The Social Cancer - The Original Classic Edition. Хосе Рисаль
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e'en, not an Orestes, my friend?
No! there is nought to be seen there but parsons, and syndics of commerce, Secretaries perchance, ensigns and majors of horse.
But, my good friend, pray tell, what can such people e'er meet with That can be truly call'd great?--what that is great can they do? SCHILLER: Shakespeare's Ghost.
(Bowring's translation.) [liii] [Contents]
Contents
Author's Dedication
I A Social Gathering II Crisostomo Ibarra III The Dinner
IV Heretic and Filibuster V A Star in a Dark Night VI Capitan Tiago
VII An Idyl on an Azotea
VIII Recollections IX Local Affairs X The Town
XI The Rulers
XII All Saints
XIII Signs of Storm
XIV Tasio: Lunatic or Sage
IV The Sacristans
XVI Sisa
XVII Basilio
XVIII Souls In Torment
XIX A Schoolmaster's Difficulties XX The Meeting in the Town Hall XXI The Story of a Mother[liv] XXII Lights and Shadows
XXIII Fishing
XXIV In the Wood
XXV In the House of the Sage
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XXVI The Eve of the Fiesta XXVII In the Twilight XXVIII Correspondence XXIX The Morning
XXX In the Church XXXI The Sermon XXXII The Derrick XXXIII Free Thought XXXIV The Dinner XXXV Comments XXXVI The First Cloud XXXVII His Excellency XXXVIII The Procession
XXXIX Dona Consolacion XL Right and Might XLI Two Visits
XLII The Espadanas
XLIII Plans
XLIV An Examination of Conscience
XLV The Hunted XLVI The Cockpit XLVII The Two Senoras XLVIII The Enigma
XLIX The Voice of the Hunted[iv] L Elias's Story
LI Exchanges
LII The Cards of the Dead and the Shadows
LIII Il Buon Di Si Conosce Da Mattina
LIV Revelations
LV The Catastrophe LVI Rumors and Belief LVII Vae Victis!
LVIII The Accursed
LIX Patriotism and Private Interests
LX Maria Clara Weds
LXI The Chase on the Lake LXII Padre Damaso Explains LXIII Christmas Eve
Epilogue Glossary [lvii]
[Contents]
Author's Dedication
To My Fatherland:
Recorded in the history of human sufferings is a cancer of so malignant a character that the least touch irritates it and awakens in it the sharpest pains. Thus, how many times, when in the midst of modern civilizations I have wished to call thee before me, now to accompany me in memories, now to compare thee with other countries, hath thy dear image presented itself showing a social cancer like to that other!
Desiring thy welfare, which is our own, and seeking the best treatment, I will do with thee what the ancients did with their sick,
exposing them on the steps of the temple so that every one who came to invoke the Divinity might offer them a remedy.
And to this end, I will strive to reproduce thy condition faithfully, without discriminations; I will raise a part of the veil that covers the evil, sacrificing to truth everything, even vanity itself, since, as thy son, I am conscious that I also suffer from thy defects and weaknesses.
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THE AUTHOR EUROPE, 1886
[1] [Contents] Chapter I
A Social Gathering
On the last of October Don Santiago de los Santos, popularly known as Capitan Tiago, gave a dinner. In spite of the fact that, contrary to his usual custom, he had made the announcement only that afternoon, it was already the sole topic of conversation in Binondo and adjacent districts, and even in the Walled City, for at that time Capitan Tiago was considered one of the most hospitable of men, and it was well known that his house, like his country, shut its doors against nothing except commerce and all new or bold ideas. Like an electric shock the announcement ran through the world of parasites, bores, and hangers-on, whom God in His infinite bounty creates and so kindly multiplies in Manila. Some looked at once for shoe-polish, others for buttons and cravats, but all were especially concerned about how to greet the master of the house in the most familiar tone, in order to create an atmosphere of ancient friendship or, if occasion should arise, to excuse a late arrival.
This dinner was given in a house on Calle Anloague, and although we do not remember the number we will describe it in such a way that it may still be recognized, provided the earthquakes have not destroyed it. We do not believe that its owner has had it torn down, for such labors are generally entrusted to God or nature--which Powers hold the contracts also for many of the projects of our government. It [2]is a rather large building, in the style of many in the country, and fronts upon the arm of the Pasig which is known to some as the Binondo River, and which, like all the streams in Manila, plays the varied roles of bath, sewer, laundry, fishery, means of transportation and communication, and even drinking water if the Chinese water-carrier finds it convenient. It is worthy of note that in the distance of nearly a mile this important artery of the district, where traffic is most dense and movement most deafening, can boast of only one wooden bridge, which is out of repair on one side for six months and impassable on the other for the rest of the year, so that during the hot season the ponies take advantage of this permanent status quo to jump off the bridge into the water, to the great surprise of the abstracted mortal who may be dozing inside the carriage or philosophizing upon the progress of the age.
The house of which we are speaking is somewhat low and not exactly correct in all its lines: whether the architect who built it was afflicted with poor eyesight or whether the earthquakes and typhoons have twisted it out of shape, no one can say with certainty. A wide staircase with green newels and carpeted steps leads from the tiled entrance up to the main floor between rows of flower-pots set upon pedestals of motley-colored and fantastically decorated Chinese porcelain. Since there are neither porters nor servants who demand invitation cards, we will go in, O you who read this, whether friend or foe, if you are attracted by the strains of the orchestra, the lights, or the suggestive rattling of dishes, knives, and forks, and if you wish to see what such a gathering is like in the distant Pearl of the Orient. Gladly, and for my own comfort, I should spare you this description of the house, were it not of great importance, since we mortals in general are very much like tortoises: we are esteemed and classified according to our shells; in this and still other respects the mortals of the Philippines in particular also resemble tortoises.
If we go up the stairs, we immediately find ourselves in [3]a spacious hallway, called there, for some unknown reason, the caida, which tonight serves as the dining-room and at the same time affords a place for the orchestra. In the center a large table profusely and expensively decorated seems to beckon to the hanger-on with sweet promises, while it threatens the bashful maiden, the simple dalaga, with two mortal hours in the company of strangers whose language and conversation usually have a very restricted and special character.
Contrasted with these terrestrial preparations are the motley paintings on the walls representing religious matters, such as "Purgatory," "Hell," "The Last Judgment," "The Death of the Just," and "The Death of the Sinner."
At the back of the room, fastened in a splendid and elegant framework, in the Renaissance style, possibly by Arevalo, is a glass case
in which are seen the figures of two old women. The inscription on this reads: "Our Lady of Peace and Prosperous Voyages, who
is worshiped in Antipolo, visiting in the disguise of a beggar the holy and renowned Capitana Inez during her sickness."1 While the work