I must not speak of my sufferings, or of my troubles and pleasures. I shall record only what happened in school during that year. By the end of the first week, I was going up in the class. Then I began to spend the siesta-time studying at Santa Isabel College. For this, I paid three pesos a month. I went there with Pastor Millena, a boy of my own age. A month later, I was “Emperor”.
How pleased I was when I won my first prize, a religious picture! In the first quarter I gained another prize, with the grade “Excellent.” After that I did not care to apply myself. I had foolishly become dissatisfied because of something my teacher said. Unfortunately, this continued until the end of the year and I gained only second place in all my subjects. This gave me the grade of “Excellent” but without any prize.
I spent the vacation at home and went with my eldest sister, Nening, to Tanawan, for the town festival. This was in 1873. But our pleasure was marred by the fact that our mother was not with us. I had gone alone to see my mother without first sending word either to her or to my father. This was at the close of the term in which I held second place. I thought with what joy I would surprise her. Instead, we wept in each other’s arms. We had not seen each other for more than a year.
After vacation was over, I returned to Manila and enrolled in the second year. Then I hunted lodgings in the Walled City. It was too tiring to live so far away. I found a place at 6 Calle Magallanes in the house of an elderly widow, Doña Pepay. Her daughter, also a widow, lived with her. The name of the daughter was Doña Encarnación, and her four sons were José, Rafael, Ignacio, and Ramón.
Nothing worth telling happened that year. My professor was the same as in the previous year; but I had different schoolmates. Among them I found three who had been with me in Biñan. At the end of this year, I won a medal and returned to my town.
I again went alone to visit my mother in prison. Like another Joseph, I prophesied to her from a dream that her release would take place within three months. This prediction happened to come true.
At this time, I began to devote my leisure to reading novels. Years before, I had read one, but it was not with any great interest. Imagine how a romantic youngster of twelve would delight in the Count of Monte Cristo! Under the pretext that I should have to study general history, I persuaded my father to buy me a set of Cesar Cantu y Diós’ histories.
I gained much by reading them. In spite of my only half applying myself and of my indifferent Spanish, I was able to win prizes in the quarterly examinations. I should have gained the medal if I had not made some slips in Spanish, which I spoke very poorly. This gave the place to a Spanish lad who spoke his mother tongue better than I could. Thus, then, I finished my third year.
When I next returned to Manila, I found my former landlady’s house full. I had to take a room in the house with my brother, Paciano Mercado, in company with a boy from my town named Quintero. My life was not so free as formerly, for I was under close supervision. The regular hours, however, were better for me. I prayed and played with my landlord’s children.
A portrait of General Paciano Rizal-Mercado should appear here, but he has never had his picture taken. In September, 1896, he was cruelly tortured in an unsuccessful endeavor to get him to sign a statement that his brother was the leader of the rebellion. Rizal’s last letter, from the Fort Santiago death-cell, tells how much the younger brother owed to the elder: