Noli Me Tangere

Clearly the couple are enjoying each other's company, "trembling" with laughter like leaves amid this verdant scene. But the narrator, despite usually being omniscient, somehow cannot hear them. So instead, the narrator makes an exaggerated plea to the wind and the sunshine to report on their conversation. In doing so the narrator personifies both the wind and sun, asking them to do the human task of listening to a conversation. The narrator personifies them with dramatic, even grandiose respect, using epic-style epithets for both wind and sun: "you of fragrant breath and colorful lips," "Eternity's shining embodiment on earth." The narrator melodramatically creates an ironic detachment from the overly sentimental couple on the porch. In comparison to the nearly divine nature of the wind and sun here, all the narrator can manage is "dull" description of the couple. The novel apparently cannot capture their kind of love, withholding some of the details of their relationship, which is typical for Rizal's unreliable narrator.

The narrator depicts the lake as a person, "sleeping" in seeming tranquility despite the storm that affected it last night. Generally in the novel, the natural world supplies a simple, assured clarity to contrast with the fraught political and personal situations in the narrative. Here the lake's placid "sleep," despite the rain, seems "hypocritical" to the narrator, as the city is moving toward riot and crisis. This sort of contrast between the natural and political worlds in San Diego is a consistent theme in the book.

At the end of the passage above, the image changes as the water starts to shine. Rizal's depiction of the water recalls the artistic movement of Impressionism, which was flourishing in Europe at the time he was writing Noli Me Tangere. The grey silhouettes, "phosphorescent" reflections off the water like "genies," and far-off fishing boats and fishermen all recall Claude Monet's famous Impression, Sunrise, the first Impressionist painting. This strange, impressionistic description, in which the water becomes abstract and confusing, complicates the earlier personification, in which the lake's peaceful sleep made it seem hypocritically simple in comparison to the strife in San Diego. When the light strikes it, the water seems to wake up. This potently beautiful water forms a complex backdrop to the conversation that Ibarra and the schoolmaster are about to have, as they discuss the fact that Don Rafael's body was deposited in the very same lake. 

The men arrive at Malapad-na-bató, a prominent cliff along the banks of the Pasig River which runs through Manila and the surrounding area. Malapad-na-bató was a Tagalog religious site, thought to be home to spirits. Rizal describes the men looking out on this site "on one of those magic nights the Philippines offers" in quite beautiful terms. The moon seems to do the talking for the men, as it "spills poetry." The shadows and silence seem to know that the men are in strife, so they "hide" their misery and quiet their voices. Indeed "nature alone speaks," a simple but elegant personification that describes how the men sit in silence and experience the natural world. 

How the narrator presents the allusion is also important. The phrase, "People who have at one time cruised the Pasig at night," pulls the focus of the figurative language to the experience of Filipino people, as only they would understand such an experience firsthand. This kind of regionally-specific figurative language is common throughout the book. In addition, the religious significance of Malapad-na-bató deepens the association with Filipino culture and society. Within the narrative, however, this moment, which captures the calming, pacifying beauty of the Philippines, contrasts with the conflict in this late part of the novel, in which both Ibarra's and Elías's relationship with their nation is fraught. Rizal's narrator seems to remind the men (and the reader) of the natural wonder in the Philippines just as they are considering leaving it.