by José Rizal
CHAPTER XLII
The Espadanas
The fiesta is over. The people of the town have again found, as inevery other year, that their treasury is poorer, that they have worked,sweated, and stayed awake much without really amusing themselves,without gaining any new friends, and, in a word, that they have dearlybought their dissipation and their headaches. But this matters nothing,for the same will be done next year, the same the coming century,since it has always been the custom.
In Capitan Tiago's house sadness reigns. All the windows are closed,the inmates move about noiselessly, and only in the kitchen do theydare to speak in natural tones. Maria Clara, the soul of the house,lies sick in bed and her condition is reflected in all the faces,as the sorrows of the mind may be read in the countenance of anindividual.
"Which seems best to you, Isabel, shall I make a poor-offering to thecross of Tunasan or to the cross of Matahong?" asks the afflictedfather in a low voice. "The Tunasan cross grows while the Matahongcross sweats which do you think is more miraculous?"
Aunt Isabel reflects, shakes her head, and murmurs, "To grow, to growis a greater miracle than to sweat. All of us sweat, but not all ofus grow."
"That's right, Isabel; but remember that to sweat for the wood ofwhich bench-legs are made to sweat--is not a small miracle. Come,the best thing will be to make poor-offerings to both crosses, soneither will resent it, and Maria will get better sooner. Are therooms ready? You know that with the doctors is coming a new gentleman,a distant relative of Padre Damaso's. Nothing should be lacking."
At the other end of the dining-room are the two cousins, Sinang andVictoria, who have come to keep the sick girl company. Andeng ishelping them clean a silver tea-set.
"Do you know Dr. Espadana?" the foster-sister of Maria Clara asksVictoria curiously.
"No," replies the latter, "the only thing that I know about him isthat he charges high, according to Capitan Tiago."
"Then he must be good!" exclaims Andeng. "The one who performed anoperation on Dona Maria charged high; so he was learned."
"Silly!" retorts Sinang. "Every one who charges high is notlearned. Look at Dr. Guevara; after performing a bungling operationthat cost the life of both mother and child, he charged the widowerfifty pesos. The thing to know is how to charge!"
"What do you know about it?" asks her cousin, nudging her.
"Don't I know? The husband, who is a poor sawyer, after losing hiswife had to lose his home also, for the alcalde, being a friend ofthe doctor's, made him pay. Don't I know about it, when my fatherlent him the money to make the journey to Santa Cruz?" [114]
The sound of a carriage stopping in front of the house put an endto these conversations. Capitan Tiago, followed by Aunt Isabel, randown the steps to welcome the new arrivals: the Doctor Don Tiburciode Espadana, his senora the _Doctora_ Dona Victorina de los Reyes_de_ De Espadana, and a young Spaniard of pleasant countenance andagreeable aspect.
Dona Victorina was attired in a loose silk gown embroidered withflowers and a hat with a huge parrot half-crushed between blue andred ribbons. The dust of the road mingled with the rice-powder onher cheeks seemed to accentuate her wrinkles. As at the time we sawher in Manila, she now supported her lame husband on her arm.
"I have the pleasure of introducing to you our cousin, Don AlfonsoLinares de Espadana," said Dona Victorina, indicating their youngcompanion. "The gentleman is a godson of a relative of Padre Damaso'sand has been private secretary to all the ministers."
The young man bowed politely and Capitan Tiago came very near tokissing his hand.
While their numerous trunks and traveling-bags are being carriedin and Capitan Tiago is conducting them to their rooms, let us talka little of this couple whose acquaintance we made slightly in thefirst chapters.
Dona Victorina was a lady of forty and five winters, which wereequivalent to thirty and two summers according to her arithmeticalcalculations. She had been beautiful in her youth, having had, asshe used to say, 'good flesh,' but in the ecstasies of contemplatingherself she had looked with disdain on her many Filipino admirers,since her aspirations were toward another race. She had refused tobestow on any one her little white hand, not indeed from distrust,for not a few times had she given jewelry and gems of great value tovarious foreign and Spanish adventurers. Six months before the time ofour story she had seen realized her most beautiful dream,--the dreamof her whole life,--for which she might scorn the fond illusionsof her youth and even the promises of love that Capitan Tiago hadin other days whispered in her ear or sung in some serenade. Late,it is true, had the dream been realized, but Dona Victorina, who,although she spoke the language badly, was more Spanish than Augustinaof Saragossa, [115] understood the proverb, "Better late than never,"and found consolation in repeating it to herself. "Absolute happinessdoes not exist on earth," was another favorite proverb of hers,but she never used both together before other persons.
Having passed her first, second, third, and fourth youth in castingher nets in the sea of the world for the object of her vigils, she hadbeen compelled at last to content herself with what fate was willingto apportion her. Had the poor woman been only thirty and one insteadof thirty and two summers--the difference according to her mode ofreckoning was great--she would have restored to Destiny the award itoffered her to wait for another more suited to her taste, but sinceman proposes and necessity disposes, she saw herself obliged in hergreat need for a husband to content herself with a poor fellow who hadbeen cast out from Estremadura [116] and who, after wandering aboutthe world for six or seven years like a modern Ulysses, had at lastfound on the island of Luzon hospitality and a withered Calypso forhis better half. This unhappy mortal, by name Tiburcio Espadana, wasonly thirty-five years of age and looked like an old man, yet he was,nevertheless, younger than Dona Victorina, who was only thirty-two. Thereason for this is easy to understand but dangerous to state.
Don Tiburcio had come to the Philippines as a petty official in theCustoms, but such had been his bad luck that, besides sufferingseverely from seasickness and breaking a leg during the voyage,he had been dismissed within a fortnight, just at the time when hefound himself without a cuarto. After his rough experience on the seahe did not care to return to Spain without having made his fortune,so he decided to devote himself to something. Spanish pride forbadehim to engage in manual labor, although the poor fellow would gladlyhave done any kind of work in order to earn an honest living. But theprestige of the Spaniards would not have allowed it, even though thisprestige did not protect him from want.
At first he had lived at the expense of some of his countrymen, but inhis honesty the bread tasted bitter, so instead of getting fat he grewthin. Since he had neither learning nor money nor recommendations hewas advised by his countrymen, who wished to get rid of him, to go tothe provinces and pass himself off as a doctor of medicine. He refusedat first, for he had learned nothing during the short period that hehad spent as an attendant in a hospital, his duties there having beento dust off the benches and light the fires. But as his wants werepressing and as his scruples were soon laid to rest by his friendshe finally listened to them and went to the provinces. He began byvisiting some sick persons, and at first made only moderate charges,as his conscience dictated, but later, like the young philosopherof whom Samaniego [117] tells, he ended by putting a higher priceon his visits. Thus he soon passed for a great physician and wouldprobably have made his fortune if the medical authorities in Manilahad not heard of his exorbitant fees and the competition that he wascausing others. Both private parties and professionals interceded forhim. "Man," they said to the zealous medical official, "let him makehis stake and as soon as he has six or seven thousand pesos he cango back home and live there in peace. After all, what does it matterto you if he does deceive the unwary Indians? They should be morecareful! He's a poor devil--don't take the bread from his mouth--be agood Spaniard!" This official was a good Spaniard and agreed to wink atthe matter, but the news soon reached the ears of the people and theybegan to
distrust him, so in a little while he lost his practise andagain saw himself obliged almost to beg his daily bread. It was thenthat he learned through a friend, who was an intimate acquaintance ofDona Victorina's, of the dire straits in which that lady was placedand also of her patriotism and her kind heart. Don Tiburcio then sawa patch of blue sky and asked to be introduced to her.
Dona Victorina and Don Tiburcio met: _tarde venientibus ossa_,[118] he would have exclaimed had he known Latin! She was no longerpassable, she was passee. Her abundant hair had been reduced to a knotabout the size of an onion, according to her maid, while her face wasfurrowed with wrinkles and her teeth were falling loose. Her eyes,too, had suffered considerably, so that she squinted frequently inlooking any distance. Her disposition was the only part of her thatremained intact.
At the end of a half-hour's conversation they understood and acceptedeach other. She would have preferred a Spaniard who was less lame,less stuttering, less bald, less toothless, who slobbered less when hetalked, and who had more "spirit" and "quality," as she used to say,but that class of Spaniards no longer came to seek her hand. Shehad more than once heard it said that opportunity is pictured asbeing bald, and firmly believed that Don Tiburcio was opportunityitself, for as a result of his misfortunes he suffered from prematurebaldness. And what woman is not prudent at thirty-two years of age?
Don Tiburcio, for his part, felt a vague melancholy when he thought ofhis honeymoon, but smiled with resignation and called to his supportthe specter of hunger. Never had he been ambitious or pretentious; histastes were simple and his desires limited; but his heart, untouchedtill then, had dreamed of a very different divinity. Back there in hisyouth when, worn out with work, he lay doom on his rough bed aftera frugal meal, he used to fall asleep dreaming of an image, smilingand tender. Afterwards, when troubles and privations increased andwith the passing of years the poetical image failed to materialize,he thought modestly of a good woman, diligent and industrious, whowould bring him a small dowry, to console him for the fatigues ofhis toil and to quarrel with him now and then--yes, he had thought ofquarrels as a kind of happiness! But when obliged to wander from landto land in search not so much of fortune as of some simple means oflivelihood for the remainder of his days; when, deluded by the storiesof his countrymen from overseas, he had set out for the Philippines,realism gave, place to an arrogant mestiza or a beautiful Indian withbig black eyes, gowned in silks and transparent draperies, loadeddown with gold and diamonds, offering him her love, her carriages,her all. When he reached Manila he thought for a time that his dreamwas to be realized, for the young women whom he saw driving on theLuneta and the Malecon in silver-mounted carriages had gazed at himwith some curiosity. Then after his position was gone, the mestiza andthe Indian disappeared and with great effort he forced before himselfthe image of a widow, of course an agreeable widow! So when he sawhis dream take shape in part he became sad, but with a certain touchof native philosophy said to himself, "Those were all dreams and inthis world one does not live on dreams!" Thus he dispelled his doubts:she used rice-powder, but after their marriage he would break herof the habit; her face had many wrinkles, but his coat was torn andpatched; she was a pretentious old woman, domineering and mannish,but hunger was more terrible, more domineering and pretentious still,and anyway, he had been blessed with a mild disposition for that veryend, and love softens the character. She spoke Spanish badly, but hehimself did not talk it well, as he had been told when notified of hisdismissal Moreover, what did it matter to him if she was an ugly andridiculous old woman? He was lame, toothless, and bald! Don Tiburciopreferred to take charge of her rather than to become a public chargefrom hunger. When some friends joked with him about it, he answered,"Give me bread and call me a fool."
Don Tiburcio was one of those men who are popularly spoken of asunwilling to harm a fly. Modest, incapable of harboring an unkindthought, in bygone days he would have been made a missionary. His stayin the country had not given him the conviction of grand superiority,of great valor, and of elevated importance that the greater partof his countrymen acquire in a few weeks. His heart had never beencapable of entertaining hate nor had he been able to find a singlefilibuster; he saw only unhappy wretches whom he must despoil if hedid not wish to be more unhappy than they were. When he was threatenedwith prosecution for passing himself off as a physician he was notresentful nor did he complain. Recognizing the justness of the chargeagainst him, he merely answered, "But it's necessary to live!"
So they married, or rather, bagged each other, and went to Santa Annto spend their honeymoon. But on their wedding-night Dona Victorinawas attacked by a horrible indigestion and Don Tiburcio thanked Godand showed himself solicitous and attentive. A few days afterward,however, he looked into a mirror and smiled a sad smile as he gazedat his naked gums, for he had aged ten years at least.
Very well satisfied with her husband, Dona Victorina had a fineset of false teeth made for him and called in the best tailors ofthe city to attend to his clothing. She ordered carriages, sent toBatangas and Albay for the best ponies, and even obliged him to keep apair for the races. Nor did she neglect her own person while she wastransforming him. She laid aside the native costume for the Europeanand substituted false frizzes for the simple Filipino coiffure, whileher gowns, which fitted her marvelously ill, disturbed the peace ofall the quiet neighborhood.
Her husband, who never went out on foot,--she did not care to have hislameness noticed,--took her on lonely drives in unfrequented places toher great sorrow, for she wanted to show him off in public, but shekept quiet out of respect for their honeymoon. The last quarter wascoming on when he took up the subject of the rice-powder, telling herthat the use of it was false and unnatural. Dona Victorina wrinkledup her eyebrows and stared at his false teeth. He became silent,and she understood his weakness.
She placed a _de_ before her husband's surname, since the _de_ costnothing and gave "quality" to the name, signing herself "Victorinade los Reyes _de_ De Espadana." This _de_ was such a mania with herthat neither the stationer nor her husband could get it out of herhead. "If I write only one _de_ it may be thought that you don't haveit, you fool!" she said to her husband. [119]
Soon she believed that she was about to become a mother, so sheannounced to all her acquaintances, "Next month De Espadana and I aregoing to the _Penyinsula_. I don't want our son to be born here andbe called a revolutionist." She talked incessantly of the journey,having memorized the names of the different ports of call, so thatit was a treat to hear her talk: "I'm going to see the isthmus in theSuez Canal--De Espadana thinks it very beautiful and De Espadana hastraveled over the whole world." "I'll probably not return to thisland of savages." "I wasn't born to live here--Aden or Port Saidwould suit me better--I've thought so ever since I was a girl." Inher geography Dona Victorina divided the world into the Philippinesand Spain; rather differently from the clever people who divide itinto Spain and America or China for another name.
Her husband realized that these things were barbarisms, but held hispeace to escape a scolding or reminders of his stuttering. To increasethe illusion of approaching maternity she became whimsical, dressedherself in colors with a profusion of flowers and ribbons, and appearedon the Escolta in a wrapper. But oh, the disenchantment! Three monthswent by and the dream faded, and now, having no reason for fearingthat her son would be a revolutionist, she gave up the trip. Sheconsulted doctors, midwives, old women, but all in vain. Having to thegreat displeasure of Capitan Tiago jested about St. Pascual Bailon,she was unwilling to appeal to any saint. For this reason a friendof her husband's remarked to her:
"Believe me, senora, you are the only _strong-spirited_ person inthis tiresome country."
She had smiled, without knowing what _strong-spirited_ meant, but thatnight she asked her husband. "My dear," he answered, "the s-strongests-spirit that I know of is ammonia. My f-friend must have s-spokenf-figuratively."
After that she would say on every possible occasion, "I'm the onlyammonia in this tiresome
country, speaking figuratively. So SenorN. de N., a Peninsular gentleman of quality, told me."
Whatever she said had to be done, for she had succeeded in dominatingher husband completely. He on his part did not put up any greatresistance and so was converted into a kind of lap-dog of hers. Ifshe was displeased with him she would not let him go out, and whenshe was really angry she tore out his false teeth, thus leaving hima horrible sight for several days.
It soon occurred to her that her husband ought to be a doctor ofmedicine and surgery, and she so informed him.
"My dear, do you w-want me to be arrested?" he asked fearfully.
"Don't be a fool! Leave me to arrange it," she answered. "You'renot going to treat any one, but I want people to call you _Doctor_and me _Doctora_, see?"
So on the following day Rodoreda [120] received an order to engrave ona slab of black marble: DR. DE ESPADANA, SPECIALIST IN ALL KINDS OFDISEASES. All the servants had to address them by their new titles,and as a result she increased the number of frizzes, the layers ofrice-powder, the ribbons and laces, and gazed with more disdain thanever on her poor and unfortunate countrywomen whose husbands belongedto a lower grade of society than hers did. Day by day she felt moredignified and exalted and, by continuing in this way, at the end ofa year she would have believed herself to be of divine origin.
These sublime thoughts, however, did not keep her from becoming olderand more ridiculous every day. Every time Capitan Tiago saw her andrecalled having made love to her in vain he forthwith sent a peso tothe church for a mass of thanksgiving. Still, he greatly respected herhusband on account of his title of specialist in all kinds of diseasesand listened attentively to the few phrases that he was able to stutterout. For this reason and because this doctor was more exclusive thanothers, Capitan Tiago had selected him to treat his daughter.
In regard to young Linares, that is another matter. When arranging forthe trip to Spain, Dona Victorina had thought of having a Peninsularadministrator, as she did not trust the Filipinos. Her husbandbethought himself of a nephew of his in Madrid who was studying lawand who was considered the brightest of the family. So they wrote tohim, paying his passage in advance, and when the dream disappearedhe was already on his way.
Such were the three persons who had just arrived. While they werepartaking of a late breakfast, Padre Salvi came in. The Espadanaswere already acquainted with him, and they introduced the blushingyoung Linares with all his titles.
As was natural, they talked of Maria Clara, who was resting andsleeping. They talked of their journey, and Dona Victorina exhibitedall her verbosity in criticising the customs of the provincials,--theirnipa houses, their bamboo bridges; without forgetting to mention tothe curate her intimacy with this and that high official and otherpersons of "quality" who were very fond of her.
"If you had come two days ago, Dona Victorina," put in CapitanTiago during a slight pause, "you would have met his Excellency,the Captain-General. He sat right there."
"What! How's that? His Excellency here! In your house? No!"
"I tell you that he sat right there. If you had only come two daysago--"
"Ah, what a pity that Clarita did not get sick sooner!" she exclaimedwith real feeling. Then turning to Linares, "Do you hear, cousin? HisExcellency was here! Don't you see now that De Espadana was rightwhen he told you that you weren't going to the house of a miserableIndian? Because, you know, Don Santiago, in Madrid our cousin wasthe friend of ministers and dukes and dined in the house of CountEl Campanario."
"The Duke of La Torte, Victorina," corrected her husband. [121]
"It's the same thing. If you will tell me--"
"Shall I find Padre Damaso in his town?" interrupted Linares,addressing Padre Salvi. "I've been told that it's near here."
"He's right here and will be over in a little while," replied thecurate.
"How glad I am of that! I have a letter to him," exclaimed the youth,"and if it were not for the happy chance that brings me here, I wouldhave come expressly to visit him."
In the meantime the _happy_ chance had awakened.
"De Espadana," said Dona Victorina, when the meal was over, "shallwe go in to see Clarita?" Then to Capitan Tiago, "Only for you, DonSantiago, only for you! My husband only attends persons of quality,and yet, and yet--! He's not like those here. In Madrid he onlyvisited persons of quality."
They adjourned to the sick girl's chamber. The windows were closedfrom fear of a draught, so the room was almost dark, being onlydimly illuminated by two tapers which burned before an image of theVirgin of Antipolo. Her head covered with a handkerchief saturatedin cologne, her body wrapped carefully in white sheets which swathedher youthful form with many folds, under curtains of jusi and pina,the girl lay on her kamagon bed. Her hair formed a frame around heroval countenance and accentuated her transparent paleness, whichwas enlivened only by her large, sad eyes. At her side were her twofriends and Andeng with a bouquet of tuberoses.
De Espadana felt her pulse, examined her tongue, asked a few questions,and said, as he wagged his head from side to side, "S-she's s-sick,but s-she c-can be c-cured." Dona Victorina looked proudly at thebystanders.
"Lichen with milk in the morning, syrup of marshmallow, two cynoglossumpills!" ordered De Espadana.
"Cheer up, Clarita!" said Dona Victorina, going up to her. "We'vecome to cure you. I want to introduce our cousin."
Linares was so absorbed in the contemplation of those eloquent eyes,which seemed to be searching for some one, that he did not hear DonaVictorina name him.
"Senor Linares," said the curate, calling him out of his abstraction,"here comes Padre Damaso."
It was indeed Padre Damaso, but pale and rather sad. On leaving hisbed his first visit was for Maria Clara. Nor was it the Padre Damasoof former times, hearty and self-confident; now he moved silentlyand with some hesitation.
