Read Ebook: An Epoch in History by Eley P H Peter Harden

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At last the toast was ended and the world-wide soup ushered in a long train of things good to eat, served in a style better fitted to the delights of the appetite than to the formalities of dinners, for, as soon as the pleasant task of one dish was completed by any one, the next was served him at once regardless of the progress made by the others at the table.

After paying our respects to this last course, we arose from the table and entered a great rectangular room from the center of whose ceiling hung a large glass chandelier, a mass of shimmering crystals. In the chairs around the room were the wealth, the youth, and the beauty of the town.

We Americans breathed a sigh of relief when the "rigodon" ended, and mustered fresh courage for social conquests in the waltz that was now breathing forth from the trembling strings. My companion in the first dance had been the young lady by whose side I had sat at dinner. But it now became necessary to search for another, so I prudently waited to see how partners were chosen, and made no mistake when a few moments later I faced one of the most luscious looking se?oritas on the opposite side of the room and offered her my arm. My eyes must have told the story that my lips could not utter in Spanish, for she smiled upon me sweetly, arose, and put her hand upon my shoulder. My arm encircled her waist and I began to waltz. Unfortunately my companion did not follow, but began to hop up and down in a manner most distressing. Supposing the attack to be only temporary, I paused and, much to my relief, she soon showed signs of recovery; and in the course of time she came to a standstill looking up into my face in an inquiring sort of way, apparently wondering why St. Vitus had not paid his respects to me also. A second attempt to follow the music met with results similar to the first, and during the third attempt, which seemed to be trembling on the verge of a failure, St. Vitus let go my companion and seized me with such vigor that she, who was small even for a Filipino, was gathered up bodily and taken around the room at such a pace that her toes touched the floor only at far distant intervals.

At this point my devotion to the shrine of Terpsichore ceased from force of circumstances and I seated myself in one of the most comfortable chairs in sight that I might carry out a previously formed plan to study the Filipino somewhat critically as he appears in society.

The first thing that impressed me as the dancers passed up and down the room was the flash of diamonds. Nearly every woman in the room had on a brooch that flashed the colors of the rainbow at every turn. Almost all of them wore one or more rings that showed up brilliantly under the chandelier. Many of the men too, especially the young men, wore gems that appeared to be exquisite. A closer inspection showed that some of the gems had flaws and others were of a poor color, but no one would have denied that, taken as a whole, it was a really beautiful display.

The dress of the ladies was richly colored. Many of their skirts were of silk covered with hand embroidered flowers, and their filmy pina waists and broad collar pieces were rich with needle-work. They all wore a kind of heelless velvet slipper, very common as a dress shoe in the Philippines, or high-heeled patent leather shoes with neatly fitting black stockings.

The men were dressed in white coats and white pantaloons or black coats and white pantaloons. White shirts and collars, together with all sorts and styles of cravats and low-cut patent leather shoes with highly colored socks completed their dress.

It was easy to see that the Filipinos really had a good deal of money; that they liked to dress was apparent; and that they believed in a table loaded with good things was a fact to which all of us were enthusiastic witnesses.

A SKETCH OF LIFE IN THE PHILIPPINES.

House-keeping in the Philippines presents some interesting phases. Our club of American officials decided to run a mess, so we employed a cook and a house boy, then each of us provided himself with a personal servant, making a total of six servants for four men--it takes about this proportion of servants to live in any sort of comfort in the Philippines--and launched ourselves boldly upon the sea of domestic economy. But there were shoals ahead of us, for the question of regulating servants is one of no small importance in the Philippines, and one of its most disadvantageous features is the long chain of dependents that usually attends it.

We gave the cooks so much a day with which to buy supplies in the local market, for our own table, making him render a daily list of expenditures, and a fixed amount besides to purchase rice and fish for himself and the other servants. Of course, if they wished to vary their diet and get chicken and fresh pork, which could be had at far distant intervals, it was wholly a matter of their option, but the allowance was made on the basis of so much rice and fish a day for each. This allowance was about fifteen cents a day in Spanish coin per servant.

Thus far all was well. We had agreed to give the cook eight dollars a month in Spanish money, thinking that good wages would procure good service, but the visions of affluence that floated before him on such floods of wealth were so alluring that they drew him from the kitchen to the cooler veranda. In less than a week he had employed an assistant at four dollars a month; in less than another week that assistant had employed him an assistant at two dollars a month; in less than another week that assistant to the assistant had employed him an assistant at the princely salary of fifty cents a month; and from fear that the chain of dependents would end only by our having the whole Filipino race attached to our culinary force, we broke up house-keeping and went boarding again, choosing that as the less of the two evils.

Our house furnishings were almost wholly Philippine. The table ware and the food on the table came from the ends of the earth. The knives and forks were made in Germany, the plates were manufactured in England, the glass ware and table cloth, in the United States. The oatmeal and flour came from the United States also. The butter came from Australia, the rice from China, the salt from Russia, and the other eatables from sources about as various as their separate names. Switzerland furnished the condensed milk and Illinois the canned cream. Nearly all of the canned fruit bore labels from Spain.

Thus it can easily be seen that life in the Philippines, if lived according to American ideals, is dependent upon a highly developed and highly complex commerce. However, the difficulties of transportation and the restriction of large stocks of merchandise to Manila and some half a dozen other towns, make so great a difference between country life and city life that a short comparison of the two will not be out of place, and life in Manila may well be taken as being fairly typical of the latter.

Life in Manila is pleasant, but expensive. It is pleasant from the fact that it is not only the capital but also metropolis of the archipelago. Thus the combination of wealth and high official position has given to Manila a society of the highest and most refined type. The process of beautifying and improving the city which is constantly going on bids fair to give us at no distant day a city of which we may well be proud.

But let him who intends living well in Manila on a small income bid farewell at once to so idylic a dream, for it costs much to live well there. In the city of Manila one can get almost anything he wishes, but it must be paid for at the price it commands. Especially in the case of eatables, this price is by no means small, because to the first cost of articles must in most cases be added the expense of distant shipment from American, European, or Australian ports, and not infrequently the cost of long refrigeration must also be taken into consideration. But, expensive though it is, it is very pleasant to live there and those who have once enjoyed it often wish again to quaff the cup of its delights.

In these quiet secluded nooks successive generations of Filipinos are born, reared, grow old and die in an even chain of events broken only by the occasional erection of a new grass house on the identical spot where its predecessors have stood for ages. The son lives in the house of his father, cultivates the same few square feet of soil planted in edible roots, climbs the same cocoanut trees, follows the same winding path down to the stream, pounds rice in the same mortar and with the same stick that his ancestors have used from time unremembered, and, in case of illness, curls up on a grass mat in a corner of the room until he dies or by some good fortune recovers. Beyond this narrow horizon he never looks. So narrow and contracted is the life that the languages of two towns a few miles apart are so different that one would scarcely recognize them as belonging to the same race of people.

Such are the two extremes of life in our new far Eastern provinces: the one is active, progressive, and cosmopolitan; the other, inactive, decadent, and narrow; but, whether one enjoys the first or endures the second, there comes to him after leaving a longing to lounge again in tropic airs and listen to the lullaby of the winds among the palms.

THE FILIPINO AT HOME.

As one enters a Filipino sitting-room for the first time, there is one feature in the arrangement of the furniture that impresses itself upon him at once, and it may be stated without fear of serious contradiction that this same peculiar feature in its arrangement will continue to face him, as he enters different homes, about as certainly as he crosses the threshold.

The arrangement referred to is that of one large mirror, one settee, and some ten or a dozen chairs that appear to have had a certain orderly affection for one another. The mirror is hung upon one of the large interior parts of the house about four feet above the floor. The wooden houses in the Philippines are built by setting large posts upright into the ground, extending into the air from twenty to thirty feet. Cross timbers are fastened to these upright posts about eight or ten feet above the ground and then not sawed off even with the posts, but allowed to extend beyond them each way. The framework of the house is built upon these extending cross timbers, a style of building by which these large upright posts are left standing out on the inside of the room from one to three feet from the walls. It is on that one of these posts most nearly opposite the door that the mirror always finds its place. Immediately beneath the mirror is the settee; and the chairs are arranged in two parallel lines facing one another and at right angles with the ends of the settee. However odd this arrangement may appear to one when he first enters a Filipino drawing-room, there are two things to be said in its favor. In the first place, it places you face to face with the person with whom you are conversing so that you can watch him,--a matter of no small moment in the Philippines. In the next place, it enables you to give one of the young ladies a sheep's-eye in the mirror while the others present are left where Moses was in our much abused conundrum.

The rich Filipino's house is usually of wood built upon a wall of stone or brick from ten to fifteen feet high. The floors are kept highly polished in his hallway, dressing-room, and bed-rooms. There are, of course, no fire-places in any of the rooms, but on some occasions something is needed to dry the rain-soaked atmosphere, for even in the dry season it has been seen to rain for five successive days and nights without the cessation of a moment.

A long chain of dependents is attached to the household of the rich Filipino. The master has his special body servant to be present at all times to do his master's bidding, in short, to be the visible mechanism of his master's volition. So, too, the lady of the house has her servant woman to do the slightest bidding of her ladyship. Then there is the cook who is almost invariably a man, a house boy or two, and the coachman. These functionaries, with their assistants and assistants to the assistants, together with a servant or two for the exclusive service of the children, complete the economic household.

VISIT TO A LEPER COLONY.

Not far from our town was a leper colony and the first Saturday that could be spared was set aside for a trip to the place. It happened that none of the other Americans were at leisure on this particular morning, but, rather then delay the trip or miss it altogether, the writer, armed with a revolver, started out alone.

The road had been described so accurately by one who was supposed to know it that it was deemed well-nigh impossible to miss the way. The main highway was followed to the point where the by-path supposed to lead to the settlement turned off through some bamboo thickets and a low tropical wood. This path led straight away towards the sea-coast where the houses of the colony were said to stand in a cocoanut grove by the beach.

Upon arriving at the settlement, a very inhospitable reception was received from a mangy cur that growled and showed a very uninviting set of sharp, white teeth behind his snarling lips. The growling of the dog had attracted the attention of an old man who, with age-bent back, was pounding rice in a mortar about fifty yards away. He turned slowly around and, upon seeing an intruder into the primitive quiet of the place, gave a sharp, far-reaching call. The sound had scarcely rung through the grove when from about a dozen of the little grass houses dotted here and there fifteen or twenty men armed with bolos came out and gathered around the old man. A sense of my danger flashed upon me. Three miles from town and alone in a tropical jungle, I could be almost instantly overcome by this band of bolo-men, and the only report that would ever reach my people would be that I had "disappeared." Of course, attack was by no means certain, but the potentiality of the situation was thrilling. A drawn revolver and the gleaming of its shining barrel had the effect of stopping the men, who seemed to be hesitating as to a course of action, until a somewhat dignified retreat was made to an open space in the rear from where a less dignified and a more hasty retreat began which did not stop short of Bacalod.

Enough had been seen, however, even in this short visit, to give convincing proof that the settlement visited was no colony of lepers; so, that afternoon two servant boys being taken as guides and interpreters, another attempt was made to reach the goal desired.

This attempt was successful, and, after about two hours of walking, a little cluster of grass huts snugly hidden by the sea-coast came into view. As we approached, one would have thought it a gala-day. Some few children, apparently from six to thirteen years of age, almost wholly nude, were romping and playing in the open space around which the huts stood, and no one would ever have thought that any cloud so horrible as leprosy could hover over a place apparently so happy.

The children now saw us, and those of them who could darted away like frightened rabbits, each to his own burrow. An old man who was sitting in the warm afternoon sun on the little bamboo platform before his hut was aroused from his lethargic repose by the scampering away of the children. He arose, trembling upon his tottering limbs, all drawn and twisted, and hobbled away into his hut.

The children soon recovered from their fright and began to reappear at the doors of the houses, from which now also came the men and women of the settlement. In a few moments we were surrounded by a circle of human beings at once so repulsive and so pitiable that its graphic vividness can never be accurately portrayed.

The old man referred to above, having put on a pair of snow-white pantaloons, appeared now at the doorway of his hut, followed a few moments later by his wife who had evidently clothed herself in the best raiment she had. At a call from the old man, all the men, women, and children in the settlement came out of their huts and stood in a line before us. The old man was spokesman and in his native visayan tongue made a heart-rending appeal for aid which we were powerless to give. Attention was called to a leper woman, apparently about twenty-five years of age, whose face had been attacked by the disease and whose appearance was truly pathetic. Upon her hip was a child about a year and a half old and, strange to say, the child showed as yet no signs whatever of the disease.

What an indissoluble enigma is life! Here in a little cluster of grass huts in a secluded nook of a secluded island of an all but secluded archipelago was gathered together a little community of wretched natives, driven by their loathsomeness from association with others even of the same half-savage race. Yet here, men and women loved and were married, by mutual trust if not by law, and children were born of the union to live forever under the unspeakable horror that overshadowed the unfortunate parents. Love, hatred, sorrow, and joy--every passion that enters into the complex structure of the human heart even here, in this scene of sadness and despair, was playing apparently as freely as where misfortune and disease had never crossed the portals of life.

A "HIKE."

We were lounging lazily in our hammocks at Jimamaylan one evening in April. Supper was just ended, and the soldiers in the post were collected in groups here and there spinning yarns to pass away the time, when a Filipino clad only in a loin cloth came down the street at a steadily swinging run and stopped in front of the sentry. He brought the announcement that a band of ladrones had just burned a sugar mill and were advancing to sack a barrio about fifteen miles away.

The invitation of the commanding officer to go on a "hike" was eagerly accepted, and, in ten minutes after the message was given, the troops were on the march followed by two adventurous pedagogues.

Darkness was just closing in as we left the town, but a resplendent tropic moon soon made the night almost as brilliant as the day. The trail we followed led over rough and rocky country. Sometimes for a distance of a mile or more we passed over barren wastes of volcanic slag poured out in anger by some peak whose convulsions have long since ceased. Again we would descend into a tropical jungle from the dense foliage of which the ladrones could have leaped at any moment, had they known of our coming, and annihilated our little band. We forded rapid streams with the water at our breasts, and halted only once in that rapid march of fifteen miles.

About a quarter of a mile from the town we met a man who was standing guard against a surprise by the ladrones. Nothing could well have been much more grotesque and nothing could much better illustrate the absolutely primitive condition of the Filipinos in the interior of the islands than the appearance of this guard. A pair of knee pants, a conical grass hat, and a hemp shirt formed his entire apparel. A long flat wooden shield, a bolo, and a long bamboo spear with a sharp, flat, iron point, completed his equipment for battle.

Here stood the first and the twentieth centuries side by side. The Filipino who had advanced only a stage beyond the condition of primitive man with his knife, spear, and wooden shield, stood side by side with the American soldier, a representative of modern life with his magazine rifle, his canteen, his knapsack,--with every article of his clothing made to give him the highest possible efficiency as the unit of a military organization.

A few yards farther on we met another guard equipped similarly to the first. Upon reaching the town, news had just been received that a detachment of troops from another post had intercepted the ladrones and fought a skirmish with them. The ladrones had escaped and we set out in pursuit of them on a chase wilder than a Quixotic dream. We wound our way into the mountains behind the town, inquiring at every grass hut we passed whether the band of ladrones had passed that way, but only once was even a trace of them found. Then it was learned that at a certain place they had separated into groups of three or four and gone glimmering through the dream of things that were. This place was in a secluded nook of the mountains where in years gone by some adventurous Spaniard had erected a primitive water mill to grind his sugar-cane. We had now marched about twenty miles and the feet of the pedagogues were a mass of blisters. They had reached the point where that form of military maneuvering called "hiking" ceased to possess any alluring charms. So a native was persuaded to come out of his lone mountain hut and hitch up his carabao and cart. He was then made to get on the carabao's back, while the aforesaid pedagogues lay down on the sugar-cane pulp that had been put into the body of the cart, and the driver was instructed to start for the post we had left hours before, and not to stop until he got there. Being uncertain but that some of the ladrones would learn of our having left the body of troops and would try the metal of our steel, we at first agreed that neither of us should go to sleep, but it was later decided that probably the driver had no greater desire to cross the Styx than his passengers had and that in case of danger he would awaken us, so both took a revolver in each hand, stretched out supinely and went to sleep.

Such a sleep! The rough jolting of the cart over an almost impassable road was never enough to break the spell of slumber. When we awoke the blazing tropic sun was past the midday mark of morning, shining full into our unprotected and well-nigh blistered faces.

A pack of dogs were heralding our approach to a little village at the foot of the mountains where ponies were procured to take us back to the post.

HAMMOND'S PRINTING WORKS, ROANOKE, VA.

Transcriber's Notes:

Spelling left as in original.

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