THE FILIPINO AT HOME.
As one enters a Filipino sitting-room for the first time, there is one
feature in the arrangement of the furniture that impresses itself upon
him at once, and it may be stated without fear of serious
contradiction that this same peculiar feature in its arrangement will
continue to face him, as he enters different homes, about as certainly
as he crosses the threshold.
The arrangement referred to is that of one large mirror, one settee,
and some ten or a dozen chairs that appear to have had a certain
orderly affection for one another. The mirror is hung upon one of the
large interior parts of the house about four feet above the floor. The
wooden houses in the Philippines are built by setting large posts
upright into the ground, extending into the air from twenty to thirty
feet. Cross timbers are fastened to these upright posts about eight or
ten feet above the ground and then not sawed off even with the posts,
but allowed to extend beyond them each way. The framework of the house
is built upon these extending cross timbers, a style of building by
which these large upright posts are left standing out on the inside of
the room from one to three feet from the walls. It is on that one of
these posts most nearly opposite the door that the mirror always finds
its place. Immediately beneath the mirror is the settee; and the
chairs are arranged in two parallel lines facing one another and at
right angles with the ends of the settee. However odd this arrangement
may appear to one when he first enters a Filipino drawing-room, there
are two things to be said in its favor. In the first place, it places
you face to face with the person with whom you are conversing so that
you can watch him,--a matter of no small moment in the Philippines. In
the next place, it enables you to give one of the young ladies a
sheep's-eye in the mirror while the others present are left where
Moses was in our much abused conundrum.
The size of the residence and the quality of its furnishings depends
upon the wealth of the owner. But there is so vast a difference
between the mode of life of the highest class and the _tao_, or lowest
class, that it is well to speak of them separately, and the great
middle class of Filipinos can easily be imagined to occupy the
intervening ground.
The rich Filipino's house is usually of wood built upon a wall of
stone or brick from ten to fifteen feet high. The floors are kept
highly polished in his hallway, dressing-room, and bed-rooms. There
are, of course, no fire-places in any of the rooms, but on some
occasions something is needed to dry the rain-soaked atmosphere, for
even in the dry season it has been seen to rain for five successive
days and nights without the cessation of a moment.
A long chain of dependents is attached to the household of the rich
Filipino. The master has his special body servant to be present at all
times to do his master's bidding, in short, to be the visible
mechanism of his master's volition. So, too, the lady of the house has
her servant woman to do the slightest bidding of her ladyship. Then
there is the cook who is almost invariably a man, a house boy or two,
and the coachman. These functionaries, with their assistants and
assistants to the assistants, together with a servant or two for the
exclusive service of the children, complete the economic household.
Such a family has an abundance of rice and wheat bread, also of
chicken and fish with occasional fresh beef. They have also a good
deal of _dulce_. They regularly serve wine and frequently serve beer
on their tables.
In strong contrast with this mode of life is that of the _tao_. His
diet consists almost wholly of rice and small uncleaned fish boiled
together. As a rule knife, fork, plate, and spoon find no place in his
household. The rice and fish are boiled in a pot and then allowed to
cool in the same vessel or poured out to cool in a large earthen or
wooden bowl. Then Mr. Tao together with Mrs. Tao and all the young
Taos squat on their heels around the mixture and satisfy that
intangible thing called the appetite. They do not use chop sticks as
the Chinese do, but the rice and fish are caught in a hollow formed by
the first three fingers of the right hand. The thumb is then placed
behind the mass. It is raised up and poised before the mouth, with a
skill coming from the evolution of ages, when a contraction of the
muscles of the thumb throws the mass into the mouth with a skill that
is marvelous to any but a Filipino. To judge from the most reliable
information, the poorest class do not have an abundance of food,
although it would seem that such a condition of things would be
well-nigh impossible. However, in a census of one hundred school
children there were found six boys and four girls who declared that
they had never had enough to eat, and the native teacher stated that
this was probably true.
The wide gulf between the _tao_ and the rich man is filled by the
great middle class of Filipinos.