Despite the misfortune I have alluded to, I kept up my house in the same style as before. My connection, and the different posts I occupied, permitted me to lead the life of a grandee belonging to the Spanish colonies; and probably I should have made my fortune in a few years, if I had continued in the medical profession, but the wish for unlimited liberty caused me to abandon all these advantages for a life of peril and anxiety. At the same time do not let us anticipate too suddenly, and let the reader patiently peruse a few more pages about Manilla, and various events wherein I figured, either as actor or witness, before taking leave of a sybarite citizen’s life.

I was, as I said before, surgeon-major of the 1st Light Regiment of the line, and on intimate terms with the staff, and more particularly with Captain NovalÈs, a Creole by birth, possessing a courageous and venturesome disposition. He was suspected of endeavouring to excite his regiment to rebel in behalf of the Independence. An inquiry was consequently instituted, which ended without proof of the captain’s culpability; nevertheless, as the governor still maintained his suspicions, he gave orders for him to be sent to one of the southern provinces, under the inspection of an alcaide. NovalÈs came to see me the morning of his departure, and complained bitterly of the injustice of the governor towards him, and added that those who had no confidence in his honour would repent, and that he would soon be back. I endeavoured to pacify him: we shook hands, and in the evening he went on board the vessel commissioned to take him to his destination. The night after NovalÈs departure, I was startled out of my sleep by the report of fire-arms. I immediately dressed myself in my uniform, and hastened to the barracks of my regiment. The streets were deserted; sentinels were stationed at about fifty paces apart. I understood that an extraordinary event had occurred in some part of the town. When I reached the barracks I was no little astonished to find the gates wide open, the sentry’s box vacant, and not a soldier within. I went into the infirmary, set apart for the special service of the cholera patients, and there a serjeant told me that the bad weather had compelled the vessel that was taking NovalÈs into exile to return into the port; that about one o’clock in the morning, NovalÈs, accompanied by Lieutenant Ruiz, came to the barracks, and having made himself certain of the votes of the Creole non-commissioned officers, put the regiment under arms, took possession of the gates, and proclaimed himself Emperor of the Philippines.

This extraordinary intelligence caused me some anxiety. My regiment had openly revolted; if I joined it, and were defeated, I should be considered a traitor, and, as such, shot; if, on the contrary, I fought against it, and the rebels proved victorious, I knew NovalÈs sufficiently well to be convinced that he would not spare me. Nevertheless I could not hesitate: duty bound me to the Spanish government, by which I had been so well treated. I left the barracks, rambling where chance might lead me. I shortly found myself at the head-quarters of the artillery; an officer behind the gate stood observing me. I went up to him, and asked him whether he was for Spain. Upon his answering me in the affirmative, I begged him to open the gate, declaring that I wished to join his party, and would willingly offer my services as surgeon to them. I went in, and took the commander’s orders, which soon showed me how matters stood. During the night Ruiz went, in the name of NovalÈs, to General Folgueras, the commander during the absence of Governor MartinÈs, who was detained at his country house, a short distance from Manilla. He took the guard unawares, and seized the keys of the town, after having stabbed Folgueras; from thence he went to the prisons, set the prisoners at liberty, and put in their places the principal men of the public offices belonging to the colony. The 1st Regiment was on Government Place, ready to engage in battle; twice it attempted to fall unexpectedly upon the artillery and citadel, but was driven back. Many expected assistance from without, and orders from General MartinÈs to attack the rebels. Very soon we heard a discharge of artillery: it was General MartinÈs, who, at the head of the Queen’s Regiment, broke open Saint Lucy’s Gate, and advanced into the besieged town. The body of the artillery joined the governor-general, and we marched towards Government Place. The insurgents placed two cannons at the corner of each street. Scarcely had we approached the palace, than we were exposed to a violent discharge of loaded muskets. The head chaplain of the regiment was the first victim. We were then engaged in a street, by the side of the fortifications, and from which it was impossible to attack the enemy with advantage. General MartinÈs changed the position of the attack, and in this condition we came back by the street of Saint Isabelle. The troops in two lines followed both sides of the street, and left the road free; in the meantime the Panpangas regiment, crossing the bridge, reached us by one of the opposite streets: the rebels were then exposed to the opposite attacks. They nevertheless defended themselves furiously, and their sharpshooters did us some harm. NovalÈs was everywhere, encouraging his soldiers by words, exploits, and example, while Lieutenant Ruiz was busy pointing one of the cannons, that swept the middle of the street we were coming up. At length, after three hours’ contest, the rebels succumbed. The troops fell upon everything they found, and NovalÈs was taken prisoner to the governor’s. As to Ruiz, although he had received a blow on his arm from a ball, he was fortunate enough to jump over the fortifications, and succeeded, for the time, in escaping; three days afterwards he was taken. The conflict was scarcely over, than a court-martial was held. NovalÈs was tried the first. At midnight he was outlawed; at two o’clock in the morning proclaimed Emperor; and at five in the evening shot. Such changes in fortune are not uncommon in Spanish colonies.

The court-martial, without adjourning, tried, until the middle of the following day, all the prisoners arrested with arms. The tenth part of the regiment was sent to the hulks, and all the non-commissioned officers were condemned to death. I received orders to be at Government Place by four o’clock, on which spot the executions were to take place; two companies of each battalion of the garrison, and all the staff, were to be present.

Towards five the doors of the town-hall opened, and between a double file of soldiers advanced seventeen non-commissioned officers, each one assisted by two monks of the order of Misericordia. Mournful silence prevailed, interrupted every now and then by the doleful beating of the drums, and the prayers of the agonising, chanted by the monks. The procession moved slowly on, and after some time reached the palace; the seventeen non-commissioned officers were ordered to kneel, their faces turned towards the wall. After a lengthened beating of the drums the monks left their victims, and at a second beating a discharge of muskets resounded: the seventeen young men fell prostrate on the ground. One, however, was not dead; he had fallen with the others, and seemed apparently motionless. A few minutes after the monks threw their black veils upon the victims: they now belonged to Divine justice. I witnessed all that had just happened. I stood a few steps from him who feigned death so well, and my heart beat with force enough to burst through my chest. Would that it had been in my power to lead one of the monks towards this unfortunate young man who must have experienced such mortal anguish; but, alas! after having been so miraculously spared, at the moment the black veil was about to cover him, an officer informed the commander that a guilty man had escaped being punished; the monks were arrested in their pious ministry, and two soldiers received orders to approach and fire upon the poor fellow.

I was indignant at this. I advanced towards the informer and reproached him for his cruelty; he wished to reply; I treated him as a coward, and turned my back to him. Express orders from my colonel compelled me to leave my house, to assist at this frightful execution; still, deep anxiety ought to have prevented me from so doing, as I will explain. On the eve when the battle was over, and the insurgents routed, the distress of my dear Anna came across my mind. It was now one o’clock in the afternoon, and she had received no tidings from me since three in the morning; might she not think me dead, or in the midst of the rebellion? Ah! if duty could make me forget for a moment she whom I loved more than life, now all danger was over her charming image returned to my mind. Dearest Anna! I beheld her pale, agitated; asking herself at each report of the cannon whether it rendered her a widow; when my mind became so agitated that I ran home to calm her fears. Having reached my house I went quickly up stairs, my heart beating violently; I paused for a moment at her door, then summoning a little courage I entered. Anna was kneeling down praying; hearing my footsteps she raised her head, and threw herself into my arms without uttering a word. At first I attributed this silence to emotion, but, alas! upon examining her lovely face, I saw her eyes looked wild, her features contracted: I started back. I discovered in her all the symptoms of congestion of the brain. I dreaded lest my wife had lost her senses, and this fear alarmed me greatly. How fortunate it was that it lay in my power to relieve her. I had her placed in bed, and ministered myself to her wants. She was tolerably composed; the few words she uttered were inconsistent; she seemed to think that somebody was going to poison or kill her. All her confidence was placed in me. During three days the remedies I prescribed and administered were useless; the poor creature derived no benefit from them. I therefore determined to consult the doctors in Manilla, although I had no great opinion of their skill. They advised some insignificant drugs, and declared to me that there were no hopes, adding, as a philosophical mode of consolation, that death was preferable to the loss of reason. I did not agree on this point with these gentlemen: I would have preferred insanity to death, for I hoped that her madness would die away by degrees, and eventually disappear altogether. How many mad people are cured, what numbers daily recover, yet death is the last word of humanity; and, as a young poet has truly said, is “the stone of the tomb.”

Between the world and God a curtain falls! I determined to wage a war against death, and to save my Anna by having recourse to the most indisputable resources of science. I looked now upon my brotherhood with more contempt than ever, and, confident in my love and zealous will, I began my struggle with a destiny, tinged indeed with gloomy clouds. I shut myself up in the sick-chamber, and never left my wife. I had great difficulty in getting her to take the medicaments I trusted she would derive so much benefit from; I was obliged to call to my assistance all the influence I had over her, in order to persuade her that the draughts I presented to her were not poisoned. She did not sleep, but appeared very drowsy; these symptoms denoted very clearly great disorder of the brain. For nine days she remained in this dreadful state; during which time I scarcely knew whether she was dead or alive; at every moment I besought the Almighty to work a miracle in her behalf. One morning the poor creature closed her eyes. I cannot describe my feelings of anguish. Would she ever awake again? I leant over her; I heard her breathing gently, without apparent effort; I felt her pulse, it beat calmer and more regular; she was evidently better. I stood by her in deep anxiety. She still remained in a calm sleep, and at the end of half-an-hour I felt convinced that this satisfactory crisis would restore my invalid to life and reason. I sat down by her bed-side, and stayed there eighteen hours, watching her slightest movements. At length, after such cruel suspense, my patient awoke, as if out of a dream.

“Have you been long watching?” she said, giving me her hand: “Have I, then, been very ill? What care you have taken of me! Luckily you may rest now, for I feel I am recovered.”

I think I have during my life been a sharer of the strongest emotions of joy or of sadness man can feel; but never had I experienced such real, heartfelt joy as when I heard Anna’s words. It is easy to imagine the state of my mind in recollecting the bitter grief I was in for ten days; then can be understood the mental anguish I felt. Having witnessed such strange scenes for a considerable time, it would not have been surprising had I lost my senses. I was an actor in a furious battle; I had seen the wounded falling around me, and heard the death-rattle. After the frightful execution, I went home, and there still deeper grief awaited me. I had watched by the bed-side of a beloved wife, knowing not whether I should lose her for ever, or see her spared to me deprived of reason; when all at once, as if by a miracle, this dear companion of my life, restored to health, threw herself into my arms. I wept with her; my burning eyes, aching for want of rest, found at last some tears, but they were tears of joy and gladness. Soon we became more composed; we related to each other all that we had suffered. Oh! the sympathy of loving hearts! Our sorrows bad been the same, we had shared the same fears, she for me and I for her. Anna’s rapid recovery, after her renovating slumber, enabled her to get up; she dressed herself as usual, and the people who saw her could not believe she had passed ten days struggling between death and insanity—two gulphs, from which love and faith had preserved us.

I was happy; my deep sadness was speedily changed to gladness, even visible on my features. Alas! this joy was transitory, like all happiness; man here below is a continual prey to misfortune! My wife, at the end of a month, relapsed into her former sickly state; the same symptoms showed themselves again, with similar prospects, during the same space of time. I remained again nine days at her bed-side, and on the tenth a refreshing sleep brought her to her senses. But this time, guided by experience, that pitiless mistress, who gives us lessons we should ever remember, I did not rejoice as I had done the month before. I feared lest this sudden cure might only be a temporary recovery, and that every month my poor invalid would relapse, until her brain becoming weaker and weaker, she would be deranged for life. This sad idea wounded my heart, and caused me such grief that I could not even dissimulate it before her who inspired it. I exhausted all the resources of medicine; all these expedients proved unavailable. I thought that perhaps, if I removed my poor invalid from the spot where the events had occurred that caused her disorder, her cure might be more easily effected; that perhaps bathing and country walks in the fine weather would contribute to hasten her recovery; therefore I invited one of her relations to accompany us, and we set out for Tierra-Alta, a delightful spot, a real oasis, where all things were assembled that could endear one to life. The first days of our settling there were full of joy, hope, and happiness. Anna got better and better every day, and her health very much improved. We walked in beautiful gardens, under the shade of orange-trees; they were so thick that even during the most intense heat we were cool under their shade. A lovely river of blue and limpid water ran through our orchard; I had some Indian baths erected there. We went out in a pretty, light, open carriage, drawn by four good horses, through beautiful avenues, lined on each side with the pliant bamboo, and sown with all the various flowers of the tropics. I leave you to judge, by this short account, that nothing that can be wished for in the country was wanting in Tierra-Alta. For an invalid it was a Paradise; but those are right who say there is no perfect happiness here below. I had a wife I adored, and who loved me with all the sincerity of a pure young heart. We lived in an Eden, away from the world, from the noise and bustle of a city, and far, too, from the jealous and envious. We breathed a fragrant air; the pure and limpid waters that bathed our feet reflecting, by turns a sunny sky, and one spangled with twinkling stars. Anna’s health was improving: it pleased me to see her so happy. What, then, was there to trouble us in our lovely retreat? A troop of banditti! These robbers were distributed around the suburbs of Tierra-Alta, and spread desolation over the country and neighbourhood by the robberies and murders they committed. There was a regiment in search of them; this they little cared about. They were numerous, clever, and audacious; and, notwithstanding the vigilance of the government, the band continued their highway robberies and assassinations. In the house where I then resided, and which I afterwards left, Aguilar, the commander of the cavalry, who had replaced me as occupant, was fallen upon unexpectedly, and stabbed. Several years after this period, the government was obliged to come to some terms with these bandits, and one day twenty men, all armed with carbines and swords, entered Manilla. Their chieftain led them; they walked with their heads upright, their carriage was proud and manly; in this order they went to the governor, who made them a speech, ordered them to lay down their arms, and sent them to the archbishop that he might exhort them. The archbishop in a religious discourse implored of them to repent of their crimes, and become honest citizens, and to return to their villages. These men, who had bathed their hands in the blood of their fellow-creatures, and who had sought in crime—or rather, in every crime—the gold they coveted, listened attentively to God’s minister, changed completely their conduct, and became, in the end, good and quiet husbandmen.

Now let us return to my residence at Tierra-Alta, at the period when the bandits were not converted, and might have disturbed my peaceful abode and security. Nevertheless, whether it was carelessness, or the confidence I had in my Indian, with whom I spent some time after the ravages occasioned with the cholera, and with whose influence I was acquainted, I did not fear the bandits at all. This Indian lived a few leagues off from Tierra-Alta; he came often to see me, and said to me on different occasions: “Fear nothing from the robbers, Senor Doctor Pablo; they know we are friends, and that alone would suffice to prevent them attacking you, for they would dread to displease me, and to make me their enemy.” These words put an end to my fears, and I soon had an opportunity of seeing that the Indian had taken me under his protection.

If any of my readers for whom I write these souvenirs feel the same desire as I experienced to visit the cascades of Tierra-Alta, let them go to a place called Yang-Yang; it was near this spot where my Indian protector resided. At this part the river, obstructed in its course by the narrowness of its channel, falls from only one waterspout, about thirty or forty feet high, into an immense basin, out of which the water calmly flows onwards, to form, lower down, three other waterfalls, not so lofty, but extending over the breadth of the river, thereby making three sheets of water, clear and transparent as crystal. What beautiful sights are offered to the eyes of man by the all-powerful hands of the Creator! And how often have I remarked that the works of nature are far superior to those that men tire themselves to erect and invent!

As we went one morning to the cascades we were about to alight at Yang-Yang, when all at once our carriage was surrounded with brigands, flying from the soldiers of the line. The chief—for we supposed him to be so at first—said to his companions, not paying the slightest attention to us, nor even addressing us: “We must kill the horses!” By this I saw he feared lest their enemies should make use of our horses to pursue them. With a presence of mind which fortunately never abandons me in difficult or perilous circumstances, I said to him: “Do not fear; my horses shall not be used by your enemies to pursue you: rely upon my word.” The chief put his hand to his cap, and thus addressed his comrades: “If such be the case, the Spanish soldiers will do us no harm to-day, neither let us do any. Follow me!” They marched off, and I instantly drove rapidly away in quite an opposite direction from the soldiers. The bandits looked after me; my good faith in keeping my word was successful. I not only lived a few months in safety at Tierra-Alta, but many years after, when, I resided in Jala-Jala, and, in my quality of commander of the territorial horse-guards of the province of Lagune, was naturally a declared enemy of the bandits, I received the following note:

Everybody must acknowledge I had to do with most polite robbers.

I answered them thus:

A fortnight after my answer, Tumbaga was no more; a bandit’s bullet disembarrassed me of him.

I will now return to the recital I have just interrupted. When I had left the bandits at Yang-Yang, I pulled up my horses and bethought me of Anna. I was anxious to know what impression had been produced on her mind from this unpleasant encounter. Fortunately my fears were unfounded; my wife had not been at all alarmed, and when I asked her if she was frightened, she replied: “Frightened, indeed! am I not with you?” Subsequently I had good proofs that she told me the truth, for in many perilous circumstances she always presented the same presence of mind. When I thought there was no longer any danger we retraced our steps and went home, satisfied with the conduct of the bandits towards us, for their manner of acting clearly showed us that they intended us no harm. I mentally thanked my Indian friend, for to him I attributed the peace our turbulent neighbours allowed us to enjoy. The fatal time was drawing near when my wife would again be suffering from another attack of that frightful malady brought on by NovalÈs revolt. I had hoped that the country air, the baths, and amusements of every kind would cure my poor invalid; my hopes were deceived, and, as in the preceding month, I had the grief once more to assist at a period of physical and mental suffering. I despaired: I knew not what course to pursue. I decided, however, upon remaining at Tierra-Alta. My dear companion was happy there on the days her health was better, and on the other days I never left her, endeavouring by every means that art and imagination could invent to fight against this fatal malady. At length my care, attempts, and efforts were successful, and at the periods the symptoms usually returned I had the happiness not to observe them, and believed in the certainty of a final cure. I then felt the joy one experiences after having for a long time been on the point of losing a very dear friend, who suddenly recovers. I now gave myself up without fear to the various pleasures Tierra-Alta offers.