The Social Cancer, by José Rizal - Home

CHAPTER XXXIV 164
gathering flowers and singing songs, today I wield the rod of justice and serve Humanity, tomorrow--"
"Tomorrow your Honor will throw the rod into the fire to warm yourself by it in the winter of life, and take an
appointment in the cabinet," added Padre Sibyla.
"Pshaw! Yes--no--to be a cabinet official isn't exactly my beau-ideal: any upstart may become one. A villa in
the North in which to spend the summer, a mansion in Madrid, and some property in Andalusia for the
winter--there we shall live remembering our beloved Philippines. Of me Voltaire would not say, 'We have
lived among these people only to enrich ourselves and to calumniate them.'"
The alcalde quoted this in French, so the employees, thinking that his Honor had cracked a joke, began to
laugh in appreciation of it. Some of the friars did likewise, since they did not know that the Voltaire
mentioned was the same Voltaire whom they had so often cursed and consigned to hell. But Padre Sibyla was
aware of it and became serious from the belief that the alcalde had said something heretical or impious.
In the other kiosk the children were eating under the direction of their teacher. For Filipino children they were
rather noisy, since at the table and in the presence of other persons their sins are generally more of omission
than of commission. Perhaps one who was using the tableware improperly would be corrected by his neighbor
and from this there would arise a noisy discussion in which each would have his partisans. Some would say
the spoon, others the knife or the fork, and as no one was considered an authority there would arise the
contention that God is Christ or, more clearly, a dispute of theologians. Their fathers and mothers winked,
made signs, nudged one another, and showed their happiness by their smiles.
"Ya!" exclaimed a countrywoman to an old man who was mashing buyo in his kalikut, "in spite of the fact
that my husband is opposed to it, my Andoy shall be a priest. It's true that we're poor, but we'll work, and if
necessary we'll beg alms. There are not lacking those who will give money so that the poor may take holy
orders. Does not Brother Mateo, a man who does not lie, say that Pope Sextus was a herder of carabaos in
Batangas? Well then, look at my Andoy, see if he hasn't already the face of a St. Vincent!" The good mother
watered at the mouth to see her son take hold of a fork with both hands.
"God help us!" added the old man, rolling his quid of buyo. "If Andoy gets to be Pope we'll go to Rome he,
he! I can still walk well, and if I die--he, he!"
"Don't worry, granddad! Andoy won't forget that you taught him how to weave baskets."
"You're right, Petra. I also believe that your son will be great, at least a patriarch. I have never seen any one
who learned the business in a shorter time. Yes, he'll remember me when as Pope or bishop he entertains
himself in making baskets for his cook. He'll then say masses for my soul--he, he!" With this hope the good
old man again filled his kalikut with buyo.
"If God hears my prayers and my hopes are fulfilled, I'll say to Andoy, 'Son, take away all our sins and send
us to Heaven!' Then we shan't need to pray and fast and buy indulgences. One whose son is a blessed Pope
can commit sins!"
"Send him to my house tomorrow, Petra," cried the old man enthusiastically, "and I'll teach him to weave the
nito!"
"Huh! Get out! What are you dreaming about, grand-dad? Do you still think that the Popes even move their
hands? The curate, being nothing more than a curate, only works in the mass--when he turns around! The
Archbishop doesn't even turn around, for he says mass sitting down. So the Pope--the Pope says it in bed with
a fan! What are you thinking about?"