The Prosperity and Happiness of my Life at
Jala-Jala--Destructiveness of the Locusts--Agriculture in the
Philippines--My Herds of Oxen, Buffaloes, and Horses--My Wife
presents me with a Daughter, who Dies--The Admiration of the Indian
Women for my Wife--Birth of my Son--Continued Prosperity--Death
of my brother Henry--My Friendship with Malvilain--His Marriage
with my eldest Sister--His Premature Death--I take my Wife to
Manilla--Melancholy Adieus--We Return to Jala-Jala--Death of my
Wife--My friend Vidie--I determine to Return to France.
Never was life more actively spent, or more crowded with emotions,
than the time I passed at Jala-Jala, but it suited my tastes and
my character, and I enjoyed as perfect happiness as one can look
for when far away from one's home and country. My Anna was to
me an angel of goodness; my Indians were happy, peace and plenty
smiled upon their families; my fields were covered with abundant
crops, and my pasturages with numerous herds. It was not, however,
without great difficulty and much toil that I accomplished my aim;
how often did I find all my courage and all my philosophy necessary
to face, without despair, reverses which it was impossible for me
to avoid? How often did I behold hurricanes and inundations destroy
the fine harvest that I had protected with so much labour against
the buffaloes, the wild boars, the monkeys, and even against an
insect more destructive still than all the other pests which I have
just mentioned--the locust, one of the plagues of Egypt, apparently
transported into this province, and which almost regularly, every seven
years, leave the isles of the south in clouds, and fall upon Luzon,
bringing desolation, and often famine. It is indeed necessary to have
witnessed this desolation to be able to form any idea of it. When the
locusts arrive, a fire-coloured cloud is perceived in the horizon,
formed of countless myriads of these destructive insects. They fly
rapidly, often covering, in a closely packed body, a space of two or
three leagues in diameter, and occupy from five to six consecutive
hours in passing over head. If they perceive a fine green field they
pounce down upon it, and in a few minutes all verdure has disappeared,
the ground is stripped completely bare; they then continue their flight
elsewhere, bearing on their wings destruction and famine. At evening
it is in the forests, upon the trees, that they take shelter. They
hang in such dense masses upon the ends of the boughs that they break
down even the stoutest limbs from the trees. During the night, from
the spot where they are reposing, there issues a continual croaking,
and so loud a noise, that one scarcely believes it to be produced by
so small an insect. The following morning they leave at day-break, and
the trees upon which they have reposed are left stripped and broken,
as though the lightning had swept the forest in every direction; they
pursue their course elsewhere to commit fresh ravages. At certain
periods they remain on vast plains or on fertile mountains; where,
elongating the extremity of their bodies in the form of a gimblet,
they pierce the earth to the depth of an inch and upwards to deposit
their eggs. The operation of laying being completed, they leave
the ground pierced like a sieve, and disappear, for their existence
has now reached its termination. Three weeks afterwards, however,
the eggs open, and myriads of young locusts swarm the earth. On
the spot where they are born, whatever will serve them for food is
quickly consumed. As soon as they have acquired sufficient strength
they abandon their birth-place, destroy all kinds of vegetation that
comes in their way, and direct their course to the cultivated fields,
which they desolate until the period when their wings appear. They
then take flight in order to devastate more distant plantations.
As may be seen, agriculture in the Philippines presents many
difficulties, but it also yields results that may be looked for in
vain in any other country. During the years which are exempt from
the calamities I have described the earth is covered with riches;
every kind of colonial produce is raised in extraordinary abundance,
frequently in the proportion of eighty to one, and on many plantations
two crops of the same species are harvested in one year. The rich and
extensive pasturages offer great facilities for raising a large number
of cattle, which absolutely cost nothing but the trifling wages paid
by the proprietor to a few shepherds.
Upon my property I possessed three herds--one of three thousand
head of oxen, another of eight hundred buffaloes, and the other of
six hundred horses. At that period of the year when the rice was
harvested, the shepherds explored the mountains, and drove these
animals to a vast plain at a short distance from my dwelling. This
plain was covered by these three species of domesticated animals,
and presented, especially to the proprietor, an admirable sight. At
night they were herded in large cattle-folds, near the village, and on
the following day a selection was made of the oxen that were fit for
slaughter, of the horses that were old enough for breaking-in, of the
buffaloes that were strong enough to be employed in working. The herds
were then re-driven to the plain, there to remain until night. This
operation lasted during a fortnight, after which time the animals
were set at liberty until the same period of the following year. When
at liberty the herd divided itself into bands, and thus roamed about
the mountains and the valleys they had previously quitted, the only
trouble caused to the shepherds being an occasional ramble about the
spots where the animals tranquilly grazed.
Around me all was prosperity. My Indians were also happy,
and entertained towards me a respect and obedience bordering on
idolatry. My brother gave me every assistance in my labours, and when
near my beloved Anna I forgot all the toils and the contrarieties I
had experienced. About this time a new source of hope sprung up, which
augmented the happiness I enjoyed with her, and made her dearer to me
than ever. During several months the health of my wife had changed: she
then found all the symptoms of pregnancy. We had been married twelve
years, and she had never yet shown any signs of maternity. I was so
persuaded that we should never have children that the derangement
of her health was causing me serious uneasiness, when one morning
as I was going to my work she said to me: "I don't feel well to-day,
and I wish you to remain with me." Two hours afterwards, to my great
surprise, she gave premature birth to a little girl, whose arrival no
one expected. The infant was born before the due time, and lived only
one hour, just sufficient to receive baptism, which I administered to
her. This was the second human being that had expired in the house
of Jala-Jala; but she was also the first that had there first drawn
the breath of life. The regret which we all experienced from the loss
was softened by the certainty that my dear Anna might again become a
mother, under more favourable circumstances. Her health was speedily
re-established, and she was again gay and beautiful as ever: indeed
she appeared so handsome, that often Indian women came from a long
distance for the sole purpose of looking at her. They would remain for
half-an-hour gazing at her, and afterwards returned to their villages,
where they gave birth to creatures little resembling the model which
they had taken such pains to observe, with a confidence approaching
to simplicity.
Eventually Anna exhibited new signs of maternity; her pregnancy went
through the usual course, and her health was not much affected. In due
time she presented me with a little boy, weakly and delicate, but full
of life. Our joy was at the highest, for we possessed that which we
had so long wished for, and that which alone was in my opinion wanting.
My Indians were delighted with the birth, and for several days there
was a round of rejoicings at Jala-Jala; and my Anna, although confined
to bed, was obliged to receive visits, at first from all the women
and maidens of the village, and afterwards from all the Indians who
were fathers of families. Each brought some little present for the
newly born, and the cleverest man of them was commissioned to express
a compliment in the name of all; which comprised their best wishes
for the happiness of the mother and child, and full assurances of
the satisfaction they felt in thinking that they would one day be
ruled over by the son of the master from whom they had experienced so
much kindness, and who had conferred upon them such benefits. Their
gratitude was sincere.
The news of the accouchement of my wife brought a very numerous
party of friends and relations to my house, where they waited for
the baptism, which took place in my drawing-room. Anna, then almost
thoroughly well, was present on the occasion: my son was named Henry,
after his uncle. At this time I was happy; Oh, so truly happy! for my
wishes were nearly gratified. There was but one not so--and that was
to see again my aged mother and my sisters; but I hoped that the time
was not far distant when I should realise the project of revisiting
my native country. My farming speculation was most prosperous: my
receipts were every year on the increase; my fields were covered with
the richest crops of sugar-canes, to the cultivation of which, and of
rice, I had joined that of coffee. My brother had taken upon himself
the management of a very large plantation, which promised the most
brilliant results; and appeared likely to secure the premium which
the Spanish government had promised to give to the proprietor of a
plantation of eighty thousand feet of coffee in product. But, alas! the
period of my happiness had passed away, and what pain and what grief
was I not doomed to suffer before I again saw my native country.
My brother--my poor Henry--committed some imprudences, and was
suddenly attacked with an intermittent fever, which in a few days
carried him off.
My Anna and I shed abundance of tears, for we both loved Henry with
the warmest affection. For several years we had lived together; he
participated in all our labours, our troubles, and our pleasures. He
was the only relative I had in the Philippines. He had left France,
where he had filled an honourable position, with the sole object
of coming to see me, and of aiding me in the great task which I
had undertaken. His amiable qualities and his excellent heart had
endeared him to us: his loss was irreparable, and the thought that I
had no longer a brother added poignancy to my bitter grief. Prudent,
the youngest, had died at Madagascar; Robert, the next to me, died
at La Planche, near Nantes, in the little dwelling where we spent
our childhood; and my poor Henry at Jala-Jala. I erected a simple
tomb for him near the door of the church, and for several months
Jala-Jala was a place of grief and mourning.
We had scarcely begun, not indeed to console ourselves, but rather
to bear with resignation the loss we had experienced, when a new
dispensation of fate came to strike me to the earth.
On my arrival in the Philippines, and while I resided at Cavite,
I formed a close connection with Malvilain, a native of St. Malo,
and mate of a ship from that port. During several years which he
spent at Cavite our friendship was most intimate. A day seldom passed
that we did not see each other, and two days never, for we were much
attached. Our two ships were at anchor in the port, not far one from
the other. One day as I was walking on deck, waiting for a boat to
take me on board Malvilain's ship, I saw his crew at work in regulating
one of the masts, when a rope suddenly snapped, and the mast fell with
a frightful crash on the deck, in the midst of the men, amongst whom
Malvilain was standing. From the deck of my own ship I beheld all that
passed on that of my friend, who I thought was killed or wounded. My
feelings were worked to the highest pitch of anguish and alarm; I
could not control myself; I jumped into the water and swam to his
ship, where I had the pleasure of finding him uninjured, although
considerably stunned by the danger from which he had escaped. Wet
as I was from my sea-bath I caught him in my arms, and pressed him
to my heart; and then hastened to afford relief to some of the crew,
who had not been so fortunate to escape without injury as he had been.
Another time I was the cause of serious alarm to Malvilain. One day,
a mass of black and thick clouds was gathered close over the point
of Cavite, and a frightful--that is, a tropical--storm burst. The
claps of thunder followed each other from minute to minute, and
before each clap the lightning, in long serpent-like lines of fire,
darted from the clouds, and drove on to the point of Cavite, where
it tore up the ground of the little plain situate at the extremity,
and near which the ships were moored. Notwithstanding the storm I was
going to see Malvilain, and was almost in the act of placing my foot on
the deck of his vessel, when the lightning fell into the sea so near
to me that I lost my breath. Instantly I felt an acute pain in the
back, as if a burning torch had been laid between my shoulders. The
pain was so violent, that the moment I recovered myself I uttered a
sharp scream. Malvilain, who was within a few paces of me, felt very
sensibly the electric shock which had struck me, and, on hearing my
cry, imagined that I was dangerously hurt. He rushed towards me and
held me in his arms until I was able to give every assurance of my
recovery. The electric fluid had grazed me, but without causing any
positive injury.
I have related these two slight anecdotes to show the intimacy that
subsisted between us, and how I afterwards suffered in my dearest
affections.
My existence has to this day, when I write these lines, been filled
with such extraordinary facts, that I have been naturally led to
believe that the destiny of man is regulated by an order of things
which must infallibly be accomplished. This idea has had great
influence over me, and taught me to endure all the evils which have
afflicted me. Was it, then, my destiny which bound me to Malvilain,
and bound him to me in the same manner? I have no doubt of it.
Some days before the terrible scourge of the cholera broke out in
the Philippines, Malvilain's ship set sail for France. With hearts
oppressed with grief we separated, after promising each that we should
meet again; but, alas! fate had ordained it otherwise. Malvilain
returned home, went to Nantes to take the command of a ship, and there
became acquainted with my eldest sister, and married her. This news,
which reached me while I resided in Manilla, gave me the greatest
satisfaction, for if I had had to choose a husband for my dear sister
Emilie, this marriage was the only one to satisfy the wishes I had
formed for the happiness of both.
After his marriage Malvilain continued to sail from the port of
Nantes. His noble disposition and his accurate knowledge of his
duties caused him to be highly esteemed by the leading merchants. His
affairs were in a state sufficiently good as not to require him to
expose himself longer to the dangers of the sea, and he was on his
last voyage, when, at the Mauritius, he was attacked by an illness,
which carried him off, leaving my sister inconsolable, and with three
very young girls to lament him.
This fresh and irreparable loss, the news of which had then reached
me, added to my grief for the sad death of my poor brother. Every
calamity seemed to oppress me. After some years of happiness I saw,
by little and little, disappear from this world, the persons on whom I
had concentrated my dearest affections; but, alas! I had not even then
reached the term of my sorrows, for other and most bitter sufferings
were still to be passed through.
I saw with pleasure my boy was enjoying the best health, and that he
was daily increasing in strength; and yet I was far from being happy,
and to the melancholy caused by the losses I had experienced was
added another most fearful alarm. My beloved Anna had never thoroughly
recovered after her accouchement, and day by day her health was growing
weaker. She did not seem aware of her state. Her happiness at being
a mother was so great that she did not think of her own condition.
I had gathered in my sugar-cane crop, which was most abundant,
and my plantations were finished, when, wishing to procure some
amusement for my wife, I proposed to go and spend some time at the
house of her sister Josephine, for whom she entertained the warmest
affection. She, with great pleasure, agreed to do so. We set out with
our dear little Henry and his nurse, and took up our quarters at the
house of my brother-in-law, Don Julian Calderon, then residing in a
pretty country-house on the banks of the river Pasig, half a league
from Manilla.
Of the three sisters of my wife, Josephine was the one for whom I had
the most affection: I loved her as I did my own sister. The day of our
arrival was one of rejoicing. All our friends at Manilla came to see
us, and Anna was so pleased in seeing our little Henry admired that
her health seemed to have improved considerably; but this apparent
amelioration lasted but a few days, and soon, to my grief, I saw that
she was growing worse than ever. I sent for the only medical man in
Manilla in whom I had confidence, my friend Genu. He came frequently
to see her, and after six weeks of constant attention, he advised
me to take her back to my residence near the lake, where persons
attacked with the same malady as my dear Anna had often recovered. As
she herself wished to return, I appointed a day for our departure. A
commodious boat, with good rowers, was ready for us on the Pasig, at
the end of my brother-in-law's garden; and a numerous assemblage of our
friends accompanied us to the water's edge. The moment of separation
was one of most melancholy feelings to us all. The countenance of each
seemed to ask: "Shall we meet again?" My sister-in-law Josephine, in a
flood of tears, threw herself into Anna's arms. I had great difficulty
in separating them; but we were obliged to set out. I took my wife
into the boat, and then those two sisters, who had always maintained
towards each other the most tender love, addressed with their voices
their last adieus, while promising not to be long separated, and that
they would see each other very soon.
Those painful adieus and the sufferings of my wife caused the trip,
which we had often previously made with the greatest gaiety, to be
melancholy and silent. On our arrival, I did not look on Jala-Jala with
the usual feelings of satisfaction. I had my poor patient placed in
bed, and did not quit her room, hoping by my continual care to afford
her some relief in her sufferings. But, alas! from day to day the
malady made fearful progress. I was in despair. I wrote to Josephine,
and sent a boat to Manilla for her to come and take care of her sister,
who was most anxious to see her. The boat returned without her; but a
letter from kind-hearted Josephine informed me that she was herself
dangerously ill, and confined to her room, and could not even leave
her bed; that she was very sorry for it, but I might assure Anna that
they would soon be re-united, never again to be separated.
Fifty days--longer to me than a century--had scarcely elapsed since our
return to Jala-Jala than all my hopes vanished. Death was approaching
with rapid strides, and the fatal moment was at hand when I was to be
separated from her whom I loved with such intensity. She preserved her
senses to the last, and saw my profound melancholy, and my features
altered by grief; and finding her last hour was near, she called me
to her, and said: "Adieu, my beloved Paul, adieu. Console thyself--we
shall meet again in Heaven! Preserve thyself for the sake of our dear
boy. When I shall be no more, return home to thy own country, to see
thy aged mother. Never marry again, except in France, if thy mother
requires thee to do so. Do not marry in the Philippines, for thou wilt
never find a companion here to love thee as I have loved." These words
were the last which this good and gentle angel spoke. The most sacred
ties, the tenderest and purest union, were then severed--my Anna was
no more! I held her lifeless body clasped in my arms, as if I hoped by
my caresses to recall her to life; but, alas! her destiny was decided!
It required absolute force to tear me from the precious remains which
I pressed against my heart, and to draw me into a neighbouring room,
where my son was. While I pressed him convulsively to my breast,
I wished to weep; but my eyes were tearless, and I was insensible to
the caresses even of my poor child.
The strongest constitution cannot resist the fatigue of fifty days
of constant watching and uneasiness; and the state of annihilation in
which I was, both physically and morally, after despair had taken the
place of the glimmering hope which sustained us to the last moment,
was such that I fell into a state of insensibility, which ended
in a profound sleep. I awoke on the following day with my son in my
arms. But how frightful was my state on awaking. All that was horrible
in my position presented itself to my imagination. Alas! she was no
more; my adorable companion, that beloved angel and consolatrix,
who had, on my account, abandoned all--parents, friends, and the
pleasures of a capital--to shut herself up with me in a deserted
wilderness, where she was exposed to a thousand dangers, and had but
me to support her. She was no more; and fatal destiny had torn her
from me, to sink me for ever in desolation and grief.
The funeral took place on the following day, and was attended by
every inhabitant of Jala-Jala. Her body was deposited near the altar
in the humble church which I had caused to be erected, and before
which altar she had so often poured forth prayers for my happiness.
For a long time mourning and consternation reigned in Jala-Jala. All
my Indians showed the deepest sympathy for the loss which they had
suffered. Anna was, during her life, beloved even to idolatry, and
after her death she was most sincerely lamented.
For several days I continued in a thorough depression, unable to attend
to anything, except to the cares which my son, then my only remaining
consolation, required. Three weeks elapsed before I quitted the room in
which my poor wife had expired. I then received a note from Josephine,
in which she stated that her illness had grown worse. The note ended
with these words: "Come, my dear Paul; come to me: we shall weep
together. I feel that your presence will afford some consolation."
I did not hesitate to comply with the request of dear Josephine, for
whom I entertained an affection as if for my own sister. My presence
might prove a solace to her, and I myself felt that it would prove
to me a great consolation to see a person who had so sincerely loved
my Anna. The hope of being useful to her re-animated my courage a
little. I left my house under the care of Prosper Vidie, an excellent
friend, who during the last days of my wife's life had not quitted me,
and departed, accompanied by my son.
After the first emotion which Josephine and I felt on meeting, and when
we both had shed abundant tears, I examined her state. It required a
strong effort on my part to conceal from her my anxiety, on finding
her labouring under a most serious malady, and which gave me grounds
for fearing that a fresh misfortune was not far distant. Alas! my
forebodings were correct; for eight days afterwards poor Josephine
expired in my arms, after the most poignant sufferings. What abundant
sources of woe in so short a space of time! It required a constitution
strong as mine was to bear up against such a number of sorrows,
and not to fail under the burthen.
When I had paid the last duties to my sister-in-law I went back to
Jala-Jala. To me everything was burthensome. I was obliged to betake
myself to my forests and to my mountains, in order to recover a little
calmness. Some months passed over before I could attend to my affairs;
but the last wishes of my poor wife required to be fulfilled, and I
was to quit the Philippines and return to my country. I commenced
preparations for the purpose. I made over my establishment to my
friend Vidie, who was, as I considered, the person best adapted for
carrying out my plans, and for treating my poor Indians well. He
requested me to stop a little time with him, and to show him the
secrets of my little government. I consented, and the more willingly,
as those few months would serve to render my son stronger, and better
able to support the fatigues of a long voyage. I therefore remained at
Jala-Jala; but life had become painful to me, and without an object,
so that it was positively a trouble. There was nothing to distract
me--nothing to remove the most painful thoughts from me. The pretty
spots of Jala-Jala, over which I had often looked with the greatest
pleasure, had become altogether indifferent to me. I sought out
the most melancholy and silent places. I often went to the banks
of a rivulet, concealed in the midst of high mountains, and shaded
by lofty trees. This spot was perhaps known to no other person; and
probably no human being had ever previously been seated in it. There
I gave free vent to my bitter recollections--my wife, my brothers,
my sister-in-law, engrossed my imagination. When the thought of my
son drove away these sombre reveries, I returned slowly to my house,
where I found the poor child, who, by his caresses, seemed to try to
find some way to cause a change in my grief; but they seemed only to
recall the time when Anna always came to welcome me home, and when,
clasping me in her arms, she caused me to forget all the toil and
trouble I met with when absent from her. Alas! that blissful time
had flown away, and was never to return; and in losing my companion
I lost every happiness.
My friend Vidie tried every means in his power to rouse me. He spoke to
me often of France, of my mother, and of the consolation I should feel
on presenting my son to her. The love of my country, and the thought
of finding there those affections of which I stood so much in need,
was a soft balm, which lulled for a while the sufferings that were
constantly vibrating in the bottom of my heart.
My Indians were deeply afflicted on learning the resolution I had
taken of quitting them. They showed their trouble by saying to me,
every time they addressed me! "Oh, master: what will become of us
when we shall not see you again?" I quieted them as well as I could,
by assuring them that Vidie would exert himself for their welfare;
that when my son should be grown up, I would come back with him and
then never leave them. They answered me with their prayers: "May God
grant it, master! But what a long time we shall have to pass without
seeing you! However, we shall not forget you."