Chương Chương 31 · Chapter XXXI

The Sermon

Fray Damaso began slowly in a low voice: "'_Et spiritum bonum dedisti,

qui doceret eos, et manna tuum non prohibuisti ab ore eorum, et aquam

dedisti eis in siti_. 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." [88]

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!"

Here he made a solemn pause as again he swept his gaze over the

congregation, with whose attention and concentration he seemed

satisfied.

"The first part of the sermon is to be in Spanish and the other in

Tagalog; _loquebantur omnes linguas_."

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

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.

"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,

St. 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, St. Francis, sends from Heaven,

and to which I have the honor to belong as a corporal or sergeant,

by the grace of God!"

The "rude Indians," as the correspondent would say, caught nothing

more from this paragraph than the words "Civil Guard," "tulisan,"

"San Diego," and "St. Francis," 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 St. Francis would be commissioned in this duty and justly

so, as is proved by a picture existing in the convento at Manila,

representing St. 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, St. Francis would

also destroy the Civil Guard. With redoubled attention, therefore,

they listened to Padre Damaso, as he continued:

"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--_errarle es hominum_, [89] 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!"

"Amen!" exclaimed the leader of the Tertiaries, crossing himself.

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 fascinated with such great truths

that it was necessary to kick him to remind him of his business.

"Patent to your eyes--" prompted the holy ghost below.

"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, _patent_ to all, PATENT!"

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.

"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."

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.

"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!"

"_Abá_, Pale Lamaso, what!" [90] muttered Carlos, the Chinese,

looking angrily at the preacher, who continued to extemporize,

emitting a series of apostrophes and imprecations.

"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--'"

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 St. 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 Fray Damaso.

"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 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.

"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!"

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 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!"

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.

"To the devil with the curate!" muttered one of two youths who had

come from Manila.

"Keep still!" admonished his companion. "His woman might hear us."

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.

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?"

"Not yet, O lost one, but don't go to sleep again!" answered the

good grandmother.

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.

It is common knowledge that none of those present understood the drift

of the sermon. They were so dull of 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.

He began with a "_Mana capatir con cristiano_," [91] followed by an

avalanche of untranslatable phrases. He talked of the soul, of Hell,

of "_mahal na santo pintacasi_," [92] of the Indian sinners and of

the virtuous Franciscan Fathers.

"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.

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.

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.

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, _among_,' 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.

"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."

"And when one is riding a carabao?" asked a scrupulous countryman of

his neighbor.

"Then--keep on going!" answered the latter, who was a casuist.

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

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!"

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.

"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!"

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!

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.

But at last God said "Enough"; the orator became weary and descended

from the pulpit. All knelt to render thanks to God. The alcalde rubbed

his eyes, stretched out one arm as if to waken himself, and yawned

with a deep _aah_. The mass continued.

When all were kneeling and the priests had lowered their heads while

the _Incarnatus est_ 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!"

Ibarra turned to see Elias, who, as soon as he had said this,

disappeared in the crowd.