by José Rizal
CHAPTER XXIX
The Morning
At the first flush of dawn bands of music awoke the tired people of thetown with lively airs. Life and movement reawakened, the bells beganto chime, and the explosions commenced. It was the last day of thefiesta, in fact the fiesta proper. Much was hoped for, even more thanon the previous day. The Brethren of the Venerable Tertiary Order weremore numerous than those of the Holy Rosary, so they smiled piously,secure that they would humiliate their rivals. They had purchased agreater number of tapers, wherefor the Chinese dealers had reaped aharvest and in gratitude were thinking of being baptized, althoughsome remarked that this was not so much on account of their faith inCatholicism as from a desire to get a wife. To this the pious womenanswered, "Even so, the marriage of so many Chinamen at once wouldbe little short of a miracle and their wives would convert them."
The people arrayed themselves in their best clothes and dragged outfrom their strong-boxes all their jewelry. The sharpers and gamblersall shone in embroidered camisas with large diamond studs, heavygold chains, and white straw hats. Only the old Sage went his wayas usual in his dark-striped sinamay camisa buttoned up to the neck,loose shoes, and wide gray felt hat.
"You look sadder than ever!" the teniente-mayor accosted him. "Don'tyou want us to be happy now and then, since we have so much toweep over?"
"To be happy doesn't mean to act the fool," answered the old man. "It'sthe senseless orgy of every year! And all for no end but to squandermoney, when there is so much misery and want. Yes, I understand it all,it's the same orgy, the revel to drown the woes of all."
"You know that I share your opinion, though," replied Don Filipo,half jestingly and half in earnest. "I have defended it, but whatcan one do against the gobernadorcillo and the curate?"
"Resign!" was the old man's curt answer as he moved away.
Don Filipo stood perplexed, staring after the old man. "Resign!" hemuttered as he made his way toward the church. "Resign! Yes, if thisoffice were an honor and not a burden, yes, I would resign."
The paved court in front of the church was filled with people; menand women, young and old, dressed in their best clothes, all crowdedtogether, came and went through the wide doors. There was a smellof powder, of flowers, of incense, and of perfumes, while bombs,rockets, and serpent-crackers made the women run and scream, thechildren laugh. One band played in front of the convento, anotherescorted the town officials, and still others marched about thestreets, where floated and waved a multitude of banners. Variegatedcolors and lights distracted the sight, melodies and explosions thehearing, while the bells kept up a ceaseless chime. Moving all aboutwere carriages whose horses at times became frightened, frisked andreared all of which, while not included in the program of the fiesta,formed a show in itself, free and by no means the least entertaining.
The _hermano mayor_ for this day had sent servants to seek in thestreets for whomsoever they might invite, as did he who gave thefeast of which the Gospel tells us. Almost by force were urgedinvitations to partake of chocolate, coffee, tea, and sweetmeats,these invitations not seldom reaching the proportions of a demand.
There was to be celebrated the high mass, that known as the dalmatic,like the one of the day before, about which the worthy correspondentwrote, only that now the officiating priest was to be Padre Salvi,and that the alcalde of the province, with many other Spaniards andpersons of note, was to attend it in order to hear Padre Damaso,who enjoyed a great reputation in the province. Even the alferez,smarting under the preachments of Padre Salvi, would also attend inorder to give evidence of his good-will and to recompense himself,if possible, for the bad spells the curate had caused him.
Such was the reputation of Padre Damaso that the correspondent wrotebeforehand to the editor of his newspaper:
"As was announced in my badly executed account of yesterday, so ithas come to pass. We have had the especial pleasure of listeningto the Very Reverend Fray Damaso Verdolagas, former curate of thistown, recently transferred to a larger parish in recognition ofhis meritorious services. The illustrious and holy orator occupiedthe pulpit of the Holy Ghost and preached a most eloquent andprofound sermon, which edified and left marveling all the faithfulwho had waited so anxiously to see spring from his fecund lipsthe restoring fountain of eternal life. Sublimity of conception,boldness of imagination, novelty of phraseology, gracefulness of style,naturalness of gestures, cleverness of speech, vigor of ideas--theseare the traits of the Spanish Bossuet, who has justly earned sucha high reputation not only among the enlightened Spaniards but evenamong the rude Indians and the cunning sons of the Celestial Empire."
But the confiding correspondent almost saw himself obliged to erasewhat he had written. Padre Damaso complained of a cold that he hadcontracted the night before, for after singing a few merry songs hehad eaten three plates of ice-cream and attended the show for a shorttime. As a result of all this, he wished to renounce his part as thespokesman of God to men, but as no one else was to be found who was sowell versed in the life and miracles of San Diego,--the curate knewthem, it is true, but it was his place to celebrate mass,--the otherpriests unanimously declared that the tone of Padre Damaso's voicecould not be improved upon and that it would be a great pity forhim to forego delivering such an eloquent sermon as he had writtenand memorized. Accordingly, his former housekeeper prepared for himlemonade, rubbed his chest and neck with liniment and olive-oil,massaged him, and wrapped him in warm cloths. He drank some raweggs beaten up in wine and for the whole morning neither talked norbreakfasted, taking only a glass of milk and a cup of chocolate with adozen or so of crackers, heroically renouncing his usual fried chickenand half of a Laguna cheese, because the housekeeper affirmed thatcheese contained salt and grease, which would aggravate his cough.
"All for the sake of meriting heaven and of converting us!" exclaimedthe Tertiary Sisters, much affected, upon being informed of thesesacrifices.
"May Our Lady of Peace punish him!" muttered the Sisters of the HolyRosary, unable to forgive him for leaning to the side of their rivals.
At half past eight the procession started from the shadow of thecanvas canopy. It was the same as that of the previous day but forthe introduction of one novelty: the older members of the VenerableTertiary Order and some maidens dressed as old women displayed longgowns, the poor having them of coarse cloth and the rich of silk,or rather of Franciscan _guingon_, as it is called, since it is mostused by the reverend Franciscan friars. All these sacred garmentswere genuine, having come from the convento in Manila, where thepeople may obtain them as alms at a fixed price, if a commercial termmay be permitted; this fixed price was liable to increase but not toreduction. In the convento itself and in the nunnery of St. Clara [86]are sold these same garments which possess, besides the special meritof gaining many indulgences for those who may be shrouded in them,the very special merit of being dearer in proportion as they are old,threadbare, and unserviceable. We write this in case any pious readerneed such sacred relics--or any cunning rag-picker of Europe wish tomake a fortune by taking to the Philippines a consignment of patchedand grimy garments, since they are valued at sixteen pesos or more,according to their more or less tattered appearance.
San Diego de Alcala was borne on a float adorned with plates ofrepousse silver. The saint, though rather thin, had an ivory bustwhich gave him a severe and majestic mien, in spite of abundant kinglybangs like those of the Negrito. His mantle was of satin embroideredwith gold.
Our venerable father, St. Francis, followed the Virgin as on yesterday,except that the priest under the canopy this time was Padre Salviand not the graceful Padre Sibyla, so refined in manner. But if theformer lacked a beautiful carriage he had more than enough unction,walking half bent over with lowered eyes and hands crossed in mysticattitude. The bearers of the canopy were the same cabezas de barangay,sweating with satisfaction at seeing themselves at the same timesemi-sacristans, collectors of the tribute, redeemers of poor erringhumanity, and consequently Christs who were giving the
ir blood forthe sins of others. The surpliced coadjutor went from float to floatcarrying the censer, with the smoke from which he from time to timeregaled the nostrils of the curate, who then became even more seriousand grave.
So the procession moved forward slowly and deliberately to thesound of bombs, songs, and religious melodies let loose into theair by bands of musicians that followed the floats. Meanwhile,the _hermano mayor_ distributed candles with such zeal that many ofthe participants returned to their homes with light enough for fournights of card-playing. Devoutly the curious spectators knelt at thepassage of the float of the Mother of God, reciting Credos and Salvesfervently. In front of a house in whose gaily decorated windows wereto be seen the alcalde, Capitan Tiago, Maria Clara, and Ibarra, withvarious Spaniards and young ladies, the float was detained. PadreSalvi happened to raise his eyes, but made not the slightest movementthat might have been taken for a salute or a recognition of them. Hemerely stood erect, so that his cope fell over his shoulders moregracefully and elegantly.
In the street under the window was a young woman of pleasingcountenance, dressed in deep mourning, carrying in her arms a youngbaby. She must have been a nursemaid only, for the child was whiteand ruddy while she was brown and had hair blacker than jet. Uponseeing the curate the tender infant held out its arms, laughed withthe laugh that neither causes nor is caused by sorrow, and cried outstammeringly in the midst of a brief silence, "Pa-pa! Papa! Papa!" Theyoung woman shuddered, slapped her hand hurriedly over the baby'smouth and ran away in dismay, with the baby crying.
Malicious ones winked at each other, and the Spaniards who hadwitnessed the short scene smiled, while the natural pallor of PadreSalvi changed to the hue of poppies. Yet the people were wrong,for the curate was not acquainted with the woman at all, she beinga stranger in the town.
