El Filibusterismo. English

by José Rizal

  CHAPTER XXXVI

  BEN-ZAYB'S AFFLICTIONS

  Immediately upon hearing of the incident, after lights had been broughtand the scarcely dignified attitudes of the startled gods revealed,Ben-Zayb, filled with holy indignation, and with the approval of thepress-censor secured beforehand, hastened home--an entresol wherehe lived in a mess with others--to write an article that would bethe sublimest ever penned under the skies of the Philippines. TheCaptain-General would leave disconsolate if he did not first enjoyhis dithyrambs, and this Ben-Zayb, in his kindness of heart, couldnot allow. Hence he sacrificed the dinner and ball, nor did he sleepthat night.

  Sonorous exclamations of horror, of indignation, to fancy thatthe world was smashing to pieces and the stars, the eternal stars,were clashing together! Then a mysterious introduction, filled withallusions, veiled hints, then an account of the affair, and thefinal peroration. He multiplied the flourishes and exhausted all hiseuphemisms in describing the drooping shoulders and the tardy baptismof salad his Excellency had received on his Olympian brow, he eulogizedthe agility with which the General had recovered a vertical position,placing his head where his legs had been, and vice versa, then intoneda hymn to Providence for having so solicitously guarded those sacredbones. The paragraph turned out to be so perfect that his Excellencyappeared as a hero, and fell higher, as Victor Hugo said.

  He wrote, erased, added, and polished, so that, without wantingin veracity--this was his special merit as a journalist--the wholewould be an epic, grand for the seven gods, cowardly and base forthe unknown thief, "who had executed himself, terror-stricken, andin the very act convinced of the enormity of his crime."

  He explained Padre Irene's act of plunging under the table as"an impulse of innate valor, which the habit of a God of peaceand gentleness, worn throughout a whole life, had been unable toextinguish," for Padre Irene had tried to hurl himself upon thethief and had taken a straight course along the submensal route. Inpassing, he spoke of submarine passages, mentioned a project of DonCustodio's, called attention to the liberal education and wide travelsof the priest. Padre Salvi's swoon was the excessive sorrow that tookpossession of the virtuous Franciscan to see the little fruit borneamong the Indians by his pious sermons, while the immobility andfright of the other guests, among them the Countess, who "sustained"Padre Salvi (she grabbed him), were the serenity and sang-froid ofheroes, inured to danger in the performance of their duties, besidewhom the Roman senators surprised by the Gallic invaders were nervousschoolgirls frightened at painted cockroaches.

  Afterwards, to form a contrast, the picture of the thief: fear,madness, confusion, the fierce look, the distorted features,and--force of moral superiority in the race--his religious awe tosee assembled there such august personages! Here came in opportunelya long imprecation, a harangue, a diatribe against the perversion ofgood customs, hence the necessity of a permanent military tribunal,"a declaration of martial law within the limits already so declared,special legislation, energetic and repressive, because it is inevery way needful, it is of imperative importance to impress upon themalefactors and criminals that if the heart is generous and paternalfor those who are submissive and obedient to the law, the hand isstrong, firm, inexorable, hard, and severe for those who against allreason fail to respect it and who insult the sacred institutions of thefatherland. Yes, gentlemen, this is demanded not only for the welfareof these islands, not only for the welfare of all mankind, but alsoin the name of Spain, the honor of the Spanish name, the prestige ofthe Iberian people, because before all things else Spaniards we are,and the flag of Spain," etc.

  He terminated the article with this farewell: "Go in peace, gallantwarrior, you who with expert hand have guided the destinies ofthis country in such calamitous times! Go in peace to breathe thebalmy breezes of Manzanares! [73] We shall remain here like faithfulsentinels to venerate your memory, to admire your wise dispositions,to avenge the infamous attempt upon your splendid gift, which wewill recover even if we have to dry up the seas! Such a preciousrelic will be for this country an eternal monument to your splendor,your presence of mind, your gallantry!"

  In this rather confused way he concluded the article and beforedawn sent it to the printing-office, of course with the censor'spermit. Then he went to sleep like Napoleon, after he had arrangedthe plan for the battle of Jena.

  But at dawn he was awakened to have the sheets of copy returned witha note from the editor saying that his Excellency had positivelyand severely forbidden any mention of the affair, and had furtherordered the denial of any versions and comments that might get abroad,discrediting them as exaggerated rumors.

  To Ben-Zayb this blow was the murder of a beautiful and sturdy child,born and nurtured with such great pain and fatigue. Where now hurl theCatilinarian pride, the splendid exhibition of warlike crime-avengingmaterials? And to think that within a month or two he was going toleave the Philippines, and the article could not be published in Spain,since how could he say those things about the criminals of Madrid,where other ideas prevailed, where extenuating circumstances weresought, where facts were weighed, where there were juries, and soon? Articles such as his were like certain poisonous rums that aremanufactured in Europe, good enough to be sold among the negroes,_good for negroes_, [74] with the difference that if the negroes didnot drink them they would not be destroyed, while Ben-Zayb's articles,whether the Filipinos read them or not, had their effect.

  "If only some other crime might be committed today or tomorrow,"he mused.

  With the thought of that child dead before seeing the light, thosefrozen buds, and feeling his eyes fill with tears, he dressed himselfto call upon the editor. But the editor shrugged his shoulders; hisExcellency had forbidden it because if it should be divulged that sevenof the greater gods had let themselves be surprised and robbed by anobody, while they brandished knives and forks, that would endangerthe integrity of the fatherland! So he had ordered that no search bemade for the lamp or the thief, and had recommended to his successorsthat they should not run the risk of dining in any private house,without being surrounded by halberdiers and guards. As those who knewanything about the events that night in Don Timoteo's house were forthe most part military officials and government employees, it wasnot difficult to suppress the affair in public, for it concerned theintegrity of the fatherland. Before this name Ben-Zayb bowed his headheroically, thinking about Abraham, Guzman El Bueno, [75] or at least,Brutus and other heroes of antiquity.

  Such a sacrifice could not remain unrewarded, the gods of journalismbeing pleased with Abraham Ben-Zayb. Almost upon the hour camethe reporting angel bearing the sacrificial lamb in the shape ofan assault committed at a country-house on the Pasig, where certainfriars were spending the heated season. Here was his opportunity andBen-Zayb praised his gods.

  "The robbers got over two thousand pesos, leaving badly wounded onefriar and two servants. The curate defended himself as well as hecould behind a chair, which was smashed in his hands."

  "Wait, wait!" said Ben-Zayb, taking notes. "Forty or fiftyoutlaws traitorously--revolvers, bolos, shotguns, pistols--lion atbay--chair--splinters flying--barbarously wounded--ten thousand pesos!"

  So great was his enthusiasm that he was not content with mere reports,but proceeded in person to the scene of the crime, composing on theroad a Homeric description of the fight. A harangue in the mouth ofthe leader? A scornful defiance on the part of the priest? All themetaphors and similes applied to his Excellency, Padre Irene, andPadre Salvi would exactly fit the wounded friar and the descriptionof the thief would serve for each of the outlaws. The imprecationcould be expanded, since he could talk of religion, of the faith,of charity, of the ringing of bells, of what the Indians owed tothe friars, he could get sentimental and melt into Castelarian [76]epigrams and lyric periods. The senoritas of the city would read thearticle and murmur, "Ben-Zayb, bold as a lion and tender as a lamb!"

  But when he reached the scene, to his great astonishment he learnedthat the wounded friar was no other than Padre Camor
ra, sentenced byhis Provincial to expiate in the pleasant country-house on the banksof the Pasig his pranks in Tiani. He had a slight scratch on his handand a bruise on his head received from flattening himself out on thefloor. The robbers numbered three or four, armed only with bolos,the sum stolen fifty pesos!

  "It won't do!" exclaimed Ben-Zayb. "Shut up! You don't know whatyou're talking about."

  "How don't I know, _punales?_"

  "Don't be a fool--the robbers must have numbered more."

  "You ink-slinger--"

  So they had quite an altercation. What chiefly concerned Ben-Zaybwas not to throw away the article, to give importance to the affair,so that he could use the peroration.

  But a fearful rumor cut short their dispute. The robbers caughthad made some important revelations. One of the outlaws under_Matanglawin_ (Cabesang Tales) had made an appointment with them tojoin his band in Santa Mesa, thence to sack the conventos and housesof the wealthy. They would be guided by a Spaniard, tall and sunburnt,with white hair, who said that he was acting under the orders of theGeneral, whose great friend he was, and they had been further assuredthat the artillery and various regiments would join them, whereforethey were to entertain no fear at all. The tulisanes would be pardonedand have a third part of the booty assigned to them. The signal wasto have been a cannon-shot, but having waited for it in vain thetulisanes, thinking themselves deceived, separated, some going backto their homes, some returning to the mountains vowing vengeance onthe Spaniard, who had thus failed twice to keep his word. Then they,the robbers caught, had decided to do something on their own account,attacking the country-house that they found closest at hand, resolvingreligiously to give two-thirds of the booty to the Spaniard withwhite hair, if perchance he should call upon them for it.

  The description being recognized as that of Simoun, the declarationwas received as an absurdity and the robber subjected to all kindsof tortures, including the electric machine, for his impiousblasphemy. But news of the disappearance of the jeweler havingattracted the attention of the whole Escolta, and the sacks of powderand great quantities of cartridges having been discovered in hishouse, the story began to wear an appearance of truth. Mystery beganto enwrap the affair, enveloping it in clouds; there were whisperedconversations, coughs, suspicious looks, suggestive comments, andtrite second-hand remarks. Those who were on the inside were unableto get over their astonishment, they put on long faces, turned pale,and but little was wanting for many persons to lose their minds inrealizing certain things that had before passed unnoticed.

  "We've had a narrow escape! Who would have said--"

  In the afternoon Ben-Zayb, his pockets filled with revolvers andcartridges, went to see Don Custodio, whom he found hard at work overa project against American jewelers. In a hushed voice he whisperedbetween the palms of his hands into the journalist's ear mysteriouswords.

  "Really?" questioned Ben-Zayb, slapping his hand on his pocket andpaling visibly.

  "Wherever he may be found--" The sentence was completed with anexpressive pantomime. Don Custodio raised both arms to the height ofhis face, with the right more bent than the left, turned the palmsof his hands toward the floor, closed one eye, and made two movementsin advance. "Ssh! Ssh!" he hissed.

  "And the diamonds?" inquired Ben-Zayb.

  "If they find him--" He went through another pantomime with thefingers of his right hand, spreading them out and clenching themtogether like the closing of a fan, clutching out with them somewhatin the manner of the wings of a wind-mill sweeping imaginary objectstoward itself with practised skill. Ben-Zayb responded with anotherpantomime, opening his eyes wide, arching his eyebrows and sucking inhis breath eagerly as though nutritious air had just been discovered.

  "Sssh!"