Produced by Jeroen Hellingman and the Distributed Proofreaders Team.
The Story of the Philippines and Our New Possessions, Including The Ladrones, Hawaii, Cuba and Porto Rico.
The Story of the Philippines.
Natural Riches, Industrial Resources, Statistics of Productions, Commerce and Population; The Laws, Habits, Customs, Scenery and Conditions of the Cuba of the East Indies and the Thousand Islands of the Archipelagoes of India and Hawaii, With Episodes of Their Early History
The Eldorado of the Orient
Personal Character Sketches of and Interviews with Admiral Dewey, General Merritt, General Aguinaldo and the Archbishop of Manila.
History and Romance, Tragedies and Traditions of our Pacific Possessions.
Events of the War in the West with Spain, and the Conquest of Cuba and Porto Rico.
By Murat Halstead,
_War Correspondent in America and Europe, Historian of the Philippine Expedition_.
Splendidly and Picturesquely Illustrated with Half-Tone Engravings from Photographs, Etchings from Special Drawings, and the Military Maps of the Philippines, Prepared by the War Department of the United States.
_Our Possessions Publishing Co._
1898
The engravings in this volume were made from original photographs, and are specially protected by copyright; and notice is hereby given, that any person or persons guilty of reproducing or infringing upon the copyright in any way will be dealt with according to law.
Inscribed
To the Soldiers and Sailors
of
The Army and Navy of the United States, With Admiration for Their Achievements
In the War With Spain;
Gratitude for the Glory They Have Gained for the American Nation, And Congratulations That All the People of All the Country Rejoice in the Cloudless Splendor of Their Fame That is the Common and Everlasting
Inheritance of Americans.
Author’s Preface.
The purpose of the writer of the pages herewith presented has been to offer, in popular form, the truth touching the Philippine Islands. I made the journey from New York to Manila, to have the benefit of personal observations in preparing a history for the people. Detention at Honolulu shortened my stay in Manila, but there was much in studies at the former place that was a help at the latter. The original programme was for me to accompany General Merritt, Commander-in-Chief of the Philippine Expedition, but illness prevented its full realization, and when I arrived in Manila Bay the city had already been “occupied and possessed” by the American army; and the declaration of peace between the United States and Spain was made, the terms fully agreed upon with the exception of the settlement of the affairs of the Philippines. While thus prevented from witnessing stirring military movements other than those attending the transfer of our troops across the Pacific Ocean, an event in itself of the profoundest significance, the reference of the determination of the fate of the Philippine Islands to the Paris Conference, and thereby to the public opinion of our country, in extraordinary measure increased the general sensibility as to the situation of the southern Oriental seas affecting ourselves, and enhanced the value of the testimony taken on the spot of observers of experience, with the training of journalism in distinguishing the relative pertinence and potency of facts noted. Work for more than forty years, in the discussion from day to day of current history, has qualified me for the efficient exercise of my faculties in the labor undertaken. It has been my undertaking to state that which appeared to me, so that the reader may find pictures of the scenes that tell the Story that concerns the country, that the public may with enlightenment solve the naval, military, political, commercial and religious problems we are called upon by the peremptory pressure of the conditions local, and international, to solve immediately. This we have to do, facing the highest obligations of citizenship in the great American Republic, and conscious of the incomparably influential character of the principles that shall prevail through the far-reaching sweep of the policies that will be evolved. I have had such advantages in the assurance of the authenticity of the information set forth in the chapters following, that I may be permitted to name those it was my good fortune to consult with instructive results; and in making the acknowledgments due. I may be privileged to support the claim of diligence and success in the investigations made, and that I am warranted in the issue of this Story of the Philippines by the assiduous improvement of an uncommon opportunity to fit myself to serve the country.
Indebtedness for kind consideration in this work is gratefully acknowledged to Major-General Merritt, commanding the Philippine Expedition; Major-General Otis, who succeeds to the duties of military and civil administration in the conquered capital of the islands; Admiral George Dewey, who improved, with statesmanship, his unparalleled victory in the first week of the war with Spain, and raised the immense questions before us; General F.V. Greene, the historian of the Russo-Turkish war, called by the President to Washington, and for whose contributions to the public intelligence he receives the hearty approval and confidence of the people; Major Bell, the vigilant and efficient head of the Bureau of Information at the headquarters of the American occupation in the Philippines; General Aguinaldo, the leader of the insurgents of his race in Luzon, and His Grace the Archbishop of Manila, who gave me a message for the United States, expressing his appreciation of the excellence of the behavior of the American army in the enforcement of order, giving peace of mind to the residents in the distracted city of all persuasions and conditions, and of the service that was done civilization in the prevention, by our arms, of threatened barbarities that had caused sore apprehension; and, I may add, the Commissioner of the Organized People of the Philippines, dispatched to Washington accompanying General Greene; and of the citizens of Manila of high character, and conductors of business enterprises with plants in the community whose destiny is in the hands of strangers.
These gentlemen I may not name, for there are uncertainties that demand of them and command me to respect the prudence of their inconspicuity. This volume seems to me to be justified, and I have no further claim to offer that it is meritorious than that it is faithful to facts and true to the country in advocacy of the continued expansion of the Republic, whose field is the world.
Steamship China, Pacific Ocean, September 20, 1898.
The Origin of this Story of the Philippines.
The letter following is the full expression by the author of this volume of his purposes and principles in making the journey to the East Indies.
_Going to the Philippines_.
Washington City, D.C., July 18.
With the authorization of the Military Authorities, I shall go to the Philippine Islands with General Merritt, the Military Governor, and propose to make the American people better acquainted with that remarkable and most important and interesting country. The presence of an American army in the Philippines is an event that will change broad and mighty currents in the world’s history. It has far more significance than anything transpiring in the process of the conquest of the West India possessions of Spain, for the only question there, ever since the Continental colonies of the Spanish crown won their independence, has been the extent of the sacrifices the Spaniards, in their haughty and vindictive pride, would make in fighting for a lost Empire and an impossible cause with an irresistible adversary. That the time was approaching when, with the irretrievable steps of the growth of a living Nation of free people, we would reach the point where it should be our duty to accept the responsibility of the dominant American power, and accomplish manifest Destiny by adding Cuba and Porto Rico to our dominion, has for half a century been the familiar understanding of American citizens. Spain, by her abhorrent system, personified in Weyler, and illustrated in the murderous blowing up of the Maine with a mine, has forced this duty upon us; and though we made war unprepared, the good work is going on, and the finish of the fight will be the relegation of Spain, whose colonial governments have been, without exception, disgraceful and disastrous to herself, and curses to the colonists, to her own peninsula. This will be for her own good, as well as the redemption of mankind from her unwholesome foreign influences, typified as they are in the beautiful city of Havana, which has become the center of political plagues and pestilential fevers, whose contagion has at frequent intervals reached our own shores.
In the Philippine Islands the situation is for us absolutely novel. It cannot be said to be out of the scope of reasonable American expansion and is in the right line of enlarging the area of enlightenment and stimulating the progress of civilization. The unexpected has happened, but it is not illogical. It must have been written long ago on the scroll of the boundless blue and the stars. The incident of war was the “rush” order of the President of the United States to Admiral Dewey to destroy the Spanish fleet at Manila, for the protection of our commerce. The deed was done with a flash of lightning, and lo! we hold the golden key of a splendid Asiatic archipelago of a thousand beautiful and richly endowed islands in our grip. This is the most brilliant and startling achievement in the annals of navies. Never before had the sweep of sea power, ordered through the wires that make the world’s continents, oceans and islands one huge whispering gallery, such striking exemplification. There was glory and fame in it, and immeasurable material for the making of history. We may paraphrase Dr. Johnson’s celebrated advertisement of the widow’s brewery by saying: Admiral Dewey’s victory was not merely the capture of a harbor commanding a great city, one of the superb places of the earth, and the security of a base of operations to wait for reinforcements commensurate with the resources of the United States of America–the victorious hero fixed his iron hand upon a wonderful opportunity it was the privilege of our Government to secure at large, according to the rights of a victorious Nation for the people thereof–a chance for the youth of America, like that of the youth of Great Britain, to realize upon the magnificence of India; and this is as Dr. Johnson said of the vats and barrels of the Thrale estate–“the potentiality of wealth beyond the dreams of avarice.” It is a new departure, but not a matter for the panic or apprehension of conservatism, that the Stars and Stripes float as the symbol of sovereignty over a group of islands in the waters of Asia, that are equal to all the West Indies. If we are strangers there now we shall not be so long. We have a front on the Pacific Ocean, of three great States–Washington, equal to England; Oregon, whose grandeur rolls in the sound of her famous name, and incomparable California, whose title will be the synonym of golden good times forever. The Philippines are southwest from our western front doors. They have been the islands of our sunsets in the winter. Now they look to us for the rosy dawn out of which will come the clear brightness of the white light of mornings and the fullness of the ripening noons, all the year around. With our bulk of the North American continent bulging into both the great oceans, it was foreordained since the beginning when God created the earth, that we, the possessors of this imperial American zone, should be a great Asiatic Power. We have it now in evidence, written in islands among the most gorgeous of those that shine in the Southern seas–islands that are east from the Atlantic and west from the Pacific shores of the One Great Republic–that we may personify hereafter, sitting at the head of the table when the empires of the earth consult themselves as to the courses of empire. Our Course of Empire is both east and west.
The contact of American and Asiatic civilization in the Philippines, with the American army there, superseding the Spaniards, will be memorable as one of the matters of chief moment in the closing days of the nineteenth century, and remembered to date from for a thousand years. It is my purpose to write of this current history while it is a fresh, sparkling stream, and attempt something more than the recitation of the news of the day, as it is condensed and restrained in telegrams; to give it according to the extent of my ability and the advantages of my opportunity, the local coloring, the characteristic scenery; the pen pictures of the people and their pursuits; sketches of the men who are doers of deeds that make history; studies of the ways and means of the islanders; essays to indicate the features of the picturesque of the strange mixture of races; the revolutionary evolutions of politics; the forces that pertain to the mingling of the religions of the Occident and the Orient, in a chemistry untried through the recorded ages. It is a tremendous canvas upon which I am to labor, and I know full well how inadequate the production must be, and beg that this index may not be remembered against me. It is meant in all modesty, and I promise only that there will be put into the task the expertness of experience and the endeavor of industry.
_Murat Halstead._
Contents.
AUTHOR’S PREFACE
THE ORIGIN OF THIS STORY OF THE PHILIPPINES
CHAPTER I.
ADMIRAL DEWEY ON HIS FLAGSHIP.
A Stormy Day on Manila Bay–Call on Admiral Dewey–The Man in White–He Sticks to His Ship–How He Surprised the Spaniards–Every Man Did His Duty on May-Day–How Dewey Looks and Talks–What He Said About War With Germany in Five Minutes–Feeds His Men on “Delicious” Fresh Meat from Australia–Photography Unjust to Him
CHAPTER II.
LIFE IN MANILA.
Character of the Filipinos–Drivers Lashing Laboring Men in the Streets–What Americans Get in Their Native Air–The Logic of Destiny–Manila as She Fell Into Our Hands–The Beds in the Tropics–A Spanish Hotel–Profane Yells for Ice–Sad Scenes in the Dining Room–Major-General Calls for “Francisco”–A Broken-Hearted Pantry Woman
CHAPTER III.
FROM LONG ISLAND TO LUZON.
Across the Continent–An American Governor-General Steams Through the Golden Gate–He is a Minute-Man–Honolulu as a Health Resort–The Lonesome Pacific–The Skies of Asia–Dreaming Under the Stars of the Scorpion–The Southern Cross
CHAPTER IV.
INTERVIEW WITH GENERAL AGUINALDO.
The Insurgent Leader’s Surroundings and Personal Appearance–His Reserves and Ways of Talking–The Fierce Animosity of the Filipinos Toward Spanish Priests–A Probability of Many Martyrs in the Isle of Luzon
CHAPTER V.
THE PHILIPPINE MISSION.
Correspondence with Aguinaldo About It–Notes by Senor Felipe Agoncillo–Relations Between Admiral Dewey and Senor Aguinaldo–Terms of Peace Made by Spanish Governor-General with Insurgents, December, 1897–Law Suit Between Aguinaldo and Arlacho–Aguinaldo’s Proclamation of May 21, 1898
CHAPTER VI.
THE PROCLAMATIONS OF GENERAL AGUINALDO.
June 16th, 1898, Establishing Dictatorial Government–June 20th, 1898, Instructions for Elections–June 23d, 1898, Establishing Revolutionary Government–June 23d, 1898, Message to Foreign Powers–June 27th, 1898, Instructions Concerning Details–July 23d, 1898, Letter from Senor Aguinaldo to General Anderson–August 1st, 1898, Resolution of Revolutionary Chiefs Asking Recognition–August 6th, 1898, Message to Foreign Powers Asking Recognition
CHAPTER VII.
INTERVIEW WITH ARCHBISHOP OF MANILA.
Insurgents’ Deadly Hostility to Spanish Priests–The Position of the Archbishop as He Defined It–His Expression of Gratitude to the American Army–His Characterization of the Insurgents–A Work of Philippine Art–The Sincerity of the Archbishop’s Good Words
CHAPTER VIII.
WHY WE HOLD THE PHILIPPINES.
The Responsibility of Admiral Dewey–We Owe It to Ourselves to Hold the Philippines–Prosperity Assured by Our Permanent Possession–The Aguinaldo Question–Character Study of the Insurgent Leader–How Affairs Would Adjust Themselves for Us–Congress Must Be Trusted to Represent the People and Firmly Establish International Policy
CHAPTER IX.
THE PHILIPPINE ISLANDS AS THEY ARE.
Area and Population–Climate–Mineral Wealth–Agriculture–Commerce and Transportation–Revenue and Expenses–Spanish Troops–Spanish Navy–Spanish Civil Administration–Insurgent Troops–Insurgent Civil Administration–United States Troops–United States Navy–United States Civil Administration–The Future of the Islands
CHAPTER X.
OFFICIAL HISTORY OF THE CONQUEST OF MANILA.
The Pith of the Official Reports of the Capture of Manila, by Major-General Wesley Merritt, Commanding the Philippine Expedition; General Frank V. Greene, General Arthur McArthur, and General Thomas Anderson, with the Articles of Capitulation, Showing How 8,000 Americans Carried an Intrenched City with a Garrison of 13,000 Spaniards, and Kept Out 14,000 Insurgents–The Difficulties of American Generals with Philippine Troops
CHAPTER XI.
THE ADMINISTRATION OF GENERAL MERRITT.
The Official Gazette Issued at Manila–Orders and Proclamation of Major-General Wesley Merritt, Who, as Commander of the Philippine Expedition, Became, Under the Circumstances of the Capture of Manila, the Governor of That City
CHAPTER XII.
THE AMERICAN ARMY IN MANILA.
Why the Boys Had a Spell of Homesickness–Disadvantages of the Tropics–Admiral Dewey and His Happy Men–How Our Soldiers Passed the Time on the Ships–General Merritt’s Headquarters–What Is Public Property–The Manila Water Supply–England Our Friend–Major-General Otis, General Meritt’s Successor
CHAPTER XIII.
THE WHITE UNIFORMS OF OUR HEROES IN THE TROPICS.
The Mother Hubbard Street Fashion in Honolulu, and That of Riding Astride–Spoiling Summer Clothes in Manila Mud–The White Raiment of High Officers–Drawing the Line on Nightshirts–Ashamed of Big Toes–Dewey and Merritt as Figures of Show–The Boys in White
CHAPTER XIV.
A MARTYR TO THE LIBERTY OF SPEECH.
Dr. Jose Rizal, the Most Distinguished Literary Man of the Philippines, Writer of History, Poetry, Political Pamphlets, and Novels, Shot on the Luneta of Manila–A Likeness of the Martyr–The Scene of His Execution, from a Photograph–His Wife Married the Day Before His Death–Poem Giving His Farewell Thoughts, Written in His Last Hours–The Works That Cost Him His Life–The Vision of Friar Rodriguez
CHAPTER XV.
EVENTS OF THE SPANISH-AMERICAN WAR.
No Mystery About the Cause of the War–The Expected and the Inevitable Has Happened–The Tragedy of the Maine–Vigilant Wisdom of President McKinley–Dewey’s Prompt Triumph–The Battles at Manila and Santiago Compared–General Shafter Tells of the Battle of Santiago–Report of Wainwright Board on Movements of Sampson’s Fleet in the Destruction of Cervera’s Squadron–Stars and Stripes Raised Over Porto Rico–American and Spanish Fleets at Manila Compared–Text of Peace Protocol
CHAPTER XVI.
THE PEACE JUBILEE.
The Lessons of War in the Joy Over Peace in the Celebrations at Chicago and Philadelphia–Orations by Archbishop Ireland and Judge Emory Speer–The President’s Few Words of Thrilling Significance–The Parade of the Loyal League, and the Clover Club Banquet at Philadelphia–Address by the President–The Hero Hobson Makes a Speech–Fighting Bob Evans’ Startling Battle Picture–The Destruction of Cervera’s Fleet–The Proclamation of Thanksgiving
CHAPTER XVII.
EARLY HISTORY OF THE PHILIPPINES.
The Abolishment of the 31st of December, 1844, in Manila–The Mystery of the Meridian 180 Degrees West–What Is East and West?–Gaining and Losing Days–The Tribes of Native Filipinos–They Had an Alphabet and Songs of Their Own–The Massacre of Magellan–His Fate Like That of Captain Cook–Stories of Long-Ago Wars–An Account by a Devoted Spanish Writer of the Beneficent Rule of Spain in the Philippines–Aguinaldo a Man Not of a Nation, But of a Tribe–Typhoons and Earthquakes–The Degeneracy of the Government of the Philippines After It Was Taken from Mexico–“New Spain”–The Perquisites of Captain-Generals–The Splendor of Manila a Century Ago
CHAPTER XVIII.
THE SOUTHERN PHILIPPINES.
Important Facts About the Lesser Islands of the Philippine Archipelago–Location, Size and Population–Capitals and Principal Cities–Rivers and Harbors–Surface and Soil–People and Products–Leading Industries–Their Commerce and Business Affairs–The Monsoons and Typhoons–The Terrors of the Tempests and How to Avoid Them
CHAPTER XIX.
SPECIFICATIONS OF GRIEVANCES OF THE FILIPINOS.
An Official Copy of the Manifesto of the Junta Showing the Bad Faith of Spain in the Making and Evasion of a Treaty–The Declaration of the Renewal of the War of Rebellion–Complaints Against the Priests Defined–The Most Important Document the Filipinos Have Issued–Official Reports of Cases of Persecution of Men and Women in Manila by the Spanish Authorities–Memoranda of the Proceedings in Several Cases in the Court of Inquiry of the United States Officers
CHAPTER XX.
HAWAII AS ANNEXED.
The Star Spangled Banner Up Again in Hawaii, and to Stay–Dimensions of the Islands–What the Missionaries Have Done–Religious Belief by Nationality–Trade Statistics–Latest Census–Sugar Plantation Laborers–Coinage of Silver–Schools–Coffee Growing
CHAPTER XXI.
EARLY HISTORY OF THE SANDWICH ISLANDS.
Captain James Cook’s Great Discoveries and His Martyrdom–Character and Traditions of the Hawaiian Islands–Charges Against the Famous Navigator and Effort to Array the Christian World Against Him–The True Story of His Life and Death–How Charges Against Cook Came to Be Made–Testimony of Vancouver, King and Dixon, and Last Words of Cook’s Journal–Light Turned on History That Has Become Obscure–Savagery of the Natives–Their Written Language Took Up Their High Colored Traditions and Preserved Phantoms–Scenes in Aboriginal Theatricals–Problem of Government in an Archipelago Where Race Questions Are Predominant–Now Americans Should Remember Captain Cook as an Illustrious Pioneer
CHAPTER XXII.
THE START FOR THE LAND OF CORN STALKS.
Spain Clings to the Ghost of Her Colonies–The Scene of War Interest Shifts from Manila–The Typhoon Season–General Merritt on the Way to Paris–German Target Practice by Permission of Dewey–Poultney Bigalow with Canoe, Typewriter and Kodak–Hongkong as a Bigger and Brighter Gibraltar
CHAPTER XXIII.
KODAK SNAPPED AT JAPAN.
Glimpses of China and Japan on the Way Home from the Philippines–Hongkong a Greater Gibraltar–Coaling the China–Gangs of Women Coaling the China–How the Japanese Make Gardens of the Mountains–Transition from the Tropics to the Northern Seas–A Breeze from Siberia–A Thousand Miles Nothing on the Pacific–Talk of Swimming Ashore
CHAPTER XXIV.
OUR PICTURE GALLERY.
Annotations and Illustrations–Portraits of Heroes of the War in the Army and Navy, and of the Highest Public Responsibilities–Admirals and Generals, the President and Cabinet–Photographs of Scenes and Incidents–The Characteristics of the Filipinos–Their Homes, Dresses and Peculiarities in Sun Pictures–The Picturesque People of Our New Possessions
CHAPTER XXV.
CUBA AND PORTO RICO.
Conditions In and Around Havana–Fortifications and Water Supply of the Capital City–Other Sections of the Pearl of the Antilles–Porto Rico, Our New Possession, Described–Size and Population–Natural Resources and Products–Climatic Conditions–Towns and Cities–Railroad and Other Improvements–Future Possibilities
CHAPTER XXVI.
THE LADRONES.
The Island of Guam a Coaling Station of the United States–Discovery, Size and Products of the Islands
CHAPTER XXVII.
THE OFFICIAL TITLE TO OUR NEW POSSESSIONS IN THE INDIES.
Full Text of the Treaty of Peace with Spain Handed the President of the United States as a Christmas Gift for the People, at the White House, 1898–The Gathered Fruit of a Glorious and Wonderful Victory
CHAPTER XXVIII.
BATTLES WITH THE FILIPINOS BEFORE MANILA.
The Aguinaldo War Upon the Americans–The Course of Events in the Philippines Since the Fall of Manila–Origin of the Filipino War–Aguinaldo’s Insolent and Aggressive Acts, Including Treachery–His Agent’s Vanity and Duplicity in Washington–Insurgents Under Aguinaldo Attack American Forces–Battle of Manila, February 4 and 5–Heroism of American Troops in Repelling the Insurgents–Aguinaldo’s Proclamations–Agoncillo’s Flight to Canada–The Ratification of the Treaty of Peace with Spain by the American Senate Followed the Fighting–The Gallantry and Efficiency of the American Volunteers–Another Glorious Chapter of Our War History
CHAPTER XXIX.
THE AGUINALDO WAR OF SKIRMISHES.
The Filipino Swarms, After Being Repulsed with Slaughter, Continue Their Scattering Efforts to Be Assassins–They Plan a General Massacre and the Burning of Manila–Defeated in Barbarous Schemes, They Tell False Tales and Have Two Objects, One to Deceive the People of the Philippines, the other to Influence Intervention–The Peril of Fire–Six Thousand Regulars Sent to General Otis–Americans Capture Iloilo, and Many Natives Want Peace–The People of the Isla of Negros Ask that They May Go with Us–Dewey Wants Battleships and Gunboats, Gets Them, and Is Made an Admiral–Arrival of Peace Commissioners, with Their School Books, Just Ahead of the Regulars with Magazine Rifles–The Germans at Manila Salute Admiral Dewey at Last
ILLUSTRATIONS.
1. Frontispiece … Major-General Merritt, First Governor-General of the Philippines.
2. The President and His Cabinet
3. President McKinley
4. Secretary of State Hay
5. Secretary of the Treasury Gage
6. Secretary of War Alger
7. Secretary of the Navy Long
8. Attorney General Griggs
9. Postmaster General Smith
10. Secretary of the Interior Bliss 11. Secretary of Agriculture Wilson
12. Admiral Dewey, the Hero of Manila 13. Map of the Philippine Islands
14. Photograph and Autograph of Aguinaldo, as Presented by Him to Mr. Halstead, the Author
15. Archbishop of Manila. His Photograph and Autograph Presented to Mr. Halstead, the Author
16. Ex-Consul General Fitzhugh Lee, Now Major-General Commanding 17. Captain Sigsbee, Commander of the Ill-fated Maine 18. Brigadier-General F.V. Greene
19. Government Building in Pampanga 20. Church at Cavite
21. Masacue–Town in Cavite
22. Natives Taking Refreshments
23. Official Map of the Isle of Luzon, Prepared by War Department 24. Official Map by the War Department of the Seat of War in the Philippines
25. Murat Halstead, the Author, at Manila 26. Cathedral of Manila After Earthquake 27. Spanish Re-inforcements Crossing Bridge Over Pasig River 28. Oriental Hotel, Manila
29. The Sultan of Jolo in Mindanao 30. A Beheaded Spaniard–Sign of the Order of Katipunan 31. San Juan del Monte, Where Revolution Started 32. Brigadier-General E.S. Otis
33. Brigadier-General Thomas M. Anderson 34. Military Heroes of Santiago and Porto Rico 35. Major-General Miles
36. Major-General Shafter
37. Major-General Wheeler
38. Major-General Brooke
39. Brigadier-General Wood
40. Colonel Roosevelt
41. Naval Heroes of Santiago
42. Admiral Sampson
43. Admiral Schley
44. Captain Chadwick, of the New York 45. Captain Cooke, of the Brooklyn
46. Captain Clarke, of the Oregon
47. Captain Evans, of the Iowa
48. Captain Higginson, of the Massachusetts 49. Captain Philip, of the Texas
50. Commander Wainwright, of the Gloucester 51. Lieutenant R.P. Hobson
52. General Greene’s Headquarters at Manila 53. Manila and Its Outskirts, Showing Malate 54. Principal Gate to the City
55. Loading Buffaloes with Produce in Luzon 56. Filipina Preparing for a Siesta
57. Philippine Author-Martyr, His Wife and His Execution 58. Dr. Rizal
59. Dr. Rizal’s Execution
60. Dr. Rizal’s Wife
61. The Seat of War in Cavite
62. Attack on Manila, Showing Position of Our Ships and Troops 63. Fortifications of Manila
64. United States Peace Commissioners 65. Senator Frye
66. Senator Gray
67. Ex-Secretary of State Day
68. Senator Davis
69. Whitelaw Reid
70. Flowers of the Philippines
71. Interior of the Fortifications of Manila 72. Fort Santiago at Manila, Where the American Flag Was Raised 73. Dining Room in General Merritt’s Palace at Manila 74. An Execution Entertainment on the Luneta 75. Victims Reported Dead After the Execution 76. Aguinaldo and His Compatriots
77. Senor Aguinaldo
78. Senor Montsusgro
79. Senor Natividah
80. Senor Ninisgra
81. Senor Rins
82. Senor Belavinino
83. Senor Covinbing
84. Senor Mascordo
85. Senor Arbacho
86. Senor Pilar
87. Senor Viola
88. Senor Francisco
89. Senor Llansoo
90. Savage Native Hunters
91. Girl’s Costume to Show One Shoulder 92. Public Buildings in Manila
93. Fort Weyler, Built by General Weyler When Governor of the Philippines
94. The Destruction of Cervera’s Spanish Squadron at Santiago 95. The Luneta–Favorite Outing Grounds of Manila, and a Place for Executing Insurgents
96. Admiral Dewey’s Fleet That Won the Battle of Manila Bay 97. The Flagship Olympia
98. The Baltimore
99. The Concord
100. The Raleigh
101. The Boston
102. The Petrel
103. The Monument of Magellinos in the Walled City 104. A Railroad Station North of Manila–Spaniards Airing Themselves 105. The Battle of Manila Bay–In the Heat of the Raging Fight 106. A Suburb of Manila, Showing a Buffalo Market Cart 107. The Cathedral at Manila
108. An Insurgent Outlook Near Manila 109. Display in Manila Photograph Gallery, Insurgent Leaders 110. Group of Filipinos Who Want Independence 111. The Principal Gate to the Walled City 112. A Public Square in Manila
113. A Bit of Scenery in Mindanao, Showing Tropical Vegetation 114. Parade of Spanish Troops on One of Their Three Annual Expeditions to the Southern Islands
115. After an Execution–Prostrate Forms are Men Shot 116. Spaniards Ready to Execute Insurgent Prisoners 117. A Group of the Unconquerable Mohammedans 118. A Native House
119. Riding Buffaloes Through Groves of Date Palms 120. Natives Fishing from a Canal Boat
121. Great Bridge at Manila
122. Southern Islanders–Showing Cocoanut Palms and the Monkey Tree 123. A Review of Spanish Filipino Volunteers 124. A Spanish Festival in Manila
125. Spanish Troops Repelling an Insurgent Attack on a Convent 126. Business Corner in Manila
127. A Native in Regimentals
128. A Country Pair
129. Peasant Costumes
130. Woodman in Working Garb
131. Map of Hawaii
132. Official Map of the Hawaiian Islands 133. Map of Cuba
134. Map of Porto Rico
135. Outline Map of the Philippine Islands 136. A Spanish Dude–An Officer at Manila 137. The Harbor at Manila
138. General E.S. Otis and Staff on Porch of Malacanan Palace, Manila 139. Malacanan Palace and Pasig River, Manila 140. General Otis and Staff, Dining Room, Malacanan Palace, Manila 141. Views in Manila, Philippine Islands 142. View from My Office Window in Palace, Sept. 8, 1898 143. Fountain, Manila, August, 1898
144. Door of Hospital De San Juan Di Dios, Intramuros, Manila, Aug. 29, 1898
145. Sentry Box in Old Manila Wall, August, 1898 146. Dungeons in Old Manila Wall, Sept. 7, 1898 147. Door of Jesuit Church, Manila, Sept. 3, 1898 148. Court Yard of Palace, Manila, Sept, 3, 1898 149. View of Tower of Iglisia De Sta Grum, Manila, Sept. 9, 1898 150. Corner of Old Manila Wall, August, 1898 151. Interior in Palace, Manila, Sept. 4, 1898 152. View of Church of August 30, Manila 153. General Hughes’ Temporary Office in Palace 154. Puerto De Gabel, Old Manila Wall, Aug. 29, 1898 155. Views in Manila, Philippine Islands 156. Wash Lady in the River, Manila
157. Soldiers Washing Their Persons and Clothes, Manila 158. Man Rowing Small Boat, Manila
159. Ferry in Canal, Manila
160. Group of Native Women on Canal Bank, Manila 161. Government Launch, Manila
162. View of Canal in New Manila
163. View From My Ferry Crossing River Looking Toward New Town, Manila 164. View of Intramuros From the Water, Manila 165. Women Washing, Manila
166. Barge in Canal, New Town, Half Barge, Half House Boat, Manila 167. Canal Scene in Neuva, Manila
168. Stern of Lighter in Canal, Manila 169. Views in Manila, Philippine Islands 170. Native Woman, with Fruit and Child
171. Native Woman
173. Fruit Woman on Main Bridge
173. Small Boy, With Pup
174. Native Woman on Canal Bank
175. Buffalo, Wagon and Two Coolies 176. Beggar on Main Bridge
177. Views in Honolulu and Manila
178. Leaving Honolulu, Aboard U.S.S. Peru for Manila 179. A Soldier on Deck of Oakland Ferry
180. Three College Men, Corporal Morrow in Center 181. U.S.S. Philadelphia Entering Honolulu Harbor 182. In Camp at Manila
183. Leaving Honolulu, U.S.S. Peru, for Manila 184. U.S.S. Philadelphia, Honolulu Harbor 185. Bridge Over River Naig, Cavite, Connecting Santa Cruz Road with Town of Naig
186. Highway in the Philippines
187. Native House in Suburb of Calamba, Philippines 188. Front and Back View of Native Woven Shirt 189. Malay Women of Jolo Pounding Rice
190. Ancient Cannon Taken from Insurgents 191. Arsenal Grounds in Cavite, Chapel in Front of Commandant’s House 192. Bridge Crossing the River at Tambobeng, Manila Province 193. Cane Bridge Over Arm of Bay at Ilo-Ilo, Philippines 194. Sergeant Dan Hewitt, Hero of Caloocan 195. View on Pagsanjan River in the Province of La Laguna 196. Royal Street in Ilo-Ilo, Island of Panay, Philippines 197. Native Dwelling in the Suburbs of Manila 198. The Insurgent Leaders in the Philippines 199. Isabelo Artacho
200. Baldomero Aguinaldo
201. Severino de las Alas
202. Antonio Montenegro
203. Vito Belarmino
204. Pedro Paterno
205. Emilio Aguinaldo
206. Church of San Augustin, Manila 207. Schooner Anchored in Ilo-Ilo Harbor, Philippines 208. Major-General Thomas M. Anderson and Staff, in Command of 1st Division, 8th Army Corps, at Manila
209. Major-General Thomas M. Anderson, Commander of 1st Division, 8th Army Corps, at Manila
CHAPTER I
Admiral Dewey on His Flagship.
A Stormy Day on Manila Bay–Call on Admiral Dewey–The Man in White–He Sticks to His Ship–How He Surprised Spaniards–Every Man Did His Duty on May-Day–How Dewey Looks and Talks–What He Said About War with Germany in Five Minutes–Feeds His Men on “Delicious” Fresh Meat from Australia–Photography Unjust to Him.
Steaming across Manila Bay from Cavite to the city on an energetic ferry-boat, scanning the wrecks of the Spanish fleet still visible where the fated ships went down, one of them bearing on a strip of canvas the legible words “Remember the ‘Maine,'” the talk being of Dewey’s great May-day, we were passing the famous flag-ship of the squadron that was ordered to destroy another squadron, and did it, incidentally gathering in hand the keys of an empire in the Indies for America, because the American victor was an extraordinary man, who saw the immensity of the opportunity and improved it to the utmost, some one said: “There is the Admiral now, on the quarter-deck under the awning–the man in white, sitting alone!” The American Consul at Manila was aboard the ferry-boat, and said to the captain he would like to speak to the Admiral. The course was changed a point, and then a pause, when the Consul called, “Admiral!” And the man in white stepped to the rail and responded pleasantly to the greeting–the Consul saying:
“Shall we not see you ashore now?”
“No,” said the man in white, in a clear voice; “I shall not go ashore unless I have to.”
Some one said: “This would be a good chance to go. Come with us.”
The man in white shook his head, and the ferryman ordered full speed, the passengers all looking steadily at the white figure until it became a speck, and the fresh arrivals were shown the objects of the greatest interest, until the wrecks of the Oriental fleet of the Spaniards were no longer visible, and there was only the white walls to see of Cavite’s arsenal and the houses of the navy-yard, and the more stately structures of Manila loomed behind the lighthouse at the mouth of the Pasig, when the eyes of the curious were drawn to the mossback fort that decorates as an antiquity the most conspicuous angle of the walls of “the walled city.”
There was a shade of significance in the few words of the Admiral that he would not go ashore until he must. He has from the first been persistent in staying at Manila. There has been nothing that could induce him to abandon in person the prize won May 1st. His order from the President was to destroy the Spanish fleet. It was given on the first day of the legal existence of the war, counting the day gained, in crossing the Pacific Ocean from the United States to the Philippines, when the 180th degree of longitude west from Greenwich is reached and reckoned. It was thus the President held back when the war was on; and the next day after Dewey got the order at Hongkong he was on the way. The Spaniards at Manila could not have been more astonished at Dewey’s way of doing, if they had all been struck by lightning under a clear sky. They had no occasion to be “surprised,” having the cable in daily communication with Madrid, and, more than that, a Manila paper of the last day of April contained an item of real news–the biggest news item ever published in that town! It was from a point on the western coast of the island of Luzon, and the substance of it that four vessels that seemed to be men-of-war, had been sighted going south, and supposed to be the American fleet.
What did the Spaniards suppose the American fleet they knew well had left Hongkong was going south for? If Admiral Dewey had been a commonplace man he would have paused and held a council of war nigh the huge rock Corregidor at the mouth of Manila Bay. There is a channel on either side of that island, and both were reputed to be guarded by torpedoes. The Spaniards had an enormous stock of munitions of war–modern German guns enough to have riddled the fleet of American cruisers–and why did they not have torpedoes? They had the Mauser rifle, which has wonderful range, and ten millions of smokeless powder cartridges. Marksmen could sweep the decks of a ship with Mausers at the distance of a mile, and with the smokeless cartridges it would have been mere conjecture where the sharpshooters were located. There are rows of armor-piercing steel projectiles from Germany still standing around rusting in the Spanish batteries, and they never did any more than they are doing. It is said–and there is every probability of the truth of the story–that some of these bolts would not fit any gun the Spaniards had mounted. The Admiral paid no attention to the big rock and the alleged torpedoes, but steamed up the bay near the city where the Spaniards were sleeping. He was hunting the fleet he was ordered to remove, and found it very early in the morning. Still the thunder of his guns seems to thrill and electrify the air over the bay, and shake the city; and the echoes to ring around the world, there is no question–not so much because the Americans won a naval victory without a parallel, as that Dewey improved the occasion, showing that he put brains into his business. They say–that is, some people seem to want to say it and so do–that Dewey is a strange sort of man; as was said of Wolfe and Nelson, who died when they won immortality. Dewey lives and is covered with glory. It has been held that there were not enough Americans hurt in the Manila fight to make the victory truly great. But the same objection applies to the destruction of Cervera’s fleet when he ran away from Santiago. General Jackson’s battle at New Orleans showed a marvelously small loss to Americans; but it was a good deal of a victory, and held good, though won after peace with England had been agreed upon. The capture of Manila is valid, too. Spain surrendered before the town did. If Dewey had been an every-day kind of man, he would have left Manila when he had fulfilled the letter of his orders, as he had no means of destroying the Spanish army, and did not want to desolate a city, even if the Spaniards held it. He remained and called for more ships and men, and got them.
“How is it?” “Why is it?” “How can it be?” are the questions Admiral Dewey asks when told that the American people, without exception, rejoice to celebrate him–that if one of the men known to have been with him May 1st should be found out in any American theater he would be taken on the stage by an irresistible call and a muscular committee of enthusiasts, and the play could not go on without “a few words” and the “Star Spangled Banner,” “Hail Columbia,” “Yankee Doodle,” “Dixey” and “My Country, ’tis of Thee”; that the hallelujah note would be struck; that cars are chalked “for Deweyville”; that the board fences have his name written, or painted, or whittled on them; that there are Dewey cigars; that blacksmith-shops have the name Dewey scratched on them, also barn doors; and that if there are two dwelling-houses and a stable at a cross-roads it is Deweyville, or Deweyburg or Deweytown; that there is a flood of boy babies named Dewey, that the girls sing of him, and the ladies all admire him and the widows love him, and the school children adore him. The Admiral says: “I hear such things, and altogether they amaze me–the newspapers, the telegrams, the letters become almost unreal, for I do not comprehend what they say of my first day’s work here. There was not a man in the fleet who did not do his duty.”
The Admiral is told that he need not think to stay away until the people who have him on their minds and in their hearts are tired of their enthusiasm; that he cannot go home undiscovered and without demonstrations that will shake the earth and rend the skies; that the boys will drag the horses from his carriage, and parade the streets with him as a prisoner, and have it out with him, giving him a good time, until it will be a hard time, and he might as well submit to manifest destiny! His country wanted another hero, and he was at the right place at the right time, and did the right thing in the right way; and the fact answers all questions accounting for everything. Still he has a notion of staying away until the storm is over and he can get along without being a spectacle. Why, even the ladies of Washington are wild about him. If he should appear at the White House to call on the President, the scene would be like that when Grant first met Abraham Lincoln.
One rough day on the bay I took passage in a small steam-launch to visit the Olympia, where the Admiral’s flag floated, to call on him. There was plenty of steam, and it was pleasant to get out a good way behind the breakwater, for the waves beyond were white with anger, and the boat, when departing from partial shelter, had proceeded but two or three hundred yards when it made a supreme effort in two motions–the first, to roll over; the second, to stand on its head. I was glad both struggles were unsuccessful, and pleased with the order: “Slow her up.” The disadvantages of too much harbor were evident. The slow-ups were several, and well timed, and then came the rise and fall of the frisky launch beside the warship, the throwing of a rope, the pull with a hook, the stand off with an oar, the bounding boat clearing from four to ten feet at a jump; the clutch, the quick step, the deft avoidance of a crushed foot or sprained ankle, with a possible broken leg in sight, the triumphant ascent, the safe landing, the sudden sense that Desdemona was right in loving a man for the dangers he had passed, the thought that there should be harbors less fluctuating, a lively appreciation of the achievements of pilots in boarding Atlantic liners. The broad decks of the Olympia, built by the builders of the matchless Oregon, had a comforting solidity under my feet. The Admiral was believed to be having a nap; but he was wide awake, and invited the visitor to take a big chair, which, after having accompanied the launch in the dance with the whitecaps, was peculiarly luxurious. The Admiral didn’t mind me, and had a moment’s surprise about an observer of long ago strolling so far from home and going forth in a high sea to make a call. I confessed to being an ancient Wanderer, but not an Ancient Mariner, and expressed disapprobation of the deplorable roughness of the California Albatross, a brute of a bird–a feathered ruffian that ought to be shot.
The Admiral would be picked out by close attention as the origin of some millions of pictures; but he is unlike as well as like them. Even the best photographs do not do justice to his fine eyes, large, dark and luminous, or to the solid mass of his head with iron-brown hair tinged with gray. He is a larger man than the portraits indicate; and his figure, while that of a strong man in good health and form and well nourished, is not stout and, though full, is firm; and his step has elasticity in it. His clean-shaven cheek and chin are massive, and drawn on fine lines full of character–no fatty obscuration, no decline of power; a stern but sunny and cloudless face–a good one for a place in history; no show of indulgence, no wrinkles; not the pallor of marble, rather the glint of bronze–the unabated force good for other chapters of history. It would be extremely interesting to report the talk of the Admiral; but there were two things about him that reminded me of James G. Blaine, something of the vivid personality of the loved and lost leader; something in his eye and his manner, more in the startling candor with which he spoke of things it would be premature to give the world, and, above all, the absence of all alarm about being reported–the unconscious consciousness that one must know this was private and no caution needed. A verbatim report of the Admiral would, however, harm no one, signify high-toned candor and a certain breezy simplicity in the treatment of momentous matters. Evidently here was a man not posing, a hero because his character was heroic, a genuine personage–not artificial, proclamatory, a picker of phrases, but a doer of deeds that explain themselves; a man with imagination, not fantastic but realistic, who must have had a vision during the night after the May-day battle of what might be the great hereafter; beholding under the southern constellations the gigantic shadow of America, crowned with stars, with the archipelagoes of Asia under her feet and broad and mighty destinies at command.
It was the next day that he anchored precisely where his famous ship was swinging when I sat beside him; and his words to the representative of three centuries of Spanish misrule had in them an uncontemplated flash from the flint and steel of fixed purpose and imperial force. “Fire another gun at my ships and I will destroy your city.”
We can hardly realize in America how flagrant Europeanism has been in the Manila Bay; how the big German guns bought by Spain looked from their embrasures; how a powerful German fleet persisted in asserting antagonism to Americanism, and tested in many ways the American Admiral’s knowledge of his rights and his country’s policy until Admiral Dewey told, not the German Admiral, as has been reported, but his flag lieutenant, “Can it be possible that your nation means war with mine? If so, we can begin it in five minutes.” The limit had been reached, and the line was drawn; and Dewey’s words will go down in our records with those of Charles Francis Adams to Lord John Russell about the ironclads built in England for the Confederacy: “My Lord, I need not point out to your lordship that this is war.”
Perhaps the German Admiral had exceeded the instructions of his Imperial Government, and the peremptory words of the American Admiral caused a better understanding, making for peace rather than for war.
Next to the Americans the English have taken a pride in Admiral Dewey, and they are in the Asiatic atmosphere our fast friends. They do not desire that we should give up the Philippines. On the contrary, they want us to keep the islands, and the more we become interested in those waters and along their shores, the better. They know that the world has practically grown smaller and, therefore, the British Empire more compact; and they find Russia their foe. They see that with the Pacific Coast our base of operations looking westward, we have first the Hawaiian Islands for producers and a coal station, naval arsenal, dockyards for the renovation and repair and replenishment of our fleets; and they see that we have reserved for ourselves one of the Ladrones, so that we will have an independent route to the Philippines. The Japanese have cultivated much feeling against our possession of Hawaii, the animus being that they wanted it for themselves; and likewise they are disturbed by our Pacific movement, anticipating the improvement of the most western of the Alutian Islands, an admirable station overlooking the North Pacific; all comprehending with Hawaii, the Alutian Island found most available, the Ladrone that we shall reserve and the Philippines, we shall have a Pacific quadrilateral; and this is not according to the present pleasure and the ambition for the coming days, of Japan. England would have approved our holding all the islands belonging to the Spanish, including the Canaries, and Majorca and Minorca and their neighboring isles in the Mediterranean, and take a pride in us. She has been of untold and inestimable service to us in the course of the Spanish War, and her ways have been good for us at Manila, while the Germans have been frankly against us, the Russians grimly reserved, and the French disposed to be fretful because they have invested in Spanish bonds upon which was raised the money to carry on the miserable false pretense of war with the Cubans. One day while I was on the fine transport Peru, in the harbor of Manila, the American Admiral’s ship saluted an English ship-of-war coming in that had saluted his flag, and also displayed American colors in recognition that the harbor of Manila was an American port. That was the significance of the flashes and thundering of the Admiral’s guns and the white cloud that gathered about his ship that has done enough for celebrity through centuries.
Admiral Dewey created the situation in the Philippines that the President wisely chose by way of the Paris Conference to receive the deliberate judgment of the Senate and people of the United States. Dewy has been unceasingly deeply concerned about it. His naval victory was but the beginning. He might have sailed away from Manila May 2d, having fulfilled his orders; but he had the high and keen American spirit in him, and clung. He needed a base of operations, a place upon which to rest and obtain supplies. He had not the marines to spare to garrison a fort save at Cavite, twelve miles from Manila; and he needed chickens, eggs, fresh meat and vegetables; and it was important that the Spanish Army should be occupied on shore. Hence, Aguinaldo, who was in Singapore, and the concentration of insurgents that had themselves to be restrained to make war on civilized lines. One of the points of the most considerable interest touching the Filipinos is that the smashing defeat of the fleet of Spain in Manila Bay heartened them. They have become strong for themselves. The superiority of the Americans over the Spaniards as fighting men is known throughout the islands Spain oppressed; and the bonds of the tyrants have been broken. It should not be out of mind that the first transports with our troops did not reach Manila for six weeks, and that the army was not in shape to take the offensive until after General Merritt’s arrival, late in July. All this time the American Admiral had to hold on with the naval arm; and it was the obvious game of Spain, if she meant to fight and could not cope with the Americans in the West Indies, to send all her available ships and overwhelm us in the East Indies. At the same time the German, French, Russian and Japanese men-of-war represented the interest of the live nations of the earth in the Philippines. As fast as possible Admiral Dewey was re-enforced; but it was not until the two monitors, the Monterey and Monadnock, arrived, the latter after the arrival of General Merritt, that the Admiral felt that he was safely master of the harbor. He had no heavily armored ships to assail the shore batteries within their range, and might be crippled by the fire of the great Krupp guns. It was vital that the health of the crews of his ships should be maintained, and the fact that the men are and have been all summer well and happy is not accidental. Admiral Dewey took the point of danger, if there was one, into his personal keeping, by anchoring the Olympia on the Manila side of the bay, while others were further out and near Cavite; and throughout the fleet there was constant activity and the utmost vigilance. There was incessant solicitude about what the desperate Spaniards might contrive in the nature of aggressive enterprise. It seemed incredible to Americans that nothing should be attempted. How would a Spanish fleet have fared for three months of war with us in an American harbor? There would have been a new feature of destructiveness tried on the foe at least once a week.
The Spaniards ashore seemed to be drowsy; but the Americans were wide awake, ready for anything, and could not be surprised; so that we may commend as wisdom the Spanish discretion that let them alone. The ship that was the nearest neighbor of Admiral Dewey for months of his long vigil flew the flag of Belgium. She is a large, rusty-looking vessel, without a sign of contraband of war, or of a chance of important usefulness about her; but she performed a valuable function. I asked half a dozen times what her occupation was before any one gave a satisfactory answer. Admiral Dewey told the story in few words. She was a cold-storage ship, with beef and mutton from Australia, compartments fixed for about forty degrees below zero. Each day the meat for the American fleet’s consumption was taken out. There was a lot of it on the deck of the Olympia thawing when I was a visitor; and the beef was “delicious.” I am at pains to give Dewey’s word. While the Spaniards ashore were eating tough, lean buffalo–the beasts of burden in the streets, the Americans afloat rejoiced in “delicious” beef and mutton from Australia. It was explained that the use of cold-storage meat depended upon giving it time to thaw, for if it should be cooked in an icy state it would be black and unpalatable, losing wholly its flavor and greatly its nourishing quality. Australia is not many thousand miles from the Philippines–and one must count miles by the thousands out there. The Belgians have a smart Consul at Manila who is a friend of mankind.
One of the incidents in the battle of Manila–all are fresh in the public memory–is that Admiral Dewey did not make use of the conning-tower–a steel, bomb proof, for the security of the officer in command of the ship–the Captain, of course, and the commander of the fleet, if he will.
This retreat did not prove, in the battle of Yalu and the combats between the Chileans and Peruvians, a place of safety; but as a rule there is a considerable percentage of protection in its use. Admiral Dewey preferred to remain on the bridge–and there were four fragments of Spanish shells that passed close to him, striking within a radius of fifteen feet. The Admiral, when told there had been some remark because he had not occupied the conning-house in the action, walked with me to the tower, the entrance to which is so guarded that it resembles a small cavern of steel–with a heavy cap or lid, under which is a circular slit, through which observations are supposed to be made. “Try it,” the Admiral said, “and you find it is hard to get a satisfactory view.” He added, when I had attempted to look over the surroundings: “We will go to the bridge;” and standing on it he annotated the situation, saying: “Here you have the whole bay before you, and can see everything.” I remarked: “The newspaper men are very proud of the correspondent of the Herald who was with you on the bridge;” and the Admiral said: “Yes; Stickney was right here with us.”
There were many reasons for the officer commanding the American fleet that day to watch closely the developments. The Spaniards had, for their own purposes, even falsified the official charts of the bay. Where our vessels maneuvered and the flagship drew twenty-two feet of water and had nine feet under the keel, the chart called for fifteen feet only!
It is not a secret that the President wanted Admiral Dewey, if it was not in his opinion inconsistent with his sense of duty, to go to Washington. Naturally the President would have a profound respect for the Admiral’s opinion as to the perplexing problem of the Philippines. The Admiral did not think he should leave his post. He could cover the points of chief interest in writing, and preferred very much to do so, and stay right where he was “until this thing is settled.” The opinion of the Admiral as to what the United States should do with, or must do about, the political relations of the Philippines with ourselves and others, have not been given formal expression; but it is safe to say they are not in conflict with his feeling that the American fleet at Manila should be augmented with gunboats, cruisers and two or three battle-ships. It was, in the opinion of the illustrious Admiral, when the Peace Commission met in Paris, the time and place to make a demonstration of the sea power of the United States.
The personal appearance of Admiral Dewey is not presented with attractive accuracy in the very familiar portrait of him that has been wonderfully multiplied and replenished. The expression of the Admiral is not truly given in the prints and photos. The photographer is responsible for a faulty selection. The impression prevails that the hero is “a little fellow.” There is much said to the effect that he is jaunty and has excess of amiability in his smile. He weighs about 180 pounds, and is of erect bearing, standing not less than five feet ten inches and a quarter. His hair is not as white as the pictures say. The artist who touched up the negative must have thought gray hair so becoming that he anticipated the feast of coming years. The figure of the Admiral is strong, well carried, firm, and his bearing that of gravity and determination, but no pose for the sake of show, no pomp and circumstance, just the Academy training showing in his attitude–the abiding, unconscious grace that is imparted in the schools of Annapolis and West Point–now rivaled by other schools in “setting up.” The Admiral is of solidity and dignity, of good stature and proportions; has nothing of affectation in manners or insincerity in speech; is a hearty, stirring, serious man, whose intensity is softened by steady purposes and calm forces, and moderated by the play of a sense of humor, that is not drollery or levity, but has a pleasing greeting for a clever word, and yields return with a flash in it and an edge on it.
CHAPTER II
Life in Manila.
Character of the Filipinos–Drivers Lashing Laboring Men in the Streets–What Americans Get in Their Native Air–The Logic of Destiny–Manila as She Fell into Our Hands–The Beds in the Tropics–A Spanish Hotel–Profane Yells for Ice–Sad Scenes in the Dining Room–Major-General Calls for “Francisco”–A Broken-Hearted Pantry Woman.
The same marvelous riches that distinguish Cuba are the inheritance of Luzon. The native people are more promising in the long run than if they were in larger percentage of the blood of Spain, for they have something of that indomitable industry that must finally work out an immense redemption for the eastern and southern Asiatics. When, I wonder, did the American people get the impression so extensive and obstinate that the Japanese and Chinese were idlers? We may add as having a place in this category the Hindoos, who toil forever, and, under British government, have increased by scores of millions. The southern Asiatics are, however, less emancipated from various indurated superstitions than those of the East; and the Polynesians, spread over the southern seas, are a softer people than those of the continent. However, idleness is not the leading feature of life of the Filipinos, and when they are mixed, especially crossed with Chinese, they are indefatigable. On the Philippine Islands there is far less servility than on the other side of the sea of China, and the people are the more respectable and hopeful for the flavor of manliness that compensates for a moderate but visible admixture of savagery. We of North America may be proud of it that the atmosphere of our continent, when it was wild, was a stimulant of freedom and independence. The red Indians of our forests were, with all their faults, never made for slaves. The natives of the West Indies, the fierce Caribs excepted, were enslaved by the Spaniards, and perished under the lash. Our continental tribes–the Seminoles and the Comanches, the Sioux and Mohawks, the Black Feet and the Miamis–from the St. Lawrence to Red River and the oceans, fought all comers–Spaniards, French and English–only the French having the talent of polite persuasion and the gift of kindness that won the mighty hunters, but never subjugated them. We may well encourage the idea that the quality of air of the wilderness has entered the soil. When, in Manila, I have seen the men bearing burdens on the streets spring out of the way of those riding in carriages, and lashed by drivers with a viciousness that no dumb animal should suffer, I have felt my blood warm to think that the men of common hard labor in my country would resent a blow as quickly as the man on horseback–that even the poor black–emancipated the other day from the subjugation of slavery by a masterful and potential race, stands up in conscious manhood, and that the teachings of the day are that consistently with the progress of the country–as one respects himself, he must be respected–and that the air and the earth have the inspiration and the stimulus of freedom. The Chinese and Japanese are famous as servants–so constant, handy, obedient, docile, so fitted to minister to luxury, to wait upon those favored by fortune and spurred to execute the schemes for elevation and dominance, and find employment in the enterprise that comprehends human advancement. It must be admitted that the Filipinos are not admirable in menial service. Many of them are untamed, and now, that the Americans have given object lessons of smiting the Spaniards, the people of the islands that Magellinos, the Portuguese, found for Spain, must be allowed a measure of self-government, or they will assert a broader freedom, and do it with sanguinary methods. As Americans have heretofore found personal liberty consistent with public order–that Republicanism was more stable than imperialism in peaceable administration, and not less formidable in war, it seems to be Divinely appointed that our paths of Empire may, with advantage to ourselves, and the world at large, be made more comprehensive than our fathers blazed them out. But one need not hesitate to go forward in this cause, for we have only gone farther than the fathers dreamed, because, among their labors of beneficence, was that of building wiser than they knew, and there is no more reason now why we should stop when we strike the salt water of the seas, and consent to it that where we find the white line of surf that borders a continent we shall say to the imperial popular Republic, thus far and no farther shalt thou go, and here shall thy proud march be stayed–than there was that George Washington, as the representative of the English-speaking people, should have assumed that England and Virginia had no business beyond the Allegheny Mountains, and, above all, no right to territory on the west of the Allegheny and Kanawha, and north of the Ohio river, a territory then remote, inhabited by barbarians and wanted by the French, who claimed the whole continent, except the strip along the Atlantic possessed by the English colonies. Washington was a believer in the acquisition of the Ohio country. He was a man who had faith in land–in ever more land. It is the same policy to go west now that it was then. Washington crossed the Allegheny and held the ground. Jefferson crossed the Mississippi, and sent Louis and Clark to the Pacific; and crossing the great western ocean now is but the logic of going beyond the great western rivers, prairies and mountains then. We walk in the ways of the fathers when we go conquering and to conquer along the Eastward shores of Asia.
One of the expanding and teeming questions before the world now, and the authority and ability to determine it, is in the hands of the Commander-in-Chief of the Army of the United States, is whether Manila shall become an American city, with all the broad and sweeping significance attaching thereto. Manila was not dressed for company when I saw her, for she had just emerged from a siege in which the people had suffered much inconvenience and privation. The water supply was cut off, and the streets were not cleaned. The hotels were disorganized and the restaurants in confusion. The trees that once cast a grateful shade along the boulevards, that extended into the country, rudely denuded of their boughs, had the appearance of the skeletons of strange monsters. The insurgent army was still in the neighborhood in a state of uneasiness, feeling wronged, deprived, as they were, of an opportunity to get even with the Spaniards, by picking out and slaying some of the more virulent offenders. There was an immense monastery, where hundreds of priests were said to be sheltered, and the insurgents desired to take them into their own hands and make examples of them. The Spaniards about the streets were becoming complacent. They had heard of peace, on the basis of Spain giving up every thing, but the Philippines, and there were expectations that the troops withdrawn from Cuba might be sent from Havana to Manila, and then, as soon as the Americans were gone, the islanders could be brought to submission by vastly superior forces. There were more rations issued to Spanish than to American soldiers, until the division of the Philippine Expedition with Major-General Otis arrived, but the Americans were exclusively responsible for the preservation of the peace between the implacable belligerents, and the sanitary work required could not at once be accomplished, but presently it was visible that something was done every day in the right direction. There was much gambling with dice, whose rattling could be heard far and near on the sidewalks, but this flagrant form of vice was summarily suppressed, we may say with strict truth, at the point of the bayonet. The most representative concentration of the ingredients of chaos was at the Hotel Oriental, that overlooked a small park with a dry fountain and a branch of the river flowing under a stone bridge, with a pretty stiff current, presently to become a crowded canal. It is of three lofty stories and an attic, a great deal of the space occupied with halls, high, wide and long. The front entrance is broad, and a tiled floor runs straight through the house. Two stairways, one on either side, lead to the second story, the first steps of stone. In the distance beyond, a court could be seen, a passable conservatory–but bottles on a table with a counter in front declared that this was a barroom, as it was. The next thing further was a place where washing was done, then came empty rooms that might be shops; after this a narrow and untidy street, and then a livery stable–a sort of monopolistic cab stand, where a few ponies and carriages were to be found–but no one understood or did anything as long as possible, except to say that all the rigs were engaged now and always. However, a little violent English language, mixed with Spanish, would arouse emotion and excite commotion eventuating in a pony in harness, and a gig or carriage, and a desperate driver, expert with a villainous whip used without occasion or remorse.
The cool place was at the front door, on the sidewalk, seated on a hard chair, for there was always a breeze. The Spanish guests knew where the wind blew, and gathered there discussing many questions that must have deeply interested them. But they had something to eat, no authority or ability to affect any sort of change, and unfailing tobacco, the burning of which was an occupation. The ground floor of the hotel, except the barroom, the washroom, the hall, the conservatory and the hollow square, had been devoted to shop keeping, but the shop keepers were gone, perhaps for days and perhaps forever! Stone is not used to any great extent in house interiors, except within a few feet of the surface of the earth. Of course, there is no elevator in a Spanish hotel. That which is wanted is room for the circulation of air. Above the first flight of stairs the steps have a deep dark red tinge, and are square and long, so that each extends solidly across the liberal space allotted to the stairway. The blocks might be some stone of delightful color, but they are hewn logs, solid and smooth, of a superb mahogany or some tree of harder wood and deeper luxuriance of coloring. The bedrooms are immensely high, and in every way ample, looking on great spaces devoted to wooing the air from the park and the river. The windows are enormous. Not satisfied with the giant sliding doors that open on the street, revealing windows–unencumbered with sash or glass, there are sliding doors under the window sills, that roll back right and left and offer the chance to introduce a current of air directly on the lower limbs. One of the lessons of the tropics is the value of the outer air, and architecture that gives it a chance in the house. It is a precious education. The artificial light within must be produced by candles, and each stupendous apartment is furnished with one tallowy and otherwise neglected candle stick, and you can get, with exertion, a candle four inches long. There is a wardrobe, a wash stand, with pitcher and basin, and a commode, fans, chairs, and round white marble table, all the pieces placed in solitude, so as to convey the notion of lonesomeness. The great feature is the bed. The bedstead is about the usual thing, save that there is no provision for a possible or impossible spring mattress, or anything of that nature. The bed space is covered with bamboo, platted. It is hard as iron, and I can testify of considerable strength, for I rested my two hundred pounds, and rising a few pounds, on this surface, with no protection for it or myself for several nights, and there were no fractures. There is spread on this surface a Manila mat, which is a shade tougher and less tractable than our old style oilcloth. Upon this is spread a single sheet, that is tucked in around the edges of the mat, and there are no bed clothes, absolutely none. There is a mosquito bar with only a few holes in it, but it is suspended and cannot under any circumstances be used as a blanket. There is a pillow, hard and round, and easy as a log for your cheek to rest upon, and it is beautifully covered with red silk. There is a small roll, say a foot long and four inches in diameter, softer than the pillow, to a slight extent, and covered with finer and redder silk, that is meant for the neck alone. The comparatively big red log is to extend across the bed for the elevation it gives the head, and the little and redder log, softer so that you may indent it with your thumb, saves the neck from being broken on this relic of the Spanish inquisition. But there is a comforter–not such a blessed caressing domestic comforter as the Yankees have, light as a feather, but responsive to a tender touch. This Philippine comforter is another red roll that must be a quilt firmly rolled and swathed in more red silk; and it is to prop yourself withal when the contact with the sheet and the mat on the bamboo floor of the bedstead, a combination iniquitous as the naked floor–becomes wearisome. It rests the legs to pull on your back, and tuck under your knees. In the total absence of bed covering, beyond a thin night shirt, the three red rolls are not to be despised. The object of the bed is to keep cool, and if you do find the exertion of getting onto–not into–the bed produces a perspiration, and the mosquito bar threatens suffocation, reliance may be had that if you can compose yourself on top of the sheet (which feels like a hard wood floor, when the rug gives way on the icy surface and you fall) and if you use the three rolls of hard substance, covered with red silk, discreetly and considerately, in finding a position, and if you permit the windows–no glass–fifteen feet by twelve, broadcast, as it were, to catch the breath of the river and the park; if you can contrive with infinite quiet, patience and pains to go to sleep for a few hours, you will be cool enough; and when awakened shivering there is no blanket near, and if you must have cover, why get under the sheet, next the Manila mat, and there you are! Then put your troublesome and probably aching legs over the bigger red roll, and take your repose! Of course, when in the tropics you cannot expect to bury yourself in bedclothing, or to sleep in fur bags like an arctic explorer. The hall in front of your door is twelve feet wide and eighty long, lined with decorative chairs and sofas, and in the center of the hotel is a spacious dining room. The Spaniard doesn’t want breakfast. He wants coffee and fruit–maybe a small banana–something sweet, and a crumb of bread. The necessity of the hour is a few cigarettes. His refined system does not require food until later. At 12 o’clock he lunches, and eats an abundance of hot stuff–fish, flesh and fowl–fiery stews and other condolences for the stomach. This gives strength to consider the wrongs of Spain and the way, when restored to Madrid, the imbeciles, who allowed the United States to capture the last sad fragments of the colonies, sacred to Spanish honor, shall be crushed by the patriots who were out of the country when it was ruined. It will take a long time for the Spaniards to settle among factions the accounts of vengeance. One of the deeper troubles of the Spaniards is that they take upon themselves the administration of the prerogatives of him who said “Vengeance is mine.” The American end of the dining room contains several young men who speak pigeon Spanish, and Captains Strong and Coudert are rapidly becoming experts, having studied the language in school, and also on the long voyage out. There are also a group of resident Englishmen and a pilgrim from Norway, but at several tables are Americans who know no Spanish and are mad at the Spaniards on that provocation among other things.
There is, however, a connecting link and last resort in the person of a young man–a cross between a Jap and Filipino. He is slender and pale, but not tall. His hair is roached, so that it stands up in confusion, and he is wearied all the time about the deplorable “help.”‘ It is believed he knows better than is done–always a source of unhappiness. His name is Francisco; his reputation is widespread. He is the man who “speaks English”–and is the only one–and it is not doubted that he knows at least a hundred words of our noble tongue. He says, “What do you want?” “Good morning, gentlemen”; “What can I do for you?” “Do you want dinner?” “No, there is no ice till 6 o’clock.” He puts the Americans in mind of better days. Behind this linguist is a little woman, whose age might be twenty or sixty, for her face is so unutterably sad and immovable in expression that there is not a line in it that tells you anything but that there is to this little woman a bitterly sad, mean, beastly world. She must be grieving over mankind. It is her duty to see that no spoon is lost, and not an orange or banana wasted, and her mournful eyes are fixed with the intensity of despair upon the incompetent waiters, who, when hard pressed by wild shouts from American officers, frantic for lack of proper nourishment, fall into a panic and dance and squeal at each other; and then the woman of fixed sorrow, her left shoulder thin and copper-colored, thrust from her low-necked dress, her right shoulder protected, is in the midst of the pack, with a gliding bound and the ferocity of a cat, the sadness of her face taking on a tinge of long-suffering rage. She whirls the fools here and there as they are wanted. Having disentangled the snarl, she returns to the door from which her eyes command both the pantry and the dining-room to renew her solemn round of mournful vigilance. The Americans are outside her jurisdiction. She has no more idea what they are than Christopher Columbus, when he was discovering America, knew where he was going. When Francisco does not know what the language (English) hurled at him means he has a far-away look, and may be listening to the angels sing, for he is plaintive and inexpressive. He looks so sorry that Americans cannot speak their own language as he speaks English! But there are phrases delivered by Americans that he understands, such as, “Blankety, blank, blank–you all come here.” Francisco does not go there, but with humble step elsewhere, affecting to find a pressing case for his intervention, but when he can no longer avoid your eye catching him he smiles a sweet but most superior smile, such as becomes one who speaks English and is the responsible man about the house.
There never was one who did more on a capital of one hundred words. His labors have been lightened slightly, for the Americans have picked up a few Spanish words, such as, “Ha mucher, mucher–don’t you know? Hielo, hielo!” Hielo is ice, and after the “mucher” is duly digested the average waiter comes, by and by, with a lump as big as a hen’s egg and is amazed by the shouts continuing “hielo, hielo!” pronounced much like another and wicked word.
“Oh, blanketination mucher mucher hielo!” The Filipinos cannot contemplate lightly the consumption of slabs of ice. The last words I heard in the dining-room of the Hotel Oriental were from a soldier with two stars on each shoulder: “Francisco, oh, Francisco,” and the little woman with left shoulder exposed turned her despairing face to the wall, her sorrow too deep for words or for weeping.
CHAPTER III
From Long Island To Luzon.
Across the Continent–An American Governor-General Steams Through the Golden Gate–He Is a Minute-Man–Honolulu as a Health Resort–The Lonesome Pacific–The Skies of Asia–Dreaming Under the Stars of the Scorpion–The Southern Cross.
Spain, crowded between the Mediterranean and the Atlantic, was the world’s “West” for many centuries, indeed until Columbus found a further West, but he did not go far enough to find the East Indies. The United States is now at work in both the East and West Indies.
Our Manila expeditions steamed into the sunsets, the boys pointing out to each other the southern cross. The first stage of a journey, to go half round the world on a visit to our new possession, was by the annex boat from Brooklyn, and a rush on the Pennsylvania train, that glimmers with gold and has exhausted art on wheels, to Washington, to get the political latitude and longitude by observation of the two domes, that of the Capitol, and the library, and the tremendous needle of snow that is the monument to Washington, and last, but not least, the superb old White House.
The next step was across the mountains on the Baltimore and Ohio, the short cut between the East and the West, traversed so often by George Washington to get good land for the extension of our national foundations. The space between Cincinnati and Chicago is cleared on the “Big Four” with a bound through the shadow of the earth, between two rare days in June, and the next midnight, the roaring train flew high over the Missouri River at Omaha, and by daylight far on the way to Ogden. The country was rich in corn and grass, and when one beholds the fat cattle, lamentations for the lost buffalo cease. It is a delight to see young orchards and farmhouses, and cribs and sheds fortified against tornadoes by groves, laid out with irritating precision to confront the whirling storms from west and south. The broad bad lands in which the tempests are raised devour the heart of the continent.
I made note of the 888-mile post beyond Omaha, but the 1,000-mile telegraph pole and tree glided away while I was catching the lights and shadows on a fearfully tumbled landscape. The alkali has poisoned enormous tracts, and the tufts of sagebrush have a huge and sinister monotony. Looking out early in the morning there was in our track a “gaunt grey wolf” with sharp ears, unabashed by the roar of the train. His species find occasional scraps along the track and do not fear the trains. Then I saw something glisten in the herbage, and it was a rattlesnake, if it were not a whisky bottle.
The gigantic lumps of tawny earth, with castellated crags of stone, ghostly ruins one would say of cities that perished thousands of years before the bricks were made for Babylon. Profound beds for vanished torrents yawned into a scrap of green valley, and the glitter of a thread of water. A town blossomed from a coal mine, and there was an array of driven wells with force pumps to quench the thirst of seething and raging locomotives. A turn in the line and a beautiful cloud formation like billows of white roses, massive, delicately outlined fantastic spires like marble mountains, carved–ah! the cloud comes out clear as if it were a wall of pearl, and there are the everlasting mighty hills with their brows of exquisite snow!
These are lofty reservoirs from which the long days glowing with sunshine send down streams of water at whose touch the deserts bloom. The eye is refreshed as we make a closer acquaintance of the mountains. Where water flows and trees “wag their high tops” there is hope of homes. There are canyons that cause one to smile at remembrances of what were considered the dizzy gorges of the Alleghenies. There is a glow as of molten lead in one corner of a misty valley far away. It is Salt Lake, the Dead Sea of America. Beyond this at an immense elevation is a lake with the tinge of the indigo sky of the tropics. If one could stir a portion of the Caribbean Sea into Lake Geneva, the correct tint could be obtained. Thirty miles of snow sheds announce progress in the journey to the Pacific. There is still heat and dust, but beside the road are villages; and there are even fountains.
Each stream is a treasure, and its banks are rich with verdure. There are sleek cows on bright grass. The mountains are no longer forbidding. They take on robes of loveliness. The valleys broaden and on the easy slopes there are orchards where the oranges glisten. There are clusters of grapes. We have come upon that magic land, California. There is golden music in the name. This is a conquest. The war in which it was won was not one of philanthropy. We gathered an empire.
General Merritt never minded the weather, whether the wind blew or not, and instead of holding his ship for several hours after the appointed time, wanted to know five minutes after 10 o’clock whether the time for starting was not 10 o’clock and by whom the boat was detained. At ten minutes after 10 the gangplank was swung free, with a desperate man on it who scrambled on with the help of long legs and a short rope. As the ship swung from the dock and got a move on there were thousands of men and women exalted with emotion, and there were crowded steamers and tugs toppling with swarming enthusiasts resounding with brass bands and fluttering with streaming flags. The ladies were especially frantic. Spurts of white smoke jetted from forts and there were ringing salutes. Steam whistles pitched a tune beyond the fixed stars. The national airs with thrilling trumpet tones pierced the din, and a multitude of voices joined with the bands giving words and tone to the magnetic storm. How many miles the Newport was pursued I cannot conjecture. There were tall ladies standing on the high decks of tugs that were half buried in the foam of the bay, but as long as they could hold a “Star Spangled Banner” in one hand, and a few handkerchiefs in another, their skirts streaming in grace and defiance before the rising gale, they sang hosannas, and there were attitudes both of triumph and despair as the fair followers, dashed with spray, gave up the chase, passionately kissing their hands god-speed and good-by. This was going to the Indies through the Golden Gate!
A breakage of dishes, that sounded as though the ship were going to pieces, belied the prophesy that beyond the bar there was to be no moaning; and the Pacific would not be pacified. However, the reputation of the ocean was good enough to go to sleep on, but the berths squirmed in sympathy with the twisting and plunging ship. It was not a “sound of revelry by night,” to which the wakeful listened through the dismal hours, and in the morning there was a high sea–grand rollers crowned with frothy lace, long black slopes rising and smiting like waves of liquid iron.
The Pacific was an average North Atlantic, and it was explained by the tale that the peaceful part of this ocean is away down South where the earth is most rotund, and the trade winds blow on so serenely that they lull the navigators into dreams of peace that induce a state of making haste slowly and a willingness to forget and be forgotten, whether–
Of those who husbanded the golden grain Or those who flung it to the winds like rain,
The gulls are not our snowy birds of the Atlantic. We are lonesome out here, and the Albatross sweeps beside us, hooded like a cobra, an evil creature trying to hoodoo us, with owlish eyes set in a frame like ghastly spectacle glasses.
General Merritt’s blue eyes shone like diamonds through the stormy experiences while the young staff officers curled up as the scientists did on the floor, and smiled a sort of sickly smile! The highest compliment that can be paid them is that the group of officers and gentlemen surrounding the commander of the expedition to the Philippines, express his own character.
It was funny to find that the private soldiers were better served with food than the General and his staff. There was reform, so as to even up the matter of rations, but the General was not anxious and solicitous for better food. His idea of the correct supper after a hard day’s service is a goodly sized sliced onion with salt, meat broiled on two sticks, hard tack, a tin cup of coffee, for luxuries a baked potato, a pipe of tobacco, a nip of whisky, a roll in a blanket and a sleep until the next day’s duties are announced by the bugle.
As the gentlemen of the staff got their sea legs, and flavored the narration of their experiences with humor, I found myself in a cloudy state and mentioned a small matter to the brigadier surgeon, who whipped out a thermometer and took my temperature, and that man of science gave me no peace night or day, and drove me from the ship into Paradise–that is to say I was ordered to stay at Honolulu. Through a window of the Queen’s hospital I saw lumps of tawny gold that were pomegranates shaking in the breeze, another tree glowed with dates, and a broad, vividly green hedge was rich with scarlet colors. I was duly examined by physicians, who were thorough as German specialists. I had, in the course of a few hours, a nap, a dish of broth, a glass of milk, a glass of ice water and an egg nog. That broth flowed like balm to the right spot. It was chicken broth. When I guzzled the egg nog I would have bet ten to one on beating that fever in a week, and the next morning about 4:30, when there was competitive crowing by a hundred roosters, I was glad of the concert, for it gave assurance of a supply of chickens to keep up the broth and the eggs that disguised the whiskey.
Two days later I gave up the egg nog because it was too good for me. I knew I did not deserve anything so nice, and suspected it was a beneficence associated with a cloud on my brow. I had the approval of the hospital physician as to egg nog, and he cut off a lot of dainties sent by the Honolulu ladies, who must have imagined that I was one of the heroes of the war. Their mission is to make heroes happy. I was detained under the royal palms, and other palms that were planted by the missionaries, four weeks, and got away on the ship Peru with Major-General Otis, and when we had gone on for a fortnight, as far as from the Baltic to Lake Erie, we saw some rocks that once were Spanish property.
As we left Honolulu the air was already a-glitter with Star Spangled Banners. There are three great points to be remembered as to the annexation of Hawaii:
1. There is not to be a continuance of the slavery of Asiatics in the new possession.
2. “Manhood suffrage” is not to be extended to Asiatics, often actually as under strictly conventional constitutional construction.
3. The archipelago is to be a United States territory, but not a State of the United States. Ex-President Harrison says in his most interesting book: “This Country of Ours,” which should be one of our national school books:
“Out of the habit of dealing with the public domain has come the common thought that all territory that we acquire must, when sufficiently populous, be erected into States. But why may we not take account of the quality of the people as well as of their numbers, if future acquisitions should make it proper to do so? A territorial form of government is not so inadequate that it might not serve for an indefinite time.”
It is to be remarked of the Hawaiian Islands that they did not possess the original riches of timber that distinguished the West Indies, especially Cuba, where Columbus found four varieties of oranges. One of the features of Hawaiian forestry is the Royal Palm, but it was not indigenous to the islands. The oldest of the stately royalists is not of forty years’ growth, and yet they add surprising grace to many scenes, and each year will increase their height and enhance their beauty.
Hawaiians will be saved from extinction by miscegenation. There will be no harm done these feeble people by the shelter of the flag of the great republic. The old superstitions prevail among them to an extent greater than is generally understood. I had the privilege of visiting an American home, the background of which was a rugged mountain that looked like a gigantic picture setting forth the features of a volcanic world. Far up the steep is a cave in which the bones of many of the old savages were deposited in the days of civil war and inhuman sacrifices. The entrance was long ago–in the days the Hawaii people describe as “Before the Missionaries.” The hole going to the holy cavern was closed, but there is still pious watching over the place of bones, and if there are climbers of the mountain not to be trusted with the solemn secrets of ancient times, they are stalked by furtive watchmen of the consecrated bones, and no doubt the ever alert sentinels would resist violation of the sepulchre in the rocks; and the natives are careful to scatter their special knowledge that the spot is haunted by supernatural shapes and powers. The Americans living in the midst of these mysteries are rather proud of the ghosts they never see, but have to put up with the haunting guard still ministering to the gods that dwelt in the shrines where the shadows of extinct volcanoes fall, long before the masterful missionaries planted their first steps in the high places.
After twenty-two days’ steaming from San Francisco–Queen’s Hospital time not counted–we were directly south of China’s Yellow Sea, and within a few hours of sighting the isle of Luzon.
Only at Honolulu, all the way from San Francisco, was there a sail or a smoke not of a vessel of the Philippine expedition. All the long days and nights the eye swept the horizon for companionship, finding only that of our associates in adventure, and very little of them. Even the birds seem to shrink from the heart of the watery world spread between America and Asia; and the monsters of the deep are absent. One day, about a thousand miles from California, a story spread of a porpoise at play, but the lonely creature passed astern like a bubble. Bryant sang of the water fowl that flew from zone to zone, guided in certain flight on the long way over which our steps are led aright, but the Pacific zones are too broad for even winged wanderers. The fish that swarm on our coast do not seem to find home life or sporting places in this enormous sea. Only the flying fish disturb the silky scene and flutter with silver wings over the sparkling laces that glisten where the winds blow gently, and woo the billows to cast aside the terrors of other climes and match the sky of blue and gold in beauty; but, unlike the stars, the waves do not differ in glory, and the spread of their splendor, when they seem to roll over a conquered universe, appeals to the imagination with the solemn suggestion not that order rules but that old chaos settles in solemn peace. The days terminate on this abyss in marvelous glories. The glowing spectacle is not in the west alone, but the gorgeous conflagration of the palaces we build in dreams spreads all around the sky. The scene one evening in the vicinity of the sun departing in Asia to light up the morning of the everlasting to-morrow touching America with magical riches, was that of Niagara Falls ten thousand times magnified and turned to molten gold, that burned with inconceivable luster, while the south and north and east were illuminated with strange fires and soft lights, fading and merged at last in the daffodil sky. Then the west became as a forest of amazing growth, and the ship entered its dusky recesses like a hunter for game such as the world never saw–and we looked upon the slow-fading purple islands that are the northern fringes of the greater one of the Philippines, and studied the rather faint and obscure Southern Cross and the stately sheen of the superb constellation of the Scorpion. It is a pity to have to say that the Cross of the South is a disappointment–has to be explained and made impressive by a diagram. It is more like a kite than a cross; has a superfluous star at one corner, and no support at all of the idea of being like a cross unless it is worked up and picked into the fancy. The North Star shines on the other side of the ship, and the Great Dipper dips its pointers after midnight, into the mass of darkness that is the sea when the sun and moon are gone.
The voyage from Honolulu to the farther Pacific was not so long that we forgot the American send-off we got in that Yankee city. The national airs sounded forth gloriously and grand. Flags and hankerchiefs fluttered from dense masses of spectators, and our colors were radiant above the roofs. There was, as usual, a mist on the mountains, and over Pearl Harbor glowed the arch of the most vivid rainbow ever seen, and Honolulu is almost every day dipped in rainbows. This was a wonder of splendor. The water changed from a sparkling green to a darkly luminous blue. From the moment the lofty lines of the coast–our mountains now–faded, till the birds came out of the west, the Pacific Ocean justified its name. The magnificent monotony of its stupendous placidity was not broken except by a few hours of ruffled rollers that tell of agitations that, if gigantic, are remote.
The two thousand and one hundred miles from California to Honolulu seemed at first to cover a vast space of the journey from our Pacific coast to the Philippines, but appeared to diminish in importance as we proceeded and were taught by the persistent trade winds that blew our way, as if forever to waft us over the awful ocean whose perpetual beauty and placidity were to allure us to an amazing abyss, from which it was but imaginative to presume that we, in the hands of infinite forces, should ever be of the travelers that return. Similar fancies beset, as all the boys remember–the crews of the caravels that carried Columbus and his fortunes. There were the splendors of tropical skies to beguile us; the sea as serene as the sky to enchant us! What mighty magic was this that put a spell upon an American army, seeking beyond the old outlines of our history and dreams, to guide us on unfamiliar paths? What was this awakening in the soft mornings, to the thrilling notes of the bugle? The clouds were not as those we knew in other climes and years. We saw no penciling of smoke on the edges of the crystal fields touched up with dainty ripples too exquisite to be waves–that which is a delight for a moment and passes but to come again, in forms too delicate to stay for a second, save in those pictures that in the universe fill the mind with memories that arc like starlight. The glancing tribes of flying fish became events. We followed the twentieth parallel of longitude north of the equator, right on, straight as an arrow’s flight is the long run of the ship–her vapor and the bubbles that break from the waters vanishing, so that we were as trackless when we had passed one breadth after another of the globe, as the lonesome canoes of the Indians on the Great Lakes.
CHAPTER IV
Interview with General Aguinaldo.
The Insurgent Leader’s Surroundings and Personal Appearance–His Reserves and Ways of Talking–The Fierce Animosity of the Filipinos Toward Spanish Priests–A Probability of Many Martyrs in the Isle of Luzon.
Practically all persons in the more civilized–and that is to say the easily accessible–portions of the Philippine Islands, with perhaps the exception of those leading insurgents who would like to enjoy the opportunities the Spaniards have had for the gratification of greed and the indulgence of a policy of revenge, would be glad to see the Americans remain in Manila, and also in as large a territory as they could command.
Spaniards of intelligence are aware that they have little that is desirable to anticipate in case the country is restored to them along with their Mausers and other firearms, great and small, according to the terms of capitulation. They get their guns whether we go and leave them or we stay and they go. It is obvious that the insurgents have become to the Spaniards a source of anxiety attended with terrors. The fact that they allowed themselves to be besieged in Manila by an equal number of Filipinos is conclusive that their reign is over, and they are not passionately in favor of their own restoration. Their era of cruel and corrupt government is at an end, even if we shall permit them to make the experiment. Their assumed anxiety to stay, is false pretense. They will be hurt if they do not go home.
The exasperation of the Filipinos toward the church is a phenomenon, and they usually state it with uncandid qualifications of the inadequate definition of the opinions and policy made by General Aguinaldo. Representations of my representative character as an American journalist, that gave me an importance I do not claim or assume to have, caused the appearance at my rooms, in Manila, of insurgents of high standing and comprehensive information, and of large fortunes in some cases. I was deeply impressed by their violent radicalism regarding the priests. At first they made no distinction, but said flatly the priests were the mischiefmakers, the true tyrants, and next to the half-breed Filipinos crossed with Chinese–who are phenomenal accumulators of pecuniary resources–the money-makers, who profited wrongfully by the earnings of others.
And so “the priests must go,” they said, and have no choice except that of deportation or execution. In few words, if they did not go away they would be killed. When close and urgent inquiry was made, the native priests were not included in the application of this rule. The Spanish priests were particularly singled out for vengeance, and with them such others as had been “false to the people” and treacherous in their relations to political affairs.
The number to be exiled or executed was stated at 3,000. The priests are panicky about this feeling of the natives, as is in evidence in their solicitude to get away. They at least have no hope of security if the Spaniards should regain the mastery of the islands. Two hundred and fifty of them in vain sought to get passage to Hongkong in one boat. I was informed on authority that was unquestionable that the eviction or extermination of the Spanish priests was one of the inevitable results of Filipine independence–the first thing to be done.
It was with three objects in view that I had an interview with General Aguinaldo: (1) To ascertain exactly as possible his feeling and policy toward the United States and its assertion of military authority; (2) to inquire about his position touching the priests, (3) and to urge him to be at pains to be represented not only at Washington, but at Paris. As regards the latter point, it was clear that the people of the Philippines, whatever they might be, ought to be represented before the Paris conference. No matter what their case was, it should be personally presented, even if the representatives were witnesses against rather than for themselves. In the interest of fair play and the general truth the Philippine population should put in an appearance at the seat of the government of the United States for the information of the President, and at the scene of the conference to testify; and I was sure it would appear in all cases that they were at least better capable of governing themselves than the Spaniards to govern them. There could be no form of government quite so bad as that of the fatal colonial system of Spain, as illustrated in the Philippines and in the Americas.
General Aguinaldo was neither remote nor inaccessible. His headquarters were in an Indian village, just across the bay, named Bacoor, and in less than an hour a swift steam launch carried Major Bell, of the bureau of information, a gallant and most industrious and energetic officer, and myself, to water so shallow that we had to call canoes to land in front of a church that before the days of Dewey was riddled by the fire of Spanish warships because occupied by insurgents. The walls and roof showed many perforations. The houses of the village were of bamboo, and there were many stands along the hot and dusty street on which fruit was displayed for sale.
The General’s house was about as solid a structure as earthquakes permit, its roof of red tile instead of the usual straw. His rooms were in the second story, reached by a broad stairway, at the top of which was a landing of liberal dimensions and an ante-room. The General was announced at home and engaged in writing a letter to General Merritt–then his rather regular literary exercise. There were a dozen insurgent soldiers at the door, and as many more at the foot and head of the stairs, with several officers, all in military costume, the privates carrying Spanish Mausers and the officers wearing swords. We were admitted to an inner room, with a window opening on the street, and told the General would see us directly. Meanwhile well-dressed ladies of his family passed through the audience room from the General’s office to the living rooms, giving a pleasant picture of domesticity.
The door from the study opened and a very slender and short young man entered with a preoccupied look that quickly became curious. An attendant said in a low voice, “General Aguinaldo.” He was unexpectedly small–could weigh but little over 100 pounds–dressed in pure white, and his modesty of bearing would have become a maiden. The first feeling was a sort of faint compassion that one with such small physical resources should have to bear the weighty responsibilities resting upon him. Major Bell had often met him, and introduced me. The General was gratified that I had called, and waited for the declaration of my business. He had been informed of my occupation; the fact that I had recently been in Washington and expected soon to be there again; was from Ohio, the President’s state, a friend of his, and had written a book on Cuba, a task which gave me, as I had visited the Island of Cuba during the war, an acquaintance with the Spanish system of governing colonies.
The interpreter was a man shorter than the General, but not quite so slight. His hair was intensely black and he wore glasses. He is an accomplished linguist, speaks English with facility and is acknowledged by the priests to be the equal of any of them in reading and speaking Latin. It is to be remarked that while Aguinaldo is not a man of high education he has as associates in his labors for Philippine independence a considerable number of scholarly men. It is related that in a recent discussion between a priest and an insurgent, the latter stated as a ground of rebellion that the Spaniards did nothing for the education of the people, and was asked, “Where did you get your education?” He had been taught by the Jesuits.