Stories of history

There was a time when the various national shrines dedicated to our heroes were run by family members or descendants of the heroes commemorated. When I first visited the Emilio Aguinaldo Shrine in Kawit in the 1980s, my classmate and I were met by Linda Aguinaldo. We drove from Manila to Cavite in less than an hour. Being a weekday, there were no other visitors, so Linda not only showed us the Aguinaldo mansion, but also narrated how they played around the mansion and explored its many secret passages. She brought us up the watch tower (mirador) from where, on a clear day, Aguinaldo could see Manila. She showed the veranda, near the kitchen, where the general had his regular haircut, and another veranda called the “Sinners Gallery” (in Spanish) where the general plotted and gossiped. Folklore was thrown in too, about the kapre in the mango tree that warned Aguinaldo when danger was nearby. Linda made the general more than a maligned name in our textbook history; he became human. When she was in grade school, she asked her lolo about his participation in Andres Bonifacio’s death, his evasive reply: “pagtanda mo hija, maintindihan mo ang mga pangyayari noon.”

Apolinario Mabini has two national shrines: in his birthplace in Barrio Talaga, Tanauan, Batangas, and the house where he passed away, formerly near Nagtahan Bridge, now in the Polytechnic University of the Philippines Mabini campus. The Nagtahan Shrine was run by Apolinario Mabini III, a descendant of Mabini’s brother, affectionately called “Ka Pule.” I remember looking over Mabini’s wheelchair, his eyeglasses, and tattered old books, some bearing Mabini’s signature or notes. Mabini read Spanish and English; one of the books in his library was by Arthur Conan Doyle but not from the Sherlock Holmes series. Ka Pule asked a pointed question that has resonated with me both as a historian and a collector. Why, he asked ruefully, are Jose Rizal’s things valued more than the mementoes of other heroes? “Why do Rizal relics sell way more than Mabini’s?” “Bakit pag gamit ni Rizal mahal,” Ka Pule said with a shrug, “‘pag gamit ni Mabini mura?” Sad to say, in an important lot of papers I was consulted on some years back, Rizal’s letters were valued in seven figures while all of Mabini’s remained unsold, even if they were valued at a fraction of Rizal’s. Andres Bonifacio’s papers draw as much attention as Rizal’s because these are scarce, but why did the handwritten memoirs of his widow Gregoria de Jesus remain unsold at auction?

Of the two competing auction houses in Manila today, Leon Gallery leads in the sale of historical material: books, manuscripts, maps, ephemera. Historians will not find these in archives, libraries, or museums, but if they take the trouble to visit during presale viewing hours as I do, they can take advantage of the short window when the items pass from one private collection only to disappear into another private collection

People have been asking my opinion on a pair of epaulets or shoulder insignia said to belong to the ill-fated Gen. Antonio Luna. They are embroidered on red silk with silver thread by artisans who craft vestments for religious images. It is not well-known that the insignia of officer’s uniforms during the Philippine-American War was designed by Juan Luna. Based on his designs, Antonio Luna’s epaulets or “galones” in Spanish correspond to a two-star “Teniente General.” Higher than one-star “General de Brigada” or “General de Division,” lower than the three-star “Capitan General” reserved for Emilio Aguinaldo.

I was naturally skeptical. Were these epaulets of another general? If they are Antonio Luna’s, these carry the drama of his bloody death. I saw what was said to be Antonio Luna’s bloodied uniform before it burned in an art gallery fire in the 1980s. In retrospect, I should have examined the blue rayadillo uniform more thoroughly and counted the bullet and knife holes. I was a college student then, not today’s historian obsessed with detail. That uniform did not have epaulets. The trail of ownership or provenance is an undated, signed, and typewritten certification from Florentina Arellano Vda. de Nable who was on the staff of La Independencia, whose editor in chief was Antonio Luna.

Florentina recalls that on June 5, 1899, Antonio Luna received a telegram from Aguinaldo inviting him to Cabanatuan for a meeting. Before leaving Dagupan, Antonio Luna requested a “merienda china” and his friend Mariano Arellano had one prepared. Antonio Luna hardly ate, saying, “I don’t know what’s happening to me, I’m sad and a bitter premonition dominates me.” His aide-de-camp Paco Roman felt the same. “I’m not sick,” Paco said, “but feel terribly afflicted. My heart beats rapidly. I feel something grave will happen to me.” On his way to the carriage, Antonio remarked, “I forgot my epaulets in the sala, on top of the piano. Take care of them in case I return (por si acaso vuelvo).”

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Florentina recalls all these details in retrospect, including the unlucky number of guests at the table that day—13. Come to think of it, these are just old objects, until they connect to history or a historical person. Those are the stories of history.

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