El Filibusterismo Full Story Pdf

[Otilia Mojarro]

TheChurch, by refusing to degrade you, has placed in doubt the crime that has beenimputed to you; the Government, by surrounding your trials with mystery and shadows,causes the belief that there was some error, committed in fatal moments; and all thePhilippines, by worshiping your memory and calling you martyrs, in no [vi]sense recognizes your culpability. In so far, therefore, as your complicity in theCavite mutiny is not clearly proved, as you may or may not have been patriots, andas you may or may not have cherished sentiments for justice and for liberty, I havethe right to dedicate my work to you as victims of the evil which I undertake to combat.And while we await expectantly upon Spain some day to restore your good name and ceaseto be answerable for your death, let these pages serve as a tardy wreath of driedleaves over your unknown tombs, and let it be understood that every one who withoutclear proofs attacks your memory stains his hands in your blood!

Ibarra succeeds in having the excommunication removed, but before he can explain mattersan uprising against the Civil Guard is secretly brought about through agents of PadreSalvi, and the leadership is ascribed to Ibarra to ruin him. He is warned by a mysteriousfriend, an outlaw called Elias, whose life he had accidentally saved; but desiringfirst to see Maria Clara, he refuses to make his escape, and when the outbreak [viii]occurs he is arrested as the instigator of it and thrown into prison in Manila.

Upon learning of the reported death of Ibarra in the chase on the Lake, Maria Clarabecomes disconsolate and begs her supposed godfather, Fray Damaso, to put her in anunnery. Unconscious of her knowledge of their true relationship, the friar breaksdown and confesses that all the trouble he has stirred up with the Ibarras has beento prevent her from marrying a native, which would condemn her and her children tothe oppressed and enslaved class. He finally yields to her entreaties and she entersthe nunnery of St. Clara, to which Padre Salvi is soon assigned in a ministerial capacity.[x]

Moreover, if the comparison with the Ship of State is not yet complete, note the arrangementof the passengers. On the lower deck appear brown faces and black heads, types ofIndians,1 Chinese, and mestizos, wedged in between bales of merchandise and boxes, while thereon the upper deck, beneath an awning that protects them from the sun, are seated incomfortable chairs a few passengers dressed in the fashion of Europeans, friars, andgovernment clerks, each with his puro cigar, and gazing at the landscape apparently without heeding the efforts of thecaptain and the sailors to overcome the obstacles in the river.

Her husband, who had borne all her impositions with the resignation of a fakir throughso many years of married life, at last on one luckless day had had his bad half-hourand administered to her a superb whack with his crutch. The surprise of Madam Jobat such an inconsistency of character made her insensible to the immediate effects,and only after she had recovered from her astonishment and her husband had fled didshe take notice of the pain, then remaining in bed for several days, to the greatdelight of Paulita, who was very fond of joking and laughing at her aunt. As for herhusband, horrified at the impiety of what appeared to him to be a terrific parricide,he took to flight, pursued by the matrimonial furies (two curs and a parrot), withall the speed his lameness permitted, climbed into the first carriage he encountered,jumped into the first banka he saw on the river, and, a Philippine Ulysses, beganto wander from town to town, from province to province, from island to island, pursuedand persecuted by his bespectacled Calypso, who bored every one that had the misfortuneto travel in her company. She had received a report of his being in the province ofLa Laguna, concealed in one of the towns, so thither she was bound to seduce him backwith her dyed frizzes.

Her fellow travelers had taken measures of defense by keeping up among themselvesa lively conversation on any topic whatsoever. At that moment the windings and turningsof the river led them to talk about straightening the channel and, as a matter ofcourse, about the port works. Ben-Zayb, the journalist with the countenance of a friar,was disputing with a young friar who in turn had the countenance of an artilleryman.Both were shouting, gesticulating, waving their arms, spreading out their hands, [6]stamping their feet, talking of levels, fish-corrals, the San Mateo River,2 of cascos, of Indians, and so on, to the great satisfaction of their listeners andthe undisguised disgust of an elderly Franciscan, remarkably thin and withered, anda handsome Dominican about whose lips flitted constantly a scornful smile.

Ben-Zayb remained silent, half smiling, either out of respect or because he reallydid not know what to reply, and yet his was the only thinking head in the Philippines!Padre Irene nodded his approval as he rubbed his long nose.

All turned to give him careful attention, even the Dominican. The jeweler was a tall,meager, nervous man, very dark, dressed in the English fashion and wearing a pithhelmet. Remarkable about him was his long white hair contrasted with a sparse blackbeard, indicating a mestizo origin. To avoid the glare of the sun he wore constantlya pair of enormous blue goggles, which completely hid his eyes and a portion of hischeeks, thus giving him the aspect of a blind or weak-sighted person. He was standingwith his legs apart as if to maintain his balance, with his hands thrust into thepockets of his coat.

The startled Don Custodio turned his head to see if there was any Indian within ear-shot,but fortunately those nearby were rustics, and the two helmsmen seemed to be verymuch occupied with the windings of the river.

Padre Sibyla turned pale; this was the first time that he, Vice-Rector of the University,had ever been credited with nonsense. Don Custodio turned green; at no meeting inwhich he had ever found himself had he encountered such an adversary.

No one dared to join in this diatribe. Don Custodio could discredit himself with hisExcellency, if he wished, but neither Ben-Zayb, nor Padre Irene, nor Padre Salvi,nor the offended Padre Sibyla had any confidence in the discretion of the others.

All this was spoken by Don Custodio in a guttural tone to his neighbor Ben-Zayb, whilehe gesticulated, shrugged his shoulders, and from time to time with his looks consultedthe others, who were nodding their heads ambiguously. The Canon Irene indulged ina rather equivocal smile, which he half hid with his hand as he rubbed his nose.

Nevertheless, two of them, instead of engaging in these fleeting gallantries, stoodin the bow talking with a man, advanced in years, but still vigorous and erect. Boththese youths seemed to be well known and respected, to judge from the deference shownthem by their fellow passengers. The elder, who was dressed in complete black, wasthe medical [15]student, Basilio, famous for his successful cures and extraordinary treatments, whilethe other, taller and more robust, although much younger, was Isagani, one of thepoets, or at least rimesters, who that year came from the Ateneo,1 a curious character, ordinarily quite taciturn and uncommunicative. The man talkingwith them was the rich Capitan Basilio, who was returning from a business trip toManila.

Basilio introduced Isagani with the remark that he was not a townsman, but that theirhomes were not very far apart. Isagani lived on the seashore of the opposite coast.Simoun examined him with such marked attention that he was annoyed, turned squarelyaround, and faced the jeweler with a provoking stare.

Scion of a wealthy and influential family of Manila, of agreeable appearance and cheerfuldisposition, suited to shine in the world, he had never felt any call to the sacerdotal[21]profession, but by reason of some promises or vows, his mother, after not a few strugglesand violent disputes, compelled him to enter the seminary. She was a great friendof the Archbishop, had a will of iron, and was as inexorable as is every devout womanwho believes that she is interpreting the will of God. Vainly the young Florentineoffered resistance, vainly he begged, vainly he pleaded his love affairs, even provokingscandals: priest he had to become at twenty-five years of age, and priest he became.The Archbishop ordained him, his first mass was celebrated with great pomp, threedays were given over to feasting, and his mother died happy and content, leaving himall her fortune.

When the events of seventy-two occurred,4 he feared that the large income his curacy yielded him would attract attention tohim, so, desiring peace above everything, he sought and secured his release, livingthereafter as a private individual on his patrimonial estate situated on the Pacificcoast. He there adopted his nephew, Isagani, who was reported by the malicious tobe his own son by his old sweetheart when she became a widow, and by the more seriousand better informed, the natural child of a cousin, a lady in Manila.[22]

When Padre Florentino joined the group above, the bad humor provoked by the previousdiscussion had entirely disappeared. Perhaps their spirits had been raised by theattractive houses of the town of Pasig, or the glasses of sherry they had drunk inpreparation for the coming meal, or the prospect of a good breakfast. Whatever thecause, the fact was that they were all laughing and joking, even including the leanFranciscan, although he made little noise and his smiles looked like death-grins.

But neither Simoun, nor Ben-Zayb, nor Padre Irene, nor Padre Camorra knew it, so theybegged for the story, some in jest and others from genuine curiosity. The priest,adopting the tone of burlesque with which some had made their request, began likean old tutor relating a story to children.

Ben-Zayb had adopted the tone of a lecturer and was describing circles in the airwith his forefinger, priding himself on his imagination, which from the most insignificantfacts could deduce so many applications and inferences. But noticing that Simoun waspreoccupied and thinking that he was pondering over what he, Ben-Zayb, had just said,he inquired what the jeweler was meditating about.

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