered the captain,deliberately, slowly winking one eye, a little habit which he hadcultivated as if to say to his words on their way out, "Slowly,slowly!"

  "Half speed! Botheration, half speed!" protested Dona Victorinadisdainfully. "Why not full?"

  "Because we should then be traveling over those ricefields, senora,"replied the imperturbable captain, pursing his lips to indicate thecultivated fields and indulging in two circumspect winks.

  This Dona Victorina was well known in the country for her caprices andextravagances. She was often seen in society, where she was toleratedwhenever she appeared in the company of her niece, Paulita Gomez,a very beautiful and wealthy orphan, to whom she was a kind ofguardian. At a rather advanced age she had married a poor wretchnamed Don Tiburcio de Espadana, and at the time we now see her,carried upon herself fifteen years of wedded life, false frizzes, and ahalf-European costume--for her whole ambition had been to Europeanizeherself, with the result that from the ill-omened day of her weddingshe had gradually, thanks to her criminal attempts, succeeded inso transforming herself that at the present time Quatrefages andVirchow together could not have told where to classify her among theknown races.

  Her husband, who had borne all her impositions with the resignation ofa fakir through so many years of married life, at last on one lucklessday had had his bad half-hour and administered to her a superb whackwith his crutch. The surprise of Madam Job at such an inconsistencyof character made her insensible to the immediate effects, and onlyafter she had recovered from her astonishment and her husband hadfled did she take notice of the pain, then remaining in bed forseveral days, to the great delight of Paulita, who was very fondof joking and laughing at her aunt. As for her husband, horrifiedat the impiety of what appeared to him to be a terrific parricide,he took to flight, pursued by the matrimonial furies (two curs and aparrot), with all the speed his lameness permitted, climbed into thefirst carriage he encountered, jumped into the first banka he saw onthe river, and, a Philippine Ulysses, began to wander from town totown, from province to province, from island to island, pursued andpersecuted by his bespectacled Calypso, who bored every one that hadthe misfortune to travel in her company. She had received a report ofhis being in the province of La Laguna, concealed in one of the towns,so thither she was b
ound to seduce him back with her dyed frizzes.

  Her fellow travelers had taken measures of defense by keeping upamong themselves a lively conversation on any topic whatsoever. Atthat moment the windings and turnings of the river led them to talkabout straightening the channel and, as a matter of course, about theport works. Ben-Zayb, the journalist with the countenance of a friar,was disputing with a young friar who in turn had the countenance of anartilleryman. Both were shouting, gesticulating, waving their arms,spreading out their hands, stamping their feet, talking of levels,fish-corrals, the San Mateo River, [2] of cascos, of Indians, and soon, to the great satisfaction of their listeners and the undisguiseddisgust of an elderly Franciscan, remarkably thin and withered,and a handsome Dominican about whose lips flitted constantly ascornful smile.

  The thin Franciscan, understanding the Dominican's smile, decidedto intervene and stop the argument. He was undoubtedly respected,for with a wave of his hand he cut short the speech of both at themoment when the friar-artilleryman was talking about experience andthe journalist-friar about scientists.

  "Scientists, Ben-Zayb--do you know what they are?" asked the Franciscanin a hollow voice, scarcely stirring in his seat and making only afaint gesture with his skinny hand. "Here you have in the provincea bridge, constructed by a brother of ours, which was not completedbecause the scientists, relying on their theories, condemned it asweak and scarcely safe--yet look, it is the bridge that has withstoodall the floods and earthquakes!" [3]

  "That's it, _punales,_ that very thing, that was exactly what I wasgoing to say!" exclaimed the friar-artilleryman, thumping his fistsdown on the arms of his bamboo chair. "That's it, that bridge andthe scientists! That was just what I was going to mention, PadreSalvi--_punales!_"

  Ben-Zayb remained silent, half smiling, either out of respect orbecause he really did not know what to reply, and yet his was the onlythinking head in the Philippines! Padre Irene nodded his approval ashe rubbed his long nose.

  Padre Salvi, the thin and withered cleric, appeared to be satisfiedwith such submissiveness and went on in the midst of the silence:"But this does not mean that you may not be as near right as PadreCamorra" (the friar-artilleryman). "The trouble is in the lake--"

  "The fact is there isn't a single decent lake in this country,"interrupted Dona Victorina, highly indignant, and getting ready fora return to the assault upon the citadel.

  The besieged gazed at one another in terror, but with the promptitudeof a general, the jeweler Simoun rushed in to the rescue. "The remedyis very simple," he said in a strange accent, a mixture of Englishand South American. "And I really don't understand why it hasn'toccurred to somebody."

  All turned to give him careful attention, even the Dominican. Thejeweler was a tall, meager, nervous man, very dark, dressed in theEnglish fashion and wearing a pith helmet. Remarkable about him washis long white hair contrasted with a sparse black beard, indicating amestizo origin. To avoid the glare of the sun he wore constantly a pairof enormous blue goggles, which completely hid his eyes and a portionof his cheeks, thus giving him the aspect of a blind or weak-sightedperson. He was standing with his legs apart as if to maintain hisbalance, with his hands thrust into the pockets of his coat.

  "The remedy is very simple," he repeated, "and wouldn't cost a cuarto."

  The attention now redoubled, for it was whispered in Manila that thisman controlled the Captain-General, and all saw the remedy in processof execution. Even Don Custodio himself turned to listen.

  "Dig a canal straight from the source to the mouth of the river,passing through Manila; that is, make a new river-channel and fillup the old Pasig. That would save land, shorten communication, andprevent the formation of sandbars."

  The project left all his hearers astounded, accustomed as they wereto palliative measures.

  "It's a Yankee plan!" observed Ben-Zayb, to ingratiate himself withSimoun, who had spent a long time in North America.

  All considered the plan wonderful and so indicated by the movementsof their heads. Only Don Custodio, the liberal Don Custodio, owing tohis independent position and his high offices, thought it his dutyto attack a project that did not emanate from himself--that was ausurpation! He coughed, stroked the ends of his mustache, and witha voice as important as though he were at a formal session of theAyuntamiento, said, "Excuse me, Senor Simoun, my respected friend,if I should say that I am not of your opinion. It would cost a greatdeal of money and might perhaps destroy some towns."

  "Then destroy them!" rejoined Simoun coldly.

  "And the money to pay the laborers?"

  "Don't pay them! Use the prisoners and convicts!"

  "But there aren't enough, Senor Simoun!"

  "Then, if there aren't enough, let all the villagers, the old men,the youths, the boys, work. Instead of the fifteen days of obligatoryservice, let them work three, four, five months for the State, with theadditional obligation that each one provide his own food and tools."

  The startled Don Custodio turned his head to see if there was anyIndian within ear-shot, but fortunately those nearby were rustics,and the two helmsmen seemed to be very much occupied with the windingsof the river.

  "But, Senor Simoun--"

  "Don't fool yourself, Don Custodio," continued Simoun dryly, "only inthis way are great enterprises carried out with small means. Thuswere constructed the Pyramids, Lake Moeris, and the Colosseumin Rome. Entire provinces came in from the desert, bringing theirtubers to feed on. Old men, youths, and boys labored in transportingstones, hewing them, and carrying them on their shoulders underthe direction of the official lash, and afterwards, the survivorsreturned to their homes or perished in the sands of the desert. Thencame other provinces, then others, succeeding one another in the workduring years. Thus the task was finished, and now we admire them,we travel, we go to Egypt and to Home, we extol the Pharaohs and theAntonines. Don't fool yourself--the dead remain dead, and might onlyis considered right by posterity."

  "But, Senor Simoun, such measures might provoke uprisings," objectedDon Custodio, rather uneasy over the turn the affair had taken.

  "Uprisings, ha, ha! Did the Egyptian people ever rebel, I wonder? Didthe Jewish prisoners rebel against the pious Titus? Man, I thoughtyou were better informed in history!"

  Clearly Simoun was either very presumptuous or disregardedconventionalities! To say to Don Custodio's face that he did not knowhistory! It was enough to make any one lose his temper! So it seemed,for Don Custodio forgot himself and retorted, "But the fact is thatyou're not among Egyptians or Jews!"

  "And these people have rebelled more than once," added the Dominican,somewhat timidly. "In the times when they were forced to transportheavy timbers for the construction of ships, if it hadn't been forthe clerics--"

  "Those times are far away," answered Simoun, with a laugh even drierthan usual. "These islands will never again rebel, no matter how muchwork and taxes they have. Haven't you lauded to me, Padre Salvi,"he added, turning to the Franciscan, "the house and hospital at LosBanos, where his Excellency is at present?"

  Padre Salvi gave a nod and looked up, evading the question.

  "Well, didn't you tell me that both buildings were constructedby forcing the people to work on them under the whip of alay-brother? Perhaps that wonderful bridge was built in the sameway. Now tell me, did these people rebel?"

  "The fact is--they have rebelled before," replied the Dominican,"and _ab actu ad posse valet illatio!_"

  "No, no, nothing of the kind," continued Simoun, starting down ahatchway to the cabin. "What's said, is said! And you, Padre Sibyla,don't talk either Latin or nonsense. What are you friars good for ifthe people can rebel?"

  Taking no notice of the replies and protests, Simoun descended thesmall companionway that led below, repeating disdainfully, "Bosh,bosh!"

  Padre Sibyla turned pale; this was the first time that he, Vice-Rectorof the University, had ever been credited with nonsense. Don Custodioturned green; at no meeting in which he had ever found himself hadhe encounte
red such an adversary.

  "An American mulatto!" he fumed.

  "A British Indian," observed Ben-Zayb in a low tone.

  "An American, I tell you, and shouldn't I know?" retorted Don Custodioin ill-humor. "His Excellency has told me so. He's a jeweler whomthe latter knew in Havana, and, as I suspect, the one who got himadvancement by lending him money. So to repay him he has had him comehere to let him have a chance and increase his fortune by sellingdiamonds--imitations, who knows? And he so ungrateful, that, aftergetting money from the Indians, he wishes--huh!" The sentence wasconcluded by a significant wave of the hand.

  No one dared to join in this diatribe. Don Custodio could discredithimself with his Excellency, if he wished, but neither Ben-Zayb,nor Padre Irene, nor Padre Salvi, nor the offended Padre Sibyla hadany confidence in the discretion of the others.

  "The fact is that this man, being an American, thinks no doubtthat we are dealing with the redskins. To talk of these matters ona steamer! Compel, force the people! And he's the very person whoadvised the expedition to the Carolines and the campaign in Mindanao,which is going to bring us to disgraceful ruin. He's the one whohas offered to superintend the building of the cruiser, and I say,what does a jeweler, no matter how rich and learned he may be, knowabout naval construction?"

  All this was spoken by Don Custodio in a guttural tone to his neighborBen-Zayb, while he gesticulated, shrugged his shoulders, and from timeto time with his looks consulted the others, who were nodding theirheads ambiguously. The Canon Irene indulged in a rather equivocalsmile, which he half hid with his hand as he rubbed his nose.

  "I tell you, Ben-Zayb," continued Don Custodio, slapping the journaliston the arm, "all the trouble comes from not consulting the old-timershere. A project in fine words, and especially with a big appropriation,with an appropriation in round numbers, dazzles, meets with acceptanceat once, for this!" Here, in further explanation, he rubbed the tipof his thumb against his middle and forefinger. [4]

  "There's something in that, there's something in that," Ben-Zaybthought it his duty to remark, since in his capacity of journalisthe had to be informed about everything.

  "Now look here, before the port works I presented a project, original,simple, useful, economical, and practicable, for clearing away the barin the lake, and it hasn't been accepted because there wasn't any ofthat in it." He repeated the movement of his fingers, shrugged hisshoulders, and gazed at the others as though to say, "Have you everheard of such a misfortune?"

  "May we know what it was?" asked several, drawing nearer and givinghim their attention. The projects of Don Custodio were as renownedas quacks' specifics.

  Don Custodio was on the point of refusing to explain it fromresentment at not having found any supporters in his diatribe againstSimoun. "When there's no danger, you want me to talk, eh? And whenthere is, you keep quiet!" he was going to say, but that would causethe loss of a good opportunity, and his project, now that it couldnot be carried out, might at least be known and admired.

  After blowing out two or three puffs of smoke, coughing, and spittingthrough a scupper, he slapped Ben-Zayb on the thigh and asked,"You've seen ducks?"

  "I rather think so--we've hunted them on the lake," answered thesurprised journalist.

  "No, I'm not talking about wild ducks, I'm talking of the domesticones, of those that are raised in Pateros and Pasig. Do you know whatthey feed on?"

  Ben-Zayb, the only thinking head, did not know--he was not engagedin that business.

  "On snails, man, on snails!" exclaimed Padre Camorra. "One doesn'thave to be an Indian to know that; it's sufficient to have eyes!"

  "Exactly so, on snails!" repeated Don Custodio, flourishing hisforefinger. "And do you know where they get them?"

  Again the thinking head did not know.

  "Well, if you had been in the country as many years as I have, youwould know that they fish them out of the bar itself, where theyabound, mixed with the sand."

  "Then your project?"

  "Well, I'm coming to that. My idea was to compel all the towns roundabout, near the bar, to raise ducks, and you'll see how they, allby themselves, will deepen the channel by fishing for the snails--nomore and no less, no more and no less!"

  Here Don Custodio extended his arms and gazed triumphantly at thestupefaction of his hearers--to none of them had occurred such anoriginal idea.

  "Will you allow me to write an article about that?" asked Ben-Zayb. "Inthis country there is so little thinking done--"

  "But, Don Custodio," exclaimed Dona Victorina with smirks and grimaces,"if everybody takes to raising ducks the _balot_ [5] eggs will becomeabundant. Ugh, how nasty! Rather, let the bar close up entirely!"