The Social Cancer, by José Rizal - Home

CHAPTER XXIX 142
CHAPTER XXIX
The Morning
At the first flush of dawn bands of music awoke the tired people of the town with lively airs. Life and
movement reawakened, the bells began to chime, and the explosions commenced. It was the last day of the
fiesta, in fact the fiesta proper. Much was hoped for, even more than on the previous day. The Brethren of the
Venerable Tertiary Order were more numerous than those of the Holy Rosary, so they smiled piously, secure
that they would humiliate their rivals. They had purchased a greater number of tapers, wherefor the Chinese
dealers had reaped a harvest and in gratitude were thinking of being baptized, although some remarked that
this was not so much on account of their faith in Catholicism as from a desire to get a wife. To this the pious
women answered, "Even so, the marriage of so many Chinamen at once would be little short of a miracle and
their wives would convert them."
The people arrayed themselves in their best clothes and dragged out from their strong-boxes all their jewelry.
The sharpers and gamblers all shone in embroidered camisas with large diamond studs, heavy gold chains,
and white straw hats. Only the old Sage went his way as usual in his dark-striped sinamay camisa buttoned up
to the neck, loose shoes, and wide gray felt hat.
"You look sadder than ever!" the teniente-mayor accosted him. "Don't you want us to be happy now and then,
since we have so much to weep over?"
"To be happy doesn't mean to act the fool," answered the old man. "It's the senseless orgy of every year! And
all for no end but to squander money, when there is so much misery and want. Yes, I understand it all, it's the
same orgy, the revel to drown the woes of all."
"You know that I share your opinion, though," replied Don Filipo, half jestingly and half in earnest. "I have
defended it, but what can one do against the gobernadorcillo and the curate?"
"Resign!" was the old man's curt answer as he moved away.
Don Filipo stood perplexed, staring after the old man. "Resign!" he muttered as he made his way toward the
church. "Resign! Yes, if this office were an honor and not a burden, yes, I would resign."
The paved court in front of the church was filled with people; men and women, young and old, dressed in
their best clothes, all crowded together, came and went through the wide doors. There was a smell of powder,
of flowers, of incense, and of perfumes, while bombs, rockets, and serpent-crackers made the women run and
scream, the children laugh. One band played in front of the convento, another escorted the town officials, and
still others marched about the streets, where floated and waved a multitude of banners. Variegated colors and
lights distracted the sight, melodies and explosions the hearing, while the bells kept up a ceaseless chime.
Moving all about were carriages whose horses at times became frightened, frisked and reared all of which,
while not included in the program of the fiesta, formed a show in itself, free and by no means the least
entertaining.
The hermano mayor for this day had sent servants to seek in the streets for whomsoever they might invite, as
did he who gave the feast of which the Gospel tells us. Almost by force were urged invitations to partake of
chocolate, coffee, tea, and sweetmeats, these invitations not seldom reaching the proportions of a demand.
There was to be celebrated the high mass, that known as the dalmatic, like the one of the day before, about
which the worthy correspondent wrote, only that now the officiating priest was to be Padre Salvi, and that the
alcalde of the province, with many other Spaniards and persons of note, was to attend it in order to hear Padre
Damaso, who enjoyed a great reputation in the province. Even the alferez, smarting under the preachments of