<div id="d0e5489" class="div1"><span class="pagenum">
</span><h2 class="label">Chapter XXXI</h2>
<p>Fray Damaso began slowly in a low voice: “‘<i lang="la">Et spiritum bonum dedisti, qui doceret eos, et manna tuum non prohibuisti ab ore eorum, et aquam dedisti eis in siti</i>. And thou gavest thy good Spirit to teach them, and thy manna thou didst not withhold from their mouth, and thou gavest them
water for their thirst!’ Words which the Lord spoke through the mouth of Esdras, in the second book, the ninth chapter, and
the twentieth verse.”<SPAN id="d0e5499src" href="#d0e5499" class="noteref">1</SPAN>
<p>Padre Sibyla glanced in surprise at the preacher. Padre Manuel Martin turned pale and swallowed hard that was better than
his! Whether Padre Damaso noticed this or whether he was still hoarse, the fact is that he coughed several times as he placed
both hands on the rail of the pulpit. The Holy Ghost was above his head, freshly painted, clean and white, with rose-colored
beak and feet. “Most honorable sir” (to the alcalde), “most holy priests, Christians, brethren in Jesus Christ!”
<p>Here he made a solemn pause as again he swept his gaze over the congregation, with whose attention and concentration he seemed
<p>“The first part of the sermon is to be in Spanish and the other in Tagalog; <i lang="la">loquebantur omnes linguas</i>.”
<p>After the salutations and the pause he extended his right hand majestically toward the altar, at the same time fixing his
gaze on the alcalde. He slowly crossed his arms without uttering a word, then suddenly passing from calmness to action, threw
back his head and made a sign toward the main door, sawing the air with his open hand so forcibly that the sacristans interpreted
the gesture as a command <SPAN id="d0e5513"></SPAN><span class="pagenum">[<SPAN href="#d0e5513">237</SPAN>]</span>and closed the doors. The alferez became uneasy, doubting whether he should go or stay, when the preacher began in a strong
voice, full and sonorous; truly his old housekeeper was skilled in medicine.
<p>“Radiant and resplendent is the altar, wide is the great door, the air is the vehicle of the holy and divine words that will
spring from my mouth! Hear ye then with the ears of your souls and hearts that the words of the Lord may not fall on the stony
soil where the birds of Hell may consume them, but that ye may grow and flourish as holy seed in the field of our venerable
and seraphic father, <span class="abbr" title="Saint"><abbr title="Saint">St.</abbr></span> Francis! O ye great sinners, captives of the Moros of the soul that infest the sea of eternal life in the powerful craft
of the flesh and the world, ye who are laden with the fetters of lust and avarice, and who toil in the galleys of the infernal
Satan, look ye here with reverent repentance upon him who saved souls from the captivity of the devil, upon the intrepid Gideon,
upon the valiant David, upon the triumphant Roland of Christianity, upon the celestial Civil Guard, more powerful than all
the Civil Guards together, now existing or to exist!” (The alferez frowned.) “Yes, señor alferez, more valiant and powerful,
he who with no other weapon than a wooden cross boldly vanquishes the eternal tulisan of the shades and all the hosts of Lucifer,
and who would have exterminated them forever, were not the spirits immortal! This marvel of divine creation, this wonderful
prodigy, is the blessed Diego of Alcala, who, if I may avail myself of a comparison, since comparisons aid in the comprehension
of incomprehensible things, as another has said, I say then that this great saint is merely a private soldier, a steward in
the powerful company which our seraphic father, <span class="abbr" title="Saint"><abbr title="Saint">St.</abbr></span> Francis, sends from Heaven, and to which I have the honor to belong as a corporal or sergeant, by the grace of God!”
<p>The “rude Indians,” as the correspondent would say, caught nothing more from this paragraph than the words “Civil Guard,”
“tulisan,” “San Diego,” and “<span class="abbr" title="Saint"><abbr title="Saint">St.</abbr></span> Francis,” <SPAN id="d0e5528"></SPAN><span class="pagenum">[<SPAN href="#d0e5528">238</SPAN>]</span>so, observing the wry face of the alferez and the bellicose gestures of the preacher, they deduced that the latter was reprehending
him for not running down the tulisanes. San Diego and <span class="abbr" title="Saint"><abbr title="Saint">St.</abbr></span> Francis would be commissioned in this duty and justly so, as is proved by a picture existing in the convento at Manila, representing
<span class="abbr" title="Saint"><abbr title="Saint">St.</abbr></span> Francis, by means of his girdle only, holding back the Chinese invasion in the first years after the discovery. The devout
were accordingly not a little rejoiced and thanked God for this aid, not doubting that once the tulisanes had disappeared,
<span class="abbr" title="Saint"><abbr title="Saint">St.</abbr></span> Francis would also destroy the Civil Guard. With redoubled attention, therefore, they listened to Padre Damaso, as he continued:
<p>“Most honorable sir” Great affairs are great affairs even by the side of the small and the small are always small even by
the side of the great. So History says, but since History hits the nail on the head only once in a hundred times, being a
thing made by men, and men make mistakes—<i>errarle es hominum</i>,<SPAN id="d0e5544src" href="#d0e5544" class="noteref">2</SPAN> as Cicero said—he who opens his mouth makes mistakes, as they say in my country then the result is that there are profound
truths which History does not record. These truths, most honorable sir, the divine Spirit spoke with that supreme wisdom which
human intelligence has not comprehended since the times of Seneca and Aristotle, those wise priests of antiquity, even to
our sinful days, and these truths are that not always are small affairs small, but that they are great, not by the side of
the little things, but by the side of the grandest of the earth and of the heavens and of the air and of the clouds and of
the waters and of space and of life and of death!”
<p>“Amen!” exclaimed the leader of the Tertiaries, crossing himself.
<p>With this figure of rhetoric, which he had learned from a famous preacher in Manila, Padre Damaso wished to startle his audience,
and in fact his holy ghost was so <SPAN id="d0e5551"></SPAN><span class="pagenum">[<SPAN href="#d0e5551">239</SPAN>]</span>fascinated with such great truths that it was necessary to kick him to remind him of his business.
<p>“Patent to your eyes—” prompted the holy ghost below.
<p>“Patent to your eyes is the conclusive and impressive proof of this eternal philosophical truth! Patent is that sun of virtue,
and I say sun and not moon, for there is no great merit in the fact that the moon shines during the night,—in the land of
the blind the one-eyed man is king; by night may shine a light, a tiny star,—so the greatest merit is to be able to shine
even in the middle of the day, as the sun does; so shines our brother Diego even in the midst of the greatest saints! Here
you have patent to your eyes, in your impious disbelief, the masterpiece of the Highest for the confusion of the great of
the earth, yes, my brethren, patent, <i>patent</i> to all, PATENT!”
<p>A man rose pale and trembling and hid himself in a confessional. He was a liquor dealer who had been dozing and dreaming that
the carbineers were demanding the patent, or license, that he did not have. It may safely be affirmed that he did not come
out from his hiding-place while the sermon lasted.
<p>“Humble and lowly saint, thy wooden cross” (the one that the image held was of silver), “thy modest gown, honors the great
Francis whose sons and imitators we are. We propagate thy holy race in the whole world, in the remote places, in the cities,
in the towns, without distinction between black and white” (the alcalde held his breath), “suffering hardships and martyrdoms,
thy holy race of faith and religion militant” (“Ah!” breathed the alcalde) “which holds the world in balance and prevents
it from falling into the depths of perdition.”
<p>His hearers, including even Capitan Tiago, yawned little by little. Maria Clara was not listening to the sermon, for she knew
that Ibarra was near and was thinking about him while she fanned herself and gazed at an evangelical bull that had all the
outlines of a small carabao.
<p><SPAN id="d0e5567"></SPAN><span class="pagenum">[<SPAN href="#d0e5567">240</SPAN>]</span>“All should know by heart the Holy Scriptures and the lives of the saints and then I should not have to preach to you, O sinners!
You should know such important and necessary things as the Lord’s Prayer, although many of you have forgotten it, living now
as do the Protestants or heretics, who, like the Chinese, respect not the ministers of God. But the worse for you, O ye accursed,
moving as you are toward damnation!”
<p>“<i>Abá</i>, Pale Lamaso, what!”<SPAN id="d0e5574src" href="#d0e5574" class="noteref">3</SPAN> muttered Carlos, the Chinese, looking angrily at the preacher, who continued to extemporize, emitting a series of apostrophes
<p>“You will die in final unrepentance, O race of heretics! God punishes you even on this earth with jails and prisons! Women
should flee from you, the rulers should hang all of you so that the seed of Satan be not multiplied in the vineyard of the
Lord! Jesus Christ said: ‘If you have an evil member that leads you to sin, cut it off, and cast it into the fire—’”
<p>Having forgotten both his sermon and his rhetoric, Fray Damaso began to be nervous. Ibarra became uneasy and looked about
for a quiet corner, but the church was crowded. Maria Clara neither heard nor saw anything as she was analyzing a picture,
of the blessed souls in purgatory, souls in the shape of men and women dressed in hides, with miters, hoods, and cowls, all
roasting in the fire and clutching <span class="abbr" title="Saint"><abbr title="Saint">St.</abbr></span> Francis’ girdle, which did not break even with such great weight. With that improvisation on the preacher’s part, the holy-ghost
friar lost the thread of the sermon and skipped over three long paragraphs, giving the wrong cue to the now laboriously-panting
<p>“Who of you, O sinners, would lick the sores of a poor and ragged beggar? Who? Let him answer by raising his hand! None! That
I knew, for only a saint like Diego de Alcala would do it. He licked all the sores, saying to <SPAN id="d0e5586"></SPAN><span class="pagenum">[<SPAN href="#d0e5586">241</SPAN>]</span>an astonished brother, ‘Thus is this sick one cured!’ O Christian charity! O matchless example! O virtue of virtues! O inimitable
pattern! O spotless talisman!” Here he continued a long series of exclamations, the while crossing his arms and raising and
lowering them as though he wished to fly or to frighten the birds away.
<p>“Before dying he spoke in Latin, without knowing Latin! Marvel, O sinners! You, in spite of what you study, for which blows
are given to you, you do not speak Latin, and you will die without speaking it! To speak Latin is a gift of God and therefore
the Church uses Latin! I, too, speak Latin! Was God going to deny this consolation to His beloved Diego? Could he die, could
he be permitted to die, without speaking Latin? Impossible! God wouldn’t be just, He Wouldn’t be God! So he talked in Latin,
and of that fact the writers of his time bear witness!”
<p>He ended this exordium with the passage which had cost him the most toil and which he had plagiarized from a great writer,
Sinibaldo de Mas. “Therefore, I salute thee, illustrious Diego, the glory of our Order! Thou art the pattern of virtue, meek
with honor, humble with nobility, compliant with fortitude, temperate with ambition, hostile with loyalty, compassionate with
pardon, holy with conscientiousness, full of faith with devotion, credulous with sincerity, chaste with love, reserved with
secrecy; long-suffering with patience, brave with timidity, moderate with desire, bold with resolution, obedient with subjection.,
modest with pride, zealous with disinterestedness, skilful with capability, ceremonious with politeness, astute with sagacity,
merciful with piety, secretive with modesty, revengeful with valor, poor on account of thy labors with true conformity, prodigal
with economy, active with ease, economical with liberality, innocent with sagacity, reformer with consistency, indifferent
with zeal for learning: God created thee to feel the raptures of Platonic love! Aid me in singing thy greatness and thy name
higher than the stars <SPAN id="d0e5592"></SPAN><span class="pagenum">[<SPAN href="#d0e5592">242</SPAN>]</span>and clearer than the sun itself that circles about thy feet! Aid me, all of you, as you appeal to God for sufficient inspiration
by reciting the Ave Maria!”
<p>All fell upon their knees and raised a murmur like the humming of a thousand bees. The alcalde laboriously bent one knee and
wagged his head in a disgusted manner, while the alferez looked pale and penitent.
<p>“To the devil with the curate!” muttered one of two youths who had come from Manila.
<p>“Keep still!” admonished his companion. “His woman might hear us.”
<p>Meanwhile, Padre Damaso, instead of reciting the Ave Maria, was scolding his holy ghost for having skipped three of his best
paragraphs; at the same time he consumed a couple of cakes and a glass of Malaga, secure of encountering therein greater inspiration
than in all the holy ghosts, whether of wood in the form of a dove or of flesh in the shape of an inattentive friar.
<p>Then he began the sermon in Tagalog. The devout old woman again gave her granddaughter a hearty slap. The child awoke ill-naturedly
and asked, “Is it time to cry now?”
<p>“Not yet, O lost one, but don’t go to sleep again!” answered the good grandmother.
<p>Of the second part of the sermon—that in Tagalog—we have only a few rough notes, for Padre Damaso extemporized in this language,
not because he knew it better, but because, holding the provincial Filipinos ignorant of rhetoric, he was not afraid of making
blunders before them. With Spaniards the case was different; he had heard rules of oratory spoken of, and it was possible
that among his hearers some one had been in college-halls, perhaps the alcalde, so he wrote out his sermons, corrected and
polished them, and then memorized and rehearsed them for several days beforehand.
<p>It is common knowledge that none of those present understood the drift of the sermon. They were so dull of <SPAN id="d0e5610"></SPAN><span class="pagenum">[<SPAN href="#d0e5610">243</SPAN>]</span>understanding and the preacher was so profound, as Sister Rufa said, that the audience waited in vain for an opportunity to
weep, and the lost grandchild of the blessed old woman went to sleep again. Nevertheless, this part had greater consequences
than the first, at least for certain hearers, as we shall see later.
<p>He began with a “<i>Mana capatir con cristiano</i>,”<SPAN id="d0e5617src" href="#d0e5617" class="noteref">4</SPAN> followed by an avalanche of untranslatable phrases. He talked of the soul, of Hell, of “<i>mahal na santo pintacasi</i>,”<SPAN id="d0e5623src" href="#d0e5623" class="noteref">5</SPAN> of the Indian sinners and of the virtuous Franciscan Fathers.
<p>“The devil!” exclaimed one of the two irreverent Manilans to his companion. “That’s all Greek to me. I’m going.” Seeing the
doors closed, he went out through the sacristy, to the great scandal of the people and especially of the preacher, who turned
pale and paused in the midst of his sentence. Some looked for a violent apostrophe, but Padre Damaso contented himself with
watching the delinquent, and then he went on with his sermon.
<p>Then were let loose curses upon the age, against the lack of reverence, against the growing indifference to Religion. This
matter seemed to be his forte, for he appeared to be inspired and expressed himself with force and clearness. He talked of
the sinners who did not attend confession, who died in prisons without the sacraments, of families accursed, of proud and
puffed-up little half-breeds, of young sages and little philosophers, of pettifoggers, of picayunish students, and so on.
Well known is this habit that many have when they wish to ridicule their enemies; they apply to them belittling epithets because
their brains do not appear to furnish them any other means, and thus they are happy.
<p>Ibarra heard it all and understood the allusions. Preserving an outward calm, he turned his eyes to God and the authorities,
but saw nothing more than the images of saints, and the alcalde was sleeping.
<p><SPAN id="d0e5633"></SPAN><span class="pagenum">[<SPAN href="#d0e5633">244</SPAN>]</span>Meanwhile, the preacher’s enthusiasm was rising by degrees. He spoke of the times when every Filipino upon meeting a priest
took off his hat, knelt on the ground, and kissed the priest’s hand. “But now,” he added, “you only take off your salakot
or your felt hat, which you have placed on the side of your head in order not to ruffle your nicely combed hair! You content
yourself with saying, ‘good day, <i>among</i>,’ and there are proud dabblers in a little Latin who, from having studied in Manila or in Europe, believe that they have
the right to shake a priest’s hand instead of kissing it. Ah, the day of judgment will quickly come, the world will end, as
many saints have foretold; it will rain fire, stones, and ashes to chastise your pride!” The people were exhorted not to imitate
such “savages” but to hate and shun them, since they were beyond the religious pale.
<p>“Hear what the holy decrees say! When an Indian meets a curate in the street he should bow his head and offer his neck for
his master to step upon. If the curate and the Indian are both on horseback, then the Indian should stop and take off his
hat or salakot reverently; and finally, if the Indian is on horseback and the curate on foot, the Indian should alight and
not mount again until the curate has told him to go on, or is far away. This is what the holy decrees say and he who does
not obey will be excommunicated.”
<p>“And when one is riding a carabao?” asked a scrupulous countryman of his neighbor.
<p>“Then—keep on going!” answered the latter, who was a casuist.
<p>But in spite of the cries and gestures of the preacher many fell asleep or wandered in their attention, since these sermons
were ever the same. In vain some devout women tried to sigh and sob over the sins of the wicked; they had to desist in the
attempt from lack of supporters. Even Sister Puté was thinking of something quite different. A man beside her had dropped
off to sleep in such a way that <SPAN id="d0e5646"></SPAN><span class="pagenum">[<SPAN href="#d0e5646">245</SPAN>]</span>he had fallen over and crushed her habit, so the good woman caught up one of her clogs and with blows began to wake him, crying
out, “Get away, savage, brute, devil, carabao, cur, accursed!”
<p>Naturally, this caused somewhat of a stir. The preacher paused and arched his eyebrows, surprised at so great a scandal. Indignation
choked the words in his throat and he was able only to bellow, while he pounded the pulpit with his fists. This had the desired
effect, however, for the old woman, though still grumbling, dropped her clog and, crossing herself repeatedly, fell devoutly
upon her knees.
<p>“Aaah! Aaah!” the indignant priest was at last able to roar out as he crossed his arms and shook his head. “For this do I
preach to you the whole morning, savages! Here in the house of God you quarrel and curse, shameless ones! Aaaah! You respect
nothing! This is the result of the luxury and the looseness of the age! That’s just what I’ve told you, aah!”
<p>Upon this theme he continued to preach for half an hour. The alcalde snored, and Maria Clara nodded, for the poor child could
no longer keep from sleeping, since she had no more paintings or images to study, nor anything else to amuse her. On Ibarra
the words and allusions made no more impression, for he was thinking of a cottage on the top of a mountain and saw Maria Clara
in the garden; let men crawl about in their miserable towns in the depths of the valley!
<p>Padre Salvi had caused the altar bell to be rung twice, but this was only adding fuel to the flame, for Padre Damaso became
stubborn and prolonged the sermon. Fray Sibyla gnawed at his lips and repeatedly adjusted his gold-mounted eye-glasses. Fray
Manuel Martin was the only one who appeared to listen with pleasure, for he was smiling.
<p>But at last God said “Enough”; the orator became weary and descended from the pulpit. All knelt to render <SPAN id="d0e5658"></SPAN><span class="pagenum">[<SPAN href="#d0e5658">246</SPAN>]</span>thanks to God. The alcalde rubbed his eyes, stretched out one arm as if to waken himself, and yawned with a deep <i>aah</i>. The mass continued.
<p>When all were kneeling and the priests had lowered their heads while the <i>Incarnatus est</i> was being sung, a man murmured in Ibarra’s ear, “At the laying of the cornerstone, don’t move away from the curate, don’t
go down into the trench, don’t go near the stone—your life depends upon it!”
<p>Ibarra turned to see Elias, who, as soon as he had said this, disappeared in the crowd.
<SPAN id="d0e5670"></SPAN><span class="pagenum">[<SPAN href="#d0e5670">247</SPAN>]</span></p>
<p class="footnote"><span class="label"><SPAN id="d0e5499" href="#d0e5499src" class="noteref">1</SPAN></span> The Douay version.—TR.
<p class="footnote"><span class="label"><SPAN id="d0e5544" href="#d0e5544src" class="noteref">2</SPAN></span> “Errare humanum est”: “To err is human.”
<p class="footnote"><span class="label"><SPAN id="d0e5574" href="#d0e5574src" class="noteref">3</SPAN></span> To the Philippine Chinese “d” and “l” look and sound about the same.—TR.
<p class="footnote"><span class="label"><SPAN id="d0e5617" href="#d0e5617src" class="noteref">4</SPAN></span> “Brothers in Christ.”
<p class="footnote"><span class="label"><SPAN id="d0e5623" href="#d0e5623src" class="noteref">5</SPAN></span> “Venerable patron saint.”