“DAYS OF THE EMPIRE”
There was a trying period of unrest and uncertainty in our early
experience in the Philippines, during which we lived in a state of
suspense which can hardly be described; a state of suspense which
included among its various elements the excitement of an intermittent
guerilla warfare and frequent threats of native uprisings in Manila.
Established order and a fixed governmental policy, so necessary to the
tranquillity of the normal citizen, were non-existent, and one
experienced a sense of complete detachment which made plans for even the
immediate future seem entirely futile. To unpack all one’s things; to
establish a satisfactory home and give one’s attention to its
ornamentation; to supply one’s self with the necessities of a long
residence in the tropics; in other words, to settle down to the pursuit
of a usual mode of existence; all these things had to be done, but,
needless to say, they were not done with the enthusiasm incident to a
feeling of permanence, nor did such enthusiasm begin to manifest itself
in the local atmosphere until after the re-election of Mr. McKinley in
1900 when it became certain that the American flag was in the islands to
stay as long as its presence there should be deemed requisite to the
peaceful development of the country and the fitting of the people for
self government.
There were those who saw long years ahead,—not all Americans, by any
means,—and soon the American spirit began to make itself felt in
business, in schemes of civic progress, in social life, in everything.
We were there for a purpose which was at last defined, so we cheerfully
confronted chaos and went to work.
We were sorry to note that the election of Mr. McKinley and the
consequent establishment of the American status in the Philippines did
not change the military attitude toward the manner of solving the
governmental problems. The Commission was definitely pledged to the
rapid adjustment of affairs on a civil and generally representative
basis, but the military authorities still maintained that military rule
would continue to be a necessity for an indefinite period.
However, the Civil Commission went on its way mapping out a programme of
peaceful pacification and carrying it into effect as promptly as
possible, while its activities engaged universal attention and formed
the chief topic of conversation wherever two or more people were met
together. Society became frivolous enough, but nobody ever got very far
away from the questions of absorbing interest with which many of us were
so closely associated.
Our first Christmas surely would have saddened us in our peculiar exile
had we been able to realise its approach, but this was not possible. The
“Christmas spirit” does not thrive in a temperature of eighty-odd
degrees, and I think I would have taken little interest in preparations
for the holidays had not my children been there to remind me that
Christmas is Christmas no matter what the thermometer may say about it.
It was still the most important day in the year for them and it was
almost pathetic to see them trying to defeat the climate through sheer
force of their imaginations. It was a “green Christmas” with a
vengeance, and very hot.
Our friends at home had not forgotten that we were more than a month’s
journey away and letters began to arrive as early as November in each of
which some mention was made of a box which would be sent from Cincinnati
in time to reach us before Christmas and, naturally, we began at once to
imagine its contents. For weeks our children’s favourite amusement was
exchanging guesses as to what sort of gifts their affectionate relatives
had sent them. Nor were their Aunt Maria and I any less excited. There
were transports every two weeks in those days and we were not at all
disappointed not to receive our box on the early December ship. There
would be another one in on Christmas day and it would be much nicer, we
thought, to get it then, and never a doubt did we have that it would
come. Mr. Taft had a messenger ready to get it and bring it to the house
as soon as it could be landed.
From our balcony we watched the transport steam up the bay; we felt the
interest that only a Christmas box from home, ten thousand miles away,
could excite; we forgot that it was eighty in the shade; it was really
Christmas. We waited as patiently as we could for our messenger, but
when he arrived he had only sympathy to offer us. The box had not come.
It was a most depressing disappointment, and the children were
inconsolable. However, everybody cheered up about dinner time. I had
done what I could with red ribbons and greenery, with cotton wool and
diamond dust to create the proper atmosphere; then we had invited a
number of homeless young secretaries and others to take Christmas cheer
with us, and though the cold storage turkey was tough and the cranberry
sauce and plum-pudding were from Commissary cans, we managed a near
approach to a Yuletide air, and little Charlie went to bed with his
Escolta toys quite as happy as he would have been had he been at home in
his own country. I assured the three children that the box from home
would come in on the next transport and promised that we would then have
Christmas all over again. But I reckoned without knowledge of the
shipping methods of the transport service. Transports came and
transports went; our hopes were dashed to earth any number of times and
it was endless weeks before our carefully prepared and holly-decked
presents finally arrived.
On New Year’s morning General MacArthur gave a reception at Malacañan
Palace. It was such an affair as is spoken of in social circles
everywhere as “the event of the season.” It was a very special event to
all the members of the Commission and their families, because not one of
us had ever been invited to the Palace before.
There was much discussion of the serious subject as to what the civil
government officials should wear at the New Year’s reception and, if
gossip can be relied upon, it came very near causing several family
riots. The men naturally inclined toward the comfort of their white
linens, but they were overcome by argument and it was eventually decreed
that they should present themselves in frock coats and silk hats. This
may sound reasonable, but it wasn’t. It was intensely funny, however,
and that helped some. A silk hat which has reposed in a box throughout a
rainy season in the Philippines is a curious object. It is not the
glossy, well turned and dignified article which a silk hat should be.
Its rim is warped, its nap is dulled and roughed beyond repair; it is
very sticky, and it has an odour all its own. In Judge Ide’s hat some
mice had made a nest and had eaten a small hole through its one-time
shiny crown, but it was the only one he had and, as silk hats are not
carried in Philippine shops, he had, perforce, to wear it.
My husband communed with himself during the process of getting into his
heavy frock coat with all its stiff and its woollen accessories,—for the
first time in seven months and in the bright white heat of a tropic
morning,—but we were finally ready and on the way, in our diminutive
Victoria behind the prancing black stallion ponies of uncertain
disposition.
When we arrived at Malacañan, quite early as we thought, we found
ourselves in a long block of carriages which moved up slowly and, one by
one, discharged their occupants under the porte-cochère of the Palace.
Considerations of rank and precedence had escaped our minds for the
moment and this was evidently a very important matter. However, we found
a capable staff of military aides who knew just where everybody
belonged, and they adopted the method of marshalling the crowds into a
room on the first floor and letting them out in the proper order of
precedence. In consequence we found a more or less annoyed throng
awaiting our arrival. We had plenty of rank, my husband being the
ranking civil officer in the Islands, but as everybody in Manila had
been invited, the process of forming the line was a long and laborious
one and many were the caustic comments of the delayed and rankless
multitude. It reminded one forcibly of similar receptions at the White
House, except that in Washington everybody knows the rules of precedence
governing diplomatic circles and recognises the necessity for following
them, while in Manila it was a departure which did not meet with full
and general approval.
General MacArthur and his staff were receiving at the head of the grand
staircase on the second floor, and, as the spacious rooms became filled
with military men in dress uniforms, with gaily attired women and
black-coated civilians, the scene was sufficiently dignified to make one
feel that a brilliant local society was an established fact. But there
was no denying that it was hot and that the Army officers in trim white
duck had the frock-coated, camphor-ball-scented and profusely perspiring
civil government officials at a disadvantage.
Nowadays—and always after that first experiment—the man in a
temperate-zone costume is a sadly conspicuous figure at a social
gathering in Manila. The accepted formal evening dress is white linen
with either a short mess jacket or a dinner coat of the usual pattern,
while for morning or afternoon affairs a man may wear anything his
laundryman can turn out for him. As a matter of fact, in the early days
in Manila women, as well as men, enjoyed emancipation from the tyranny
of clothes. It was a case of discovering how unnecessary many supposed
necessities are. There were no fashionable gowns to be had, therefore
simplicity, or a more or less rundownedness of one-time respectability,
became the fashion. There were no hat shops, so women ceased to wear
hats. We went shopping on the Escolta in the early morning hatless; we
went to luncheon parties hatless, and in the later afternoon we made our
calls and drove on the Luneta minus the millinery which is considered so
dear to a woman’s heart. I do not say that the women liked it; there
were many plaintive protests; but it was one of the crosses of their
environment which saved them numerous jealous pangs as well as much
expense. It is different now. The importer of fashionable millinery and
sumptuous garments has invaded the field and the women in Manila to-day
are about as finely gowned and hatted as they are anywhere, but I doubt
if they are as care-free and comfortable as we were in “the days of the
Empire.”
It was expected that the New Year’s reception at Malacañan was intended
to inaugurate a gay season of hospitality at the Palace, as General
MacArthur announced a dinner and reception to follow early in January.
But they were unquiet times; for various reasons there were many
postponements; then came the death of Queen Victoria, whereupon the
British community went into mourning, and, as it was deemed courteous to
observe a period of social inactivity, it was many weeks before we again
went to Malacañan.
The campaign of pacification, due to the election of McKinley, the
activity of the army, and the actual legislation and organisation work
of the Commission, was making great progress throughout the Islands and
hardly a day passed that did not bring news of the capture or surrender
of insurgent officers and forces in the provinces, while in Manila they
were being arrested and imprisoned by the hundreds. They were given an
opportunity to take the oath of allegiance and those who persisted in
their refusal to do so were banished to Guam. This vigorous policy was
having a marked effect upon the spirit of the insurrection and it was
rapidly approaching total collapse.
The peace movement was greatly assisted, too, by the activities of the
Federal party, a strong political organisation, pledged to the
acceptance of American control and American principles, which numbered
among its leaders and adherents many of the best men in the Philippines.
In its directory were Chief Justice Arellano, Don Benito Legarda, Dr.
Pardo de Tavera and General Ambrosio Flores, a one-time leader of the
insurrection.
Perhaps the most extraordinary demonstration any of us ever saw in
Manila took place on Washington’s birthday in 1901. The Commission had
already begun its long task of instituting provincial and municipal
governments and its members had just returned from a trip into the
country north of Manila where they had been received with great
enthusiasm, and where the people had shown every indication of a glad
determination to stop all hostilities and settle down to peaceful
pursuits under the representative and democratic system which the
Commission was inaugurating.
On the evening of February 20, General MacArthur gave a splendid
reception at Malacañan, where Americans and Filipinos mingled together
in perfect amity, the Filipinos being in the majority. They seemed
greatly pleased with the spirit of the occasion which served to
demonstrate in a particular manner the fact that America was in the
Philippines as a friend rather than as an arbitrary ruler; that there
was to be none of the familiar colour or race prejudice, so far as we
were concerned, in the association of the two peoples; that the best
thing to do was to acknowledge a mutual aspiration and strive for its
fulfilment in friendly co-operation; and there was a heart-lift for us
all, Americans and Filipinos alike, in the whole tone of the evening. On
the night of the 21st, the Partido Federal gave a famous dinner at a new
hotel where a French chef prepared the menu. Before this my husband had
jokingly written to Secretary Root that he thought some sort of pension
should be provided for the widows and orphans of the men who fell in
action before the fearful onslaughts of native hospitality, but at the
banquet of the Federal party there were none of those mysterious viands
to which the Commissioners had been trying to accustom themselves in the
provinces, and in consequence the quality of mutual enjoyment was not
strained, the Filipino, unlike the Japanese, being as fond of foreign
cookery as he is of his own. The speeches were all of the friendliest
character and the “dove of peace,” verily, seemed to be hovering near.
[Illustration:
A TYPICAL FILIPINO MENU AND PLACE CARD
]
The next morning, the 22nd of February, the Federal party, many
thousands strong, marched through a flag-decked city to the Luneta where
a speakers’ stand had been erected for the celebration of the day. There
were scores of bands, each, as usual, playing its own tune in its own
way regardless of what the others were doing; the populace, in its
gayest attire, crowded in the wake of the procession; the spirit of
festivity was rampant; and altogether it was a most interesting scene.
As close as ten thousand people could get to a speakers’ stand ten
thousand people massed themselves, and they listened in respectful
silence to the words of both the American and Filipino speakers, each
one of whom made a spirited appeal for peaceful co-operation in the
solution of the problem which America had acquired through no fault or
desire of her own and which she could not, in honour, abandon. General
Wright was the American speaker of the day and the frank friendliness of
his speech was translated, paragraph by paragraph as he delivered it, by
Mr. Arthur Fergusson, the Secretary-interpreter for the Commission,
whose extraordinary command of Spanish made it possible for him not only
to translate the words themselves, but to infuse into them the poetic
fervour of the Spanish tongue. Never was Washington’s birthday so
celebrated, and it marked a new era of mutual toleration which was to
grow into sympathetic understanding disturbed only by the agitation of
the few whose aspirations were in no way in those days shared or
condoned by the many.
The method adopted by the Commission for organising provincial
governments was extremely simple. The people were instructed to send
delegates from all the towns in a province to meet the Commission on a
given date at the provincial capital. Having gathered this popular
assembly in the largest available hall Mr. Taft, or some other member of
the Commission, would proceed to read and explain the new Provincial
Code which covered every governmental function and which provided for
the appointment by the Commission of a provincial governor, a treasurer
and a secretary. It was the intention of the Commission to name a
Filipino for governor in each province, thereby giving them an immediate
opportunity for the exercise of self-government, but in several
instances they were almost unanimously petitioned by the people to
appoint to this office the American Army officer who had been in command
in the district. Considering the attitude of the Filipinos toward
military rule and their eagerness to substitute a purely civil form of
government, it was really astonishing that they should have wished to
retain any representative of the hated régime, but personality counts
for a great deal with the Filipinos, and the Army officer who displayed
tact and kindly justice in his dealings with them was sure to win for
himself a peculiar popularity.
For treasurer an American was almost invariably chosen. During Spanish
times the Filipinos had not learned much about the proper use of public
funds and they have had to be very painstakingly taught that government
money is for government purposes only. To our poignant and everlasting
shame object lessons had to be given them by the drastic punishment
meted out to certain American treasurers who were unable to resist
temptation. The penalty prescribed in Philippine law for the misuse of
public funds or the falsification of a public document is terribly
severe, and there is a little band of white men in Bilibid prison in
Manila to-day because of their venality and breach of trust. Our mission
in the Philippines is based upon the highest principles and we have
always striven to maintain a high moral tone in the government
personnel, so it is particularly painful to the small American community
when, as happened too often at first, an American went wrong.
Though the Commission proceeded with the establishment of civil
government in a conspicuously simple manner as much cannot be said of
the Filipinos. They were bent upon making the most of a rare opportunity
for the enjoyment of great and ceremonious festivity.
On the 23d of February, following the extraordinary celebration of
Washington’s birthday, the Commission, accompanied by a considerable
number of prominent Filipinos and by several of the ladies, took a
government launch and steamed across the Bay to the town of Balanga, the
capital of the province of Bataan which lies directly opposite Manila
where the sun goes down in tropic splendour behind the Meriveles
Mountains. This trip was a new experience for me and was the beginning
of my long acquaintance with Filipino hospitality.
As we approached the Bataan shore there were splashes of brilliant
colour all over the surface of the Bay, which, on nearer view, turned
out to be the decorations of a great fleet of _bancas_ coming out to
meet us. There must have been a hundred or more and, while they were of
all sizes, some of them were large enough to hold twenty and thirty
rowers. The _banca_ is a long, narrow dugout which usually looks as if
it were just about to sink. Some of these had outriggers, some had not,
but each and every one of them was loaded to capacity, and each was
covered with the most gorgeous decorations. Bunting and paper flowers of
every hue were mixed with long palm leaves and branches of bamboo and
everything in the nature of an ornament that could possibly be used,
while from every angle and at every point fluttered small American
flags, some of them homemade and only approximately correct. Then there
were two huge flat affairs with decorated awnings over them which we
found were nothing less than rafts prepared for our own use, the water
in the little harbour being too shallow for our big steam launch. These
rafts were made of split bamboo flooring lashed to the tops of large
_bancas_ and, though they looked exceedingly unsafe, we found they would
hold as many as could stand upon them without being pushed over the
edge.
In ten minutes this gay and unusual fleet had surrounded us; the rafts
came alongside and over our rails clambered the reception committee, a
half dozen Filipinos in more or less nondescript, heavy black clothes
with silk hats! Where these garments came from I have no idea. Most of
the hats looked like heirlooms, just as the silk hats of our own
husbands looked, but the chief concern of their owners seemed to be
their protection. Never have I seen silk hats so cautiously handled.
Having got safely aboard the launch each man went through a deliberate
process of straightening himself out and carefully adjusting his attire
before he advanced to the stern of the launch where we waited to receive
him. Then there were some set speeches of welcome in which the chief
sentiment seemed to be that never had the province of Bataan been so
highly honoured and that, therefore, it and all it contained was, with
feelings inexpressible, laid at the feet of the honourable Commission.
Mr. Fergusson translated the flowers and figures of oratory and all the
soaring flights of sentimental generosity into literal English, then,
with equal solemnity and impressiveness, he rendered Mr. Taft’s matter
of fact, though cordial, replies into a marvellous flow of Spanish
eloquence.
[Illustration:
TRIUMPHAL ARCH AT BATAAN
]
This formality disposed of, the reception committee invited us to step
upon the pavilioned raft and be wafted ashore. It sounds like a
dignified proceeding, but of course it was not. We had to climb over the
rails of the launch and, more or less, slide to a secure footing on the
frail floor of the curious craft. Contrary to my secret expectations it
kept afloat and we were soon landed at a little fishing village down on
the beach, where Army ambulances waited to take us to the town of
Balanga, a mile inland. Just outside of Balanga we passed under a great
bamboo arch, the sort of thing the Filipinos erect and ornament with
great skill and ingenuity. This one was so thickly decorated, however,
with small American flags that little of its intricate frame-work was
visible. A piece of white bunting stretched across the top of it bore,
in large letters, the inscription: “Glory Honor to the Commission.”
We drove into the town and found the place _en fete_. I never saw so
many American flags in one place in my life. Four thousand of them had
been bought in Manila for the occasion; and four thousand flags go a
long way in decorating a small provincial town. There was not much of
the town left uncovered.
When we got to the provincial building where the meeting was to be held,
we found all the delegates gathered from the different villages a-tiptoe
in an atmosphere of intense excitement. Bataan had never been a rich
province and we discovered that few of the Filipinos understood Spanish.
They spoke only Tagalog. This was due to the fact that the province had
been for generations under the control of the Dominican Friars who did
not believe in encouraging the natives to learn Spanish. In consequence,
all the speeches had to be translated from English to Spanish, from
Spanish to Tagalog, and vice versa. Felipe Calderón, the Manila lawyer
who handled the San José College case for the People, acted as Tagalog
interpreter, and I have often wondered just how much of the familiar
Spanish hyperbole was convertible into the phrases of that primitive
language. It made the proceedings very long and tedious, but we sat
through them and they finally came to an end with much cheering for the
newly appointed officials.
The Filipinos were greatly pleased at having the Commissioners bring
their wives and daughters along. It was new to them and they were not
slow to grasp its significance. Much to the disgust of the military
authorities present, we all shook hands with everybody and assumed the
friendliest kind of attitude. That the Army officers did not approve of
our cordiality toward the Filipinos can hardly be wondered at. They had
been subjected to the risks of a campaign of ambush and assassination
for many months, and even then they were trying to bring in a band of
about one hundred and fifty insurrectos, with as many rifles, who were
hiding in the Meriveles Mountains and preying upon the people; so, it
was natural for them to think that a policy of disdain and severity was
the only one suited to the apparent unreliability and deceitfulness of
the native. However, these same officers very shortly admitted to us,
though rather unwillingly, that our mode of dealing with the people had
had an extraordinary effect on the general tone in Bataan.
It was about this time that President McKinley communicated through
Secretary Root the intention of the Administration to abolish the
military governorship and to install a civil Governor under the power of
the President as Commander-in-Chief, and to create civil departments
also. When Mr. Taft received a cable from Secretary Root advising him of
this fact, he went to see General MacArthur for the purpose of
discussing with him the mode of procedure and to get his ideas as to how
and when the transfer of power should be made.
The General had begun to look upon the work of the Commission from a
somewhat less prejudiced angle and was by this time freely admitting
that the establishment of provincial and municipal governments was
having a good effect. He, of course, did not wish to surrender his power
as military governor and remain in the Islands in a less important
position, but he thought somebody would soon be named to succeed him and
that the proper time for the transfer was after his successor arrived.
Mr. Taft was going, with the other members of the Commission, on a long
organising trip through the southern islands, and he thought he could
not be ready for the adjustment of affairs before the end of June, so it
was decided that the civil Governor should be inaugurated on the 4th of
July, and my husband soon received assurances that he would be asked to
serve in that capacity.