XLI.

THE VOICE OF THE PERSECUTED.

The sun was just setting when Ibarra stepped into the little boat on the lake shore. He appeared disturbed.

"Pardon me, senor," said Elias, "for having asked this favor; I wished to speak to you freely, with no possibility of listeners."

"And what have you to say?"

They had already shot away from the bank. The sun had disappeared behind the crest of the mountains, and as twilight is of short duration in this latitude, the night was descending rapidly, lighted by a brilliant moon.

"Senor," replied Elias, "I am the spokesman of many unfortunates." And briefly he told of his conversation with the chief of the tulisanes, omitting the old man's doubts and threats.

"And they wish?" asked Ibarra, when he had finished.

"Radical reforms in the guard, the clergy, and the administration of justice."

"Elias," said Ibarra, "I know little of you, but I believe you will understand me when I say that though I have friends at Madrid whom I might influence, and though I might interest the captain-general in these people, neither they nor he could bring about such a revolution. And more, I would not take a step in this direction, because I believe what you want reformed is at present a necessary evil."

"You also, senor, believe in necessary evil?" said Elias with a tremor in his voice. "You think one must go through evil to arrive at good?"

"No; but I look at evil as a violent remedy we sometimes use to cure ourselves of illness."

"It is a bad medicine, senor, that does away with the symptoms without searching out the cause of the disease. The Municipal Guard exists only to suppress crime by force and terrorizing."

"The institution may be imperfect, but the terror it inspires keeps down the number of criminals."

"Rather say that this terror creates new criminals every day," said Elias. "There are those who have become tulisanes for life. A first offence punished inhumanly, and the fear of further torture separates them forever from society and condemns them to kill or to be killed. The terrorism of the Municipal Guard shuts the doors of repentance, and as a tulisan, defending himself in the mountains, fights to much better advantage than the soldier he mocks, we cannot remedy the evil we have made. Terrorism may serve when a people is enslaved, and the mountains have no caverns; but when a desperate man feels the strength of his arm, and anger possesses him, terrorism cannot put out the fire for which it has itself heaped the fuel."

"You would seem to speak reasonably, Elias, if one had not already his own convictions. But let me ask you, Who demand these reforms? You know I except you, whom I cannot class with these others; but are they not all criminals, or men ready to become so?"

"Go from pueblo to pueblo, senor, from house to house, and listen to the stifled groanings, and you will find that if you think that, you are mistaken."

"But the Government must have a body of unlimited power, to make itself respected and its authority felt."

"It is true, senor, when the Government is at war with the country; but is it not unfortunate that in times of peace the people should be made to feel they are at strife with their rulers? If, however, we prefer force to authority, we should at least be careful to whom we give unlimited power. Such a force in the hands of men ignorant, passionate, without moral training or tried honor, is a weapon thrown to a madman in the middle of an unarmed crowd. I grant the Government must have an arm, but let it choose this arm well; and since it prefers the power it assumes to that the people might give it, let it at least show that it knows how to assume it!"

Elias spoke with passion; his eyes were brilliant, his voice was resonant. His words were followed by silence; the boat, no longer driven forward by the oars, seemed motionless on the surface of the lake; the moon shone resplendent in the sapphire sky; above the far banks the stars glittered.

"And what else do they ask?"

"Reform of the religious orders,--they demand better protection----"

"Against the religious orders?"

"Against their oppression, senor."

"Do the Philippines forget the debt they owe those men who led them out of error into the true faith? It is a pity we are not taught the history of our country!"

"We must not forget this debt, no! But were not our nationality and independence a dear price with which to cancel it? We have also given the priests our best pueblos, our most fertile fields, and we still give them our savings, for the purchase of all sorts of religious objects. I realize that a pure faith and a veritable love of humanity moved the first missionaries who came to our shores. I acknowledge the debt we owe those noble men; I know that in those days Spain abounded in heroes, of politics as well as religion. But because the ancestors were true men, must we consent to the excesses of their unworthy descendants? Because a great good has been done us, may we not protest against being done a great wrong? The missionaries conquered the country, it is true; but do you think it is through the monks that Spain will keep the Philippines?"

"Yes, and through them only. It is the opinion of all those who have written on the islands."

"Senor," said Elias in dejection, "I thank you for your patience. I will take you back to the shore."

"No," said Ibarra, "go on; we should know which is right in so important a question."

"You will excuse me, senor," said Elias, "I have not eloquence enough to convince you. If I have some education, I am an Indian, and my words would always be suspected. Those who have expressed opinions contrary to mine are Spaniards, and as such disarm in advance all contradiction. Besides, when I see that you, who love your country, you, whose father sleeps below this calm water, you who have been attacked and wronged yourself, have these opinions, I commence to doubt my own convictions, I acknowledge that the people may be mistaken. I must tell these unfortunates who have placed their confidence in men to put it in God or in their own strength."

"Elias, your words hurt me, and make me, too, have doubts. I have not grown up with the people, and cannot know their needs. I only know what books have taught me. If I take your words with caution, it is because I fear you may be prejudiced by your personal wrongs. If I could know something of your story, perhaps it would alter my judgment. I am mistrustful of theories, am guided rather by facts."

Elias thought a moment, then he said:

"If this is so, senor, I will briefly tell you my history."