From the forest seeking peace and a calmness divine,
Rest for the weary brain and silence to my sorrow keen.
From poetry, we pass to sociology, a transition that might seem violent enough in one of less versatility. The commandants, of course, must be parts of the general machinery of espionage and report to Manila what they observed in this evil sprite that might show dangerous machinations against the peace and dignity of our lord the king. Some of the reports they made are still extant. One of them sent about this time by a commandant, the Captain Ricardo Carnicero, to Governor-General Despujol contains this account of a conversation:
Carnicero. Tell me, Rizal, what reforms seem to you most vital for this country?
Rizal. First of all, to secure representation for it in the Cortes [Spanish parliament] that there may be an end to the despotisms now committed upon it.
Next to secularize the priesthood,[15] abolishing the power the friars now exercise over the Government and the country. To distribute the parishes as they become vacant, among the body of the clergy, so that the clergy may be both Spanish and Philippine. [[261]]
To reform the administration in all its branches.
To promote primary instruction, to end the interference of the friars in the control of education, to give better salaries to both men and women teachers.
To divide civil appointments equally between the Spaniards and the Filipinos.
To cleanse the administration of justice.
To establish in capitals of more than 16,000 inhabitants schools of arts and crafts.
These are my chief reforms. Once established in the right spirit, the Philippines would be the happiest country in the world.
Carnicero. Friend Rizal, these reforms of yours do not seem to me at all bad; but you seem to forget that the friars have as much influence in Madrid as in Manila, and for this reason it would be practically impossible at this time to put these changes into effect.
Rizal. Do not think so. The influence of the friars is waning in all parts of the world. I am bold enough to assure you that wherever a government, even a little advanced, would give a free hand to five or six honest and patriotic men, the power of the friars would disappear. In Madrid it is perfectly well known what the friars are doing here. So true is this that in the first interview I had with Pi y Linares Rivas, when he was a member of the Liberal party of Spain, he told me of things in this country of which, although I was born here, I had been in ignorance. I can cite to you many other instances of men in Spain that have exact data on the lives and characters of the friars in the Philippines. These gentlemen said to me: “The bad governments that in Spain are following one another are blamed for many abuses that in reality are wrought by the religious corporations. On the day when things change we shall not forget the real offenders.” Excuse me for saying this to you, but the friars are not wanted [[262]]in the Philippines. Always they become more repugnant and hateful as always they interfere the more in conditions and affairs that do not belong to them.[16]
Where lay the sedition that Rizal plotted is evident from this report, and equally evident what power pulled the strings behind puppet king and manikin premier.
He must have had reason, even in far Dapitan, to wonder if there were any place out of range of the malicious or the dull. Persons that thought they had a call to reform him and other persons that believed they had been appointed to torture him would not leave him alone even here. It was a place with what was called a mail service; in the course of time almost any letter that had passed the censor would come limping in. Among such freight arrived one day a laborious effort from the superior of the Jesuits in the Philippines, the Rev. Father Pastells, in which he took occasion to offer disagreeable remarks. Rizal might have responded in kind, if he had pleased; as to which, take note of some of the sarcastic passages in “Noli Me Tangere.” Instead of flouting his reverend critic, he chose to favor him with a serious letter in which the faith that guided his course was set forth with the eloquence of honesty. He wrote:
You exclaim: “What a pity that so gifted a youth should not have used his talents in a better cause.” Possibly there are other causes better than mine. But my cause is good, and that is enough for me.
Others, perhaps, may gain more honors and greater glory. But I am like the bamboo, which is also a native of this soil. It is used for cottages of light material and not for heavy [[263]]European buildings. So I regret neither my humble cause nor its small rewards. I only regret the little talent that God has given me to use in its service. If instead of being weak bamboo I had been solid hardwood, I should have been able to give better aid. But He that made me what I am never makes mistakes in any of His acts. He knows very well how useful are even the smallest cottages.
As to any fame, honor, or profit that I might have gained, I admit all that to sound attractive, for I am a young man of flesh and blood with a full share of human weaknesses. But no one chooses the nationality or race into which he is born. With his birth he profits by the privileges or suffers the disadvantages that race and nationality bring. So I accept the cause of my country.
I have confidence that He that created me a Filipino will know how to pardon in me mistakes due to our hard position and the poor education we receive from our birth.
I am not working for fame or glory. I have no ambition to rival others that are born into conditions very different from my own.
My only desire is to do all I can within the limits of my powers. I wish most to do what is needed most. I have received a little learning and I think I ought to teach it to my countrymen. Others more fortunate than I may work for the great things.[17]
He had letters of a different tenor from members of his family, toward whom he yearned all his life with an almost singular devotion; but for his strong sense of family duty he might then be receipting for great fees and living sweetly in Hong-Kong instead of facing the miseries of Dapitan. Of this fact he never made a mention to any one, if he thought of it himself. [[264]]Among the letters from these relatives that he held so dear came one from a nephew in Luzon to which he made the following characteristic reply:
I think I ought to mention to you a slight fault that you have committed in your letter. It is a little error that many in society make.
One does not say, “I and my sister greet you,” but “my sister and I greet you.” Always you have to put yourself last. You should say, “Emilio and I,” “you and I,” and so on. For the rest, your letter leaves nothing to be desired in clearness, conciseness, and spelling. Then keep on advancing. Learn, learn, and think much about what you learn. Life is a very serious matter. It only goes well for those that have intelligence and heart. To live is to be among men, and to be among men is to strive.
But this strife is not a brute-like, selfish struggle, nor with men alone. It is a strife with them, and at the same time with one’s own passions. It is a struggle with the proprieties, with errors, with prejudices. It is a never ending striving, with a smile on the lips and the tears in the heart.
On this battle-field man has no better weapon than his intelligence. He possesses no more force than he has heart. Bring it out, then. Improve it, keep it prepared, and strengthen and educate yourself for this.
Upon such a spirit the horrors of exile must have weighed little. In a region strange, at that time uncouth and, compared with many in “your Oriental Eden Isles,” unattractive, he offers to the world an unaccustomed figure of the outcast. He went without repining to regular and useful work while he understood well enough that he was a sacrificial offering and fated to be so; the hatred and contempt of the reactionary [[265]]Interests were concentrated upon him; he was victimized for his countrymen. Only two privations seemed poignant to him. He longed for his family; he missed his books. With these, it appears, he would have been content, eying cheerfully the fate that seemed to have at last defined his career; for he had little doubt he should end his days on this lonely shore. For consolation in his spiritual lack, he turned to his arts and modeled assiduously; some of the most marvelous of his sculptures belong to this period. Among them the bust of Father Guerrico[18] that was exhibited years afterward at the St. Louis Exposition, and won a gold medal there.[19] He was the spontaneous artist that without conscious effort descries beauty in commonplace things. Opposite his dwelling a native woman, bent upon one knee, was cleaning the street for a coming festival. Something in her pose and garmenture struck him as a graceful characteristic; he modeled her as she labored.[20] From memory he modeled busts and medallions of men he had known in Europe and Asia; in his sketch-book he preserved effects he noticed in sky, sea, and woods. He returned to poetic composition and produced now some of the most beautiful of his works. More than this in armor of patience the Stoics themselves could demand nothing. How many Highland Scotch have stood upon the sands of France and sighed away their souls northward? And how often have the sympathetic thought with compassion of the English pioneers in early [[266]]America, of the Pilgrim fathers that first bleak winter, of Hugo in Jersey and Napoleon chained to his rock? This man hunted out the beauties of exile, made them his friends and companions, taught his pupils, made poetry, carved statues, loved his fellows, and thanked God.