An Eagle Flight Part 16

"Don't disturb yourself; I see you are busy----"

"I was writing a little, but it is not at all pressing. Can I be of service to you?"

"Of great service," said Ibarra, approaching; "but--you are deciphering hieroglyphics!" he exclaimed in surprise, catching sight of the old man's work.

"No, I'm writing in hieroglyphics."

"Writing in hieroglyphics? And why?" demanded the young man, doubting his senses.

"So that no one can read me."

Ibarra looked at him attentively, wondering if he were not a little mad after all.

"And why do you write if you do not wish to be read?"

"I write not for this generation, but for future ages. If the men of to-day could read my books, they would burn them; the generation that deciphers these characters will understand, and will say: 'Our ancestors did not all sleep.' But you have something to ask of me, and we are talking of other things."

Ibarra drew out some papers.

"I know," he said, "that my father greatly valued your advice, and I have come to ask it for myself."

And he briefly explained his project for the school, unrolling before the stupefied philosopher plans sent from Manila. "Whom shall I consult first, in the pueblo, whose support will avail me most? You know them all, I am almost a stranger."

Old Tasio examined with tearful eyes the drawings before him.

"You are going to realize my dream," he said, greatly moved; "the dream of a poor fool. And now the first advice I give you is never to ask advice of me."

Ibarra looked at him in surprise.

"Because, if you do," he continued with bitter irony, "all sensible people will take you for a fool, too. For all sensible people think those who differ with them fools; they think me one, and I am grateful for it, because the day they see in me a reasonable being woe is me! That day I shall lose the little liberty I now enjoy at the expense of my reputation. The gobernadorcillo pa.s.ses with them for a wise man because having learned nothing but to serve chocolate and to suffer the caprices of Brother Damaso, he is now rich and has the right to trouble the life of his fellow-citizens. 'There is a man of talent!' says the crowd. 'He has sprung from nothing to greatness.' But perhaps I am really the fool and they are the wise men. Who can say?"

And the old man shook his head as though to dismiss an unwelcome thought.

"The second thing I advise is to consult the curate, the gobernadorcillo, all the people of position in the pueblo. They will give you bad advice, unintelligible, useless. But to ask advice is not to follow it. All you need is to make it understood that you are working in accordance with their ideas."

Ibarra reflected, then replied:

"No doubt your counsel is good, but it is very hard to take. May I not offer my own ideas to the light of day? Cannot the good make its way anywhere? Has truth need of the dross of error?"

"No one likes the naked truth," replied the old man. "It is good in theory, easy in the ideal world of which youth dreams. You say you are a stranger to your country; I believe it. The day that you arrived here, you began by wounding the self-esteem of a priest. G.o.d grant this seemingly small thing has not decided your future. If it has, all your efforts will break against the convent walls, without disturbing the monk, swaying his girdle, or making his robe tremble. The alcalde, under one pretext or another, will deny you to-morrow what he grants you to-day; not a mother will let her child go to your school, and the result of all your efforts will be simply negative."

"I cannot help feeling your fears exaggerated," said Ibarra. "In spite of all you say, I cannot believe in this power; but even admitting it to be so great, the most intelligent of the people would be on my side, and also the Government, which is animated by the best intentions, and wishes the veritable good of the Philippines."

"The Government! the Government!" murmured the philosopher, raising his eyes. "However great its desire to better the country, however generous may have been the spirit of the Catholic kings, the Government sees, hears, judges nothing more than the curate or the provincial gives it to see, hear, or judge. The Government is convinced that its tranquillity comes through the monks; that if it is upheld, it is because they uphold it; that if it live, is it because they consent to let it, and that the day when they fail it, it will fall like a manikin that has lost its base. The monks hold the Government in hand by threatening a revolt of the people they control; the people, by displaying the power of the Government. So long as the Government has not an understanding with the country, it will not free itself from this tutelage. The Government looks to no vigorous future; it's an arm, the head is the convent. Through its inertia, it allows itself to be dragged from abyss to abyss; its existence is no more than a shadow. Compare our system of government with the systems of countries you have visited----"

"Oh!" interrupted Ibarra, "that is going far. Let us be satisfied that, thanks to religion and the humanity of our rulers, our people do not complain, do not suffer like those of other countries."

"The people do not complain because they have no voice; if they don't revolt, it is because they are lethargic; if you say they do not suffer, it is because you have not seen their heart's blood. But the day will come when you will see and hear. Then woe to those who base their strength on ignorance and fanaticism; woe to those who govern through falsehood, and work in the night, thinking that all sleep! When the sun's light shows the sham of all these phantoms, there will be a frightful reaction; all this strength conserved for centuries, all this poison distilled drop by drop, all these sighs strangled, will find the light and the air. Who pay these accounts which the people from time to time present, and which History preserves for us in its b.l.o.o.d.y pages?"

"G.o.d will never permit such a day to come!" replied Ibarra, impressed in spite of himself. "The Filipinos are religious, and they love Spain. There are abuses, yes, but Spain is preparing reforms to correct them; her projects are now ripening."

"I know; but the reforms which come from the head are annulled lower down, thanks to the greedy desire of officials to enrich themselves in a short time, and to the ignorance of the people, who accept everything. Abuses are not to be corrected by royal decrees, not where the liberty of speech, which permits the denunciation of petty tyrants, does not exist. Projects remain projects; abuses, abuses. Moreover, if by chance some one coming to occupy an office begins to show high and generous ideas, immediately he hears on all sides--while to his back he is held a fool: 'Your Excellency does not know the country, Your Excellency does not know the character of the Indians, Your Excellency will ruin them, Your Excellency will do well to consult this one and that one,' and so forth, and so on. And as in truth His Excellency does not know the country, which hitherto he had supposed to be in America, and since, like all men, he has his faults and weaknesses, he allows himself to be convinced. Don't ask for miracles; don't ask that he who comes here a stranger to make his fortune should interest himself in the welfare of the country. What does it mean to him, the grat.i.tude or the execration of a people he does not know, among whom he has neither attachments nor hopes? To make glory sweet to us, its plaudits must resound in the ears of those we love, in the atmosphere of our home, of the country that is to preserve our ashes; we wish this glory seated on our tomb, to warm a little with its rays the cold of death, to keep us from being reduced to nothingness quite. But we wander from the question."

"It is true I did not come to argue this point; I came to ask advice, and you tell me to bow before grotesque idols."

"Yes, and I repeat it; you must either lower your head or lose it."

"'Lower my head or lose it!'" repeated Ibarra, thoughtful. "The dilemma is hard. Is it impossible to reconcile love of my country and love of Spain? Must one abase himself to be a good Christian; prost.i.tute his conscience to achieve a good work? I love my country; I love Spain; I am a Catholic, and keep pure the faith of my fathers; but I see in all this no reason for delivering myself into the hands of my enemies."

"But the field where you would sow is in the keeping of your enemies. You must begin by kissing the hand which----"

Ibarra did not let him finish.

"Kiss their hands! You forget that among them are those who killed my father and tore his body from the grave; but I, his son, do not forget, and if I do not avenge, it is because of my allegiance to religion!"

The old philosopher lowered his eyes.

"Senor Ibarra," he said slowly, "if you are going to keep the remembrance of these things, things I cannot counsel you to forget, abandon this enterprise and find some other means of benefiting your compatriots. This work demands another man."

Ibarra saw the force of these words, but he could not give up his project. The remembrance of Maria Clara was in his heart; he must make good his offering to her.

"If I go on, does your experience suggest nothing but this hard road?" he asked in a low voice.

Old Tasio took his arm and led him to the window. A fresh breeze was blowing, courier of the north wind. Below lay the garden.

"Why must we do as does that slender stalk, charged with buds and blossoms?" said the philosopher, pointing out a superb rose-tree. "The wind makes it tremble, and it bends, as if to hide its precious charge. If the stalk stood rigid, it would break, the wind would scatter the flowers, and the buds would die without opening. The gust of wind pa.s.sed, the stalk rises again, proudly wearing her treasure. Who accuses her for having bowed to necessity? To lower the head when a ball whistles is not cowardice. What is reprehensible is defying the shot, to fall and rise no more."

"And will this sacrifice bear the fruit I seek? Will they have faith in me? Can the priest forget his own offence? Will they sincerely aid me to spread that instruction which is sure to dispute with the convents the wealth of the country? Might they not feign friendship, simulate protection, and, underneath, wound my enterprise in the heel, that it fall more promptly than if attacked face to face? Admitting your views, one might expect anything."

The old man reflected, then he said:

"If this happens, if the enterprise fails, you will have the consolation of having done what you could. Something will have been gained. Your example will embolden others, who fear only to commence."

Ibarra weighed these reasonings, examined the situation, and saw that with all his pessimism the old man was right.

"I believe you," he said, grasping his hand. "It was not in vain that I came to you for counsel. I will go straight to the curate, who, after all, may be a fair-minded man. They are not all like the persecutor of my father. I go with faith in G.o.d and man."

He took leave of Tasio, mounted, and rode away, followed by the regard of the pessimistic old philosopher, who stood muttering to himself:

"We shall see, we shall see how the fates unroll the drama begun in the cemetery!"

This time the wise Tasio was wrong; the drama had begun long before.

XXII.