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The Lord Gazes at the Philippine Islands

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The Lord Gazes at the Philippine Islands* by: Dr. Jose Rizal *(the MS had no title) Having been relegated to oblivion by the inhabitants of the earth, it has been centuries since God the Father had abandoned the business of this world, leaving its management to the saints and other idols in vogue whom they worshipped in their madness. He devoted His attention to other suns and planets, more beautiful and bigger than ours and whose surface a pure and simple cult was rendered to the Eternal Creator. Each time His omnipotent gaze encountered our little ball which, covered with clouds, rolled in infinite space, He withdrew it with disgust like a resentful father at the sight of an ungrateful and bad son. And thus, the earth, abandoned to its idols, became enveloped in misery and grief, darkness descended on its surface, and in its bosom passions howled furiously like reptiles locked up in their dens. And the crying of the unfortunate ones and the voices of the victims filled the air, pierced the clouds, and rose to the throne of the Almighty. Finally the Eternal Creator took pity and one day, putting on His eyeglasses, said to Himself: “Let us see what is going on among the asses on their orange-colored sphere!” God looked toward the earth and by chance He saw precisely a group of islands, mostly mountains, surrounded by tempestuous sins and shaken by convulsive tremois as if they were coated with quicksilver. And God saw men of different races and color, with skirt, others with pantaloons, the top of whose head was shaven, leaving a circle of hair around it, while the head of others was shaven the opposite way with a large lock of hair in the center, long like that of women. And all were cutting capers and saying a lot of nonsense attributing them to Him, the Eternal Father, and others were cutting more capers and saying more nonsense in 1
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Page 1: The Lord Gazes at the Philippine Islands

The Lord Gazes at the Philippine Islands*by:

Dr. Jose Rizal

*(the MS had no title)

Having been relegated to oblivion by the inhabitants of the earth, it has been centuries since God the Father had abandoned the business of this world, leaving its management to the saints and other idols in vogue whom they worshipped in their madness. He devoted His attention to other suns and planets, more beautiful and bigger than ours and whose surface a pure and simple cult was rendered to the Eternal Creator. Each time His omnipotent gaze encountered our little ball which, covered with clouds, rolled in infinite space, He withdrew it with disgust like a resentful father at the sight of an ungrateful and bad son. And thus, the earth, abandoned to its idols, became enveloped in misery and grief, darkness descended on its surface, and in its bosom passions howled furiously like reptiles locked up in their dens. And the crying of the unfortunate ones and the voices of the victims filled the air, pierced the clouds, and rose to the throne of the Almighty.

Finally the Eternal Creator took pity and one day, putting on His eyeglasses, said to Himself: “Let us see what is going on among the asses on their orange-colored sphere!”

God looked toward the earth and by chance He saw precisely a group of islands, mostly mountains, surrounded by tempestuous sins and shaken by convulsive tremois as if they were coated with quicksilver. And God saw men of different races and color, with skirt, others with pantaloons, the top of whose head was shaven, leaving a circle of hair around it, while the head of others was shaven the opposite way with a large lock of hair in the center, long like that of women. And all were cutting capers and saying a lot of nonsense attributing them to Him, the Eternal Father, and others were cutting more capers and saying more nonsense in the belief that they were pleasing Him. The Eternal Father believed He was seeing visions. He fixed His eyeglasses and looked more attentively.

And He saw that a few who lived without doing anything, oppressed and enslaved the rest, belittle them, fooled them, and still not content, they insulted and mocked them. But what surprised most the Eternal Father was to see them all

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discontented, and in truth, the oppressors more than the oppressed.

“Gracious, gracious!” He murmured, shaking His head with disgust and stroke His beard; “It seems that business is going badly in those little islands. “Oh, come here!” He added in a loud voice calling the Archangel Gabriel who was passing nearby.

Gabriel approached Him.

“Do you know the name of those green islands scattered there below with strange inhabitants and stranger customs still?”

“Of course!” he replied; “for I had there before a temple and a square!”

“Thou, little Gabriel, you have there a temple and a square!” exclaimed the Eternal surprised. You allow such luxuries…”

“Bah! But they have already dispossessed me! They have given them to a friar. There everything lands in the hands of the friars!”

“Friars, you say? What beast is that?”

“Well…a friar, a friar is a difficult thing to explain,” replied Gabriel perplexed. A friar…there’s the quid.* I myself don’t understand it!”

*(quid- Lating word meaning what)

“And what’s the name of those little islands?” asked God, looking with much curiosity towards the earth.

“Well, Philippine Islands!”

“Aha! So that those are the notorious Philippines, from which come so much…But, tell me, why do they have a name that sounds Spanish when, according to what I hear, their inhabitants don’t speak that language?”

“That’s another quid, Eternal Father,” replied Gabriel, who has become fond of the word when he as in the Philippines, “The inhabitants of those islands are subject to the Spaniards!”

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“Subjects, Gabriel, subjects you say? I have created men free, men are born free…all men are equal..!”

“That’s another quid!”

“Stop those quids, Gabriel, and explain yourself better.”

“Gracious! If I had to explain to Your Divine Majesty the things going on their below, we would not understand each other in seven days…”

“But at least explain to me how having I created the earth for man, for him who cultivates it, and having made all men free and equal, the inhabitants of those islands have become subject to the Spaniards?”

“Well…one Alexander VI in the name of your Divine Majesty…”

“What, what? In my name? Gracious!” interrupted the Eternal Father losing His self-control; “who is this Alexander VI?”

“Well, that’s another quid…am”, replied Gabriel who could not forget his habits, “This Alexander VI, who pretended to rule the world in the name of Your Divine Majesty, was a rascal who had poisoned many, had amorous relations with his daughter…”

“Jesus Mary!” interrupted the Father, making the sign of the cross, “Jesus Mary! And this rascal was ruling in my name, “Sanctus Deus!”

“As Your Divine Majesty no longer paid attention to the earth…when the master sleeps, the servants and thieves take a holiday!” replied Gabriel with a certain tone of reproach. “Everybody knows that this Alexander was a crafty scoundrel so that he is execrated and condemned by all honorable men throughout Europe and civilized America and his name has become synonymous with the words immoral, assassin, poisoner, intriguer, incestuous…Only, only in those islands is he esteemed. There they have dedicated to him an entire street which they have named after him!”“Is it true? But is that country mad?” But he continued, “You were saying that scoundrel, misusing my name…”

“He gave those islands to the Portugese!”

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“To the Portugese? But were you not saying that those islands are subject to the Spaniards? What have become of my name and my prestige?”

“That’s another…I say, I’ll explain. Alexander VI, taking advantage of your oversight, divided the earth between the Spaniards and the Portugese…”

“But, who authorized him to dispose of the earth which was not his?”

“Bah! Bah! It shows Your Divine Majesty has been unaware of what’s happening on the earth for a long time. Well, the Popes would not stop at anything. They dispose of the heavens, of the kingdom of Your Divine Majesty, and of Your Divine Majesty yourself!”

“Dispose of me, dispose of the heavens, you say?” exclaimed God the Father rising.

“Ay, ay!” Gabriel said; “and not only the Popes, who after all adopt certain airs and have a certain seriousness, but the last friar, the last monkey, as we used to say there in Manila, pretends to send you orders, making you a kind of an executor of their wishes. Ay, ay, ay!”

“Sus Maria, ‘Sus Maria. Is it possible?” exclaimed the Father taking hold of His venerable head: “Oh tempora oh mores!”* But go on, go on; you say that he divided the earth between the Spaniards and the Portugese. And Spain bought them?”

*(Oh the times! Oh the manners!)

“No. Sir, quite the contrary! A Portugese who had a friend in those places won them for the Spaniards…”

“A Portugese? So that he turned traitor to his mother country? I don’t understand you!”

“Yes, Father, he turned traitor to his mother country, but he excused himself by saying that his kind didn’t want to increase his pay.”

“And for that he turned traitor to his king and to his mother country? What did they do to him afterwards?”

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“Erect a monument to him in the Philippines and baptize streets with his name as they did to the other.”

The Archangel Gabriel folded his wings. “Know that I no longer have my church”, he murmured.

“But Portugal, what did she do then?” asked the Father who was interested in the tangle.

“She protested, and Charles, king of the Spaniards, considering the reasons and for a good sum of money that he then needed, renounced to Portugal whatever rights he might have to those islands.”

“And Portugal took them then?”

“No, Father. Charles again sent other expeditions to take possession of them without success, until his son at last subdued them by means of treaties, partly through good promises.”

“And that Charles and his son have monuments in the Philippines?”

“Not yet, but they will have also in time,” replied Gabriel.

“And what did Alexander do on seeing that his orders were not followed? He protested, tried to establish order?”

“Oh no! He had already died, poisoned in his turn. But strange if he took his orders seriously!”

“And what did men say when they see my sacred name impaired in such settlements?”

“What can they say, Eternal Father, but that you don’t exist or if You do You abandon them?”

The old God covered His face and then with a sorrowful look asked:

“Let’s see, Gabriel; since you have been in those islands and it seems that you know them well, what do you think is advisable to remedy their ills?”

“The Eternal Father is asking for my opinion?”

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“Yes, my son, because their voices have reached me even and I like to put an end to so much misery.”

“As for me, I would take hold of those islands…”

And Gabriel made an expressive gesture like one who is crumbling something with his fingers.

“Like this, Eternal Father, like this, and I would make new islands with new inhabitants. Like this, like this!”

“Well, well,” replied the old God in a paternal tone. “It shows that you are young and you’re not used to making mischief. Perhaps you’re still resentful for having been despoiled of your temple and your square in order to give them to…how do you call him?”

“Friar!”

“That’s it, friar! What a strange name. I don’t remember having created such a thing! But don’t be revengeful; imitate me. See, they call me the God of Vengeance I who am all merciful! I’ve given them everything and I haven’t any temple there, I who have made all men free, and they misuse my name in order to destroy my work. And nevertheless, not only do I not take revenge but now I wish to make them happy.”

II

“Listen, Andres, what do you know about the Philippines? The old God asked an old man who was passing by with a cross in the form of an X.

The old apostle, hearing himself questioned, was scared, and dropped the cross on the sound of the name Philippines.

“Well, what do you advise me to do to establish order in Manila?” The Father continued in a sweet voice, seeing that the other was speechless.

San Andres made a grimace upon hearing the words order and Manila and entrusted himself to all the saints.

“Go ahead, speak! What do you advise?”

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“I, Lord, I nothing, nothing!” said at last the Apostle. “I’ve nothing to do with that country; I want no dealings with those people; I’m a peaceful saint and of few words. Moreover, I’m not a man of learning. May they leave me in peace for they have already given me enough trouble.”

“But, aren’t you the patron of Manila?”

“No, no…yes…yes…no, Father…yes Father…that’s to say, yes…yes…but no…no…no.”

“But man, make yourself clear.”

San Andres touched the back of his neck, fanned himself with the end of his cape for he was feeling the strain as when he was crucified, and making an effort was at last able to say:

“Look, your Divine Majesty, I’m innocent! The story is this. Years after the Spaniards took possession of those islands, many Chinese came who wanted in turn to take them. There they fought, there they killed one another; I didn’t meddle in anything, how could I do it? But the victors, in order to sanction their possession and give it an appearance of justice, wanted to drag me in, attributing their victory to my intervention, God save me! Saying that the battle took place on my saint’s day. But the beauty of it is that that day is not my saint’s day, because the Spaniards made a mistake in the calendar as a result of having navigated following the sun. Your Divine Majesty can therefore see how innocent I’m of the imputation.”

And whose saint’s day is the date of the battle?”

“How do I know, Eternal Father,” replied San Andres, preparing to leave. “It seems it is a certain Proculo or a certain Evasio. The Calendar has many saints, let them assume the responsibility!”

They looked for the alluded saints but the little angels didn’t know them and the Eternal Father without losing his patience, asked:

“But, let’s see, what religion is followed in the Philippines?”

The blessed ones looked at one another; the angels asked themselves with their eyes like children who don’t know

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their lesson, until one of them, more mischievous and bolder than the rest, a veritable enfant terrible, replied:

“The Christian religion!”

“Who said that my religion prevails in those islands?” asked a clear and sonorous masculine voice; “who dares to slander it?”

And a tall man of a serious and stern physionomy (physiognomy), of a gallant mien, and majestic bearing, advanced in the midst of the blessed, scarching with his eyes the bold little angel. In heaven they called him Jesus and he was one of the greatest founders of religions. The talkative angel, very much afraid and confused, hid himself behind his companions, who were mocking him, saying to him:

“Aba, you well deserved it!”

“What religion then is practiced in the Philippines?” asked again the Eternal Father looking at everybody; “Those islands then have no religion at all?”

Jesus became more severe and stern than ever, so that though many were looking at him, they didn’t dare speak. At last, one, who was much older, of Mongolian type, with moustache and bristle-beard, with brown skin and slanting eyes, after a lot of ceremony and bowings, replied in an insinuating and calm voice:

“The just Jesus has said the truth; his religion is not observed in the Philippines, and I dare say that his teaching is completely unknown there. But allow your unworthy disciple Kung Tsen to remind you that though it is true that your divine laws do not prevail there, on the other hand, there they misuse your name and in your name commit offences and unheard of iniquities. I know because my country is a neighbor of the Philippines and many heathens from my country become Christians there for purposes more or less reprehensible, more or less dishonest!”

Kung Tsen’s words have much weight in celestial circles, so that Jesus, without being annoyed replied in this manner:

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“I agree with Kung Tsen, but I can’t be held responsible for the abuses committed in my name by some hypocrites, race of serpents, vipers, whitewashed sepulchers. If the name of the Father is misused, what would they not do with mine? My doctrine is written down and though disfigured, it’s there, shining, protecting. They misuse my name because men forget me, because they don’t remember that I who have preached love and charity, cannot accept any form of tyranny or oppression. I’ve taught them to reason, to analyze, to investigate, why do they close their eyes? What fault have I if there are blind and stupid men on the earth? To what ridiculous extent they want to drag me by worshipping me in parts and in vitals, forgetting my teaching, the moral basis of my work, the spirit of my preaching? I disown that race of hypocrites and I would have protested long ago if I didn’t know that my mother was involved in the jest.”

“Pardon me, son,” replied a good woman with a sweet face and merciful look; “They have misused my name more than yours and if I have not complained, it is in order not to give you any displeasure. Look, there they trade with my love, with my sentiments; they use my name to wring the last centavo from the poor, to ruin the married women, to stain the virgins, to submerge in ignorance and misery entire families. Now they paint me black, now brown, now white; I who have always lived on my work and never asked for alms from anyone; I’ve had to go from town to town, from house to house, begging in order to satiate with gold those who live in gaiety and abundance; they make me a cloak for their dirty linen and love affairs, seller of rosaries, scapularies, and belts, and if sometimes they dress me well, it is for the purpose of making more money as they do with a circus dancer. And not content with this they ascribe to me needs and weaknesses, place me in enmity, contradiction, and rivalry with myself; they make me take a bath, dance; they dress me in ridiculous robes, and with me commit all kinds of heresy and mischief. Now that you know it, I entreat you, my son, to take me out of these islands, because I can’t endure more humiliation. Leave there the saints to deal with them; Agustin, Domingo, Ignacio are there…”

“Neguaguam!”* protested St. Agustine. “There they have used me ill. My sons, if they are not plain writers, are quack preachers; the best among them is a comedian. I give them to you as a gift.”

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* (in vain)

“Mine are too fat!” replied mournfully the lanky St. Francis; “I prefer to associate with my little animals. Let Ignatius take care of them, he being the most cunning and enterprising.”

“With much faith and will-power perhaps I could do something,” replied Ignatius of Loyola with his fin smile. “My sons are well disciplined and obey my rules, but your sons, my dear Dominic, despite my complaisance towards them, try to obstruct my enterprises, to expel me…If you could intervene…”

“Who? I, intervene?” replied Dominic;

“Yes, any day! First they make me jump with my scapular and my star of false stones. They are capable of anything when you threaten to take away their business. Let the Nuncio of St. Peter settle the question.”

“Who’s talking about me?” asked a catarrhous voice like that of an old concierge.

It was St. Peter who came forward with his bald head and his hands covered with ink.”

“We were saying”, replied St. Dominic, “that you ought to settle things in the Philippines inasmuch as you have a Pope…”

“Please do me the favor of not talking about the Pope, please!” St. Peter interrupted. “See how my hands are covered with ink for marking indulgences. I’m stunned. Nothing less than put the Philippines in order! And if they hang me? So I’m to establish order in the Philippines where my sons serve as servants as coadjutors, while your own suck the country! You do it yourself and if not, let them do it themselves.”

After saying this he went away because he heard a knock on the door.

“Yes, let them do it themselves!”

“Let them alone!”

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“Pray to God and help yourself!”

“Tyrants exist because the oppressed tolerate them!”

The saints said these and many other things in their fear of going to the Philippines. Seeing them all flee from the danger, the Eternal Father became perplexed.

“But let’s see. Let’s find out first what’s going on in the Philippines…Who of you are up-to-date? No one? Gracious! But isn’t there any Filipino over there…”

“Yes, Eternal Father, there are many”, replied St. John, who was carrying the statistics of heaven, “but they’re so strange and so…”

“Never mind; let them come; we will try tog et something out of them. I’ve created everything from nothing!”

“The Filipinos, oy! The Filipinos! Those who have been in the Philippines!” cried the angels all over heaven.

III

An extraordinary activity was noted among the groups of the inhabitants of heaven. Many of the Filipinos were sleeping, others were hiding, believing they were going to be inspected, to be asked for their residence certificates, or to be gratis in public works, etc., as they were accustomed to do on earth. Upon seeing them, the little angels winked at each other, pointing to them with the finger; the virgins repressing their smiles, covering their faces with a fan to exchange little phrases; the old women fixed their eyeglasses to see better; and the archangels, cherubs and seraphs, who could not abandon their dignity, were nudging each other and coughing.

Soon there appeared a line whose end was lost in the distance, lengthening more and more. At its head walked the most distinguished, the oldest, those who had sour faces and a Good Friday-three o’clock look. The young people who had a modern look and affable manners remained behind, the first ones not permitting them to mingle with them.

St. John the evangelist introduced the first, mentioning his merits and qualifications. He was a Spaniard with a stiff

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moustache and a stiffer look. He had died in Manila of dysentery.

“His Excellency Policarpio Rodriguez Mendez de la Villaencina, a great Filipinologist on the country, according to him, had traveled all over the islands, knows thoroughly the Indio and knows the why, how, and in what manner the Philippine archipelago does not advance!”

“A la bonne heure!”* exclaimed the Eternal Father, opening his arms; “Well, talk, enlighten us; inspire us!”

*(Well done!)

The whole heaven became quite, including the mischievous angels, and the indiscreet virgins stopped winking and smiling.

Sir Policarpio, etcetera, etcetera, coughed two or threee times, looked right and left with great disdain, spat with such force that his saliva hit St. Dominic precisely in the center of the top of his head. Without taking the trouble of asking for pardon, he coughed again and with a slightly tipsy voice began to speak,

“Take note and know that I know the country and have an experience…well!” All these present here would have liked to have it and I’m not speaking of Your Divine Majesty that…you already understand me! Let no one come to me with sugar-coated tales; I call a spade a spade because I’m like that, I like clarity, to the point! I’ve said it; there!”

And he spat again through his other fang and his saliva hit precisely the ear of the good St. Francis.

The Eternal Father. Who had been following the speech of Sir Policarpio attentively, was open-mouthed.

“But the why, how and what...?”

“Take note, know that I know the country well, and I’ve an experience…”

“Keep quiet, good man, keep quiet!” the man behind interrupted him. “You don’t understand what’s being said; we are not in Manila but in celestial court.”

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The one who spoke thus was a handsome man with very distinguished manners.

“Well!” the Father said, addressing the second speaker; “You seem to know the Philippines better; enlighten us.”

The one referred to smoothed his moustache, looked around him with a placid smile and remembering the chorus of the virgins, he straightened up, and with a mellifluous and somorous voice said:

“Sacred Divine Majesty: The modesty which has always characterized me in all public functions which I have attended – sometimes presiding over them – from the popular street-meetings to the august sessions of the parliament of my country…”

“To the point, man, to the point! Sir Policarpio interrupted him.

“Man, don’t be rude! Let me speak!”

“Keep quiet, man!”

“You’re envious!”

“Celestial music!”

They became angry and were going to fight had not St. Michael, the chief of public order up there, intervened and pacified them. The Eternal Father ordered them to withdraw. The little angels and the virgins tried to check their laughter.

There followed an old woman loaded with scapulars, candles, novenae, belts, and other trifles.

“This is Mrs. Antonia, a native of the Philippines,” said St. John. “She wasted all her fortune buying those trinkets and spent eighty years mumbling prayers!”

“Back!” said the Eternal Father, “This man, what does he know about the Philippines?”

“This”, continued St. John, “is the head of a barangay who died in prison for debt.”

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“And what does he know about the country?” asked the Eternal Father.

“The curate, sir, the tax lists, sir, the curate, the tax lists, the tax lists, the curate…” the wretched man babbled.

“Let him go!” said the Eternal Father, sighing.

“This is a lawyer who hold high positions in the country for having served well the friars.”

“Let’s see; let the lawyer speak!”

The lawyer who was chubby and slow became excited, resting now on one foot, now on the other, coughed, without being able to utter a word, and at last ended by eructing. The virgins and the little angels could no longer restrain themselves and burst out into the most silvery laughter.

“Quiet,” said the Eternal Father; “well, speak, here you’re among friends, and have confidence.”

Upon hearing these affectionate words, the man began to weep and so he was able to withdraw. The Eternal Father touched his beard frequently.

“The following man enjoyed the fame of being the smartest in his time, always had been in powers, had been judge, governor, director, etc.”…

“well, well, tell us about the Philippines: I want to be informed.”

“Ah, Your Divine Majesty want to be enlightened? Well, go to the friars, consult with the friars, flatter the friars, take the side of the friars, agree with the friars…”

“Well, you return to the friars!” ordered His Divine Majesty, becoming stern.

St. Michael took hold of the man, kick him at a certain point, and he went flying to the earth, becoming a clay receptacle upon arrival and landed in the infirmary of a convent.

“How have such individuals been allowed to enter my kingdowm without being purified first?” What was St. Peter doing?”

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said the Eternal Father in the meanwhile, showing great impatience.

St. John introduced an old man who cam forward with much affected gravity.

“This is one of the big guns in the Philippines,” said St. John; “he was a friar all his life...”

“Aha! So this is a friar!” exclaimed the Eternal Father, looking with curiosity at the ridiculous old man; “Let us see how the friar will explain himself! Well, speak.”

“Well, sir, here where you all seem me,” said the funny old man, “I’m a marvel; I’ve made the country prosperous, endeavoring to extract from it all the money I could get. I’ve flooded it with pastoral letters which had not been read; I have sang Te Deums, believing that the earthquakes had ended, and the earthquakes had returned; I have endowed with indulgences silly books in order to make them respectable and the public have laughed loudly; I’ve built ships with the people’s money to defend them against the infidels, and the infidels got the ships, and the money disappeared…Well, I’ve made the Philippines happy, I’ve made it laugh, laugh, and laugh and must be laughing until now…”

“So that the poverty that I see is not true…”

“No indeed, no sir, there’s no poverty there! At my death I left to each of my heirs eight thousand pesos and consider that I had many heirs: two or three in each town where I had been! Poverty, no indeed, no sir! Your Divine Majesty may ask all these friars; you see how fat and rounded they are? Well they have just arrived from the country; Your Divine Majesty can see that all is abundance there!”

“Go away, get out of my sight!” shouted the Eternal Father on seeing so much impudence and foolishness; “Go away before I get angry and I send you to earth transformed into filthy animals.”

The Filipinos withdrew, confused and with deep regret, for there were among them some who could have said something discreet and sensible on Philippine affairs. But as they were at the end, no one suspected their existence!”

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After a few moments of reflection, the Eternal Father in a stern voice addressed Jesus.

“Inasmuch as they are committing there on the earth odious injustices in your name, it is necessary that you go down, investigate the evil, and inform me of what is happening there so it can be remedied.”

“Again, among the Pharisees?” asked Jesus turning pale.

“Yes, again among them! If you had written down your laws and words, if you had expressed yourself with clarity and precision, your historians would not have forged you nor corrupt your teaching with their interpretations, nor abuse your authority! What discussions, what disputes, what wars and persecutions you would have saved mankind hand how rapidly you would have advanced!”

Jesus bowed his head and sighed.

“But, fear nothing,” continued the Eternal Father with more sweetness, “this time the bitter cup will pass you by, because, more prudent with the remembrance of the past, you will endeavor to go through unnoticed avoiding as much as possible contact with the Pharisees and Scribes. There will be no need that you be born of a virgin mother, a difficult thing there because, according to what they say, it is a sin to evade conjugal duty…Neither is it necessary to be head fourteen thousand, on the contrary, it is necessary for you to get there already grown up, a man, because it you are born there and you are educated there, you’ll grow up ignorant, you’ll become brutalized, and I’ll have difficulty in bringing you back to reason. Avoid discussing with the doctors of the law for they’ll surely not let you get away alive and they will call you a rebel. God save you from having to throw out of the temple of the sellers and merchants because they will file a case against you and above all be careful not to call serpents and a race of vipers the thousands of Pharisees that you will find there. Go, go down then for the love of humanity, for the prestige of your name and so that the passion you suffered would not be harmful to men, be long-suffering, be prudent, be observant.”

And the Eternal Father turning to St. Peter who had come said:

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“And you, why did you let so many imbecile and inhuman men who need centuries of purification and atonement enter my kingdom? Because you have guarded badly the gate, you’ll return to the earth.”

St. Peter cried out loudly and fell on his knees.

“But Lord, I was very busy marking indulgences!” he said, joining his hands.

“You’ll return to the earth and accompany Jesus in his pilgrimage”, continued the Eternal Father firmly. “As you have left successors on the earth who pretend to be vicars of Jesus, it is proper for you to go there with him, because they commit many abuses there in your name!”

The two had no other alternative but to bow their heads, and after receiving the paternal blessing, they sadly moved away.

“Lord,” said St. Peter crying to Jesus, “this time we can’t escape! You have no idea of how they manage things there in the Philippines, but I have some news. Pilate at least washed his hand, but there, there they defile them. When the Jews crucified you, they did not prosecute either your mother or your relatives or even your disciples; but Master, in the Philippines, ah, in the Philippines..!! There in Judea, even with the cross on your shoulders, the women still showed you their sympathy, but in the Philippines, you have not been accused yet and they already disown you so that they would not become suspects. Woe is me! Oh, oh!!”

“Courage, Peter, courage. The fault is ours! You have left the keys there below and in founding my church I made a play of words with your name and the rascals took advantage of it. This teaches me not to make puns of serious and grave matters!”

IV

As they came near the earth, Jesus became more and more sad and pensive. His manly countenance was sorrowful and it might be said that the night had descended on his features. He found that earth for which he had shed his blood preaching love with the same vices as before, perhaps worse: tears, mourning and despair on one side, selfish laughter,

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gay blasphemies on the other, and everywhere the miserable and discontented humanity harassed with inextinguishable passions. As before, the poor was the victim of the rich…the weak, a prey of the strong; laws for the disinherited; duties for the needy class; and for the rich, for the powerful, rights and privileges. Over this sea of misery and tears he saw, like small barren islands, some smiling and serene faces looking sadly around them, but the waves were roaring furiously around, throwing at them their bitter foam, condemning them, slandering them, insulting them, and amidst the shouting he heard his name- Jesus.

“Horror!” whined Jesus, covering his face.

“Horror! So much useless suffering, so much agency in vain…Oh it would have been better if I had left mankind to redeem itself, to develop its own natural forces and the luminous spark with which the Eternal Father has endowed it! Why, if man has been able to draw out so many profound secrets from the dark bosom of nature and formulate his divine laws, could he not also discover and make shine the moral germ placed by God in his conscience and in his heart? Was it by chance easier to analyze the properties of metal hidden in the depth of the earth than the demands of conscience that speak to us at all hours? Of what use is my martyrdom if among so few fruits so many thorns would come out? What became of my work, of my passion and death? Have I suffered so that my name will sanction injustice, drown the conscience of man, and dim his mind?

St. Peter followed the Master with great difficulty.

“Lord”, he said, “we are getting near…but, what have you, Master, that your forehead is covered with blood. You weep and your tears are blood…It might be said that you are again in Gethsemane…”

Jesus shook his head mournfully.

“May I feel nothing more than the pangs of death,” he replied. “I would prefer a thousand deaths, a thousand Gethsemane, to the sorrow that now overwhelms me. When one dies for love or for the conviction that his death will do some good, death is a pleasure. But when after death, after the sufferings, comes disillusion…Oh! Could I not convert myself into nothing, annihilate myself completely, destroy my conscience in order to see the disastrous effect

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of my work…I have come to the earth as light and men have used me to envelope it in darkness; I have come to console the poor and my religion gives favors and pleasure to the rich; I have come to destroy superstition and in my name superstition flourishes and lords it over perfectly; I have come to redeem peoples and in my name have been subjugated provinces, kingdoms, continents, entire races having been reduced to slavery or disappeared entirely. I have come to preach love and in my name, for trivial distinctions, for the craftness of the idle, men have hurled themselves on one another and have spread over the earth death and devastation, sanctifying crime with the prestige of the divine. Horrible absurdity, monstrous error, stupendous blasphemy!”

And Jesus wept bitter and disconsolately.

“Yes,” added, “ it’s fitting, it’s my duty to redeem again mankind from the abyss in which it has fallen, and though I suffer a thousand deaths more eternal than the first, I’m not scared…Away fear, away fear! This time it will not be love alone, they will be love, duty, and justice that will drive me to sacrifice…”

“What, Lord, are you thinking of allowing yourself to be crucified again?” asked St. Peter trembling.Jesus, absorbed in his mediation, didn’t reply. They were nearing the Philippines, and they could glimpse the tall mountains crowning the islands that spread over the shining surface of the water phosphorescent in the light of the stars. In the distance they saw the red crest of a volcano like a blood stain on that unhappy land. In the east it was beginning to brighten, the precursor of dawn.

St. Peter, uneasy for the turn that the decisions of the Master were taking, was rightly afraid to enter the Philippines; so, taking advantage of an opportunity at the moment they were passing near an island that did not belong to the group, said to Jesus:

“Master, it would be very convenient for us to stop at this island in order to prepare ourselves and get ready for such a perilous journey. It’s necessary to know first the conditions in that pen, and just as you fasted forty days and forty nights before facing the Jews, let’s spend here three months, as all precautions are little for the Filipinos.”

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St. Peter hoped to distract his Master and at least gain time in order not to enter the Philippines. Jesus, absorbed in his meditations, allowed himself to be led by Peter, who, taking advantage of the opportunity, took his Master toward an island, landing in a solitary place not far from the town. Dawn had appeared and the houses could be seen, white, square, with many windows live dovecots, standing on the slope of the mountain, which formed the island.

As it was necessary for them to leave behind their heavenly garments for the pilgrimage they were going to undertake, Jesus contrived to make of his cape a dark blue suit of good cut, without thereby following the canons of fashion. He cut his beard and long hair, and in order to have the true appearance of a Filipino, he stooped a little like a man accustomed to obedience and subjection. Seeing him thus disguised, even the pope himself despite his infallibility would take him for a Filipino of good family who is traveling for pleasure.

They entered the city which was beginning to be animated. The houses were opening and the streets were filling with servants, workers, beatmen, sailors, Chinese in the majority. St. Peter, with his attire and queue, acquired the ability to speak Chinese and understood that they were in a Chinese port called Victoria ruled by the subjects of the queen of England.

“We don’t fit in here?” said St. Peter; “we are on Chinese territory and governed by Protestants besides.”

And he said to himself: “We fled from the rain and we fall into the sea.”

And very sad and uneasy about his fate, good St. Peter walked with distrust, cursing inwardly his decision to go down to that island. In the Philippines, a country of Christians, at least he was known, and however bad it was, it was worth more than the good which is yet to be known.

Jesus, who was looking everywhere as if searching for something, observed some big houses that were alike, built in the same style, and it occurred to him that they could be hospitals or some public buildings for charitable purposes; but St. Peter who had a poor idea of the English and the

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Chinese, said that probably they were barracks. It seemed to him impossible that such unbelievers could have any other thing. And in order to be relieved of the doubt, they approached a young man, seemingly a Eurasian and asked him:

“Of the Dominican fathers!” replied the young man.

“Of the Dominican fathers!” repeated admiringly St. Peter. “Master, these houses belong to the sons of Dominic.”

Surprised both contemplated the houses and admired their magnificence.

“And Dominic who made us believe that his sons had taken a vow of poverty”, repeated St. Peter. “Don’t be surprised, Peter”, said Jesus; “if I remember correctly, they have missions in China; perhaps the task is so great that they need thousands of missionaries to live here for the work of the conversion.”

They continued walking and they saw another long row of houses, not so large, but fairly well-built.

“These must indeed be barracks.” Said St. Peter to himself and asked a man if they were indeed barracks. “Of the Dominican fathers!” replied the man asked.

“Gracious!” said St. Peter, “and those I see over there painted red and white?”

“Of the fathers also!” All, all belong to the fathers”, the man replied making big gestures and pointing to many streets. “The fathers have many, many houses, here, there, everywhere.”

“Aha, aha! So that there are many Dominicans here?”

“No, two only!”

“Two only? And who live in those houses?”

“The Chinese.”

“The Chinese. Christians without doubt.”

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“No!”

“How? Chinese infidels live in houses built by Dominican Catholics?”

“Yes. The Chinese pay well and the fathers receive much money and they have many millions in the banks and…”

“And how have they become so rich? Do they work hard, cultivate the soil? Are they engaged in industry?”

“No!”

“And where have they obtained the money to erect so many houses?”

“From the Philippines! The Indios give them money!”

“So that the Indios of the Philippines ought to be very rich.”

“No, very poor! They live in poor houses.”

“Poor, well I don’t understand! And the Dominicans build houses for the heathen Chinese with money from the Philippines, while in the Philippines, the Chinese live in miserable huts!”

“Yes.”

St. Peter approached his Master to share with him his doubts, but he found his steeped in profound mediation.

From the point where he was Jesus saw the patio of a large building located some distance away. There were many men all dressed alike busy with lifting from the ground and placing them back some balls which seemed somewhat heavy. There was one who seemed to be supervising that work.

“That’s the jail”, said an Englishman who was asked by Jesus. “there go the convicts, the thieves, the forgers, the hardened criminals, the murderers. What you see is one of the tasks to which they are condemned. There are other tasks besides, consisting of weaving burlaps, and mats, and turning the crack, etc.”

“And these wretches are all heathens?”

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“No, among them are Christians; they are of different nationalities; there are some Englishmen; because here we draw no distinctions among the criminals. We have there men who had held high positions in the colony’s government.”

“And your prestige?” asked St. Peter; don’t you safeguard your prestige as Spaniards do in the Philippines?

“Our prestige in not on our face but in our morality,” answered the Englishman without even looking at St. Peter dressed as a Chinaman.

St. Peter agreed that despite everything, the Englishman might be right in appreciating moral prestige more than racial, but it was said that he was very proud and very conceited of his system, that the Catholics of the Philippines ought to understand him better, first because they were Catholics and second because there he enjoyed quite a fame.

They continued their walk and their observations and St. Peter was greatly surprised that despite the fact that it was a country of infidels, one could walk about safely; there were no carriages that knock down pedestraisn; the Englishmen did not abuse the Chinese; the policemen did not rob or annoy the poor and if any person however rich and prominent he be abuse an outcast, he was taken to the courts, there he was tried in a short time without much red-tape, without making the complaint spend much time, without making him come and go from one office to another, wasting time, and come out, after being horsewhipped, a victim of the administration’s red-tape. As St. Peter lost distrust, he approved the government of that island and planned to live forever there rather than go to the Philippines. The cunning saint proposed to Jesus our Lord:

“Master, would it not be better for us to take a house where you can spend the forty days of fasting?”

“Why fast?” replied Jesus who guessed Peter’s intention; “I need all the strength of my body and soul; I need that all my being be in perfect equilibrium to face the difficulties of my mission…Why fast? My body, conceived without the least stain, is not an enemy of my spirit that I should weaken it.”

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St. Peter understood the logic of the reply.

“However, Master”, he replied, “it will not be too much for us to stay here to study the conditions of the country we are going to visit. We can ask for lodgings from the Dominicans who have so many houses, for as I see it, the fields are not habitable.”

Jesus agreed to St. Peter’s proposition, and having inquired about the house of the Dominicans, they proceeded there.

“A beautiful building!” exclaimed St. Peter on seeing the convent or palace occupied by two friars of the procuracion (Agency office); I’m sure, Master, that they will grant us free hospitality and will treat us like brothers.”

Unfortunately for them they arrived at a bad time. The friar procurator on that day had just lost a case against a Filipino over a paltry question of salary which he did not want to pay. He believed that he could have his own way considering the wealth of his Order and the case reached the higher courts of the city, scandalizing everyone. But the English judges were not intimidated and did justice, and the grand firar had to pay what he owed in accordance with law and right.

So that on that day he was in bad humor, and when the servant announced the callers and their purpose, thinking they were Filipinos, he threw them out of the procuracion house without ceremony, saying that the Procuracion was not for beggars and if they could not pay for a house, they may stay in the street.

St. Peter had not recovered from his admiration; decidedly everything was turning the opposite; he thought ill of the city and found it free; he thought the friars were hospitable and found them severe and avaricious. Jesus alone was sadder and more pensive.

Both went to a hotel and there they lodged, and while they were waiting for a boat that would sail for the Philippines, instead of spending their days on a desert or in solitude, as they had to live among the living and in towns and cities, they devoted themselves to the study of the customs of the earth and walked through the streets everyday, taking interesting notes. The news spread in the city of Victoria that a mysterious stranger, perhaps the son of a rajah who

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was traveling incognito, was in town making studies and taking notes with the object of going to the Philippines afterwards to study that country. The news aroused the interest of the numerous inhabitants of Victoria who had relations with the archipelago, especially the religious corporations which had extensive properties there, and they wished to maintain and preserve at any cost their questionable prestige, already impaired in many ways.

And thus it happened that one morning, while Jesus was meditating in his hotel room, he was visited by a gentlemen of pleasant manners, honeyed words, and compliments at every step.

“Pardon me,” said the unknown man, “for introducing myself in this manner and perhaps disturbing you, but I have heard that you’re thinking of going to the Philippines on a pleasure trip…perhaps to study the country…perhaps with government commission…perhaps to write a book.”

And the unknown caller smiled but Jesus moved his head in an ambiguous manner in such a way that the caller could not discover the object of the traveler.

“As we know the country”, continued the unknown caller, “and we have there numerous friends and partisan…we…”

“Bad beginning”, said St. Peter.

As the majority of the houses for rent belonged to the Dominicans, they considered it useless to look for a dwelling and they decided to embark for the Philippines. They went to the beach and there they learned that a boat was leaving within a few hours. The captain, however, demanded for their passport. “What passports?” said Jehovah; “I’m a Filipino and to return to the Philippines I need a passport? Since when has one needed a passport to enter his own house?”

The captain said that the government required it and the travelers had to get them. Jehovah paid three and a half pesos and St. Peter, for being Chinese, sixteen pesos. St. Peter was furious.

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“Master, the world was not like this in our time! There was more freedom, more brotherliness among nations! Have you not said that we were all children of your father?”

“Yes, Peter, I’ve said so repeatedly and I wish I had never said it! Some repeat it now in order to exclude others effectively.”

“Bad beginning for the journey, Master, bad beginning!” murmured St. Peter boarding the boat.

One beautiful morning they entered Manila Bay.

St. Peter who was very seasick during the trip was exceedingly glad that he was at last leaving the ship. The China Sea was different from that of Galilee that he had seen. His Master didn’t want to perform any miracle to quiet the waves. As he glimpsed in the distance the city, he became very talkative and with his rooster on his arm he bothered every one with questions.

“What building is that one we see on the left, with two towers that are embattled like a feudal castle of the refuge of bandits in Samaria?”

“The Church of St. Dominic!” replied the sailor.

St. Peter almost let go of his rooster.

“Church!...St. Dominic!” he repeated in surprise, “Dominic living here like a feudal lord and we in heaven thought he was so…He has without doubt much wealth kept there?”

“Much?” Oh no!” replied the sailor; “Good fools they are to leave their money in the church. They have it elsewhere!”

“But how have they obtained so much wealth?” asked St. Peter. “They work hard? Till the soil? They engage in industry?...If I remember correctly, Dominic told me that his sons have taken a vow of poverty!”

The sailor who understood him did not reply.

“And that large, round cupola that we see toward the right, what is it?”

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“The Cathedral of St. Peter!”

“Confound it!” exclaimed St. Peter, letting go his rooster; “Confound it! What name did you say?”

“St. Peter.”

“My cathedral, mine, mine, something mine! And I didn’t even know it. The rascals who came from the earth didn’t tell me anything, nothing. But I’m glad, I’m glad!”

In his desire to leave the ship and forgetting his precautions against the Philippines, he got ready to land. But a sailor reminded him that he must first wait for the prescribed visit of the inspector and wait for the official permission to enter and disembark.

“But I have permission,” replied St. Peter. “Hey, I’ve a passport which cost me sixteen pesos.”

“It’s useless!”

“Why But when we arrived at Victoria, the colony of Victoria, we had no need of passports or permission and is a country of the Chinese and of infidels!”

“For that very reason, but this is a country of Catholics!”

“And for that?”

“For the same reason; the Catholics call everyone brother!”

“Ah!” exclaimed St. Peter, and without understanding it, he considered himself convinced.

At the end of two hours of waiting – because the one who was in charge of making the visit was chatting merrily with his friends – the launch of the captaincy came to notify them that they would be in quarantine off Mariveles.

“What? We have to stay in quarantine?” indignantly protested St. Peter.

“Yes, because we come from a dirty port.”

“But were you not telling me during the trip that many streets in Victoria are cleaner than those of Manila.”

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“It is not because of that,” replied the sailor. It is because there’s cholera in Victoria.”

“Ah! But weren’t you also telling me that there was cholera in Manila and your wife died of it and the curate didn’t allow her to be buried because she did die without confession? Why then do they prevent our entrance?” “Because the regulation must be followed! Here they are strict with the regulations, you understand?”

“Ah!” St. Peter exclaimed again, without understanding any better this time than before. “And tell me, are we going to stay there forty days at Mariveles?”

“No, man, only three days.”

“Nothing of the sort; why then do they say quarantine?”

“Because quarantu means one, two or three days!”

“Ah! But my question: Of what use? I’m going to demand back the sixteen pesos I’ve paid; I’m going to protest!”

St. Peter remembered that the Chinese do not protest, and sighing, he entreated his Master to transform him into any inhabitant of the earth.

“Yes, Peter, but your passport? You know that the Eternal Father charged us to avoid here any entanglement with the authorities.”

St. Peter cursed the moment it occurred to him to transform himself into a Chinese. At the end of three days, spent off Mariveles, they were notified that they could enter Manila. But the ship’s cargo of fruits was already spoiled and its trade ruined.

“Bah,” said St. Peter, “we can sell the silk handkerchiefs.”

But the corporal on duty didn’t allow him to land without first inspecting his valise, and on seeing the handkerchiefs, he freely appropriated two. St. Peter let him do it to win his goodwill so that he would give him the guide without whom, he was told, he could not disembark.

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“You’ll see when I reach my cathedral and they find out who I am!” he said to himself.

A carabineer who saw him suspected him of bringing contraband and inspected him from head to foot. St. Peter protested vehemently and had he still his sword he would surely have cut off the ear of the carabineer.

“Prisoner, prisoner!” shouted the carabineer full of joy, upon discovering a roll of Mexican pesos, “Prisoner!” “But they are mine, they are mine!” St. Peter shouted.

“Precisely!” replied the carabineer.

St. Peter thought that the carabineer was mad; that the country was truly incomprehensible. Jesus, seeing him in that difficulty and remembering the recommendation of the Eternal Father, wished to take revenge on Peter for his conduct towards him at Jerusalem when he denied him; now in turn he wished to disown him. But his good and noble heart prevailed and followed the two.

The carabineer took St. Peter to a nearby police station where there were a Spanish officer and several carabineers.

They took all the pesos he was carrying; they took down his declaration. Jesus, seeing that they were going to prosecute his disciple, wanted to intervene.

With the same tone in which he spoke with the Pharisees when they asked him if they ought to pay tribute to Caesar, he said to the European officer:

“Show me one peso of your own!”

The officer who had never read the Bible did not suspect the trick being readied for him. Without knowing what that Indio had in mind, he took from his pocket a Mexican peso identical with St. Peter’s pesos.

“This coin is yours and you spend it in this country?”

“Of course, as that’s from my salary. The Governor pays us with that money.”

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“Well if these pesos are free in this country and are used by the Government itself, why do you confiscate what this Chinese is bringing? And if you’re going to accuse him for it, why don’t you accuse your Government?”

The officer didn’t know what to reply at the moment; he was confused.

“Because we don’t want here Mexican pesos,” he replied angrily.

“Then why don’t yoy throw into the river what you have?”

“No, what we have is enough.”

“Have you taken a vow of poverty?”

“Aba! What vow of poverty!” replied one carabineer. “We would be rich now if we have taken the vow of poverty.”

The office thought Jesus was joking him and he could not find reasons to reply to his questions. He got angry and called him a reformer and anti-Spaniard. As a result , he ordered the soldiers to inspect him carefully.

They ran through his pockets and they found his diary which Jesus had written to present to the Eternal Father. When the officer read his remarks on the quarantine his face was illuminated by a diabolical laughter. “Well! I already sensed that you’re a rebel! “ he shouted addressing Jesus. “Ah, rascal! Ah, rebel! You attack established institutions, you indulge in making observations, now you find reprehensible and ridiculous what we do. You criticize the quarantine. To jail and prepare right away the complaint.”

When St. Peter saw that things were taking a bad turn, he began little by little to sneak away, taking advantage of the confusion, and when he heard his Master called a rebel, going back to his bad custom, he went out of the station and walked away as fast as he could. Unfortunately it was mid-day and there was not one rooster or crow. He had a vague idea of the meaning of rebel that he had heard from some one in heaven, and without considering others, only of his danger, he abandoned his Master.

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Jesus walked absorbed in thought, with bowed head, while St. Peter, all curiosity, was looking here and there, turning his head, stopped.

----------

…it is your kindness!”

And You, oh Maykapal, vanquished deity of my ignorant ancestors, who cowardly fled upon the arrival of the Augustinians and other friars. I thank you for having provided me with muscles for laughing to celebrate the pleasant things which God of the strong, your master and conqueror, has created. My ancestors were unfaithful to you, but now you are avenged of their cowardice and neglect. If some time you can get a passport and you wish to visit your former dominion do so and you’ll see extraordinary things. The Tikbalang and the Tianak, your former companions, are still there, and we ourselves have hardly progressed in religion: You’ll recognize at once the grandchildren of your worshippers, and if you’re a little cunning and you wish to perform miracles you can recover your dominion. Maykapal, Maykapal, impotent and us less God, stop me from laughing, give me back tears!

*13-2

End of MS

Translated from the Spanish by E. Alzona using a Photostat copy borrowed from the Bureau of Public Libraries, Manila. Finished 06 August, 1957.

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