LAST DAYS IN THE PHILIPPINES
When Mr. Taft reached Manila he found the city _en fete_ and in a state
of intense excitement which had prevailed for two days during which the
people had expected every hour to hear the great siren on the cold
storage plant announce that the little _Alava_, the government
coastguard boat which had been sent to Singapore to get him, had been
sighted off Corregidor.
When the announcement finally came, everything in the harbour that could
manage to do so steamed down the Bay to meet him, and when the launch to
which he had transferred from the _Alava_ came up to the mouth of the
Pásig River and under the walls of old Fort Santiago, seventeen guns
boomed out a Governor’s salute, while whistles and bells and sirens all
over the bay and river and city filled the air with a deafening din.
Wherever his eyes rested he saw people,—crowding windows, roofs, river
banks and city walls, all of them cheering wildly and waving hats or
handkerchiefs. And the thing which moved him most was the fact that the
welcoming throng was not just representative of the wealthy and educated
class, but included thousands of the people, barefooted and in calicoes,
who had come in from the neighbouring and even the far provinces to
greet him.
Mrs. Moses asked Mr. Benito Legarda, one of the Filipino members of the
Commission, whether or not there had ever been a like demonstration in
honour of the arrival of a Spanish Governor, and his answer was:
“Yes, there were demonstrations always, but the government paid the
expenses.”
In this case the very opposite was true. The government had no money to
waste on celebrations and all government buildings, such as the City
Hall, the Post Office and the Ayuntamiento, were conspicuously bare.
Their nakedness was positively eloquent of economy in the midst of the
riot of gay bunting, the flags, the pennants and the palm leaves in
which the rest of the city was smothered. Then there were extraordinary
and elaborate arches spanning the streets through which the Governor was
to be conducted. One of these, erected by the _Partido Federal_,
displayed a huge allegorical picture which had a peculiar significance.
Filipina, a lovely lady draped in flowing gauze, was seen, in an
attitude which combined appeal with condescension, presenting to
Columbia a single star, implying that she desired to be accepted as one
of the States of the Union.
I am indebted to the descriptive art of Mrs. Moses, to photographs and
to my own knowledge of the Filipino way of doing things for the mental
picture I have of this celebration.
At the landing near the Custom House my husband found a great procession
in line, ready to escort him to the Ayuntamiento where the speeches of
welcome were to be made. There were regiments of cavalry, infantry and
artillery, as well as platoon after platoon of native and American
police with as many bands as there were divisions of the procession.
Picked men from the volunteer regiments acted as a special guard for the
Governor’s carriage and they must have added much to the impressive
array, because I know of my own observation that the volunteers were
always as fine a looking body of men as it would be possible to find
anywhere.
When Mr. Taft reached the Ayuntamiento he listened to glowing speeches
of tribute and welcome in the Marble Hall, then he stood for hours
shaking hands with the people who, in orderly file, passed in and out of
the building which was large enough to hold only a very small fraction
of them. When this was over and his audience had settled down he
proceeded to tell them in a clear and simple way all about his
experiences in Rome and how far the negotiations with the Vatican had
proceeded. This was a matter of paramount importance to the Filipinos
and they listened with an intensity of interest which Mr. Taft said
seemed to promise serious consequences if the business could not be
carried to a successful conclusion.
However, despite the joy and festivity with which he was greeted upon
his return, the Governor did not find general conditions in the islands
either prosperous or happy.
Everything that could possibly happen to a country had happened or was
happening. The cholera epidemic was still raging, and while it had
abated to a considerable extent in Manila it was at its worst in Iloilo
and other provinces. There had been from seventy to eighty cases a day
in Manila for a long time, and the quarantine regulations had incensed
the ignorant people to a point where force had to be used to secure
obedience. They did not understand sanitary measures and wanted none of
them; they clung to their superstitious beliefs, and were easily made to
accept as truth wild statements to the effect that the Americans were
poisoning the wells and rivers and had stopped transportation and
business with the sole purpose of starving or otherwise destroying the
entire population. Even the educated ones were not without their
time-honoured prejudices in this regard, for while Mr. Taft was in Rome
he receive a cabled protest from Filipino members of the Commission with
a request that he order the quarantine raised.
When he arrived in Manila the cholera cases had fallen to between ten
and twenty a day and business had been resumed to a certain extent, but
the situation was still critical and a fresh outbreak on account of
polluted water was to be expected at any time. All the sources of water
supply were patrolled by American soldiers day and night and every
precaution was taken; whole sections of the city were burned in an
attempt to stamp out the pestilence, but the disease had to run its
course and it was months before it was completely eradicated.
While the people were dying of cholera the carabaos, the only draught
and farm animals in the Islands, were dying by thousands of an epidemic
of rinderpest. This scourge, too, was fought with all the force of both
the civil and military arms of the government, but before it could be
checked it had carried off a large majority of the carabaos in the
Archipelago with the result that agriculture and all other industries
dependent upon this mode of transportation were paralysed. A general
drought in China made a rice famine a practical certainty, even if the
people should have money to buy rice, so the future looked black indeed.
The cholera and rinderpest had greatly reduced government revenues and
many plans for much needed public works had to be modified or abandoned,
while the condition of the currency added to the general chaos. There
was no gold standard and the fluctuations in the value of silver made it
necessary for the Governor to issue a proclamation about once a week
fixing a new rate of exchange. In this way it was calculated that the
government, with insufficient income at the best, lost a round million
dollars gold during a period of ten months.
To cap all and add exasperation to uneasiness the ladrones had become
increasingly active with hard times and were harrying the districts
around Manila to such an extent that the people were in constant terror.
The ravages of the rinderpest had made the carabao a very valuable
animal and the chief object of the ladrones was to steal such as were
left and drive them off to be sold in distant provinces. Nor were they
at all particular about their highwaymen’s methods or chary of
sacrificing human life. There was a veritable hotbed of ladronism at
Caloocan, a suburb of Manila, which was augmented by the roughs and
toughs from the crowded and miserable districts in the lower city, while
across the Bay in Cavite province, known as the “mother of
insurrection,” there were several hundred rifles in the hands of
marauders who hid away in the hills and jungles and made conditions such
that Mr. Taft was asked by the Director of Constabulary to suspend the
writ of habeas corpus, thus declaring the province in a practical state
of siege. Mr. Taft would not do this, saying that he thought the only
course was to “hammer away with the constabulary until the abuse was
stamped out by the regular methods of supposedly peaceful times,” but
the worst feature of the situation was that wherever ladronism showed
its head there would be cohorts of “irreconcilables”—posing in everyday
life as loyal citizens—ready, within the limits of personal safety, to
encourage and assist it. Anything to hamper and harass the government.
Shortly after Mr. Taft’s arrival in Manila, the vice-Governor, General
Wright, and Mrs. Wright left the Islands for a well-earned vacation and
my husband wrote that the amount of work which confronted him was
staggering. He took on General Wright’s department in addition to his
own duties, and if it hadn’t been that he had at least half way learned
not to try to “hurry the East” he probably would not have lasted long.
Among the first steps to be taken was to provide against the inevitable
famine, and to do this it was necessary for the Government to send to
China and Saigon for large quantities of rice to be stored in public
godowns. They bought and brought to Manila something like forty million
pounds of this first of all necessities to an oriental people, and the
intention was to sell it at cost when the market supply began to run low
and prices began to soar beyond the poor man’s reach. A certain degree
of paternalism has always been, is now, and probably always will be
necessary in the government of the Filipino people.
Mr. Taft besought the United States Congress to appropriate a sum to be
used for the importation of work animals, for the purchase of rice and
the furnishing of work on public improvements. The animals were not to
be given away, but were eventually to be sold at reasonable prices.
Three millions were appropriated and spent.
Congress was also petitioned to establish a gold standard of currency,
and this too was done, to the inexpressible relief of everybody
interested in the Philippine welfare, in the following January. The
currency now is as sound as our own, every silver peso, which
corresponds to the old “dollar Mex,” being worth fifty cents gold.
When I arrived in Manila in early October I found the situation more
interesting than it had ever been, even though it was distracting to the
men who had to deal with it. My first necessity was, of course, to
settle myself once more at Malacañan. During my absence the old Palace
had been all done over, painted and patched and cleaned and redecorated
until it was quite unlike its quaint, old dilapidated self. Some of the
colours were a shade too pronounced and some of the decorations ran a
little more to “graceful patterns” than suited my taste, but I was glad
of the added comfort and cleanliness.
It was difficult in the beginning to accustom myself to cholera
conditions. The disease was communicated to very few Americans or other
white foreigners, but safety was secured at the price of eternal
vigilance. Water could not be drunk unless it was boiled under one’s
personal supervision; nothing uncooked could be eaten, not even a piece
of imported fruit, unless it had first been washed in a carbolic
solution, a process, I may say, which added nothing desirable to its
flavour; a good many other precautions were necessary which made us feel
as if we were living always in the lowering shadow of some dreadful
catastrophe, but, even so, we were surprisingly calm about it—everybody
was—and managed to come through the experience without any visible
ill-effects.
There was one new thing for me, and that was a live cow. For two long
years we had manfully striven to make ourselves believe that we liked
canned milk and condensed cream just as much as we liked the fresh milk
we had been used to all our lives. In fact, we were fond of declaring
that we couldn’t tell the difference. But we could. And in our secret
hearts we all welcomed as the most delectable treat an occasional gift
of skimmed milk from a friend who had been a pioneer in the momentous
venture of importing an Australian cow.
The importation of our cow was a real event, and she straightway took up
a position of great dignity and importance in our establishment. She
roamed at will about the grounds of the Palace and her general conduct
was the subject of daily comment in the family circle. A number of
people brought in cows about this time, but very few of them lived long
enough to prove their dairy worth. Our cow flourished and gave forth
large quantities of milk, and this fact became the subject of what was
supposed to be a huge joke.
Mr. Worcester, who was the high chief health authority in the Islands,
decreed that all animals as they were brought in should be inoculated
for rinderpest, tuberculosis, and a number of other things,—“including
prickly heat,” said General Wright,—but it just so happened that a great
majority of these scientifically treated beasts died almost immediately,
and General Wright could always arouse the wrath of Mr. Worcester—a
thing he loved to do—by suggesting that the only reason our cow lived
was because “she had not been inoculated.”
The presence of the cow having given me a true farmer spirit—at least, I
suppose it was the cow—I decided to have a garden. There were very few
vegetables that the Filipinos knew how to raise at that time, and our
longing for fresh things was constant and intense. I selected a
promising looking spot behind the Palace, had it prepared for planting,
then I bought a supply of fresh American seeds and carefully buried them
in places where I thought they might develop into something. The result
was positively astonishing. The soil was rich and the sun was hot, and
in an incredibly short time we were having quantities of beans and
cauliflower and big red tomatoes and all kinds of things.
My ambition grew with success and I branched out into poultry. The first
thing anybody knew I had a big screened yard full of chickens and
turkeys little and big, which were a source of great enjoyment to us all
both in their noisy feathered state in the chicken yard and done up in a
variety of Ah Sing styles on our very well supplied table. I wonder how
my cook made up the “squeeze” out of which he was cheated by my industry
and thrift.
But, dwelling on these minor details I am getting far ahead of my story.
There were many things in the meanwhile engaging my attention, the most
important of which, I suppose, was the great church schism.
Gregorio Aglipay, an Ilocano priest of the Roman Catholic Church, joined
the original insurrection against Spain, or the Friars rather, at its
inception and was excommunicated. He became an insurgent leader with a
reputation for great cruelty, and continued in the field against Spain,
and subsequently against the United States, until resistance was no
longer possible. He was among the last insurrecto chiefs to surrender in
northern Luzon. When peace was restored he began immediately to solicit
the interest and aid of other Filipino priests, of politicians and
influential men in a plan for organising an Independent Filipino
Catholic Church, and his temporary success must have surprised even him.
[Illustration:
ARCH ERECTED BY THE _PARTIDO FEDERAL_ REPRESENTING FILIPINA OFFERING
ANOTHER STAR TO THE AMERICAN FLAG
]
While the people loved catholicism, the failure of the Vatican to accede
to their wishes with respect to the Friars, as expressed by the American
Commission to Rome, added impetus to the rebellious movement and when
the announcement of the new organisation was made it was found to be
based on the strongest kind of support. Aglipay constituted himself
Obispo Maximo, assumed a fine regalia, and conferred upon fifteen or
more of his lieutenants the regular church dignities and titles of a
lesser order. He offered the people the same ceremonies, the same
relief, the same confessional, and the same faith generally to which
they had always been accustomed, so they found it easy enough to
transfer their allegiance, and the new church gained adherents with such
startling rapidity that it seemed as if a majority of the population
would go over to it.
The result may easily be imagined. The Roman Catholic organisation had
controlled Philippine affairs, both temporal and spiritual, for so long
that the possibility of a rebellion of this character had never been
thought of. Every loyal Catholic, and especially every bishop and priest
and friar, was horrified, and an almost frantic controversy began to
rage about the devoted head of the civil Governor as soon as he arrived
in Manila. He was appealed to to take drastic action to suppress the
movement and because he could do nothing even to check it the American
government was reviled in the Catholic press as it had never been
reviled before. Mr. Taft calmly met the storm with an iteration and
reiteration of American principles of religious toleration, and declared
that he had neither right nor wish to try to direct the religious
inclinations of the people, and that all he could do in the matter was
to enforce the keeping of the peace.
The people had been taught by Aglipay and his fellow-conspirators, and,
indeed, by the whole history of church buildings in the Islands, that
church properties belonged to the people and that if they wished to do
so it was right for them to oust the regularly constituted priests from
the churches and to turn these edifices over to the Independent body.
This the government would not allow, holding that any dispute over
property rights must be settled by due process of law. A few riots
ensued wherein the constabulary and police came in violent contact with
the Aglipayanos, but the Filipino is quick to recognise justice, and
this decree of the government was very readily given general acceptance.
Mr. Taft was repeatedly warned by the allies of Rome that the movement
was nothing but a cloak for the worst insurrection against the
government that the Filipinos had yet attempted, and this suspicion was
somewhat strengthened by the fact that many of the least tractable
insurrecto leaders were among its directors, but in the main the
schismatics evinced every desire to obey the injunction laid upon them
not to resort to incendiary methods. And it was thought that the
treatment they received in return would probably do more than all the
preaching in the world to convince them that under American sovereignty
they were actually to enjoy complete religious freedom.
Liberty to take possession of property by force was denied them, but
liberty to think and worship as they pleased was not only given them,
but in the peaceful exercise of this liberty they even enjoyed police
protection, and this was a never-before-heard-of thing which gave them
food for very serious thought. Under Spanish dominion Aglipay would have
been taken to the Luneta and shot as José Rizal was shot, and his
followers would have met and mourned in secret, but the American
authorities held, according to American beliefs, that an Aglipayan, or
independent Catholic organisation, had as much right to parade in the
streets with candles and images as had the Roman Catholic or any other
religious body.
Mr. Taft had vaguely suggested the possibility of some such development
as this during his visit to the Vatican, but it made no impression.
However, now that it had come, it gave the American Commission some
advantage in the Friars and Friars’ lands negotiations because it was
sure to convince the Vatican that the case of the Friars was hopeless
and so inspire speedier action than might otherwise be hoped for.
In the midst of it all the Apostolic Delegate, Archbishop Guidi of
Stauropoli, arrived from Rome! He was an Italian, very friendly and
tolerant, with neither fanatic nor ascetic tendencies. He was by no
means adverse to taking part in any kind of social gaiety and I remember
that at one of our first entertainments after his arrival he expressed
great regret that he could not join in the _Rigodon_. I came to enjoy
association with him exceedingly.
At one of my first receptions that season quite a dramatic scene
occurred in the ballroom. A thousand or more people, perhaps, had passed
the receiving line. Monsignor Guidi came in all his stately regalia, and
shortly afterward Aglipay put in an appearance. The people wandered
around all over the place, circulating through the spacious gardens and
around the verandahs, so there was a possibility that these two would
not meet even though they were both very conspicuous figures. But it was
not long before the Papal Delegate hurried up to Mr. Taft and, in a
state of visible excitement, inquired who the stranger in the striking
religious garb might be.
“That,” said Mr. Taft, “is Aglipay.”
“But, you know,” said the Monsignor, “it is impossible for you to
receive him here when I am present!”
Then Mr. Taft once more laboriously explained the standpoint of the
American government, saying that Aglipay was in his house in his private
capacity as a citizen, that he had as much right there as any other
citizen, and that it would not be possible to ask him to leave as long
as he conducted himself as a guest should.
“Then, I shall have to go,” said Monsignor Guidi.
“I am very sorry,” said Mr. Taft. “I understand your position perfectly
and I trust you understand mine as well.”
So the highest of insular Church dignitaries got his hat and hastened
away while the “renegade and impious impostor” remained—in serene
unconsciousness of the disturbance he had created? Perhaps not. At least
he was serene.
But our relations with Monsignor Guidi continued most agreeable during
our entire stay in the Islands. Mr. Taft thought very highly of him as a
man and an ecclesiastical statesman and diplomat and greatly regretted
his death which occurred after we left the Islands. Through him, the
question of the Friars’ lands was settled as Pope Leo had told Mr. Taft
it would be, satisfactorily to the United States. To bring that story,
which was distractingly long drawn out in reality, to a close, I will
merely add that the government succeeded in purchasing the Friars’ lands
for the sum of $7,000,000; they were turned into a public domain to be
sold under most encouraging conditions, to their tenants and others who
wished to acquire homesteads. The Friars were not sent back to the
parishes and many left the Islands.
However this was not brought about without the protracted exercise of
patience and diplomacy in the very midst of which the long arm of
Washington reached out and touched my busy husband on the shoulder. He
came home one day with a puzzled air and a cablegram from President
Roosevelt. This cablegram read, in part:
Taft, Manila. On January first there will be a vacancy on the Supreme
Court to which I earnestly desire to appoint you.... I feel that your
duty is on the Court unless you have decided not to adopt a judicial
career. I greatly hope you will accept. Would appreciate early answer.
ROOSEVELT.
This came before I had been in the Islands a month and when Mr. Taft was
so deep in the complications of his work that he was almost a stranger
to his friends.
There was an accompanying cablegram from Secretary Root strongly urging
acceptance on the score of my husband’s impaired health. Mr. Root
declared that he was most unwilling to lose his services in the
Philippines, but thought it better for him “not to take any serious risk
of breaking down and having to leave the Islands an invalid even after a
considerable period of further service.” As Mr. Taft was feeling
particularly well and was taking daily exercise and keeping himself in
excellent condition this sounded rather like anticipating a very
unlikely calamity, but the last time Mr. Root had seen him he was
anything but robust so it was easy to understand the Secretary’s
friendly concern for him.
What to do? This was not a question which gave Mr. Taft even a shade of
hesitation, because he knew immediately what he must do. All his life
his first ambition had been to attain the Supreme Bench. To him it meant
the crown of the highest career that a man can seek, and he wanted it as
strongly as a man can ever want anything. But now that the opportunity
had come acceptance was not to be thought of. I had always been opposed
to a judicial career for him, but at this point I shall have to admit I
weakened just a little. I remembered the year of illness and anxiety we
had just been through; and sometimes I yearned to be safe in Washington
even though it did mean our settlement in the “fixed groove” that I had
talked against for so long.
Mr. Taft’s plain and unmistakable duty held him in the Philippine
Islands. He knew he could not detach himself completely from the
enterprise upon which he was engaged without grave consequences to it.
His one cause for uncertainty as to what he should do lay in a suspicion
that he might have done something to embarrass the Administration in a
political sense, or that his opponents in the monastic orders and
Friars’ lands controversy might have made representations which caused
the President to consider his removal “upstairs” advisable. He discussed
the matter confidentially with Mr. Benito Legarda and with the Chief
Justice of the Philippines, Mr. Arellano, and the comment of the Chief
Justice was: “There, the influence of the Friars has reached even to
Washington.” Mr. Taft cabled to his brother Henry in New York to make
private inquiries in this connection, since he did not wish to remain in
the islands if his presence there was in any way undesirable, but at the
same time he cabled to the President:
President Roosevelt, Washington. Great honour deeply appreciated but
must decline. Situation here most critical from economic standpoint.
Change proposed would create much disappointment and lack of
confidence among people. Two years now to follow of greater importance
to development of islands than previous two years. Cholera,
rinderpest, religious excitement, ladrones, monetary crisis, all
render most unwise change of Governor. These are sentiments of my
colleagues and two or three leading Filipinos consulted
confidentially. Nothing would satisfy individual taste more than
acceptance. Look forward to the time when I can accept such an offer,
but even if it is certain that it can never be repeated I must now
decline. Would not assume to answer in such positive terms in view of
words of your despatch if gravity of situation here was not
necessarily known to me better than it can be known in Washington.
TAFT.
He also sent the following cablegram to Secretary Root:
Secwar, Washington. Referring to cablegram from your office of 26th
inst. (October, 1902) my health is about as good as when I landed in
1900, but conditions here would make my withdrawal, unless absolutely
compulsory, violation of duty. It may be that I shall be ill again,
but I am more careful now than before. Chance has thrown every
obstacle in the way of our success, but we shall win. I long for a
judicial career but if it must turn on my present decision I am
willing to lose it.
TAFT.
In late November Mr. Taft received this letter from the President:
Dear Will, I am disappointed, of course, that the situation is such as
to make you feel it unwise for you to leave, because, exactly as no
man can quite do your work in the islands, so no man can quite take
your place as the new member of the Court. But, if possible, your
refusal on the ground you give makes me admire you and believe in you
more than ever. I am quite at a loss whom to appoint to the Bench in
the place I meant for you. Everything else must give way to putting in
the right man; but I can’t make up my mind who is the right man.
Always affectionately yours,
THEODORE ROOSEVELT.
So ended that period of wondering what we were to do. At least I thought
it was ended, and while I settled down to the continued and continuous
round of social “work” and pleasure, Mr. Taft proceeded with his
strenuous fight against accumulated and complicated difficulties. We had
Major General and Mrs. Miles with us at Malacañan for a time and after
they left I went down to Batangas, where General Bell was in command, to
“rest” awhile in Mrs. Bell’s somewhat less crowded and exciting circle.
I accepted with a high degree of pleasure the prospect of perhaps two
more years in this very interesting field of work, but President
Roosevelt had other views. It was scarcely a month after the Supreme
Court incident was supposed to be closed when Mr. Taft received a letter
which reopened it with a decisiveness which seemed final. Such parts of
the letter as bear directly on the proposal to Mr. Taft I shall quote:
Dear Will, I am awfully sorry, old man, but after faithful effort for
a month to try to arrange matters on the basis you wanted I find that
I shall have to bring you home and put you on the Supreme Court. I am
very sorry. I have the greatest confidence in your judgment, but,
after all, old fellow, if you will permit me to say so, I am President
and see the whole field. The responsibility for any error must
ultimately come upon me, and therefore I cannot shirk the
responsibility or in the last resort yield to any one else’s decision
if my judgment is against it. After the most careful thought; after
the most earnest effort as to what you desired and thought best, I
have come, irrevocably, to the decision that I shall appoint you to
the Supreme Court in the vacancy caused by Judge Shiras’
resignation.... I am very sorry if what I am doing displeases you, but
as I said, old man, this is one of the cases where the President, if
he is fit for his position, must take the responsibility and put the
men on whom he most relies in the particular positions in which he
himself thinks they can render the greatest public good. I shall
therefore about February first nominate you as I have suggested.
With affectionate regard,
Ever yours,
THEODORE ROOSEVELT.
This seemed final enough as to be quite unanswerable, so I heaved a sigh
of resignation and made some remark about the not unpleasing prospect of
our all getting home alive at any rate. General Wright was to succeed to
the Governorship, which was a great consolation to my husband, and we
began at once to outline a programme of obedience to the President. Mr.
Taft announced his impending departure and really considered that
further argument was useless, but conditions were such that he could not
resist the temptation to hazard one more protest. He cabled to Mr.
Roosevelt:
The President, Washington, Recognise soldier’s duty to obey orders.
Before orders irrevocable by action however I presume on our personal
friendship even in the face of your letter to make one more appeal, in
which I lay aside wholly my strong personal disinclination to leave
work of intense interest half done. No man is indispensable; my death
would little interfere with programme, but my withdrawal more serious.
Circumstances last three years have convinced these people, controlled
largely by personal feeling, that I am their friend and stand for a
policy of confidence in them and belief in their future and for
extension of self-government as they show themselves worthy. Visit to
Rome and proposals urged there assure them of my sympathy in regard to
friars in respect to whose far-reaching influence they are morbidly
suspicious. Announcement of withdrawal pending settlement of church
question, economic crises, and formative political period when
opinions of all parties are being slowly moulded for the better, will,
I fear, give impression that change of policy is intended because
other reasons for action will not be understood. My successor’s task
is thus made much heavier because any loss of the people’s confidence
distinctly retards our work here. I feel it is my duty to say this. If
your judgment is unshaken I bow to it and shall earnestly and
enthusiastically labour to settle question friars’ lands before I
leave, and to convince the people that no change of policy is at hand;
that Wright is their warm friend as sincere as they think me, and that
we both are but exponents of the sincere good will toward them of
yourself and the American people.
TAFT.
After this things began to happen which nobody, least of all my husband,
had anticipated. When the announcement was made that we were to leave
there was, at first, just a buzz of astonishment and incredulity, but
within two days the whole city of Manila was placarded, in all the
necessary languages, with the simple and uniform sentiment: “Queremos
Taft,” “WE WANT TAFT.” Mr. Root’s rendering of this in English was “I
want you, Mah Honey, yes, I do.” These announcements were printed in
letters of all sizes and all colours, but the wording did not vary in
the slightest degree; just, “WE WANT TAFT.”
Then on the morning of the 10th of January—the letter from Mr. Roosevelt
was received on the 6th—we saw marching through the gates of Malacañan a
column of citizens, blocks long, with bands playing, flags flying and
many transparencies bobbing over their heads. These citizens packed
themselves around the entrance of the Palace and proceeded to make a
demonstration. It was rather saddening to us in view of our conviction
that we must go, but we listened with what composure we could command to
the eloquent speeches. The speakers came up into the Palace and
addressed the crowd from a great window over the main entrance.
Dr. Dominador Gomez, one of the popular orators and labour agitators,
began by saying that Mr. Taft was the “saint” who had “the power to
perform the great miracle” of uniting the distinct opinions and contrary
motives of the people, and declared that “this is a spontaneous
demonstration of affection for our Governor which is to be reduced to
expression in a respectful petition to the President.”
Dr. Xeres Burgos, an old insurrecto, said he spoke for no political
party but in behalf of the mass of people which surrounded us,—“this
people who wish to say to you that all those calamities which have
weighed and do weigh upon the Filipinos are as nothing compared with the
evil effect caused by your impending departure from this government,
just at the precise moment when the Filipino people expect, through your
honesty and love for them, an end to all economic and governmental
disturbances, as well as the solution of the agricultural problem which
is so closely interwoven with the Friar question. The Filipino people
trust that the home government will not tear from their arms their
beloved governor upon whom depends the happy solution of all Philippine
questions. In a word: the Filipino people desire the continuation of
Governor Taft in these Islands!”
Tomaso G. del Rosario likened Mr. Taft to a ship’s rudder adept at
“avoiding shallows” and “bringing her safe into port.” Then he said the
Philippines were “rising from the ashes of a momentous revolution and
advancing toward the future with a heart full of enthusiasm and hope,”
and that “a ruler lacking the qualifications so happily combined in Mr.
Taft might faint by the wayside.”
There were other speeches, but the climax came when Pedro A. Paterno
began by comparing Mr. Taft with Jesus Christ, saying that “as Christ
had converted the cross into a symbol of glory and triumph, so had
Governor Taft turned a dying people to the light and life of modern
liberties.”
This sounds quite blasphemous in English, but the Filipinos take strange
liberties with holy names which shock us but which to them are mere
expressions of piety. Jesus is a favourite name for boy babies, while
there is a street of “The Heart of Jesus” in Manila, and many others
equally inconsistent with our more reticent taste.
Needless to say the cable between Manila and Washington was crowded that
day with protests to the President; protests not only from citizens and
committees of citizens, but from all Mr. Taft’s colleagues in the
government, both Filipino and American. Two days later my husband
received a message from Mr. Roosevelt which gave us all a hearty laugh.
It read, simply: “Taft, Manila, All right stay where you are. I shall
appoint some one else to the Court. ROOSEVELT.”
Altogether it was quite an exciting event. After the “smoke of battle”
had cleared away Mr. Taft rose up out of his depression and went to work
with renewed vigour and strengthened confidence, but I began to think
that after all the demonstrations and protestations we should have to
remain in the Islands the rest of our lives whether we wanted to or not.
Six months later, however, we learned, to our consternation, that Mr.
Root was going to resign as Secretary of War in the fall or winter
following, and without a moment’s hesitation as far as we could judge,
the position was offered by Mr. Roosevelt to Mr. Taft. It was urged upon
him, in fact. This was much more pleasing to me than the offer of the
Supreme Court appointment, because it was in line with the kind of work
I wanted my husband to do, the kind of career I wanted for him and
expected him to have, so I was glad there were few excuses for refusing
to accept it open to him. If it hadn’t been that it was merely a case of
transferring his services from the necessarily restricted field of work
in the Philippines to the broader and more powerful field of general
supervision of Philippine affairs in the War Department, he probably
would have declined the appointment and begged to be left where he was,
but the change was not to take place for a year and he knew that as soon
as he had settled the Friars’ question and a few other matters of
importance in the Islands he could be of more use to the Filipino people
in Washington than he could in Manila. General Wright was to succeed
him, with Mr. Ide and Judge Smith, both trained men, in line of
succession to follow General Wright, so with the promise of a few months
in which to close up the affairs in which he was most deeply engrossed,
he accepted the Cabinet office.
Shortly before we left Manila to take up our residence in Washington we
decided to give a final and memorable entertainment. We wanted it to be
something original, so we discussed it and pondered over it at great
length. We thought we had given every kind of party that ingenuity could
devise during our residence at Malacañan, but one evening, sitting out
on the verandah looking across the still, softly-lapping river at the
low-hung lights on the opposite bank, it suddenly occurred to me that we
had an ideal setting for a Venetian Carnival, and a Venetian Carnival
was settled upon without further ado. It was to be a masked ball, the
front gates of the Palace grounds were to be closed and everybody was to
come by boat to the river landing on the verandah below.
As soon as this plan was noised abroad the town was agog with
excitement. The first question, of course, to occur to everybody was:
“What shall I go as?” And pretty soon every woman in town, and many men,
assumed that labouredly innocent air peculiar to a period of preparation
for a masked ball in a community where everybody knows or wants to know
all about everybody else.
[Illustration:
MR. AND MRS. TAFT, WITH MEMBERS OF THEIR FAMILY AND STAFF, INCLUDING
MAJOR NOBLE, AIDE (_AT LEFT_), AND MR. FRED. C. CARPENTER, PRIVATE
SECRETARY (_RIGHT_), IN COSTUMES WORN AT THE VENETIAN CARNIVAL
]
I knew right away what I should “go as.” I would be a Venetian lady of
romance days. But the question of Mr. Taft’s costume was not so easily
settled. If he hadn’t interposed so many ideas of his own it would have
been much simpler. In writing to his brother Charles he says: “It is a
humiliating fact to me that every suggestion of a character for me by me
has been summarily rejected by Nellie unless it involved the wearing of
a gown of such voluminous proportions as to conceal my Apollo-like form
completely. The proposal that I assume the character of an Igorrote
chieftain because of the slight drain on capital and our costuming
resources did not meet with favour. So it is settled that I must assume
the robes and headgear of the husband of the Adriatic, the Doge of
Venice. The question is whether the robe can be made historically
accurate and at the same time so conceal my nether extremities as to
make it unnecessary for me to dye my nether undergarments to a proper
colour, for the entire Orient cannot produce tights of a sufficient
size. The Council of War, meaning Nellie, has not advised me on the
subject, but tights or no tights we shall have a Doge of Venice ‘that
never was on land or sea.’” And we did.
We called a committee of Filipinos to arrange about illuminations on the
river and the decoration of launches, cascoes, bancas, rafts and barges,
and this committee took the whole matter out of my hands and went to
work with the zeal of children playing at some fascinating new game.
They arranged for a number of pavilioned craft decorated with flowers,
and offered a prize for the most beautiful and elaborate private launch,
or boat of any kind. Then on either bank of the river they stretched
lines of coloured electric lights and crossed the river at close
intervals with other lines as far as the eye could see in both
directions. The whole Palace building was outlined in electric lights,
while the great trees and every little bush were wired and strung with a
myriad multicoloured globes, hundreds of them covered with Japanese
lanterns in fantastic colours and designs. All the garden walks and
drives were bordered with tiny coloured lamps burning cocoanut oil, set
close in against the well trimmed lawns, and when it was all finished
and the light turned on the place was like a fairyland.
The date for the Carnival was set for full moon night, the third of
December, and never will I forget the brilliance and beauty of the scene
as one gay and picturesque barge or improvised gondola after another,
full of laughing, chattering and singing people in masks and all manner
of strange costumes, and with mandolins and guitars playing, floated up
under the bright canopy of swinging globes, a million times reflected in
the ripples of the river, to the ancient-looking, moss-grown landing
where Mr. Taft and I, as the Doge of Venice and his Lady, stood
receiving our guests with as much mock stateliness as we could command
in the midst of such a merry throng. It will linger in my memory always
as one of the most entrancing evenings of my life.
Rain was predicted, as usually happens when I give any kind of a garden
party, and all day long I had watched the clouds with a feeling of
helpless exasperation. I wanted fair weather; I wanted the moonlight;
but as night came on the lowering grey canopy seemed to float upward and
spread itself out into a mere haze which softened and diffused the
brightness and made ten times more effective our myriad swinging lamps
and lanterns.
Everybody had done his or her utmost in the matter of costuming, and
with a success that I never saw surpassed. All the fine old collections
of jewels in the rich Spanish and Filipino families were taken out, and
in many cases made over into special designs to deck oriental
princesses, historic queens and noble ladies of storied fame.
Perhaps the most striking costume of all was worn by Mrs. Rafael Reyes,
a tall dark Spanish lady of extraordinary beauty, the wife of a
prominent and wealthy Filipino. Señora Reyes came as the Queen of Night,
and she was literally ablaze with diamonds. Not brilliants nor
rhinestones, but diamonds large and small, sewn all over the long
graceful folds of her sweeping black robe to represent stars. On her
small shapely head, crowned with a wealth of shining black hair, she
wore a large diamond crescent. She caught the light and sparkled, her
vivacious personality sparkling with her jewels. On that memorable
occasion nobody who saw her could possibly forget her.
Dancing and frolicking continued long into the night, but as the evening
wore to a close we began to feel a sense of depression. In a very few
days we were to leave the Islands perhaps never to return, and this was
our last party at old Malacañan. It is not amiss, I am sure, to say that
every laughing face sobered and every voice took on a regretful tone as
one by one our guests came up to say good night—and good-bye.