Produced by Jeroen Hellingman and the Online Distributed
Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This file was
produced from images generously made available by the
Digital & Multimedia Center, Michigan State University
Libraries [text] and The Internet Archive [illustrations].)
The Great White Tribe in Filipinia
By
Paul T. Gilbert
Cincinnati: Jennings and Pye
New York: Eaton and Mains
Copyright, 1903,
by Jennings and Pye
Preface
The legendary white tribe that is said to wander in the mountains of
Mindoro is but distantly related to the Great White Tribe now scattered
through the greater part of Filipinia. Extending from the Babuyanes
off Luzon, to Tawi-Tawi and Sibutu off the coast of Borneo, the Great
White Tribe has made its presence felt throughout the archipelago.
The following pages are the record of my own impressions and
experiences in the Philippines. The few historical and geographical
allusions made have been selected only as they were significant,
explanatory, picturesque. A logical arrangement of the chapters will
enable the reader to survey the islands as a great bird hovering above
might do--will make the map of Filipinia "look like a postage-stamp."
I promise that the reader shall be introduced to all the most important
members of the Great White Tribe, as well as to the representatives
of races brown and black. We will peep through the hedge together
as the savages and pagans execute their grotesque dances or perform
their sacrifices to the god of the volcano. Furthermore, the reader
shall attend the Oroquieta Ball with Maraquita and Don Julian, or,
if he likes, with "Foxy Grandpa" and "The Arizona Babe."
I ought to dedicate this book to many people,--to that wonderful brown
baby Primitivo, who has written that he "loves me the most best of
all the world;" to "Fresno Bill," that charter member of the Great
White Tribe, with whom I have knocked around from Zamboanga to Vigan;
or to that coterie of college men in old Manila who extended me so
many courtesies while I was there. I send them all my compliments
from the homeland, and ask the reader, if he will, to do likewise.
Cincinnati, Ohio,
_December, 1903._
Contents
Chapter Page
I. In Old Manila, 9
II. All About the Town, 23
III. The White Man's Life, 36
IV. Around the Provinces, 50
V. On Summer Seas, 67
VI. Among the Pagan Tribes, 80
VII. A Lost Tribe and the Servants of
Mohammed, 97
VIII. In a Visayan Village, 121
IX. The "Brownies" of the Philippines, 142
X. Christmas in Filipinia, 150
XI. In a Visayan Home, 163
XII. Leaves from a Note-book, 181
1. Skim Organizes the Constabulary, 181
2. Last Days at Oroquieta, 195
XIII. In Camp and Barracks with the Officers
and Soldiers of the Philippines, 223
XIV. Padre Pedro, Recoleto Priest.--The
Routine of a Friar in the Philippines, 236
XV. General Rufino in the Moro Country, 254
XVI. On the Iligan-Marahui Road, 270
XVII. The Filipino at Play, 280
XVIII. Visayan Ethics and Philosophy, 292
Illustrations
Map of Filipinia, Frontispiece
Facing Page
In Old Manila, 8
All About the Town, 26
On Summer Seas, 68
Negrito Pigmy Vagrants, 98
Our Latest Citizens, 120
In a Visayan Village, 128
A Carabao, 144
The Oldest Cathedral of Manila, 238
General Rufino in Moro Country, 256
Captain Isidro Rillas with the Datto, 256
A Deserted Moro Shack, 274
Moro Weapons (Spear and Dirk), 274
Chapter I.
In Old Manila.
As the big white transport comes to anchor three miles out in the
green waters of Manila Bay, a fleet of launches races out to meet
the messenger from the Far West. The customs officers in their blue
uniforms, the medical inspectors, and the visitors in white duck suits
and panama hats, taking their ease upon the launches without the
slightest sign of curiosity, give one his first impressions of the
Oriental life--the white man's easy-going life in the Far East. But
the ideas of the newcomer are to undergo a change after his first few
days on shore, when he takes up the grind, and realizes that his face
is getting pasty--that the cool veranda and the drive on the Luneta
do not constitute the entire program, even in Manila.
Unwieldy lighters and strange-looking _cascos_ now surround the
transport, and the new arrival sees the Filipino for the first
time. Under the woven helmet of the nearest _casco_ squats a shriveled
woman, one of the witches from Macbeth, stirring a blackened pot of
rice. A gamecock struggles at his tether in the stern, while the deck
amidships swarms with wiry brown men, with bristling pompadours and
feet like rubber, with wide-spreading toes. With unintelligible cries
they crowd the gunwale, spurning the iron hull of the transport with
long billhooks, as the heavy swell sucks out the water, leaving the
streaming sluices and the great red hull exposed, and threatening at
the inrush of the sea to bump the _casco_ soundly against the solid
iron plates of the larger ship. A most disreputable-looking crew it
is, the ragged trousers rolled up to the knee, the network shirts,
or cotton blouses full of holes drawn down outside. Highly excitable,
and yet good-natured as they work, they take possession and disgorge
the ship, while Chinamen descend the hatchways after dirty clothes.
Off in the hazy distance lies Cavite, or "the port," with its white
mist of war ships lying at anchor where the stout Dutch galleons rode,
in 1647, to attack the Spanish caravels, retiring only after the
Dutch admiral fell wounded mortally; where later, in the nineteenth
century, the Spanish fleet put out to meet the white armada,
the grim battleships of Admiral Dewey's line. Where now the lazy
sailing vessels and the blackened tramps are anchored, lay, in 1593,
the hostile Chinese junks, with the barbaric eye daubed on the bows,
the gunwales bristling with iron cannon that had scorned the typhoons
of the China Sea and gathered in Manila Bay.
This bay has been the scene of history-making since the sixteenth
century. Soon after the flotilla of Legaspi landed the first Spanish
settlers on the crescent beach around Manila Bay, the little garrison
was put to test by the invasion of the Chinese pirate, Li Ma Hong. The
memory of that brave defense in which the Spaniards routed the
Mongolian invader, even the disaster of that first of May can never
drown. In 1582 the little fleet put out against the Japanese corsair,
Taifusa, and returned victorious. In 1610 the fleet of the Dutch
pirates was destroyed off Mariveles. Those were stirring days when,
but a few years later, the armada of Don Juan de Silva left Manila
Bay again to test the mettle of the Dutch. Another naval encounter
with the Dutch resulted in a victory for Spanish arms in 1620 in
San Bernardino Straits. And off Corregidor, whose blue peak marks
the entrance to Manila Bay, the Dutchmen were again defeated by the
galleons of Don Geronimo de Silva. Now, near the Cavite shore, is
seen the twisted wreck of one of the ill-fated men of war that went
down under the intolerable fire from Dewey's broad-sides. And in 1899
the Spanish transports left Manila Bay forever under the command of
Don Diego de los Rios, with the remnant of the Spanish troops aboard.
The city of Manila lies in a broad crescent, with its white walls
and the domes of churches glowing in the sun. On landing at the Anda
monument, you find the gray walls and the moss-grown battlements
of the old garrison--a winding driveway leading across the swampy
moat and disappearing through the mediæval city gate. This portion
of Manila, laid out in the sixteenth century by De Legaspi, occupies
the territory on the south side of the Pasig River at the mouth. the
frowning walls of the _Cuartel de Santiago_ loom above the bustling
river opposite the customs-house.
Here, where the young American army officers look out expectantly for
the arrival of the transport that is to bring them their promotions,
or to take them home, Geronimo de Silva was confined for not pursuing
the Dutch vessels after the sea fight off Corregidor. The crumbling
walls still whisper of intrigue and secrecy. The fort was built in
1587, and became the base of operations, not only against the pirate
fleets of the Chinese, the Moros, and the Dutch, but also in the riots
of the Chinese and the Japanese that broke out frequently in the old
days. At one time twenty thousand Chinamen were beaten back by an
alliance of the Spaniards, Japanese, and natives. On this historic
ground the treaty was made in 1570 between the Spaniards and the
rajas of Manila, Soliman and Lacandola. The walls survived the fire of
1603. The earthquake causing the evacuation of Manila could not shake
them. Another prisoner of state, Corcuera, who had fought the Moros
in the Jolo Archipelago, was locked up in the _Cuartel de Santiago_
at the instance of his Machiavellian successor. In 1642 the fort was
strengthened by additional artillery because of an expected visit
from the Dutch. Today a soldier in a khaki uniform mounts guard at the
street entrance. The courtyard is adorned by pyramids of cannon-balls
and tidy rows of _bonga_-trees. The soldiers' quarters line the avenue
on either side, and bugle-calls resound where formerly was heard the
call of the night watchman.
A number of elaborate but narrow passages--dim, gloomy archways, where
the chain and windlass stand dust-covered from disuse--connect the
walled town with the extra-muros sections. The _Puerto del Parian_,
on the Ermita side, is one of the most imposing of these gates. Near
the botanical gardens on the boulevard, at the small booth where
Juliana sells cigars and bottled soda, following the turnpike over
the moat, you come to the Parian gate, crowned by the Spanish arms,
in crumbling bas-relief. Beyond the drawbridge--lowered never to be
raised again--where rumbling pony-carts crowd the pedestrians to the
wall, the passage opens into gloomy dungeons, with barred windows
looking out upon the stagnant waters of the moat. With an involuntary
shudder, you pass on. A native policeman, in an opera-bouffe uniform,
stands at the further end in order to dispatch the vehicles that can
not pass each other in the narrow gate. Windowless, yellow walls, upon
the corners of the streets, make reckless driving very dangerous,
and collisions frequently occur. A vacant sentry-box stands just
within the city walls, and, turning here into the long street, you
immediately find yourself in an old Spanish town.
Here the grand churches and the public buildings are located;
the cathedral, after the Romano-Byzantine style of architecture;
the _Palacio_, built after Spanish notions of magnificence,
around a courtyard shaded by rare trees; and many other edifices,
used for official and ecclesiastic purposes. The streets are paved
with cobblestone and laid out regularly in squares, in accordance
with the plan of De Legaspi, so that one side or the other will be
always in the shade. Beautiful plazas, with their palms and statues,
frequently relieve the glare of the white walls. The sidewalks are
narrow, and are sheltered by projecting balconies.
The heavily-barred windows, ponderous doors, and quaint signboards
give the streets an old-world aspect, while _Calle Real_ is spanned by
an arched gallery, like the Venetian Bridge of Sighs. Tailor-shops,
laundries, restaurants, and barber-shops, where swinging punkas
waft the odor of bay rum through open doors, suggest a scene from
some forgotten story-book or the stage-setting for an Elizabethan
play. In the commercial streets the absence of show-windows will be
noticed. Bookstores display their wares on stands outside, while of
the contents of the other shops, one can obtain no adequate idea until
he enters through the open doors. The interesting signboards, whether
they can be interpreted or not, tend to excite the curiosity. "_Los
Dos Hermanos_" (The Two Brothers) is a tailor-shop, a _Sastreria_;
and the shoestore a _Zapateria_. The family grocery-store, _El Globo_,
is advertised by a huge globe, battered from long years of service;
and _La Lira_, or the music-store, may be known by the sign of the
gold lyre.
These streets have been the scene of many a drama in the
past. Earthquakes in 1645, in 1863, and 1880, caused great loss of
life and property. The plague broke out in 1628, when Spaniards,
Filipinos, and Chinese were swept off indiscriminately. Later,
epidemics of smallpox and cholera have made a prison and a pesthouse
of Manila. Only in 1902 the city suffered from a run of cholera,
and the Americans, in spite of all precautions, could not stop the
spread of the disease. The streets were flushed at night; districts of
native houses were put to the torch, and the detention-camp was full of
suffering humanity. The natives, in their ignorance, went through the
streets in long processions, carrying the images of saints, chanting,
and burning candles, and at night would throw the bodies of the dead
into the river or the canal. The ships lay wearily at quarantine
out in the bay, and the chorus of bells striking the hour at night
was heard over the quiet waters. Officers patrolled the streets,
inspected drains and cesspools where the filth of ages had collected,
giving the forgotten corners of Manila such a cleaning as they never
had received before.
But there were days of triumph and rejoicing--days such as had come to
Greece and Rome; days when the level of life was raised to heights of
inspiration. Not only have the streets re-echoed to the martial music
of the victorious Americans when Governor Taft or the vice-governor
were welcomed, but the town had rung with shouts of triumph when
provincial troops had come back from the conquest of barbarians, or
when the fleets returned from victories over the Dutch and English
and the Moro pirates of the southern archipelago. And the streets
reverberated to the sound of drum and trumpet when, in 1662, the
special companies of guards were organized to put down the rebellion
of the Chinese in the suburbs. But in 1762 the town capitulated to the
English, and the occupation by Americans more than a century later,
was a repetition of the scenes enacted then.
Because of the volcanic condition of the island, the houses can not
be built more than two stories high. The ground floor is of stone,
and contains, besides the storehouse or a suite of living rooms,
the stables, arranged around a tiled courtyard, where the carriages
are washed. A broad stairway conducts to the main corridor above. The
floor, of polished hardwood, is uncarpeted and scrupulously clean. Each
morning the _muchachos_ (house-boys) mop the floor with kerosene,
skating around the room on rags tied to their feet, or pushing a
piece of burlap on all fours across the floor. The walls are frescoed
pink and blue; the ceiling is often of painted canvas. The windows,
fitted with translucent shell in tiny squares, slide back and forth,
so that the balcony can be thrown open to the light. Double walls,
making an alcove on one side, keep out the heat of the ascending or
descending sun. The balcony at evening is a favorite resort, and
visitors are entertained in open air. In the interior arrangement
of the houses, little originality is shown, the Spaniards having
insisted upon merely formal principles of art. The stiff arrangement
of the chairs, facing each other in precise rows, as if a conclave
were about to be held, does not invite conviviality. There are few
pictures on the walls,--a faded chromo, possibly, in a gilt frame,
representing some old-fashioned prospect of Madrid, or the tinted
portrait of the royal family.
The Spanish residents and the _mestizos_ entertain with great
politeness and formality. Five o'clock is the fashionable hour for
visiting, as earlier in the afternoon the family is liable to be in
_négligée_. The Spanish women, in loose, morning gowns, or blouses,
and in flapping slippers, present a rather slovenly appearance during
morning hours; also the children, in their "union" suits, split tip
the back, impress the stranger as untidy. During the noon _siesta_
everybody goes to sleep, to come to life late in the afternoon. At
eight o'clock the chandelier is lighted and the evening meal is
served. This is a very formal dinner, consisting of innumerable courses
of the same thing cooked in different styles. A glass of _tinto_ wine,
a glass of water, and a toothpick whittled by the loving hands of the
_muchacho_, finishes the meal. The kitchen is located in the rear,
and generally overlooks the court, and near by are the bathroom and
the laundry.
In the walled city small hotels are numerous, their entryways well
banked with potted palms. The usual stone courtyard, damp with water,
is surrounded by the pony-stalls, where dirty stable-boys go through
their work mechanically, smoking cigarettes. The dining-room and office
occupy most of the second floor. This is the library, reception-room,
and ladies' parlor, all in one; the guest-rooms open into this
apartment. These are very small, containing a big Spanish tester-bed,
with a cane bottom, and the other necessary furniture. The sliding
windows open out into the street or the attractive courtyard, and the
room reminds you somewhat of an opera-box. My own room looked out at
the hospital of San José, where a big clock, rather weatherbeaten,
tolled the hours.
Manila to-day, however, is a contradiction. Striking anachronisms
occur from the confusion of Malayan, Asiatic, European, and American
traditions. Heavy escort-wagons, drawn by towering army mules, crowd
to the wall the fragile _quilez_ and the _carromata_( two-wheeled
gigs), with their tough native ponies. Tall East Indians, in their
red turbans; Armenian merchants, soldiers in khaki uniforms, and
Chinese coolies bending under heavy loads, jostle each other under
the projecting balconies, while Filipinos shuffle peacefully along
the curb.
The new American saloons look rather out of place in such a curious
environment, and telegraph wires concentrated at the city wall seem
even more incongruous.