บทที่ บทที่ 29 · EXIT CAPITAN TIAGO

Talis vita, finis ita

Capitan Tiago had a good end—that is, a quite exceptional funeral. True

it is that the curate of the parish had ventured the observation to

Padre Irene that Capitan Tiago had died without confession, but the

good priest, smiling sardonically, had rubbed the tip of his nose and

answered:

“Why say that to me? If we had to deny the obsequies to all who die

without confession, we should forget the De profundis! These

restrictions, as you well know, are enforced when the impenitent is

also insolvent. But Capitan Tiago—out on you! You’ve buried infidel

Chinamen, and with a requiem mass!”

Capitan Tiago had named Padre Irene as his executor and willed his

property in part to St. Clara, part to the Pope, to the Archbishop, the

religious corporations, leaving twenty pesos for the matriculation of

poor students. This last clause had been dictated at the suggestion of

Padre Irene, in his capacity as protector of studious youths. Capitan

Tiago had annulled a legacy of twenty-five pesos that he had left to

Basilio, in view of the ungrateful conduct of the boy during the last

few days, but Padre Irene had restored it and announced that he would

take it upon his own purse and conscience.

In the dead man’s house, where were assembled on the following day many

old friends and acquaintances, considerable comment was indulged in

over a miracle. It was reported that, at the very moment when he was

dying, the soul of Capitan Tiago had appeared to the nuns surrounded by

a brilliant light. God had saved him, thanks to the pious legacies, and

to the numerous masses he had paid for. The story was commented upon,

it was recounted vividly, it took on particulars, and was doubted by no

one. The appearance of Capitan Tiago was minutely described—of course

the frock coat, the cheek bulged out by the quid of buyo, without

omitting the game-cock and the opium-pipe. The senior sacristan, who

was present, gravely affirmed these facts with his head and reflected

that, after death, he would appear with his cup of white tajú, for

without that refreshing breakfast he could not comprehend happiness

either on earth or in heaven.

On this subject, because of their inability to discuss the events of

the preceding day and because there were gamblers present, many strange

speculations were developed. They made conjectures as to whether

Capitan Tiago would invite St. Peter to a soltada, whether they would

place bets, whether the game-cocks were immortal, whether invulnerable,

and in this case who would be the referee, who would win, and so on:

discussions quite to the taste of those who found sciences, theories,

and systems, based on a text which they esteem infallible, revealed or

dogmatic. Moreover, there were cited passages from novenas, books of

miracles, sayings of the curates, descriptions of heaven, and other

embroidery. Don Primitivo, the philosopher, was in his glory quoting

opinions of the theologians.

“Because no one can lose,” he stated with great authority. “To lose

would cause hard feelings and in heaven there can’t be any hard

feelings.”

“But some one has to win,” rejoined the gambler Aristorenas. “The fun

lies in winning!”

“Well, both win, that’s easy!”

This idea of both winning could not be admitted by Aristorenas, for he

had passed his life in the cockpit and had always seen one cock lose

and the other win—at best, there was a tie. Vainly Don Primitivo argued

in Latin. Aristorenas shook his head, and that too when Don Primitivo’s

Latin was easy to understand, for he talked of an gallus talisainus,

acuto tari armatus, an gallus beati Petri bulikus sasabung̃us sit, [63]

and so on, until at length he decided to resort to the argument which

many use to convince and silence their opponents.

“You’re going to be damned, friend Martin, you’re falling into heresy!

Cave ne cadas! I’m not going to play monte with you any more, and we’ll

not set up a bank together. You deny the omnipotence of God, peccatum

mortale! You deny the existence of the Holy Trinity— three are one and

one is three! Take care! You indirectly deny that two natures, two

understandings, and two wills can have only one memory! Be careful!

Quicumque non crederit anathema sit!”

Martin Aristorenas shrank away pale and trembling, while Quiroga, who

had listened with great attention to the argument, with marked

deference offered the philosopher a magnificent cigar, at the same time

asking in his caressing voice: “Surely, one can make a contract for a

cockpit with Kilisto, [64] ha? When I die, I’ll be the contractor, ha?”

Among the others, they talked more of the deceased; at least they

discussed what kind of clothing to put on him. Capitan Tinong proposed

a Franciscan habit—and fortunately, he had one, old, threadbare, and

patched, a precious object which, according to the friar who gave it to

him as alms in exchange for thirty-six pesos, would preserve the corpse

from the flames of hell and which reckoned in its support various pious

anecdotes taken from the books distributed by the curates. Although he

held this relic in great esteem, Capitan Tinong was disposed to part

with it for the sake of his intimate friend, whom he had not been able

to visit during his illness. But a tailor objected, with good reason,

that since the nuns had seen Capitan Tiago ascending to heaven in a

frock coat, in a frock coat he should be dressed here on earth, nor was

there any necessity for preservatives and fire-proof garments. The

deceased had attended balls and fiestas in a frock coat, and nothing

else would be expected of him in the skies—and, wonderful to relate,

the tailor accidentally happened to have one ready, which he would part

with for thirty-two pesos, four cheaper than the Franciscan habit,

because he didn’t want to make any profit on Capitan Tiago, who had

been his customer in life and would now be his patron in heaven. But

Padre Irene, trustee and executor, rejected both proposals and ordered

that the Capitan be dressed in one of his old suits of clothes,

remarking with holy unction that God paid no attention to clothing.

The obsequies were, therefore, of the very first class. There were

responsories in the house, and in the street three friars officiated,

as though one were not sufficient for such a great soul. All the rites

and ceremonies possible were performed, and it is reported that there

were even extras, as in the benefits for actors. It was indeed a

delight: loads of incense were burned, there were plenty of Latin

chants, large quantities of holy water were expended, and Padre Irene,

out of regard for his old friend, sang the Dies Irae in a falsetto

voice from the choir, while the neighbors suffered real headaches from

so much knell-ringing.

Doña Patrocinio, the ancient rival of Capitan Tiago in religiosity,

actually wanted to die on the next day, so that she might order even

more sumptuous obsequies. The pious old lady could not bear the thought

that he, whom she had long considered vanquished forever, should in

dying come forward again with so much pomp. Yes, she desired to die,

and it seemed that she could hear the exclamations of the people at the

funeral: “This indeed is what you call a funeral! This indeed is to

know how to die, Doña Patrocinio!”