"Foolish, foolish, foolish!" Mrs. Rizal was expressing her opinion
of General Saguanaldo's action to the insurgent general himself.
"Caspita! Why is it foolish?" asked the general.
"Because you may offend America, without the friendship of which you
can not win. It will be natural for the United States, after having
captured the Philippines in the prosecution of a foreign war, to want
to hold on to them. And if America chooses to hold the islands and make
them part of the United States in declaring the independence of the
Philippines you will only turn America from your side to oppose you."
"Do you suppose I want to fight side by side with America for freedom
from Spain and then be subjected to that country? Did you not tell
me that Admiral Rainey promised us independence?"
"No. He could not promise us independence, because he is not the
sovereign of America. The most he did, the most he could do, was to
promise to aid us in our fight with the Spaniards, and he could do
that only because his country, too, is at war with Spain."
"Then what advantage will it be to us to win, seeing that, though we
may win from Spain, we will lose to America? Por Dios, Señora! what
do you expect of us?"
"You may not win independence, but you may win freedom and justice. You
can not win independence, anyhow. It is doubtful if foreign countries
would recognize the Filipino republic, even if America should depart
and leave us to work out our own salvation. It is also doubtful if we
could win without America's help. Our hope is in securing the aid of
the republic that is giving Cuba her liberty, and repay the freedom
that is possible of attainment at this time and at no other."
"Independence is all that will suit me. I have not such a low
conception of good for the Filipinos as you seem to have."
The Filipino impatiently and angrily entered his headquarters.
Mrs. Rizal went away, sad at heart.
After Saguanaldo had secured the city of Manila he had occupied the
public buildings, and a provisional government had been organized. The
Filipino assembly at Malalos had adopted a constitution for the
Filipino republic fondly hoping that the Americans would ratify
it. Admiral Rainey had offered no objection; but it can not be
said that he had advised the move. Indeed, he was merely awaiting
instruction from America; and yet the presence of his fleet was
the wholesome reminder that gave the provisional government power
to maintain itself. Saguanaldo had been elected president and duly
installed in office. The provisional government, among its first
acts, had declared the friar lands confiscated and nationalized;
and, while nothing had been done to enforce the new law, yet it was
a fact that native priests, representing the schismatic Filipino
Catholic church, had secured possession of the larger number of the
churches and religious buildings throughout Luzon. This was not to
be wondered at, because there were nearly three million who were in
rebellion against the foreign priests, and less than half that number
who were yet loyal to them. It was in Manila alone that the friars
were in undisputed control.
Perhaps power may have turned the head of Saguanaldo. Mrs. Rizal
had told him that desire for honors had tempted him beyond the
pale of discretion. It might have been better had he organized a
provisional government and made it subject to the United States,
since, then, it might have been recognized and maintained by the new
invading power. But Saguanaldo denied personal ambition, and with some
truth. He had planned to make the day of the declaration of national
independence, which he had proclaimed, as the occasion of his marriage
with Ambrosia Lonzello, and had craved, as a young bridegroom, to
show her the honor, on that occasion, of having her hailed as the
president's wife, so that it was for her sake more than his own he
sought the honor. So often this is true. Men seek wealth and place,
not so much for themselves as that they may please and impress a woman.
But things did not seem to be going right. Not only was Mrs. Rizal
offended at his action, but when he, with a lover's ardor and
enthusiasm, had laid the matter before Ambrosia Lonzello, she had
responded with tears.
"You do not love me," he began.
"Better than life, Camillo," responded the girl. "But my heart tells me
that all is not well. You may declare independence, but you will not
have it until you first fight for it. I understand you are eager to
give me honors, and I appreciate the motive, but I can not marry you
and become a burden to you until the bitter battle and hard struggle
are past."
"That proves you do not love me," iterated the youth, sulkily.
"I shall prove to you I do love you by waiting for you until your
work is done, and then I shall marry you just as freely and just as
proudly, though you are defeated and without honor, as if you are
successful and undisputedly president of the Filipino republic. It
is the desire to do great and right things, the effort to do them,
that makes the soul great, whether the deeds be really done or not."
"But what pleasure will there be for me in the ceremonies of
inauguration if you be not by my side?"
"If it was merely to give you pleasure, Camillo, if it was merely
to gratify my pride or my selfish desire, I would become your bride
on the day set for the celebration of Filipino independence. But
I must decline to marry you now for your sake and for the sake of
Filipino independence. You shall need to be free from ties of home
and responsibility to me. Unless you are free I do not think you
can win. Therefore, I refuse to hang around your neck in the battle,
lest in doing so I cause you to be defeated."
The insurgent general plead, but in vain. Then he left, hurt and
blaming her.
The day for inauguration and celebration approached, and where he
had expected the triumph of his life he faced defeat; where he had
expected exultation and bliss he was filled with disappointment and
bitterness. Still, preparations for the ceremonial proceeded. The day
dawned at last. General Saguanaldo was present as the central figure,
and was received with cheers as the savior of his country. But neither
Mrs. Rizal or Ambrosia Lonzello were present. The people were merry
with feasting and noise, and the enemies did not show themselves. The
ceremonies of inauguration of the first Filipino president proceeded
without interruption, and Saguanaldo made an inaugural address that
was favorably received. Yet to him it was a disappointment, because
the One was not there amid the thousands. It is always the One we care
for. The applause we crave is as nothing except the One applaud. The
attainment we secure is mediocrity unless the One see us advanced and
glories in our deed. And when, instead of the applause of the One, the
approval and sympathy of the One, the One turns away with disapproval,
then we feel the deed were better not done, and the applause is a
mockery. So the day was not a triumph to Saguanaldo. Even when the
shades of evening fell, and the people brought forth the fireworks,
when Manila was noisy with explosives and when she was gay with
rejoicing and sportive people, Saguanaldo's heart was like lead,
and he was bitter against the two who were the most loyal to him of
all others.
Yet there seemed to be no reason for the heaviness of his
heart. Perfect weather, a program without a hitch, expressions of good
will only, without a word or act of disapproval from the enemies of the
republic, it seemed that Saguanaldo ought to have been happy. He was
making history as his friends told him. He would hereafter be hailed
as the liberator of the Filipinos. The day would be celebrated for
years as the day of rejoicing, the greatest in Filipino history. Why
could he not shake off the dread apprehension that lay like lead
on his heart? Is there such a thing as premonition, which tells one
things to come, when he is too hard of hearing to receive the message?
But Saguanaldo got through the day. As night came he was wearied,
exhausted from sorrow. But with the weariness peace came to him. It
is the ease that comes when nature would heal a wound. Saguanaldo
thought it meant success for him. He would triumph anyhow, and
then they would believe in him. It was the fate of the great to be
misunderstood and derided by their friends, and he must greatly bear
if he would triumph greatly.
At last the last fireworks had been exploded, the last hurrahs
expressed, and in the deep silence and serenity of the night Saguanaldo
lay to rest, feeling that, after all, it was not a failure; and,
being tired, he slept.