The Social Cancer, by José Rizal - Home
The Social Cancer, by José Rizal - Home
The Social Cancer, by José Rizal - Home
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CHAPTER L 230<br />
CHAPTER L<br />
Elias's Story<br />
"Some sixty years ago my grandfather dwelt in Manila, being employed as a bookkeeper in a Spanish<br />
commercial house. He was then very young, was married, and had a son. One night from some unknown<br />
cause the warehouse burned down. <strong>The</strong> fire was communicated to the dwelling of his employer and from there<br />
to many other buildings. <strong>The</strong> losses were great, a scapegoat was sought, and the merchant accused my<br />
grandfather. In vain he protested his innocence, but he was poor and unable to pay the great lawyers, so he<br />
was condemned to be flogged publicly and paraded through the streets of Manila. Not so very long since they<br />
still used the infamous method of punishment which the people call the 'caballo y vaca,' [133] and which is a<br />
thousand times more dreadful than death itself. Abandoned <strong>by</strong> all except his young wife, my grandfather saw<br />
himself tied to a horse, followed <strong>by</strong> an unfeeling crowd, and whipped on every street-corner in the sight of<br />
men, his brothers, and in the neighborhood of numerous temples of a God of peace. When the wretch, now<br />
forever disgraced, had satisfied the vengeance of man with his blood, his tortures, and his cries, he had to be<br />
taken off the horse, for he had become unconscious. Would to God that he had died! But <strong>by</strong> one of those<br />
refinements of cruelty he was given his liberty. His wife, pregnant at the time, vainly begged from door to<br />
door for work or alms in order to care for her sick husband and their poor son, but who would trust the wife of<br />
an incendiary and a disgraced man? <strong>The</strong> wife, then, had to become a prostitute!"<br />
Ibarra rose in his seat.<br />
"Oh, don't get excited! Prostitution was not now a dishonor for her or a disgrace to her husband; for them<br />
honor and shame no longer existed. <strong>The</strong> husband recovered from his wounds and came with his wife and child<br />
to hide himself in the mountains of this province. Here they lived several months, miserable, alone, hated and<br />
shunned <strong>by</strong> all. <strong>The</strong> wife gave birth to a sickly child, which fortunately died. Unable to endure such misery<br />
and being less courageous than his wife, my grandfather, in despair at seeing his sick wife deprived of all care<br />
and assistance, hanged himself. His corpse rotted in sight of the son, who was scarcely able to care for his sick<br />
mother, and the stench from it led to their discovery. Her husband's death was attributed to her, for of what is<br />
the wife of a wretch, a woman who has been a prostitute besides, not believed to be capable? If she swears,<br />
they call her a perjurer; if she weeps, they say that she is acting; and that she blasphemes when she calls on<br />
God. Nevertheless, they had pity on her condition and waited for the birth of another child before they flogged<br />
her. You know how the friars spread the belief that the Indians can only be managed <strong>by</strong> blows: read what<br />
Padre Gaspar de San Agustin says! [134]<br />
"A woman thus condemned will curse the day on which her child is born, and this, besides prolonging her<br />
torture, violates every maternal sentiment. Unfortunately, she brought forth a healthy child. Two months<br />
afterwards, the sentence was executed to the great satisfaction of the men who thought that thus they were<br />
performing their duty. Not being at peace in these mountains, she then fled with her two sons to a neighboring<br />
province, where they lived like wild beasts, hating and hated. <strong>The</strong> elder of the two boys still remembered,<br />
even amid so much misery, the happiness of his infancy, so he became a tulisan as soon as he found himself<br />
strong enough. Before long the bloody name of Balat spread from province to province, a terror to the people,<br />
because in his revenge he did everything with blood and fire. <strong>The</strong> younger, who was <strong>by</strong> nature kind-hearted,<br />
resigned himself to his shameful fate along with his mother, and they lived on what the woods afforded,<br />
clothing themselves in the cast-off rags of travelers. She had lost her name, being known only as the convict,<br />
the prostitute, the scourged. He was known as the son of his mother only, because the gentleness of his<br />
disposition led every one to believe that he was not the son of the incendiary and because any doubt as to the<br />
morality of the Indians can be held reasonable.<br />
"At last, one day the notorious Balat fell into the clutches of the authorities, who exacted of him a strict<br />
accounting for his crimes, and of his mother for having done nothing to rear him properly. One morning the<br />
younger brother went to look for his mother, who had gone into the woods to gather mushrooms and had not