The next day a decree was issued ordering his exile to Dapitan, a town on the northeastern coast of the island of Mindanao. Upon what charge? The charge of sacrilege and sedition made against him the day he sailed from Hong-Kong, reinforced with Lucia’s damnable pillow-cases. On these he had been adjudged guilty offhand, as one would drown cats or blind puppies. He was not even allowed to know who [[248]]were his accusers; for that matter, he did not even know that he was accused. “This fellow has committed sacrilege and sedition,” says some one in the ear of the governor-general. “Exile him,” replies the governor-general, and signs the order committing him to a living death. It is like the scene between the governor-general and his secretary in “El Filibusterismo”; if a man may have foreknowledge of his fate, Rizal had glimpsed this in his novel.
There was the matter of the safe-conduct, the promise of protection, given by this same governor-general, under which Rizal had left Hong-Kong. It seems to have been not a feather-weight against the Interests that cried for his blood. There need be no mystery as to the source of these perfidies. Exile was the price Rizal paid for writing “Noli Me Tangere”; the powers that now pushed him upon the savage coast of Mindanao as an outcast sent there to die was the power of the friars, enraged by these pictures of themselves. They demanded Rizal’s blood; Despujol seems to have been incapable of the firing-squad and only wicked enough to consent to exile.
A chorus of protest rose from the civilized world as soon as men learned of this latest assault by a stupidly malignant Government upon the foundation principles of modern liberty. In hugger-mugger Rizal might be snatched away to banishment, but the time had gone by when such things could continue to be hid. It was speedily known throughout Europe that he had been decoyed from Hong-Kong by promises now shown to have been deliberate inventions; that the governor-general had violated his own safe-conduct; that, even [[249]]if Lucia had possessed a seditious document, proceedings should have lain against her and not against Rizal; that in any society above that of the jungle he would have had a hearing or some form of trial. Some such storm of resentment seems to have been foreseen by Despujol. For the issue of the “Official Gazette” that announced Rizal’s banishment he had prepared a long article defending the Government’s course and describing Rizal as a dangerous person. But he sufficiently betrayed himself by writing to the governor of Santiago prison a personal letter instructing him to take every precaution that Rizal should not see this number of the “Gazette,” and beyond this in cowardice and infamy it seemed hardly possible to go.[3]
For three days the victim of the aroused wrath of the governing class lay in prison, being still denied any communication with friend or relative. Then at night he was hustled aboard a steamer and started for Dapitan.
So far as we can determine now, even in these conditions he lost nothing of that serenity that has made him so admirable to some investigators and so inexplicable to others. “Sustained and soothed by an unfaltering trust” seems to have been literally the state of this brown man from the ends of the earth. Many a white man far less tried might have envied his self-possession. Dwell with some patience and care, if you will, upon this his own record of his arrest and deportation and see if you do not deem this remarkable that in such conditions not a complaint, not a suggestion [[250]]of resentment or of bitterness, not a hint of fear occurs in his narrative. It is a plain, blunt story written only for his friends. Here if anywhere he would have exhibited wrath; and the story reads with a kind of chill, so perfect is the unconcern. You can hardly say it reads as if it were written about the sufferings of somebody else. For anybody else in the like conditions this man would have made protest. Concerning himself he had nothing to say except to record the facts. Here is what his memorandum says of all this:
Wednesday he [the governor-general] asked me if I persisted in my intention of returning to Hong-Kong. I told him “yes.” After some conversation he said that I had brought political circulars in my baggage. I replied that I had not. He asked me who was the owner of the roll of pillows and petates[4] with my baggage. I said that they belonged to my sister. He told me that because of them he was going to send me to Fort Santiago. Don Ramón Despujol, his nephew and aide, took me in one of the palace carriages. At Fort Santiago, Don Enrique Villamor, the commander, received me. The room assigned to me was an ordinary chamber. It had a bed, a dozen chairs, a table, a wash-stand, and a mirror. There were three windows. One, without bars, looked out on a court; another had bars, and overlooked the wall and beach; the third served also as a door and had a padlock. Two artillerymen were on guard as sentinels. These had orders to fire on any one that tried to make signs from the beach. I could neither write nor converse with the officer of the guard.
Don Enrique Villamor, the commander of the fort, gave me books from the library. [[251]]
Each day the corporal of the guard proved to be a sergeant. They cleaned the room every morning. For breakfast, I had coffee with milk, a roll, and coffee-cake. Luncheon at 12:30 was of four courses. Dinner was at 8:30 and similar to the luncheon. Commander Villamor’s orderly waited on me.
On Thursday, the 14th, about 5:30 or 6 P.M., the nephew notified me that at 10 that night I should sail for Dapitan. I prepared my baggage, and at 10 was ready, but as no one came to get me, I went to sleep.
At 12:15, the aide arrived with the same carriage that had brought me there. By way of Santa Lucia Gate, they took me to the Malecon, where there were General Ahumada and some other people. Another aide and two of the Guardia Veterana were awaiting me in a boat.
The Cebu sailed in the morning at 9. They gave me a good state-room, on the upper deck. Above the doors could be read, “Chief.” Next my cabin was that of Captain Delgras, who had charge of the party.
Ten soldiers from each branch of the military service comprised the expedition. There were artillery, infantry of five regiments, carbineers, cavalry, and engineers, and the Civil Guard.
We were carrying prisoners, loaded with chains, among whom were a sergeant and a corporal, both Europeans. The former was to be shot for having ordered the tying up of his superior officer who had misbehaved while in Mindanao. The officer, for having let himself be tied, was dismissed from the service. The soldiers who obeyed orders, were sentenced to twenty years’ imprisonment.
It appears that the misbehavior noted here by Rizal consisted of the seduction of the sergeant’s wife by [[252]]the officer, and the tying up of the officer was the sergeant’s revenge. It is an interesting side-light on the prevailing code that the officer was dismissed from the service for allowing himself to be tied but not for dishonoring the poor sergeant, whose recompense was to be shot. The privates were to be punished for laying hands upon an officer, although they were but obeying orders.[5]
I ate in my state-room, the food being the same as the officers had. I always had a sentinel and a corporal on guard. Every night Captain Delgras took me for a promenade till 9 o’clock. We passed along the east coast of Mindanao and the west coast of Panay. We came to Dapitan on Sunday at 7 in the evening.
Captain Delgras and three artillerymen accompanied me in a boat rowed by eight sailors. There was a heavy sea.
The beach seemed very gloomy. We were in the dark, except for our lantern, which showed a roadway grown with weeds.
In the town we met the governor or commandant, Captain Ricardo Carnicero. There was also a Spanish exile, and the practicante,[6] Don Cosme. We went to the town hall, which was a large building.