Progress in Politics and Improvement of the Currency
Our First Election of a Governor--More Feeling in Our
Next Election--We Organize a Self-Governing Society in the
School--Improvement in Parliamentary Procedure--The Boys Imitate
the Oratory of a Real Politician--A Much-mixed Currency in
the Philippines--Losses to the Teachers Through Fluctuations in
Exchange--The Conant System Brings Stability--The New Copper Coins
Astonish the Natives.
We had been in Capiz but a short time when talk of the coming election
began to occupy both Americans and Filipinos. The Governor of the
province at that time held his position by appointment from Mr. Taft,
but provisions had been made by the Commission for an election at a
specified time, which was then at hand. In view of the fact that it was
the first election ever held in the province, we Americans expected to
encounter much rejoicing over the newly acquired right, and a general
outbreak of gratification. It made a barely perceptible ripple. The
Filipinos had not gathered momentum enough under the new system to
approach an election by the well-recognized channels. There were no
speeches, no public gatherings, no processions, and, so far as the
mass of the population were concerned, no interest whatsoever. There
is not universal suffrage in the Philippines. The electors for the
occasion were the _concejales_, or town councillors, of the towns in
the province. On a given day they would assemble to cast their votes.
Our appointed Governor was a candidate to succeed himself, and the
only opponent of any importance was a local lawyer, named D----. D----
was on very good terms with most of the Americans, who regarded him
as something of an Americanista, but he was greatly hated by the
prominent Filipino families in town, not only on the score of his
suspected pro-American sentiment, but on account of certain meddlings
of his in past time with _cacique_ power.
A short time before the election the American community were
thunderstruck on hearing that D---- had been arrested on a charge of
murder. Our Supervisor--and, I believe, the Treasurer--offered to go
on his bail. Then came a telegram from Judge Bates at Iloilo, denying
bail. For a day or two telegrams flew back and forth, the Americans
trying to secure the temporary release of the unfortunate lawyer
but accomplishing nothing. D---- was kept practically _incomunicado_
in the local calabozo. He insisted that there was a plot on foot to
destroy him, and either he was much distressed or he pretended to be
so. Then came an order to take him out to a small town in the interior
whence the charge came. D---- declared that he should be killed on
the way. The Americans finally prevailed upon an American inspector
of constabulary to accompany the prisoner's escort. The rainy season
was in full force, and prisoner and escort had a bad time getting
out to Maayon, the town aforementioned. Once there the charge broke
down at once. It was based upon a statement made by an old woman
that a spirit had appeared to her in a dream, and had accused D----
of being the cause of its immaterial existence. The prisoner was
almost immediately set at liberty. For reasons best known to himself,
he found it inconvenient to return to Capiz and to renew his campaign
for the governorship.
By the fortuitous circumstance of the charge against D----, our
Governor, who professed a smiling ignorance of all the circumstances
of the case, had been relieved of his only formidable rival, and he
prepared to do the honors of Capiz to the _concejales_. He lived in
the old palace of the Spanish governors, which had since come to serve
as provincial capitol and gubernatorial residence. There was plenty of
room in the fine old place, and the _concejales_ found everything to
their satisfaction. They had but to step out of their bedrooms to find
themselves at the polls. Our Governor was elected almost unanimously,
to succeed himself for two years.
That was doing pretty well for a set of tyros at politics; but
by the time the next election swung round, political feeling had
awakened, there were wheels within wheels, and feeling was running
explosively high. Political parties had crystallized into two bodies,
known as _Progresistas_ and _Federalistas_. The Progresistas were
the anti-American party, pledged to every effort for immediate
independence. The Federalistas were those who stood by the Taft
administration, and talked of compromise in the present, and of
independence at some distant day. Our Governor, who was again
a candidate to succeed himself, was the Federalista head. The
Federalistas accused the Progresistas of being "Aglipianos"--that is,
schismatics from the Roman Church--and they hinted that Aglipianoism
was more a political movement than it was a religious one.
Each party professed itself sceptical of the good intentions of the
other. Each was certain that the other would come to the polls with
firearms and bolos. I began to worry about my desks, having promised
to loan twenty-five nice new oak ones of the latest American pattern
for the use of the _concejales_ in making out their votes.
The officer commanding the constabulary at that time was a huge,
black-browed, black-whiskered Irish-man, who, among the American
men, went by the name of "Paddy" L----. Both parties ran to Captain
L----, clamoring for a military guard at the election. Captain L----
pooh-poohed the notion that any serious trouble could grow out of the
election, declined to consider a guard, except the two soldiers to
guard the ballot box, who were more for function than for protection,
and smilingly added that his trust in the Filipino sense of law and
order was so great that he intended to go to the election and see it
all himself.
By this time the Governor's family had removed from the government
building, and a suite of apartments at the rear which had served
for kitchen, dining-room, store-rooms and servants' quarters,
had been cleaned up, painted, and handed over to the Provincial
Intermediate School, of which I was principal. One of our school-rooms
was connected by an uncurtained glass door with the great central
hall of the building, which was usually given over to the Court of
the First Instance, but which was, that day, a sort of anteroom to
the voting precinct located in the former sala of the palace. My
school-room would, therefore, command a full view of the polls. For
several days I lived in dread of hearing that election day would be
declared a school holiday, but no order came to that effect, and on
election day I went to school with my mind bent on taking notes of
all that went on, also wondering a little if in case the non-expected
riot came off, I should not have to vacate a little hurriedly.
By nine o'clock the court-room was packed with electors and lobbyists,
or whatever the interested outsiders may be called. Through the
glass doors we could see them in groups, some laughing and chatting
in ordinary social converse, others dark and gloomy, others gathered
in whispering knots with fingers on lips, much mysterious nodding
and shrugging of shoulders, and all the innocent evidences of
conspiracy. Beyond, through double doors, the voting precinct was in
full view, my twenty-five desks occupied by meditative _concejales_,
sucking the ends of their pencils. There were the judges and the
ballot boxes, symbols of progress and modernity, and there, too,
as a concession to dignity which fills the Filipino with joy, were
two dear little constabulary soldiers with guns about as long as
themselves. Their khaki suits were spick and span from the laundry,
their red shoulder straps blazed, their gilt braid glittered, and
their white gloves were as snowy as pipe clay could make them. Their
little brown faces were stolid enough to delight the most ambitious
commander. The whole was a sight to cheer the heart of rampant
democracy.
In the midst of the throng in the court-room, jovial, lusty, bright
of eye, loitered our easy-going chief of constabulary. His was no
common girth at any time, but belted with a particularly large-sized
and vicious-looking revolver, he seemed to be at least sixty inches
around the waist. There was something casual about that revolver,
and at the same time something very significant. But nothing could
have been more blandly unconscious than the Captain's manner. He
had what is commonly described as "a kind word and a sweet smile for
everybody." There were constabulary reserves a block away, but the
Captain's appearance was an assurance that there would be no need for
the reserves. He loafed about, chatting first with one group and then
with another. The conspirator looks gave way to laughter and clappings
on the back, but when he turned away, more than one eye followed the
time-worn holster and its bulky contents.
That election went off as calmly as a county fair--much more calmly,
indeed, though there was a _reclama_ afterwards, and a long struggle
about it which had to be decided by the Court of First Instance. The
quarrel over the election was not related, however, to the Captain's
presence there.
Apparently the Church was interested in the election, for every
shovel-hatted _padre_ in the district seemed to have come in for
it. They and the provincial dignitaries from towns which had not then
risen to the dignity of an American public school, wandered into the
school in groups of three and sometimes of twenty. It was their first
contact with coeducation, and they were highly amused at the sight
of a class of boys and girls working together in the reduction of
compound fractions. They were also delighted with the choral music,
especially with "The Watch on the Rhine" which the pupils sang with
great enthusiasm.
Not very long after that election we began our first work with
self-governing societies. The school had been long enough established
to have an advanced class capable of speaking English, and our Division
Superintendent suggested that I give them a little practical experience
in the "machinery of politics." I assented with outward respect, and
then retired to smile, for the "machinery of politics" is the last
thing in which the Filipino has need of instruction from us. He is a
born politician, and we compare to him in that respect as babes to a
philosopher. But I recognized that my pupils did need the experience
of a self-governing society, and practice in parliamentary usages,
and so we organized our society from the three most advanced classes
in the school.
In the beginning I organized the society, acting as temporary
chairman. I called for an election by informal ballot of short-term
officers to serve until a time of regular elections could be set. Our
first ballot polled seventy-three votes, although there were
only fifty-five persons in the room. I threw that out and called
for a roll call vote. In due time a regular election took place,
and officers for three months were elected. As the vote was open,
the aristocratic element came off best, as was to be expected. The
children of one prominent family, together with some of their friends,
held every office. Practically the result was not bad. The officers,
four out of five of whom were girls, represented considerable
ability. The girls were elected chiefly out of the _galanteria_ of
certain of the boy aristocrats, who had very little conception of
what a self-governing society means, but who wished to pay their fair
innamoratas a compliment.
Our society was a pronounced success. The pupils took to parliamentary
practice very much as they would to a new game. Visitors thronged our
Friday afternoon meetings. We teachers had to put in six or eight hours
every week, drilling the pupils on duty, helping to get up music,
and meeting with committees. A teacher was parliamentary "coach,"
and sat at the side of Madame President, giving her directions in an
undertone. All the teachers were elected honorary members, and one
was critic. Peace reigned and Joy flapped her wings.
About this time, however, the gentlemen who were running that province
engaged in the real game which we were imitating, and became involved
in a quarrel which threatened to strain the relations between Americans
and Filipinos to the breaking point. Governor Taft came down in
person to look into the affair. There was a banquet and there were
speeches. The Filipino Governor prefaced his oratorical flight by the
statement that three times only in his life had he trembled. Time has
clouded my memory, but I think he said the first of these was when he
took his Bachelor's degree from the University of Spain; the second was
when he led his fair partner to the matrimonial altar; and the third
was that present occasion when he stood up before that illustrious
assembly, seeking words in which to welcome the distinguished guest.
He did not look as if he were suffering from nervousness, and
his words flowed with sufficient ease to indicate that he was not
having much trouble in the search. Sitting at the far end of the
festal board, contemplating my glass of _tinto_ (I am unable to say
whether I drank _tinto_ because the champagne ran short or because,
being feminine and educational, I was deemed unworthy of the best), I
reflected somewhat cynically that if he was telling the strict truth,
his childhood must have been singularly barren of the penalties which
follow real childish joy, or else his was a remarkable personality.
But that is neither here nor there. The utterance wafted me a gentle
amusement at the time. But from that time on, the boys of my literary
society began to tremble--always twice anteriorly, and for the
third time when they stood up before that intellectual and critical
assemblage. Every boy for weeks to come used that worn-out preface
for his remarks. The pupils gave no signs either of amusement or
scorn. Apparently they received it seriously as an eminently becoming
preface of oratory, just as they do the "Dominus vobiscum" of the
mass. But one day I spoke of it in one of the classes--intentionally
not in the society. When they saw our viewpoint, they shrieked with
delight, and from that time on, the budding orators ceased to tremble.
At last we arrived at the point of an open session, and the event
was what is described in society papers as one of the social events
of the season. We had really a good programme, we transacted quite
a little business in accordance with parliamentary usage: we elected
the Governor, the Presidente, and several prominent citizens honorary
members, and they acknowledged the compliment with appropriate remarks.
About a week after our open session I was about to retire
one night, when I heard the sound of music and saw lights
approaching. Transparencies were waving about in the warm air. As there
was no cholera, and therefore no occasion for a San Roque procession,
I hung out of the window, local fashion, to find out what it was all
about. It was a newly organized parliamentary society parading. In less
than a month three new societies had blossomed among the youths and old
men of the town. American teachers were engaged as parliamentarians,
although the societies were conducted in Spanish, not English. The
societies all died a natural death in a little while; but of course,
the school society being compulsory could not die, and so far as I know
is still going on. Every public school of the secondary class has its
school societies, and they must form the ideals of the new generation.
One of the most irritating features of life in those early days,
and one which offered a problem rather difficult for the Government
to solve, was the matter of currency. The money in use was silver,
with a small paper circulation of Banco Espagnol-Filipino notes. The
notes were printed on a kind of pink blotting paper which looked as if
it would be easy to counterfeit. The silver was what we called at first
"Mex" and later "Dobie." There were some pieces coined especially for
the Philippines, but in general "Mex" was made up of coins of Spain,
Mexico, Islas Filipinas, Hong-Kong, Singapore, Canton, and Amoy--only
the experts of the Government could tell where it all came from. With
the public at large, any coin that looked as if it contained the fair
average of silver was accepted. Every month the paymasters of the
United States Army and Navy issued thousands of dollars in American
silver and paper, but this disappeared in a twinkling, swallowed up
by the local agents who were buying gold with which China paid her
indemnity. Each incoming steamer brought loads of "Dobie" from the
Asiatic coast, but our good dollars and quarters went out of sight
like falling stars.
The silver coins consisted of pesos, medio-pesos, pesetas (twenty-cent
pieces), media-pesetas (ten-cent pieces), and it seems to me that I
have a hazy recollection of a silver five-cent piece, though I cannot
be certain. The copper coins were as mongrel as the silver.
There were English, Dutch, Spanish, and Chinese coins from the
neighboring coasts, but the greater part of the copper coins consisted
of roughly pounded discs with ragged edges, which were made, they
said, by the Igorrotes. The coins had no inscriptions, but went with
the natives by the name of "dacolds"--the native word for "big,"
The Americans renamed the dacolds "claquers," and used either name
at pleasure. It required eighty dacolds to equal one peso, forty to a
half-peso, sixteen to a peseta, eight to a media-peseta. Theoretically
a peso was a hundred cents, as a peseta was twenty cents, but there
was no cent with which to make change. You accepted the dacold at
its value of eighty to a peso, or you transacted no business. The
Filipinos also had a way of figuring a medio-peso as _cuatro reales_,
thus giving the _real_ a value of twelve and a half cents, though
there was no coin called a _real_. Nevertheless, the _real_ figured
in all business transactions.
At the time we landed in Manila "Mex" stood with gold at an even
ratio of two pesos "Mex" for one dollar gold. I innocently allowed a
bank to transfer a gold balance on a letter of credit to an account
in local currency at that ratio. A few weeks later, when I wanted to
change back and carry my account in gold, they wrote me courteously
but firmly that I would have to buy back that account at the ratio
of 2.27, and by the time that the transfer was finally effected,
gold had jumped to 2.66. We had been told by a circular from the War
Department, at the time our appointments were made, that we should be
paid in gold. I drew just one cheque in U.S. currency after reaching
the Islands. My second cheque was drawn in local currency at a ratio
of 2.27, but, by the time it had reached me at Capiz, gold had gone
to 2.46. We had to endure the evils of a fluctuating currency for
over two years. On all money sent to the States we lost heavily. So
far as our daily expenses were concerned we in the provinces had very
little inconvenience to suffer on account of "Mex"; but in Manila all
merchants fixed their prices in gold and took occasion to put them
up mercilessly. I remember trying to buy some Japanese matting which
could have been bought for twenty-five cents a yard in the States,
but which was priced at seventy-five cents in Manila. The merchant
wanted me to pay him in "Mex" at a ratio of 2.66, or at the rate of
two pesos a yard for matting which he bought in Japan at probably
less than twenty sen a yard.
There was a tremendous protest against the fluctuating currency and
the extortion which grew out of it, and we were all relieved when we
learned that Congress had adopted the so-called "Conant" system of
currency for the Islands. Mr. Conant was the expert who investigated
conditions for the Government and devised the system.
The Conant system followed the old Spanish values for coins, the new
coins being pesos, medio-pesos, pesetas, media-pesetas, nickels,
and copper cents. There was also a copped half-cent, but neither
Congress nor Mr. Conant read the Filipino aright. In two years we
had taught him to sniff at any value less than a cent. The new system
is held at a ratio of two to one by the Government's redeeming it in
the Philippine treasury at a ratio of two pesos Conant to one dollar
U.S. The importation of "Mex" is no longer permitted, and we rejoice
in a stable currency once more.
We provincials followed the newspaper talk about the new system
with no small interest. When our treasurer informed us that he had
received a consignment of the new currency, and that our next salary
cheques would be paid in "Conant," we were delighted. My cheque,
by some accident, got in ahead of those of the other employees,
and was the first presented for payment.
The beautifully made, bright new silver coins had an engaging
appearance after the tarnished mongrel coins to which we were
accustomed. When the Treasurer had counted out all my hard-earned
money except ten pesos, he produced two bags of pennies, and announced
that I should have to take that sum in small coin in order to get
the pennies into circulation. They were of beautiful workmanship,
yellow as gold and heavy as lead. I called in the aid of a small boy
to help me lug home my three bags of coin.
I had been at home only a few minutes when in came the regular vender
of eggs and chickens, who called at my house three times a week. He
squatted on the floor and I sat in front of him in a rocking-chair,
watching my little maid drop the eggs into water to test their
freshness. After we had chaffered the usual time and had come to an
agreement, I went into my room and brought out the bags of new coin. I
had bought about seventy-five cents worth from him, and I first gave
him three of the new silver pesetas, which he admired greatly. There
were still fifteen cents due him; and when I reached my hand into the
penny bag and hauled out a handful of gleaming copper, the maid said,
"Jesus!" under her breath, and the man, "Dios mio!" He received his
fifteen centavos with an attempt to conceal his satisfaction. The maid
requested permission to look inside the bag, and when she had done
so merely grinned up at me with a look that said, "My! You're rich,
aren't you?"
It was Saturday morning, and I went on busying myself about things at
home. Pretty soon there came a deprecatory cough from the stairway--the
local method of announcing a visitor. Outside of Manila knocking or
ringing does not seem to appeal to the Filipinos. In the provinces
the educated classes come to the foot of the stairway and call
"Permiso!" and the lower-class people come to the head of the stairway
and cough to attact attention. My chicken man had returned. Was it
possible that he had heard aright when he had understood the Señora to
say that twenty of the new gold pieces went to one peseta? The Señora
explained that he had made no mistake. Then, said the old rascal,
with bows and smirks, since the lady had so many of them--bags full of
them--had he not seen with his own eyes?--would she have the kindness
to take back those gleaming new pesetas, which were indeed beautiful,
and give him gold in their stead? The lady assured him that the new
money was the same metal used in the old "dacold" and that in time
it would become as dark and ugly, but his Filipino habit of relying
on his own eyes was in full command of him. The man thought that I
had got hold of gold without knowing it, and supposed that he was
getting the best of me. I changed one peseta into coppers for him,
and had difficulty in getting him to leave the house. Ten minutes
after he had left, a woman came in to sell me some more chickens. I
told her that I had just bought, but she put such a price on chickens
as had never before come under my ken. Ten cents was acceptable for a
full-grown laying hen, the ordinary value of which was forty or fifty
cents. I suspected her of having had some information from the old man,
and, in order to find out, I gave her the price of the five chickens,
which I agreed to take, in the old "Mex" media-pesetas. Then there
was an explosion. She reached for her precious chickens and broke that
bargain then and there. Her chickens would sell for ten cents gold, but
for no media-peseta. I asked her how she knew I had gold, and she said
that did not matter--I had some "diutang-a-dacolds" (little dacolds),
and she was willing to sell hens for ten "diutang-a-dacolds" _gold_,
but not for media-pesetas. So I counted her out fifty new coppers
and we both rejoiced in our bargain. I told her that the media-peseta
was worth ten dacolds, but she wanted the bright new money.
For the next two hours I was persecuted with truck-sellers. Ordinarily
the fishermen were unwilling to stop and sell in the streets or in
private houses, preferring to do all their business in the market,
but that morning, I could have had the pick of half the catch. Finally
came a woman who had had a straight tale from the first woman. Woman
number two had nothing to sell, but, after a minute, she pulled out a
jagged old media-peseta and said that she had heard that I said that a
media-peseta was worth ten of the new gold pieces. If I was as good as
my word, why not change her media-peseta for gold? I said that I would
do it if she would give me the new media-peseta, but that I could not
do it for the old. When she wanted to know where she could get a new
media-peseta, and I told her the Treasurer would redeem old silver at
the government ratio, she went off to get a new media-peseta, but it
was plain that she distrusted me. The people flocked to my house all
day trying to get me to buy something and to pay them in the new coins.
It was remarkable how easily and quickly one circulating medium
disappeared and another took its place. At first there was some trouble
about getting the poor people to recognize the copper on a basis of a
hundred to a peso. They were willing enough to receive change on that
basis, but, in giving it, tried to treat the new centavo as a dacold,
eighty to the peso. I had to have one Chinese baker arrested for
persistently giving short change to my _muchacha_, and the Treasurer
had a long line of delinquents before him each morning admonishing
them that they could not play tricks with Uncle Sam's legal tender. But
on the whole the change went off quickly and without much friction.
This morning I asked my maid, an elderly woman, if she remembered the
old money we had four years ago. She struck her forehead with her hand,
and thought a long time. Finally her face lit up. She remembered those
Iggorote dacolds and a silver five-cent piece--"muy, muy chiquitin"
(very, very small). She said that the Tagalogs called the dacolds
"Christinas" after the mother of the Queen-mother. But the difference
between a stable and a fluctuating medium meant nothing to her, and
probably many of her countrymen have almost forgotten that there was
ever any other than Conant in the land.