The Social Cancer, by José Rizal - Home

CHAPTER XXV 129
was blowing, and before their eyes spread out the garden bounded by the wide forest that was a kind of park.
"Why can we not do as that weak stalk laden with flowers and buds does?" asked the Sage, pointing to a
beautiful jasmine plant. "The wind blows and shakes it and it bows its head as if to hide its precious load. If
the stalk should hold itself erect it would be broken, its flowers would be scattered by the wind, and its buds
would be blighted. The wind passes by and the stalk raises itself erect, proud of its treasure, yet who will
blame it for having bowed before necessity? There you see that gigantic kupang, which majestically waves its
light foliage wherein the eagle builds his nest. I brought it from the forest as a weak sapling and braced its
stem for months with slender pieces of bamboo. If I had transplanted it large and full of life, it is certain that it
would not have lived here, for the wind would have thrown it down before its roots could have fixed
themselves in the soil, before it could have become accustomed to its surroundings, and before it could have
secured sufficient nourishment for its size and height. So you, transplanted from Europe to this stony soil,
may end, if you do not seek support and do not humble yourself. You are among evil conditions, alone,
elevated, the ground shakes, the sky presages a storm, and the top of your family tree has shown that it draws
the thunderbolt. It is not courage, but foolhardiness, to fight alone against all that exists. No one censures the
pilot who makes for a port at the first gust of the whirlwind. To stoop as the bullet passes is not cowardly--it is
worse to defy it only to fall, never to rise again."
"But could this sacrifice produce the fruit that I hope for?" asked Ibarra. "Would the priest believe in me and
forget the affront? Would they aid me frankly in behalf of the education that contests with the conventos the
wealth of the country? Can they not pretend friendship, make a show of protection, and yet underneath in the
shadows fight it, undermine it, wound it in the heel, in order to weaken it quicker than by attacking it in front?
Granted the previous actions which you surmise, anything may be expected!"
The old man remained silent from inability to answer these questions. After meditating for some time, he said:
"If such should happen, if the enterprise should fail, you would be consoled by the thought that you had done
what was expected of you and thus something would be gained. You would have placed the first stone, you
would have sown the seed, and after the storm had spent itself perhaps some grain would have survived the
catastrophe to grow and save the species from destruction and to serve afterwards as the seed for the sons of
the dead sower. The example may encourage others who are only afraid to begin."
Weighing these reasons, Ibarra realized the situation and saw that with all the old man's pessimism there was a
great deal of truth in what he said.
"I believe you!" he exclaimed, pressing the old man's hand. "Not in vain have I looked to you for advice. This
very day I'll go and reach an understanding with the curate, who, after all is said, has done me no wrong and
who must be good, since all of them are not like the persecutor of my father. I have, besides, to interest him in
behalf of that unfortunate madwoman and her sons. I put my trust in God and men!"
After taking leave of the old man he mounted his horse and rode away. As the pessimistic Sage followed him
with his gaze, he muttered: "Now let's watch how Destiny will unfold the drama that began in the cemetery."
But for once he was greatly mistaken--the drama had begun long before!