第 二十六 章 · Chapter XXVI

The Eve of the Fiesta

It is now the tenth of November, the eve of the fiesta. Emerging from

its habitual monotony, the town has given itself over to unwonted

activity in house, church, cockpit, and field. Windows are covered

with banners and many-hued draperies. All space is filled with noise

and music, and the air is saturated with rejoicings.

On little tables with embroidered covers the _dalagas_ arrange in

bright-hued glass dishes different kinds of sweetmeats made from

native fruits. In the yard the hens cackle, the cocks crow, and the

hogs grunt, all terrified by this merriment of man. Servants move

in and out carrying fancy dishes and silver cutlery. Here there is a

quarrel over a broken plate, there they laugh at the simple country

girl. Everywhere there is ordering, whispering, shouting. Comments and

conjectures are made, one hurries the other,--all is commotion, noise,

and confusion. All this effort and all this toil are for the stranger

as well as the acquaintance, to entertain every one, whether he has

been seen before or not, or whether he is expected to be seen again, in

order that the casual visitor, the foreigner, friend, enemy, Filipino,

Spaniard, the poor and the rich, may go away happy and contented. No

gratitude is even asked of them nor is it expected that they do no

damage to the hospitable family either during or after digestion! The

rich, those who have ever been to Manila and have seen a little more

than their neighbors, have bought beer, champagne, liqueurs, wines,

and food-stuffs from Europe, of which they will hardly taste a bite

or drink a drop.

Their tables are luxuriously furnished. In the center is a well-modeled

artificial pineapple in which are arranged toothpicks elaborately

carved by convicts in their rest-hours. Here they have designed a

fan, there a bouquet of flowers, a bird, a rose, a palm leaf, or a

chain, all wrought from a single piece of wood, the artisan being a

forced laborer, the tool a dull knife, and the taskmaster's voice the

inspiration. Around this toothpick-holder are placed glass fruit-trays

from which rise pyramids of oranges, lansons, ates, chicos, and even

mangos in spite of the fact that it is November. On wide platters

upon bright-hued sheets of perforated paper are to be seen hams from

Europe and China, stuffed turkeys, and a big pastry in the shape of

an Agnus Dei or a dove, the Holy Ghost perhaps. Among all these are

jars of appetizing _acharas_ with fanciful decorations made from

the flowers of the areca palm and other fruits and vegetables, all

tastefully cut and fastened with sirup to the sides of the flasks.

Glass lamp globes that have been handed down from father to son are

cleaned, the copper ornaments polished, the kerosene lamps taken out

of the red wrappings which have protected them from the flies and

mosquitoes during the year and which have made them unserviceable;

the prismatic glass pendants shake to and fro, they clink together

harmoniously in song, and even seem to take part in the fiesta as

they flash back and break up the rays of light, reflecting them on

the white walls in all the colors of the rainbow. The children play

about amusing themselves by chasing the colors, they stumble and break

the globes, but this does not interfere with the general merriment,

although at other times in the year the tears in their round eyes

would be taken account of in a different way.

Along with these venerated lamps there also come forth from their

hiding-places the work of the girls: crocheted scarfs, rugs, artificial

flowers. There appear old glass trays, on the bottoms of which are

sketched miniature lakes with little fishes, caymans, shell-fish,

seaweeds, coral, and glassy stones of brilliant hues. These are heaped

with cigars, cigarettes, and diminutive buyos prepared by the delicate

fingers of the maidens. The floor of the house shines like a mirror,

curtains of piña and husi festoon the doorways, from the windows

hang lanterns covered with glass or with paper, pink, blue, green, or

red. The house itself is filled with plants and flower-pots on stands

of Chinese porcelain. Even the saints bedeck themselves, the images

and relics put on a festive air, the dust is brushed from them and

on the freshly-washed glass of their cases are hung flowery garlands.

In the streets are raised at intervals fanciful bamboo arches, known as

_sinkában_, constructed in various ways and adorned with _kaluskús_,

the curling bunches of shavings scraped on their sides, at the sight

of which alone the hearts of the children rejoice. About the front

of the church, where the procession is to pass, is a large and costly

canopy upheld on bamboo posts. Beneath this the children run and play,

climbing, jumping, and tearing the new camisas in which they should

shine on the principal day of the fiesta.

There on the plaza a platform has been erected, the scenery being

of bamboo, nipa, and wood; there the Tondo comedians will perform

wonders and compete with the gods in improbable miracles, there

will sing and dance Marianito, Chananay, Balbino, Ratia, Carvajal,

Yeyeng, Liceria, etc. The Filipino enjoys the theater and is a deeply

interested spectator of dramatic representations, but he listens in

silence to the song, he gazes delighted at the dancing and mimicry,

he never hisses or applauds.

If the show is not to his liking, he chews his buyo or withdraws

without disturbing the others who perhaps find pleasure in it. Only

at times the commoner sort will howl when the actors embrace or kiss

the actresses, but they never go beyond that. Formerly, dramas only

were played; the local poet composed a piece in which there must

necessarily be a fight every second minute, a clown, and terrifying

transformations. But since the Tondo artist have begun to fight every

fifteen seconds, with two clowns, and even greater marvels than before,

they have put to rout their provincial compeers. The gobernadorcillo

was very fond of this sort of thing, so, with the approval of the

curate, he chose a spectacle with magic and fireworks, entitled, "The

Prince Villardo or the Captives Rescued from the Infamous Cave." [78]

From time to time the bells chime out merrily, those same bells that

ten days ago were tolling so mournfully. Pin-wheels and mortars rend

the air, for the Filipino pyrotechnist, who learned the art from

no known instructor, displays his ability by preparing fire bulls,

castles of Bengal lights, paper balloons inflated with hot air, bombs,

rockets, and the like.

Now distant strains of music are heard and the small boys rush headlong

toward the outskirts of the town to meet the bands of music, five

of which have been engaged, as well as three orchestras. The band of

Pagsanhan belonging to the escribano must not be lacking nor that of

San Pedro de Tunasan, at that time famous because it was directed by

the maestro Austria, the vagabond "Corporal Mariano" who, according to

report, carried fame and harmony in the tip of his baton. Musicians

praise his funeral march, "El Sauce," [79] and deplore his lack of

musical education, since with his genius he might have brought glory

to his country. The bands enter the town playing lively airs, followed

by ragged or half-naked urchins, one in the camisa of his brother,

another in his father's pantaloons. As soon as the band ceases, the

boys know the piece by heart, they hum and whistle it with rare skill,

they pronounce their judgment upon it.

Meanwhile, there are arriving in conveyances of all kinds relatives,

friends, strangers, the gamblers with their best game-cocks and their

bags of gold, ready to risk their fortune on the green cloth or within

the arena of the cockpit.

"The alferez has fifty pesos for each night," murmurs a small,

chubby individual into the ears of the latest arrivals. "Capitan

Tiago's coming and will set up a bank; Capitan Joaquin's bringing

eighteen thousand. There'll be _liam-pó_: Carlos the Chinaman will

set it up with ten thousand. Big stakes are coming from Tanawan, Lipa,

and Batangas, as well as from Santa Cruz. [80] It's going to be on a

big scale, yes, sir, on a grand scale! But have some chocolate! This

year Capitan Tiago won't break us as he did last, since he's paid

for only three thanksgiving masses and I've got a cacao _mutyâ_. And

how's your family?"

"Well, thank you," the visitors respond, "and Padre Damaso?"

"Padre Damaso will preach in the morning and sit in with us at night."

"Good enough! Then there's no danger."

"Sure, we're sure! Carlos the Chinaman will loosen up also." Here

the chubby individual works his fingers as though counting out pieces

of money.

Outside the town the hill-folk, the _kasamá_, are putting on their

best clothes to carry to the houses of their landlords well-fattened

chickens, wild pigs, deer, and birds. Some load firewood on the heavy

carts, others fruits, ferns, and orchids, the rarest that grow in

the forests, others bring broad-leafed caladiums and flame-colored

_tikas-tikas_ blossoms to decorate the doors of the houses.

But the place where the greatest activity reigns, where it is converted

into a tumult, is there on a little plot of raised ground, a few

steps from Ibarra's house. Pulleys screech and yells are heard amid

the metallic sound of iron striking upon stone, hammers upon nails,

of axes chopping out posts. A crowd of laborers is digging in the

earth to open a wide, deep trench, while others place in line the

stones taken from the town quarries. Carts are unloaded, piles of

sand are heaped up, windlasses and derricks are set in place.

"Hey, you there! Hurry up!" cries a little old man with lively and

intelligent features, who has for a cane a copper-bound rule around

which is wound the cord of a plumb-bob. This is the foreman of the

work, Ñor Juan, architect, mason, carpenter, painter, locksmith,

stonecutter, and, on occasions, sculptor. "It must be finished right

now! Tomorrow there'll be no work and the day after tomorrow is the

ceremony. Hurry!"

"Cut that hole so that this cylinder will fit it exactly," he says

to some masons who are shaping a large square block of stone. "Within

that our names will be preserved."

He repeats to every newcomer who approaches the place what he

has already said a thousand times: "You know what we're going to

build? Well, it's a schoolhouse, a model of its kind, like those in

Germany, and even better. A great architect has drawn the plans,

and I--I am bossing the job! Yes, sir, look at it, it's going to

be a palace with two wings, one for the boys and the other for the

girls. Here in the middle a big garden with three fountains, there on

the sides shaded walks with little plots for the children to sow and

cultivate plants in during their recess-time, that they may improve

the hours and not waste them. Look how deep the foundations are,

three meters and seventy-five centimeters! This building is going

to have storerooms, cellars, and for those who are not diligent

students dungeons near the playgrounds so that the culprits may hear

how the studious children are enjoying themselves. Do you see that

big space? That will be a lawn for running and exercising in the

open air. The little girls will have a garden with benches, swings,

walks where they can jump the rope, fountains, bird-cages, and so

on. It's going to be magnificent!"

Then Ñor Juan would rub his hands together as he thought of the

fame that he was going to acquire. Strangers would come to see it

and would ask, "Who was the great artisan that built this?" and all

would answer, "Don't you know? Can it be that you've never heard

of Ñor Juan? Undoubtedly you've come from a great distance!" With

these thoughts he moved from one part to the other, examining and

reexamining everything.

"It seems to me that there's too much timber for one derrick," he

remarked to a yellowish man who was overseeing some laborers. "I

should have enough with three large beams for the tripod and three

more for the braces."

"Never mind!" answered the yellowish man, smiling in a peculiar

way. "The more apparatus we use in the work, so much the greater effect

we'll get. The whole thing will look better and of more importance,

so they'll say, 'How hard they've worked!' You'll see, you'll see

what a derrick I'll put up! Then I'll decorate it with banners, and

garlands of leaves and flowers. You'll say afterwards that you were

right in hiring me as one of your laborers, and Señor Ibarra couldn't

ask for more!" As he said this the man laughed and smiled. Ñor Juan

also smiled, but shook his head.

Some distance away were seen two kiosks united by a kind of arbor

covered with banana leaves. The schoolmaster and some thirty boys

were weaving crowns and fastening banners upon the frail bamboo posts,

which were wrapped in white cloth.

"Take care that the letters are well written," he admonished the boys

who were preparing inscriptions. "The alcalde is coming, many curates

will be present, perhaps even the Captain-General, who is now in the

province. If they see that you draw well, maybe they'll praise you."

"And give us a blackboard?"

"Perhaps, but Señor Ibarra has already ordered one from

Manila. Tomorrow some things will come to be distributed among you

as prizes. Leave those flowers in the water and tomorrow we'll make

the bouquets. Bring more flowers, for it's necessary that the table

be covered with them--flowers please the eye."

"My father will bring some water-lilies and a basket of sampaguitas

tomorrow."

"Mine has brought three cartloads of sand without pay."

"My uncle has promised to pay a teacher," added a nephew of Capitan

Basilio.

Truly, the project was receiving help from all. The curate had asked to

stand sponsor for it and himself bless the laying of the corner-stone,

a ceremony to take place on the last day of the fiesta as one of its

greatest solemnities. The very coadjutor had timidly approached Ibarra

with an offer of all the fees for masses that the devout would pay

until the building was finished. Even more, the rich and economical

Sister Rufa had declared that if money should be lacking she would

canvass other towns and beg for alms, with the mere condition that she

be paid her expenses for travel and subsistence. Ibarra thanked them

all, as he answered, "We aren't going to have anything very great,

since I am not rich and this building is not a church. Besides,

I didn't undertake to erect it at the expense of others."

The younger men, students from Manila, who had come to take part

in the fiesta, gazed at him in admiration and took him for a model;

but, as it nearly always happens, when we wish to imitate great men,

that we copy only their foibles and even their defects, since we are

capable of nothing else, so many of these admirers took note of the

way in which he tied his cravat, others of the style of his collar,

and not a few of the number of buttons on his coat and vest.

The funereal presentiments of old Tasio seemed to have been dissipated

forever. So Ibarra observed to him one day, but the old pessimist

answered: "Remember what Baltazar says:

Kung ang isalúbong sa iyong pagdating

Ay masayang maukha't may pakitang giliw,

Lalong pag-iñgata't kaaway na lihim [81]--

Baltazar was no less a thinker than a poet."

Thus in the gathering shadows before the setting of the sun events

were shaping themselves.