I was foolish enough to move away for a moment to speak to someone,
and so lost my place. Then we saw that people were beginning to stand
on the benches, so C—— got me a place on one by asking some men to
move, which they were rather huffy about. On one side of me was a tall,
thin young Senator with a large hand-camera, who showed his resentment
in tiresome little incivilities; but the man on the other side was a
nice, good-natured soul, who tried to make room for me, and spoke very
agreeably. He seemed to be feeling the heat very much, and complained
that it was so fearfully hot, but I laughed and said: “This is the
coolest day we have had for a long time.”
“My!” he exclaimed, “I guess I’m not fair crazy to come and live in these
old Phaluppeens.”
“Oh,” I said, “then you have not joined the party at Manila?”
He said he had come from America all the way, and told us he was a
newspaper man with a mission, come to write up the trip. This made us
understand better his asking from time to time such extraordinarily
elementary questions. He wanted to know what a _carabao_ was, and was
surprised to hear that sugar cane only flourished in Panay and Negros. I
had to explain to him that we were in Panay, and pointed out Negros and
Guimaras!
I did not grudge the trouble of teaching him the A B C of the
Philippines, but I could not help thinking it rather odd that he had no
more preparation for his mission when his opinions would probably be
“voiced” and quoted as oracles on his return to “God’s Country.”
Of course he was choke full of long words about the American Ideal,
and told me a lot about the absurdity of such narrow prejudice as
race-distinctions; but I let that go without remark, and without even
taking the trouble to draw his attention to the demonstrations before his
eyes; for I have found out by this time that you might as well talk to
the wind as to a race-equality American who won’t sit “on a car” with a
negro in the States.
C——, who was standing behind me, joined in the conversation, whereupon
the American journalist instantly whipped out his visiting card and
handed it to him, but of course C—— was quite unprepared, and had to
spell his name and explain himself generally. It is very amusing, and at
first rather embarrassing, the way Americans hand you a card as soon as
you speak, but it has its advantages in getting names right.
The procession was remarkably like the one we had seen on Declaration
Day, only with different “floats.” I don’t suppose you know what
“floats” are, and no more did I, for when I had read descriptions of
the processions in Manila, and how the “floats” were “gotten up,” I
concluded the function had been a water-pageant on the Pasig. I heard
some people about me using the same word, however, and mentioned it to
my journalistic friend, who informed me that the word was one which was
employed in the U.S.A. to signify cars in a procession, and that its
origin was in New Orleans, where they had processions on the river with
decorated “floats” or rafts.
This was a very long procession, and some of the agricultural cars were
prettily done up with banana plants, and one had sugar canes growing in
it; and there were ploughs, and rows of men carrying spades and hoes and
things. Mr Taft stood and watched it all, talking to Miss Roosevelt; but
he got what the children call a good deal of powder in his spoonful of
jam, in the shape of huge white banners with large inscriptions on them
about the financial situation and the tariffs. Some of these reminders
were of a very ingenious pattern, like huge three-sided lanterns, with
the inscription in English, Spanish, and Visayan, so that no one should
make any mistake about what was meant. “A square deal” was written on
one, and some of them were, to me, quite pathetic, for they said: “We are
at your mercy,” and others were frank, not to say abrupt, requests for
liberty, “to govern ourselves our own way.”
At all these and at the strings of labourers from the Harbour Works, the
Fire Brigade, etc., Mr Taft stared very solemnly and steadily, standing
upright in front of the balcony, with Miss Roosevelt beside him, his arms
folded across his chest. I was much struck by his expression, and could
not help looking at him as much as at the procession and wondering what
he really thought of it all. When the workmen came past, our journalist
friend suddenly betrayed his knowledge of Philippine affairs by saying
knowingly: “Ah, these are the Chinese labourers, I guess.”
“No,” said C——. “Those are Filipinos. There are no Chinese labourers in
the Philippines except in some mills in Luzon.”
This information apparently took the man’s breath away; if he believed
it, which he probably did not. He was quite silent for a long time.
Perhaps some of his most elaborate perorations had been damaged, and C——
and I thought afterwards that it was rather a pity we had disillusioned
the poor creature as we did. Another of his cherished illusions was what
I may call the St Louis “Exposition” idea of the Philippines, and we had
the greatest difficulty in trying to persuade him that all he saw was not
the direct result of the American occupation!
At last the interminable lines of school children came past—all the
Government schools, of course—as on Declaration Day; no priests or
convents. Mr Taft had looked on unmoved and unsmiling at the Agricultural
and Industrial displays, but when he saw these scholars, he broke into
the “Taft smile,” and clapped his hands above his head. All the Americans
followed his lead by bursting into applause, which they kept up, as he
did, all the time the schools were passing. I turned my head to the
right, where the little brown parents of these children were crowded
together, and saw that not one single Filipino made one gesture of
applause!
The schools took a long, long time to crawl past, and the continuous
applause became rather tiring. But even a Filipino procession must come
to an end if only you can wait long enough, and the last of them went
past, and we got down off our bench.
Then followed a great surging and shifting of all the people on the
balcony, everyone trying to secure a seat in the Court Room, and we were
lucky enough to get near a door and not very far from the front.
On the daïs were placed two or three rows of Vienna cane chairs, those
for the important people in front, with arms to them. In these sat the
Governor, Mrs Luke E. Wright, and “Miss Alice.” Next to the latter Mr
Taft took the chair assigned to him, into which he wedged himself with
infinite trouble; but the chair at once broke to pieces. Everyone laughed
very much, Mr Taft most heartily of all, saying in a good-natured, jolly
way: “Here! Someone give me a chair I can sit down on. I’m tired of
standing.”
So they brought him another chair, and he took his place, and the
speechifying began.
The _Presidente_ of Iloilo—a very courtly old Filipino of the name of
Meliza—made a speech of welcome—a very long affair—which included the
subjects of Taxation, Duties, and Independence, to which Mr Taft replied
elusively, repeating nothing tangible but his old phrase of “Philippines
for the Filipinos.”
Then some more people made speeches—natives—and at last they drove Mr
Taft into a corner about the Independence, and he said, “I am not come
to give you your Independence, but to study your welfare. You will have
your Independence when you are ready for it, which will not be in this
generation—no, nor in the next, nor perhaps for a hundred years or more.”
Even though I have told you how up to then no one had any idea of why
he and his party had come to the Islands—most people thinking he was
going to say something definite about the Americans retiring from the
Islands—the natives all firmly convinced that he was coming to ratify the
undated promise of Independence he made them two years ago—even though I
have told you this, you can have no idea of the effect these words had
upon the audience. We were simply staggered, and the darker complexioned
amongst us sat quite still and immovable.
The speeches lost some of their force by being translated as they went
along by an interpreter, who spoke English and Spanish with equal
perfection, and, indeed, he was quite marvellous; but all the same the
utterances lost point, and it was not easy to follow the thread with
long halts between. What was more serious was that the translations of
Mr Taft’s opinions were softened by the courteous Spanish phrases, and
the fiery patriotism of the Filipinos was marvellously toned down in the
English rendering.
During a question of taxation, Mr Taft said:
“I want to know if you think it would be any good to reduce the Land Tax,
or if, by suspending it for three years, the trade and agriculture of the
country would benefit?”—or words to that effect. Whereupon he and old
Señor Meliza had quite a long argument about this weighty point.
The whole ceremony was indescribably free and easy, and even commonplace.
Most of the Senators took very little interest in the proceedings, while
the ladies with them did not even pretend to care about what was going
on. As to “Miss Alice,” she was honest enough to make no pretence at all
of listening to anything, but sat staring before her, drumming with her
pretty, slender, white fingers on her lips, only waking up to signal
and laugh to some friends in a doorway near the platform. She was very
girlish and natural in this and in all her other gestures, and if she
lacked the pose necessary to the occasion, one could not be too critical
nor take objection to her lack of grand manner when people were presented
to her, for, after all, such situations are only to be carried off with
ease by those born and bred to State ceremonies. Besides, it would have
been unreasonable to have looked for scrupulously aristocratic bearing
amongst such a party of professed democrats.
In spite of all that, however, the Filipinos, who, with their traditions
of _custumbres_, are themselves a very polite people, were much shocked
by the free and easy ways of their rulers, benefactors, or whatever
they are. I afterwards heard many little comments upon the American
lack of dignity, which made me feel sad, for these two peoples will
never understand each other—even the good sentiments of the heart being
conveyed by differences of manner, which are meat to one and poison to
the other.
In talking of taxation, the word “sugar” suddenly arose, on which Mr
Taft, who was getting obviously bored, and mopping his face freely, rose
and said:
“See here. We’ve come to this place to talk about sugar. Now, look here,
have you got any room where the gentlemen who are with me can meet your
representatives? They would like to see a sugar plantation growing, too,
if you can show them one.”
The Filipinos said they thought that could be arranged, and, as a matter
of fact, the hall for this confabulation was already prepared, and the
growing cane ready as well.
“That’s all right,” said Mr Taft. “All I care about is to get out of
this room and get some of that nice cool wind on me!” He looked simply
_melting_. So everyone rose up, and Mr Taft gave out that Mrs Carter, the
wife of the General, invited the ladies of the party to luncheon with
her at her house “on” the Calle Real at one o’clock. Then everyone filed
away, and we went home to rest before the evening. It was then half-past
eleven—very late for this country—and the sun very hot.
I was afterwards told about the ladies’ luncheon party. It only consisted
of the visitors, most of whom were already personal friends of Mrs
Carter, so, of course, it was not an important function. Here, again, I
thought, was a golden opportunity wasted, for a few invitations extended
to leading Filipino and _Mestiza_ ladies would have done more good to the
American cause than all the utterances of the cleverest orators.
In the evening we went, in the usual pantomime _quilez_, to the Santa
Cecilia Club, where the Filipino banquet to Mr Taft and his _Comitiva_
was to be held. Or at least, that was the official description of the
entertainment for which, as I told you, we each paid a preposterous sum.
The whole building was ablaze with lights and bunting, while the familiar
perilous medley of vehicles surged about in the mud outside, with
hairbreadth escapes going on every minute, any one of which would have
made the fortune of a clever paragraphist.
The top of the stairs, the big landing, and outer place, were crowded
with people, but the main room was still comparatively empty, so when we
went in we had a good chance of seeing the decorations and tables. The
latter were most ingeniously arranged to form the letters ILOILO, with a
long table for the first I, then two long ones each with an elbow to make
a sort of flat O, and then another long one with a long elbow for L, “and
repeat,” as they say in knitting patterns. The only attempt at decoration
was a mass of greenery all down the middle of each table, lying flat on
the cloth, with oranges and _lanzone_ fruits lying on it, and salted
pistachio nuts all thrown about anyhow. By each plate lay a small spray
of flowers (gardenias, little roses etc.), a list of the guests, with
a plan of the tables and the _menu_, which was a small blue paper book
with a _nouveau art_ picture of a woman on the cover. On the back of
this _menu_ was printed in large, clear type these words: “La situacion
di Filipinas es como La de un enfermo que necesita una radical y eficaz
medicacion. La supresion de la Tarifa Dingley es la mejor medicacion
para Filipinas.” The interpretation of which is: “The situation of
the Philippines is like that of a sick person for whom a radical and
efficacious remedy is necessary. The suppression of the Dingley Tariff is
the best medicine for the Philippines.”
This _menu_ amused me a good deal, with the idea that poor long-suffering
Mr Taft was to have politics written on everything he saw or touched,
and certainly the Filipinos did not appear to be going to let slip any
of this golden opportunity of “voicing” their grievances. The room was
lighted by electric lights on the ceiling, arranged in the form of
letters, spelling Taft on one side of the room and Visayas on the other,
and flags, palm-branches, and paper roses were employed in the usual
profusion.
The people dropped in gradually, and when the Taft party arrived, Mr
Taft took his place at the middle of the first L, under the picture of
Washington. The rest of the party were scattered up and down the tables
anyhow, with no scheme of precedence, which was very sensible, and the
first tangible display of democratic principles I have seen since we came
to the Philippines.
About 258 guests were “scheduled,” and less than three-quarters of the
places filled. When I looked round the hall, I saw that the English and
Germans were fairly well represented; but there were very few Spaniards,
only about half a dozen Filipinos, some _Chino-Mestizos_, and one or two
Eurasian ladies in lovely _camisas_, and wearing magnificent diamonds.
All the rest were Americans.
Everyone seemed disappointed that Miss Roosevelt did not put in an
appearance at the banquet. The rumour went about that she was too tired
with the morning’s fatigues to be able to go out again. Afterwards I
heard this discussed, when some said that “Miss Alice” was not at all
strong, and that the round of gaieties in Manila had worn her out; while
others declared that she always shirked the serious side of the trip if
she could possibly do so; but I don’t expect the latter theory was true,
and I thought it rather a shame of her country folk to say it.
The feast began with tinned _julienne_, the Constabulary band playing at
the side, in the outer room, with a vigour which quite relieved one of
any necessity for conversation. I examined my list of guests and plan of
the tables to find out who the people were, and saw that all the blank
places were those of Filipinos! Fancy! Their welcome to their Patron
Saint! But he had so disappointed them by his avowed sentiments at the
reception at the _Gobierno_ in the morning that very few of them could be
induced to come to the banquet.
As far as eating went, the banquet was a haphazard affair, for it was
almost impossible to persuade the dazed Filipino waiters to attend to
one. At least, they did attend, but in a very Filipino way, for I got
four bottles of white wine brought me; C—— had never a taste of soup; and
we both had three plates of fish put down before us, which the people on
each side took away, as they could not get any at all. Everyone was very
good-natured, so it was all very amusing.
There was considerable liberty of conscience displayed in the costumes of
the guests, some of the American men being in soiled white day suits,
conducting female relations in high cotton blouses; while others were got
up in full evening dress. One handsome woman, who I heard was the wife
of an officer in Camp Josman, was so much in evening dress, possibly to
make up for the others in the blouses, that she was instantly nick-named
The Mermaid. Her finely shaped head was dressed very low, and set off by
classic bands of gold, with huge bunches of flowers and ribbons over each
ear, and I heard a man near me suggest to another that someone should
go and ask her to take some of the ornaments out of her _coiffure_ and
put them round her bodice. But no one had the courage to do this thing,
so the little _Mestiza_ ladies stared and giggled, and as for the few
Orientals present, they looked at the Mermaid as if they thought Equality
was going to be great fun.
When we were just about to fall on some beef _à la mode_ which had at
last, after incredible pertinacity on the part of C——, been placed before
us, a man at one of the tables behind us suddenly got up and began to
make a speech. Everyone slewed their heads round to see him, and forgot
the beef, which the waiters instantly fell upon and swept away beyond
recall.
The speechmaker proposed a health, which we drank in very good red or
white wine provided for us, and then he made a speech, and someone—one of
the visiting party, I think—got up and replied.
After him, another got up. But many people listened to him and still held
on to their helping of turkey, which they tried to eat as noiselessly as
possible; a most amusing sight.
Then another; and another; popping up in all sorts of places, with the
interpreter appearing suddenly beside them like a harlequin. Some of the
speeches, in spite of the halting of the translation, were very good,
and very interesting; for the speakers did not mince matters much—the
natives saying things very plainly, and the Americans replying with equal
frankness.
Next me at table sat a Filipino swell in European evening dress, with
splendid diamonds on his hands and in his embroidered shirt front, who
turned his chair round when the speeches began, and sat astride, leaning
on the back. He cleared his throat, and spat on the floor in such a
dreadful manner that I felt sick, and at last I turned quite faint, and
had to get up and move to an empty place further on. There I was not
so well off, as far as hearing went, for the head of the next table
was occupied by a cheery party of “prominent citizens,” Senators, and
officers, who were drinking champagne and making a horrible noise.
I moved again, this time to a doorway at the upper end of the hall, where
a polite young _Mestizo_ offered me his chair; so I ended in being very
well off as to a place, and heard and saw very well.
An old Senator with a venerable beard was making a long speech on the
subject of freedom and the folly of race-distinction. In defence of the
latter theory, he rather rashly quoted Tennyson, repeating the lines
about “Saxon and Norman and Dane are we,” which could not be applied
in the remotest way to either Americans or Filipinos and came out pure
gibberish in the translation.
To him replied the editor of one of the Iloilo papers, a small,
full-blooded Filipino, with sharp, clever features. He made a most fiery
and eloquent speech, in which, with angry brown face, and clenched fists
thumping the back of the chair on which he leant, he declared that the
Philippine Islands had been discovered as long as America, and that the
Filipinos had the same spirit as that which had caused the Americans to
revolt from England.
He got fearfully excited, and called God to witness that his people were
only asking for their rights in wishing to have this foreign burden
removed; he and they demanded, insisted on, their Independence! When he
sat down, the waiters and the band, and the Filipino spectators who had
strolled in, all applauded frantically.
The applause, by-the-bye, was most instructive, for the American speeches
were applauded to the echo with shouts by the Americans; but the
Filipinos and _Mestizos_ received the Spanish translations in _utter_
silence. On the other hand, the brown folk roared with applause over
their own speakers, and the Americans did not take the least notice of
the English translations. It was a most odd and unique scene.
Last of all came Mr Taft, who spoke better, more clearly, and more simply
than any of the others, and my only regret was that such a splendid
delivery should have been impeded by the interpretations.
He repeated all the things he had said in the morning at the _Gobierno_,
walking even more boldly up to the Independence question, and saying that
the people would be given their Independence when they were worthy of it,
which was the sacred duty of the American people, who had received these
Islands as a Trust from God.
This was received with rapturous ovations by his countrymen, but the
translation was taken in absolute and embarrassing silence—all but two or
three hisses!
He went on to expound the theory of educating the Filipino people up
to Western ideals, and laid great stress upon the dignity and power
of labour—“and you must work with your hands—your hands!”—thunders of
applause from the white men. Absolute silence after the translation.
For my part, I can’t say I felt much carried away by these phrases
when I recollected the speaker’s attitude towards manual labour and
book-learning a few hours before.
When they were on a level with the free races, “in a hundred years,
perhaps three hundred, four hundred, they would be worthy to stand and
face the nations”—or something like that. He also said that he had
certainly promised the Filipinos Independence, and he was not going back
upon his words, no—he was come to uphold—to ratify them. “Dear Wards from
God,” he called them, spreading his arms out and smiling the Taft smile,
and saying “that the Philippines were a solemn trust, and the Americans
would not fail in this great duty towards humanity.”
So these fine words were all they got out of Mr Taft, and we all rose and
trooped out to find our “rigs.”
At the top of the staircase I met a very Prominent Citizen, who remarked
that this had been a great occasion for Iloilo; and I said: “Yes, Mr Taft
is a clever man and a brilliant orator.”
“That’s so,” agreed my friend, “he made a _vurry fine_ speech.”
I said: “He spoke a great many truths; what he said was very
straightforward.”
“Yes,” said the P. C., “but he should have said all that two years ago.”
And that, I find, is the unanimous verdict of every class and nationality
about Mr Taft’s subtle and rather tardy interpretation of the promises he
made when he was Governor of the Philippines.
Next evening, when the party had gone, and there was nothing left but
to discuss what had taken place, we were leaning over the balcony when a
Prominent Citizen of our acquaintance came walking past, and stopped, in
the friendly, half-Spanish fashion of the country, to say good evening
and make a few remarks.
“It was a fine show,” we said.
“Why yes,” he agreed, “I guess the Filipinos did their best for the
_Secwar_.”
“I think he disappointed them, though,” said C——.
“Well, I should smile! I guess Secretary Taft’s the best hated man in
these islands now.”
And that, I believe, is the unfortunate truth.
LETTER XLII.
WEIGHING ANCHOR
HOTEL ——, ILOILO, _August 22, 1905_.
We are up-rooted at last, you see, out of our own delightful house, and
enduring the cooking and service of the best hotel this place has to
afford, while we wait for the _Kai-Fong_, which is reported to be loading
hard wood at Cebú.