Shooting of Dr. Jose Rizal

Note: This article has been excerpted from a larger work in the public domain and shared here due to its historical value. It may contain outdated ideas and language that do not reflect TOTA’s opinions and beliefs.

“Shooting of Dr. Jose Rizal” from The Philippines and Filipinos by Oscar William Coursey, 1914.

Shooting of Dr. Jose Rizal

One of the most appalling things in connection with the Insurrection of 1896, was the disgraceful shooting, by the Spaniards, of Dr. Jose Rizal, a brilliant Filipino surgeon and novelist.

He was born in 1861, and was educated in Madrid, Paris, Heidelberg, Leipzig and Berlin. He wrote two novels on Filipino conditions that were offensive to Spain. They were his "Noile me Tangere" and his "El Filibusterismo."

After the publication of these books, he was forced to leave the islands in 1887, in order to protect himself against the secret intrigues of the Spaniards who sought his life. However, he ventured to go back to Manila in 1892. The Spanish authorities at once banished him to Dapitan, on Mindanao. When the Yellow fever epidemic broke out In Cuba in 1896, Rizal at once offered his services. Accordingly, he boarded a boat headed for Cuba, but was captured on high seas by Spain, taken back to Manila, given a mock trial and sentenced to be shot.

On the night of December 28, 1896—two days before his death—he wrote the following poem. Its lofty patriotism and its beautiful, chaste language will at once appeal to all who may read it.

To My Country (Translated from the original Spanish.)

Farewell, beloved country, longed-for region of the sun.
Pearl of the Eastern Seas, our lost Eden.
To give thee this sad life of mine, joyfully I go;
And were if more brilliant, more pleasant, more precious.
Yet for thee I would give it, I would give it for thee.

On fields of battle, wrestling with delirium,
Others are giving their lives to thee without hesitation, without regret.
The place does not matter: Cypress, laurel or boxthorn,
Scaffold or open field, fight or cruel martyrdom,
T'is all the same, if they demand it, the country and the hearth.

I shall die, when I see the sky is coloring (getting light)
And at last, announces the day behind the gloomy cloud,
If great necessity to redden the (aurora) morning sky
Pours out my blood, shed in good time
And guilds the fullness of the new born light.

My dreams when scarcely an adolescent youth.
My dreams when already a young man, full of vigor.
Were to see thee some day, Pearl of the Eastern Seas,
With thy black eyes serene, high thy smooth forehead,
Without a frown, without a wrinkle, without a blush.

In the dreams of my life, in my ardent life's desire,
My soul soon to depart, is calling to thee greeting.
Greeting, O what a beautiful death it is to give thee!
Dying to give thee life, to die beneath thy skies,
And in thy enchanted soil through eternity to sleep.

If over (on) my grave thou wilt see some day spring up,
Between the luxuriant grass a simple humble flower,
Press it to thy lips, kiss my soul,
And down in the cool tomb I shall feel on my forehead
Of thy tenderness the breath, of thy breath the warmth.

Let me see the moon with her calm and mild light.
Let my soul send forth the fleeting brightness.
Let the wind moan with its loud murmur;
And if there descends and rests upon my cross an "Ave,"
Let the "Ave" sound forth its sweet song of peace.

Let the burning sun dry up the rains
And return them pure to heaven with my shout for peace.
Let a friendly being weep over my early death.
And in the clear evenings when someone is praying
Pray then also, my country, for me testing with God.

Pray for all who have died without a chance,
For those who have suffered torments without a wail
For our poor mothers that they may endure their sorrow,
For orphans and widows; for such as suffer tortore.
And pray for thyself that thou mayest see thy final redemption.

And when in obscure night the churchyard is wrapt,
And thus lonely the dead keep their watch,
Do not disturb their repose, do not disturb the mystery.
Perhaps thou mayest hear the harmony of harp or psaltery,
T'is I, beloved country, I who sing to thee.

And when my grave forgotten at last by all
Has neither cross nor tombstone that designate the spot
Until some one plow it up and moisten it with water,
And my ashes, before they return to nothing.
Shall enrich the dust of thy field which a scabbard stirs up;

Then I mind not your leaving me to oblivion.
Thy atmosphere, thy plains, thy valleys i shall cross.
The quivering and clear note will be for thy ear
Aroma, light, colors, rumor, song, moan.
Constantly repeating the essence of my faith

My country, my idol, pain of my pains,
Beloved Filipinos, hear my last farewell,
Here I leave thee all: my fathers, my loved ones;
I go where there are no slaves, no hang man, no oppressors.
Where (faith) confidence does not kill .where God is he who reigns,

Goodby, father and brothers, parts of my soul.
Friends of my childhood in the last home;
Give thanks that I rest from the trials of the day.
Farewell, sweet lady-love, my friend, my joy;
Farewell, beloved beings, to die is to repose!

Amante De Filipino. (Translation—Father of the Filipinos).

He was shot on the Luneta, near Manila Bay, and about a half mile south of the Walled City, December 30, 1896. The Filipinos have since erected to his memory a beautiful monument on the spot where he fell.

Coursey, Oscar William. The Philippines and Filipinos. The Educator Supply Co, 1914

Oscar William Coursey

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