by José Rizal
CHAPTER XXX
In the Church
From end to end the huge barn that men dedicate as a home to theCreator of all existing things was filled with people. Pushing,crowding, and crushing one another, the few who were leaving andthe many who were entering filled the air with exclamations ofdistress. Even from afar an arm would be stretched out to dip thefingers in the holy water, but at the critical moment the surging crowdwould force the hand away. Then would be heard a complaint, a trampledwoman would upbraid some one, but the pushing would continue. Some oldpeople might succeed in dipping their fingers in the water, now thecolor of slime, where the population of a whole town, with transientsbesides, had washed. With it they would anoint themselves devoutly,although with difficulty, on the neck, on the crown of the head,on the forehead, on the chin, on the chest, and on the abdomen,in the assurance that thus they were sanctifying those parts andthat they would suffer neither stiff neck, headache, consumption,nor indigestion. The young people, whether they were not so ailing ordid not believe in that holy prophylactic, hardly more than moistenedthe tip of a finger--and this only in order that the devout mighthave no cause to talk--and pretended to make the sign of the cross ontheir foreheads, of course without touching them. "It may be blessedand everything you may wish," some young woman doubtless thought,"but it has such a color!"
It was difficult to breathe in the heat amid the smells of the humananimal, but the preacher was worth all these inconveniences, as thesermon was costing the town two hundred and fifty pesos. Old Tasiohad said: "Two hundred and fifty pesos for a sermon! One man on oneoccasion! Only a third of what comedians cost, who will work forthree nights! Surely you must be very rich!"
"What has that to do with the drama?" testily inquired the nervousleader of the Tertiary Brethren. "With the drama souls go to hell butwith the sermon to heaven! If he had asked a thousand, we would havepaid him and should still owe him gratitude."
"After all, you're right," replied the Sage, "for the sermon is moreamusing to me at least than the drama."
"But I am not amused even by the drama!" yelled the other furiously.
"I believe it, since you understand one about as well as you do theother!" And the impious old man moved away without paying any attentionto the insults and the direful prophecies that the irritated leaderoffered concerning his future existence.
While they were waiting for the alcalde, the people sweated and yawned,agitating the air with fans, hats, and handkerchiefs. Children shoutedand cried, which kept the sacristans busy putting them out of thesacred edifice. Such action brought to the dull and conscientiousleader of the Brotherhood of the Holy Rosary this thought: "'Sufferlittle children to come unto me,' said Our Savior, it is true, buthere must be understood, children who do not cry."
An old woman in a _guingon_ habit, Sister Pute, chid her granddaughter,a child of six years, who was kneeling at her side, "O lost one, giveheed, for you're going to hear a sermon like that of Good Friday!" Herethe old lady gave her a pinch to awaken the piety of the child,who made a grimace, stuck out her nose, and wrinkled up her eyebrows.
Some men squatted on their heels and dozed beside the confessional. Oneold man nodding caused our old woman to believe that he was mumblingprayers, so, running her fingers rapidly over the beads of herrosary--as that was the most reverent way of respecting the designsof Heaven--little by little she set herself to imitating hint.
Ibarra stood in one corner while Maria Clara knelt near the highaltar in a space which the curate had had the courtesy to order thesacristans to clear for her. Capitan Tiago, in a frock coat, sat onone of the benches provided for the authorities, which caused thechildren who did not know him to take him for another gobernadorcilloand to be wary about getting near him.
At last the alcalde with his staff arrived, proceeding from thesacristy and taking their seats in magnificent chairs placed on stripsof carpet. The alcalde wore a full-dress uniform and displayed thecordon of Carlos III, with four or five other decorations. The peopledid not recognize him.
"_Aba!_" exclaimed a rustic. "A civil-guard dressed as a comedian!"
"Fool!" rejoined a bystander, nudging him with his elbow. "It's thePrince Villardo that we saw at the show last night!"
So the alcalde went up several degrees in the popular estimation bybecoming an enchanted prince, a vanquisher of giants.
When the mass began, those who were seated arose and those whohad been asleep were awakened by the ringing of the bells and thesonorous voices of the singers. Padre Salvi, in spite of his gravity,wore a look of deep satisfaction, since there were serving him asdeacon and subdeacon none less than two Augustinians. Each one, asit came his turn, sang well, in a more or less nasal tone and withunintelligible articulation, except the officiating priest himself,whose voice trembled somewhat, even getting out of tune at times,to the great wonder of those who knew him. Still he moved aboutwith precision and elegance while he recited the _Dominus vobiscum_unctuously, dropping his head a little to the side and gazing towardheaven. Seeing him receive the smoke from the incense one wouldhave said that Galen was right in averring the passage of smoke inthe nasal canals to the head through a screen of ethmoids, sincehe straightened himself, threw his head back, and moved toward themiddle of the altar with such pompousness and gravity that CapitanTiago found him more majestic than the Chinese comedian of thenight before, even though the latter had been dressed as an emperor,paint-bedaubed, with beribboned sword, stiff beard like a horse'smane, and high-soled slippers. "Undoubtedly," so his thoughts ran,"a single curate of ours has more majesty than all the emperors."
At length came the expected moment, that of hearing Padre Damaso. Thethree priests seated themselves in their chairs in an edifyingattitude, as the worthy correspondent would say, the alcalde andother persons of place and position following their example. Themusic ceased.
The sudden transition from noise to silence awoke our aged Sister Pute,who was already snoring under cover of the music. Like Segismundo,[87] or like the cook in the story of the Sleeping Beauty, the firstthing that she did upon awaking was to whack her granddaughter onthe neck, as the child had also fallen asleep. The latter screamed,but soon consoled herself at the sight of a woman who was beating herbreast with contrition and enthusiasm. All tried to place themselvescomfortably, those who had no benches squatting down on the floor oron their heels.
Padre Damaso passed through the congregation preceded by twosacristans and followed by another friar carrying a massive volume. Hedisappeared as he went up the winding staircase, but his round headsoon reappeared, then his fat neck, followed immediately by hisbody. Coughing slightly, he looked about him with assurance. Henoticed Ibarra and with a special wink gave to understand that hewould not overlook that youth in his prayers. Then he turned a lookof satisfaction upon Padre Sibyla and another of disdain upon PadreMartin, the preacher of the previous day. This inspection concluded,he turned cautiously and said, "Attention, brother!" to his companion,who opened the massive volume.
But the sermon deserves a separate chapter. A young man who was thenlearning stenography and who idolizes great orators, took it down;thanks to this fact, we can here present a selection from the sacredoratory of those regions.
