LEON Gallery is auctioning certain historical items in their Spectacular Mid-Year Auction 2026 on June 13. This auction started to become en vogue in recent times when the last letters of Andres Bonifacio to Emilio Jacinto were sold in 2018. These items which came from private hands or from the relatives of heroes started popping out obviously because of the monetary incentive. But more importantly, historians and the public were able to see, talk and document them, and finally know what is on some of the papers, becoming conversation pieces towards more meaningful discussions about history. Some were even bought by the government through the National Museum of the Philippines after a new law was passed that allows them to do so, inspired by the Bonifacio letters sale.
But this is not new, this is also done abroad, and even here before that. Ambeth Ocampo, in an old column from the book "Mabini’s Ghost" dated Jan. 12, 1994, “A price tag on heroes,” talked about how there was only market for Rizal items then, and how when the government tried to buy Apolinario Mabini’s memorabilia and haggled with his relatives, they were reported to have said, “Bakit kapag gamit ni Rizal ang mahal, kapag gamit ni Mabini mura lang.” Which is understandable why some frown on the idea of these kinds of auctions because it is as if our heroes are being subjected to hierarchy and market value, but we cannot really argue about private property, they have all the legal right to sell.
That is why I write about these items beyond their monetary worth so we can use them for reflection and draw lessons from them. For I do not want to describe items just because they belong to heroes. In my columns, books and articles, I always attempt to put every information in a larger context or importance, as real historians must do.
So, let’s talk about this flute that Rizal once owned that was in the possession of his sister Narcisa’s family. I used to see this in the Lopez-Rizal-Bantug Collection displayed at The Libraries at De La Salle University. And this has always interested me because there is a photo of Rizal with his friends at the Lunas’ Paris home playing the flute. Rafael Palma in his Rizal biography talked about how the parties of Luna’s in-laws, the Pardo de Taveras, inspired him to learn a musical instrument because each one in the Filipino community was cosmopolitan and knew how to play one: “On these occasions, Rizal was always very sociable. He dressed elegantly, and his manners, cultured and refined, did not lack a certain grace.... The other Filipinos played some kind of musical instrument in their gatherings, and he thus endeavored somehow to learn music and came to play the flute with relative facility.”
As he was not musically inclined, his friend Galicano Apacible recalled that Rizal “found it hard to even hum or whistle a simple melody. Whenever he did, the melody turned out to be so out of tune.” From there, Rizal ventured to also take up piano and voice, and became a composer of music for his own poems. Lisa Guerrero Nakpil, with the technical help of Marc John Ramirez, assistant executive director of the Manila Symphony Orchestra Foundation Inc. (MSOFI), wrote that the flute was a “'nach Meyer' flute, in the style of the renowned flute maker, Heinrich Friedrich Meyer (1814-1897), of Hanover, Germany, with an approximate manufacture date of the 1880s. Made of rosewood, capped and tipped with nickel bands and keys, the flute comes in three sections: the typical head joint, body (or barrel), and foot joint. The body’s ends are wrapped with thread to make the joinery air-tight. It is a workhorse flute, meant for diligent practice and light entertainment. Musical instruments were the 19th century equivalent of our screens and Spotify, and provided easily accessible recreation at home or at school, or while traveling.”
Nakpil continues, “The ‘nach Meyer’ flute reflects Rizal’s character — a steely determination despite the odds — and a certain frugality. Not for him the flamboyant flutes of ivory and silver, the cardboard box with a homemade sleeve reveals his simplicity and humility.”
There is also another item, an 1880s spoon and fork set made of German silver (a nickel alloy) engraved with Rizal’s monogram “JR” — the design very similar to the one engraved on his brush — his standard branding we might say.
More than telling us that Rizal was a human being, obviously, these two items tell us of a larger context. When the colonizers said we were not cultured, that we were savages and do not deserve reforms, Rizal and his friends were showing them that we too are a people where genius can spring forth, that we can face them at gatherings and be at par with civilized people. The monogram in the dinner set tells us of a person who is so sure of his identity and proud to show it to all. He is José Rizal, and he is a Filipino.