THE FRIAR’S DAUGHTER
A Story of the American Occupation of the Philippines.
By CHARLES LINCOLN PHIFER
Author of “The White Sea,” “The Giant Hand,” “Diaz the Dictator,” Etc., Etc.
40 Cents Each. 10 for $3.00. 100 for $22.00.
1909:
Published by C. L. PHIFER
Girard, Kansas
CHARACTERS.
- Judge Benjamin Daft, American Governor.
- Admiral Rainey, Conqueror of the Philippines.
- Camillo Saguanaldo, Insurgent General and President.
- Bishop Lonzello, the Friar.
- Ambrosia Lonzello, the Friar’s Daughter.
- Rodriguez Violeta, the Papal Nuncio.
- Mrs. Rizal, widow of a Filipino Patriot.
- Maximo Voliva, Leader of a Schism.
Time—1898–1899. Place—Manila and Vicinity.
JUST A WORD.
This is a story founded on truth. Practically every incident told about really happened; yet some liberty has been taken with the arrangements of these incidents into a story. Events are sometimes grouped outside of their natural order and place of occurrence, and the time of action is shortened. Conversation is necessarily invented, and is used to bring out the setting of the story and give it life. Another thing: Every writer recognizes that it is desirable to not have too many characters in a story, and to not drag it through unimportant incidents. Therefore, I have omitted many incidents of the occupation of the Philippines, and have in places ascribed to one person, in an effort to keep down the number of characters, acts which properly belonged to other persons, so that some of the characters are representative and composite. To illustrate my meaning—that a love story in the simplest form might run through the tale I have made Saguanaldo appear as a lover as well as a general, though this is acknowledged to be fiction. In other places I have one character doing a work that was really done by a different person; but it would have been difficult and confusing to use all the actors in the stirring drama or to refer to all the many incidents. This shortening of the period of action, and this combining in one person the deeds of several, is something which Shakespeare did in his historical dramas; so that this is historical in the same sense that some of his plays are historical—not as to the truth of every word and the time and place of every act, but in spirit and in incident. The truth is there, but the grouping is made to meet the author’s need.
There is no personal bias in this work. It is nothing to the author that in this case the center of the plot hinges about churchmen. It is no more than if it should center around secular affairs. It is the old story of personal ambition which has appeared in a thousand forms and has influenced all conditions of people. It is not a matter of religion or irreligion, but a picture of what ambition will do for even the best of aims and men.
THE FRIAR’S DAUGHTER.
I.
“AND THE SUN COMES UP LIKE THUNDER.”
Up till midnight Manila was at play. In mediæval Luzon they had not then lost the sportive instinct of the healthy animal or been lost in the chase of the dollar. The shops were closed, but the places of amusement were open. The Lunita, outside the city wall, was thronged with carriages, and at each end of the Plaza de Gotta a band was playing. Spanish grandees and beautiful donnas were driving or promenading there. Inside the wall churches and theatres were open, the churches being first visited and then the play houses. In the amphitheater, built up of bamboo, a crowd of the poorer people were gathered, and while the braver battles were not in progress at this time, cock fighting was attracting the attention of many. Under the walls of the old city, the city that best represented the ancient order, the city of this story, in cloisters arched over where stock was being housed, groups of men were throwing dice or playing cards. It was like a picture of the middle ages projected into the closing days of April, 1898.
What an anomaly it was! Walls of the middle ages, surrounded by a great moat, and within a cosmopolitan group, including Spaniards, Chinese and natives of the Northern islands; yet adjoining it to the east lay a modern city; and Cavite, eight miles to the west, was a fort manned by modern guns. Yellow clay houses of one and two stories roofed with red tile, some with courts in the center, here in old Manila, and to the east modern places of business and houses well plumbed, lighted with electricity. Churches and cathedrals, conventos and nunneries everywhere here, and beyond the Passig river modern amusement places and Protestant churches.
In the magnificent harbor that lay north of Manila, small crafts of many kinds were grouped at the piers, and in the distance the modern fleet of Spain lay at anchor. It was the one portion of the old order that yet remained; and the world was pressing upon it, and change was near.
Ambrosia Lonzello, the Friar’s Daughter, stood at the gate in front of her mother’s home, gazing down the street, dreaming the dreams of oriental maidenhood. She had inherited the symmetry of proportion that belonged to her mother’s tribe in Cebu, and from her father, Bishop Lonzello, had the Spaniard’s dark eyes and charming vivacity. It had been twenty years since Friar Lonzello, a young priest then located in Cebu, had met the young native woman who became Ambrosia’s mother; and though it was forbidden priests to marry, Lonzello yet supported the woman he had then loved and the daughter that had been born to them. If it was a strange thing to a European, it was rather the rule than the exception in that oriental, mediaeval country, and as the daughter of the Bishop, Ambrosia was one of the prominent young women of the walled city. She stood, gazing down the street and up at the stars, dreaming her own dreams, a girl without experience in the ways of the world, when she heard a voice at her side:
“Ambrosia! Buenos dias!”[1]
Ambrosia started. She knew the voice. But she supposed the possessor, Camillo Saguanaldo, was across the bay in China. A few months before he had been banished because of leading an insurrection against the friars, who were practically the rulers of the Philippines, and his return involved great danger for him. So Ambrosia said:
“I thought you were in China, Camillo. Do you not know it is dangerous for you to be in Luzon?”
“My duty calls me here, Ambrosia, and here I must be,” replied the youth. “It is not so dangerous now as it has been in the past. At last our prayers are to be answered and America, the great land that loves liberty, is to give us a chance to secure our freedom. If we do our part we shall be free. When I was in China I talked with Admiral Rainey, of the American fleet that was anchored there, and he told me that the United States was about to go to war with Spain solely to secure liberty for the Cubans; and when I told him how it was in the Philippines, that we had been struggling for liberty for three hundred years, he said that it might be that Uncle Sam would do for us what he meant to do for the reconcentrados of Cuba. So I came over in advance to help when the only chance the Filipinos ever had shall come to them.”
“I wish it might be, Camillo,” replied the girl. “But if my father hears you have returned, he will kill you, and nothing can appease his wrath now.”
It might be mentioned that when the insurrection led by Saguanaldo had failed and his banishment was decreed, Bishop Lonzello, at the intercession of Ambrosia, had procured for him an allowance of $20,000 on which to live in China. Ambrosia had intended it as a kindness to him, and the bishop regarded it as a bribe, but now that he had returned there was no doubt that Lonzello would prosecute him and if possible secure his death.
“I shall be safe.” replied the youth. “I used that $20,000 in buying guns and ammunition, and have already a stronger force than I ever had. My troops are near at hand even now, and Manila is not so peaceful as she seems.”
“You do not know. The heavy guns of the battleships have been mounted at Corregidor and Caney, and the 160,000 Spanish troops in the city laugh at the idea of America ever being able to take it.”
“Yet America will take it. The American fleet will be here and will win, and then they will give us freedom. Within a few months the Filipinos will be free, and then Ambrosia Lonzello will become Ambrosia de Saguanaldo.”
The young girl flushed with combined embarrassment and pleasure.
“It can not be,” she said. “I am not worthy of you. I shall seek with you the freedom of the Filipinos and then I shall die and leave you free to marry a woman who has a name.”
“Fie, Ambrosia. I will give you my name, and there will be none in Luzon more honored than that. Many have tried for the good that now we shall attain. It must come. The very fact that we have waited for it so long proves that it must be near. Luz de mi vida[2], it is so.”
“I wish,” the girl began wistfully, then stopped abruptly. “Father is so bitter against you. I always wish you with me, yet you never come but I am anxious you should go, lest staying mean your death.”
“Fear not, Ambrosia,” said the youth. “They call me the Fox of Luzon, and I find my way where they do not suspect. I was with your father yesterday and he never knew.”
“Oh, take no risk,” plead the girl, throwing herself in his arms. “Te amo con todo el corazon.[3] You must, you must be careful. Oh, it is sad, so sad. If they would only let us have a chance the people might be so happy. Luzon is a beautiful island. It seems to me like Paradise, the garden of the Lord; and yet for us it is purgatory.”
“Some day we shall be released from purgatory, chuleta[4]. The prayers of our forefathers will prevail.”
“Camillo, come inside, or they will see you.”
She drew the young man into the shadows, and into the house. There the lovers talked undisturbed. They talked of things that to them were the most momentous—their own loves and their individual plans, the hope and future of the island which had been their home all their lives. Little did they know that time was working for them and through them more momentous changes that should affect continents and end completely the feudal in the capitalistic.
On the following morning Manila was awakened by the roar of artillery. It was still dark save for the star light, yet quickly the streets were in turmoil. Some grasped the things they most valued and rushed to most ridiculous places for safety. One man took to the woods with a fighting cock under his arm. A few of the bravest mounted to the roofs of the dwellings and the towers of the churches in order to view the fight that had been anticipated, but which had come sooner than expected. From these vantage points they looked on a scene such as falls to the lot of man to observe only once in a thousand lives.
In answer to the challenge of Cavite the American fleet was forming in battle array. In single file, as if in gala parade, they came, like actors entering from the wings of a great stage or circus performers from the dressing room, crawling over the white bay like living things. The dawn had come, suddenly as in the tropics, come with the roar of artillery. For once it had literally realized Kipling’s line—
“Dawn comes up like thunder outer China ’crost the bay.”
At last the fleet, the tool of the new order of capitalism, was ready. The command had gone forth from Admiral Rainey: “You may fire when you are ready.” The American flag ship shot a line of fire, and from the smoke that arose a great roar resounded. Boom, boom! Fire and shell and smoke and action swept from consciousness the peace of nature and thought of the world of life. Now and then the white veil of smoke would lift, and the watcher on the towers could see in those intervals splintered masts and laboring vessels, specks that were men struggling in the waves, and wrecks that lined the shore. It did not seem possible that all those specks were men, with hopes and plans and families, and hearts and bodies that suffered; the watchers on the towers could not know that decks of vessels were slippery from blood, and that nerves were racked with pain and hearts were sore from loss. The American vessels, crawling like water mites over the white mirror spread below them, circled together about first one and then another of the Spanish ships; and ever as they moved flashes like fiery legs stretched from their sides. This red venom of death touched the Spanish ships that appeared to wither and consume before it. Here a Spanish ship ran to shore, as though a living, wounded thing, seeking a place to die, and, trembling, sank beneath the waves. There a vessel lay under the pitiless pelting of fire, till there was a heavy explosion, and the ship was torn to shreds that sprinkled the water, while dots that represented men struggled in the waves. Yonder a vessel was on fire, and as it bore to shore specks that were men dived into the water to save themselves, and the red flames licked life from the redder decks.
With what precision the stranger ships came on, circling, and pouring death into the helpless vessels whose wooden hulks graft had left exposed to shell! How aimlessly and helplessly the Spanish vessels floundered, unable to fight, and finding no escape! It was war, glorious and terrible. In Spain a thousand widows and orphans would weep and miss forever that which had been taken from them in a quarrel in which the fighters had no interest. In America a million would scream for joy and tingle with the glory of slaughter and the thought of being splendid fighters. Within half an hour nearly four hundred able-bodied men perished and twenty million dollars’ worth of property that should have been used to make life happier and better was destroyed. It was a great drama, in a splendid amphitheatre, with the lifting curtains of night to show it forth, enacted for the few in the towers. Ambrosia had seen and understood and was silenced by the grandeur and horror of it. She felt for the dying, and could hardly restrain herself from crying out in agony when the American fleet ceased firing and calmly moved away to prepare, within sight of the wrecks and the sacrifice, breakfast for the living, after their hour’s toil.
“Oh, God, but this is horrible,” she muttered, faint with her feelings. As she spoke, once again she was startled with a voice at her side. She turned to behold an old man with a long beard, but she knew the voice, the voice of Saguanaldo, and it said:
“Ambrosia, chuleta, it is the dawn, not only of a new day, but also of a new era.”
[1] Buenos dias—Good morning. [↑]
[2] Luz de mi vida—Light of my life. [↑]
[3] Te amo con todo el corazon—I love you with all my heart. [↑]
[4] Chuleta—Dear, well beloved. [↑]
II.
LIBERTY’S CENTURY-OLD LOVER.
“A beautiful city, Admiral Rainey—from a distance. Strongly fortified—for the fifteenth century. But you can sweep away the fortifications as easily as you sank the Spanish war vessels. What is a walled city with a moat to guns that will carry for miles?”
“I do not doubt, General Saguanaldo,” returned the American admiral as he sat on deck of his flag ship in the harbor of Manila, faultlessly garbed as though for a party, talking to the Filipino insurgent after the battle that had spread his name around the globe, “I do not doubt my ability to reduce the Spanish works, but I was looking to the future. Should I destroy so much private property as would be involved in bombarding Manila I would make enemies of the owners, who would give us trouble in days to come. I dare not take such a serious step until I am instructed from America.”
“But consider, admiral,” plead the insurgent, “Manila sits there, fair to see, but she has drawn the very life from the people of the interior for centuries. The private property of which you speak was gotten from labor by the sorrow of others.”
“You are doubtless right, general, and I would not blame you if you should seek revenge from them, for your people have suffered greatly. But with me it is a different proposition. I am not acting for myself alone.”
“Nor am I. It may be you do not know the sorrows of Luzon, Señor Admiral!”
“It may be I do not, General Saguanaldo.”
“May I tell you of them, Admiral Rainey?”
“I shall be pleased to know more of this land that I have just come to command until my country tells me what to do, or ends the unhappy war.”
“When Spaniards from Mexico first landed in Maynila, centuries ago,” continued General Saguanaldo, “the simple-minded natives bowed to the white people as to gods; and they have been on their knees rendering tribute of Luzon’s products ever since. It did not take the natives long to learn the nature of the Spaniards, who were inflamed by the lust of gold, both by their experience with the Incas and Aztecs in America and by the hard terms of the Spanish rulers, for we have had to pay tribute to Rome, to Spain and to Mexico—all.”
“I am told the people of the interior are primitive—half naked Igorrotes, or Negritos, wearing only breech clouts.”
“Those live chiefly in the Southern islands. The body of the people of the Northern islands are of the Malayan stock, loving liberty, but kept poor by tributes exacted. They were a people of simple ways and homely virtues. Because of being of Malayan descent they wore called Moros by the Spaniards. The two tribes of Moros, the Tagals of Northern Luzon, and the Viscayans of Southern Luzon and North Mindoro, yielded to Legaspi, to whom the king of Spain gave all the land he might conquer. He was not a hard master, leaving the olden, native chiefs in charge; but when, after this, the friars came from Spain, they began the work of oppression. When the great earthquake destroyed Maynila in 1645, and over 600 perished in the catastrophe, the natives were forced to work without pay on the arsenal at Ca Vite, and when, because of harsh treatment, they rebelled, burning towns and churches, the friars dispatched soldiers for the head of Sumoroy, the rebel. His followers sent in the head of a pig instead. The enraged friars and soldiers tortured to death the mother of Sumoroy, and afterward, when the rebel was betrayed to them, struck off his head and mounted it on a pole for the people to look upon.”
“Brutal, doubtless. But such things were common in those days,” returned the admiral.
“God pity us, they are too common in Manila in these days. The reputation of the friars was such in those days that when some of them went to Japan it was reported in that land that they were advance guards of the Spanish army, getting a foothold, and that after them would come the army to protect them. The Mikado ordered the friars out, but they defied him. Then the Japanese emperor adopted heroic measures. He gathered together 150 lepers and sent them to Maynila, saying that Japan did not allow Roman friars in that country, but, since these friars were fond of this kind of people, he sent them a ship load.”
“That, too, seems to have been inhuman. How were the lepers received?”
“Oh, the friars built the hospital of St. Lazarus for their reception. You can see it beyond those palms.”
“That was rather a Christian act.”
“The friars have done some good. But they insist on foreign friars ruling instead of native priests, and to maintain their supremacy keep the people uneducated. Then they claim ownership of large tracts of the best land, and exact high rentals. The people have rebelled against their exactions over and over again. Long ago the king of Tagals killed the alcade of Tayabas province, and made the people believe that the earth would swallow the Spaniards when they were attacked, but his rebellion was put down with great slaughter.”
“No wonder, General. This confirms my information that the inhabitants are not free from superstition.”
“Eso fue en los dias antiguos[1], Admiral. The people were crude then. Perhaps they were like your American Indians. But they were oppressed, and they began even then the rebellion against Spain and the friars which they have maintained for over 300 years, from the days when Soliman, the native king, set fire to Maynila and fought them from the forests, to the last rebellion of Rizal and the religious deflection of Aglipay.”
“It seems to me a man of ability, like you, General, ought to be able to win.”
“We will win. But we have hoped so that the great North American nation that pitied Cuba and that is fighting for her independence will so pity us and give us independence. I assure you, Admiral, we have endured longer and more than Cuba has done. The oppression had been admitted by our masters. The Augustinians and Jesuits accused each other of cruelty and the Jesuits were banished. It was not till 1859 that they were permitted to return. I told you about the destruction of Manila by earthquake in the olden days. That was not the last or worst seismic disturbance.”
“I had heard as much.”
“In 1863 the city was again destroyed by earthquake, which killed thousands of people and left much destitution. The grafting that followed was scandalous and caused much dissatisfaction. It was in 1872 that the great insurrection occurred. But for an error in signals which started the trouble before the people were ready to support it, it would have succeeded. As it was, many were executed and shot. At another time the people were promised amnesty if they would lay down their arms, but when they did so thousands were massacred. Then came a period of organizing secret societies to work against the friars, who were also rulers.”
“But these are only incidents that come in the history of every land.”
“Por Dios, Donde se hallaria otro pais que has sufrido tanto.[2] Think of it! Up to 1811 the Philippine islands dared not trade with any country but Mexico, not excepting their neighbor, China. Then the picturesque, half-moon-shaped galleons of Mexico did all the carrying of the Philippines and charged prices such as would enrich them in spite of the pirates they frequently met. For this trade Mexican promoters and the Spanish crown received their tribute, and the Spanish friars, too, had their share. The people were abjectly poor. Even the soldiers were often unpaid, and begged their support from the people whom they subjected. The friars charged exorbitant rentals on the lands they claimed. They encouraged the people to build cathedrals, monasteries and churches, but the cathedrals, monasteries and churches did not belong to the people after they had built them. They charged the people rental on graves in consecrated ground, and when the rent was not paid they evicted the dead. They made the price of marriage so high that many of the people lived together out of wedlock. The friars selected the women of the people they fancied and openly consorted with them, and the children of friars are common throughout the islands. The people are poor, living for the most part in grass houses, while the friars are rich and live in luxury; and this has been going on for centuries.”
“Bad, very bad; the morals of the tropics and the Orient.”
“This is not all. The friars exercised the power of secret investigation, and one never knew when he was safe. A friar might report a man as a conspirator against Spain, and, while meeting him and showing friendship for him in public, secretly secure his banishment. There have been cases which I could name, where friars, coveting the wife or sister of a man, have procured his banishment or even secured for him an appointment at a distance, so that they might have the way open to accomplish their purposes. There was a fear which beset every man, even those who through fear were nearest to the friars, that if his eyes should light upon his wife or daughter in an envious way, if he did not give them up he was lost.”
“Surely, General, this is exaggerated.”
“The half has not been told. In Lenten time, which was the period when the country folk came to confess, the parish friar would give strict orders to the scribes of the church that in the distribution or giving out of the certificates to the penitents among himself and his coadjutors they should give him the young unmarried women and servant penitents, whom he obscenely solicited through words and manipulations in the confessional.”
“Why, this is horrible.”
“It is, indeed. Some reverend friars arrogated to themselves rights which in feudal times were called rights of pernada, or the right to enter the bed of a new bride before the husband. The parish friar converted himself up to a certain point into an absolute lord, master of lives and property, and, if he so willed, made and unmade everything according to his fancy. Master of the will of the people more through fear than out of love for him, he nominated town authorities that pleased him, which nomination elevated almost always the greatest flatterer of all his parishioners, and it is plain that all weighty determinations dictated by the municipal authorities were not proper initiatives, but those of his amours.”
“It does not seem possible. Why, that is worse than Cuba.”
“Imagine paying rental on a grave for the bones of a dear one, until your money was exhausted, and then seeing the remains dumped into a pile of bones along with scores of other victims. Imagine being required to produce a certain crop each year to be turned over to the friars, and if you failed, becoming indebted to them so that there was no hope of your ever paying out. Imagine being compelled to sell your rice to the friar at the price he might offer, and being forbidden to take it to an open market where the price was higher. Would you rebel against such conditions?”
“The American would not tolerate it even for a moment.”
“That is not all. They were cruel, not only in the treatment of their servants by beating them, but they also took great delight in being eye witnesses to tortures and beatings of men and in prisons and jails by the civil authorities. They were always, when witnessing these acts, accompanied by some of the higher Spanish civil authorities, and these acts were usually carried out at the instigation of the friars.”
“I did not know of all these things.”
“Would to God that you knew, Admiral. Listen! In 1781 the growing of tobacco on Luzon was made a government monopoly. If farmers refused to plant a certain amount of tobacco the land was taken from them. Law required the natives to ’tend the tobacco that when raised belonged to the government; that is, to the friars. If the crop was less than the amount estimated for each farmer, he was heavily fined and became responsible for that much more the year following. If the crop was above the estimate, the government seized it all and destroyed what it could not sell to advantage.”
“No doubt you have suffered much.”
“Cuba does not know suffering, Admiral. Yet you liberty-loving Americans are warring to give Cuba her freedom. Give us freedom, too. Promise me, Admiral.”
The insurgent general, with the impetuosity of the tropics, fell on his knees before Admiral Rainey and seized his hands.
“America will see you have your rights. Arise,” the admiral said, flipping a speck from his coat as he spoke. The insurgent leader reverently kissed the hand of the admiral, and, crying, “You will be hailed as the great emancipator,” signaled to his attendants, and prepared to leave the flagship. Under Rainey’s guns the company made its way to shore, not far from the old moat outside the city’s walls, now overgrown with grasses and vegetation, which served for draining the outlying country.
[1] Eso fue en los dias antiguos—That was in the old days. [↑]
[2] Por Dios Donde se hallaria otro pas que has sufrido tanto—For heaven’s sake, there is not another country found that has suffered so much.
For evidence as to the condition of the islands see Senate Document No. 190 of the 56th Congress, sworn testimony of Ambrosia Flores, Señor Constantine, Jose Tempto, Don Jose C. Mijares, Pedro Surano Laktaw, Jose Roderigues Infante and others. [↑]
III.
WON BY A WOMAN.
As General Saguanaldo and his men drew to shore, a small English woman approached him from a clump of bamboos that grew near the shore, hiding the new city from sight.
“What do you here, Madam Rizal?” asked Saguanaldo, bowing low. “You always bear important news.”
“I have a circular which Bishop Lonzello has been distributing throughout Luzon. Did you win a promise from the admiral to aid us in our struggle?”
“He told me to go ahead and do the best I could against the Spaniards.”
“But no promise definitely to help us gain our independence?”
“N-o, I can’t say that he did.”
“Grant me permission, then, to lay this document before him. I am of his own race, and believe I can induce him to aid our cause.”
“Let me see the paper.”
Mrs. Rizal handed the paper to the insurgent general, and as he read stood gazing abstractedly over the water. She was yet a young woman, but her face revealed both sorrow and determination. She was the widow of the late insurgent, Dr. Rizal, who was the best educated and probably the most manly of all who had opposed the exactions of the friars in the interest of the native population. He had accomplished but very little, and only a short time before had been shot by the Spanish soldiery, at the instigation of Lonzello and others. The widow, after that event, seemed to have no object in life but to carry on the work her husband had begun, and became an invaluable aid to Saguanaldo. She grasped situations he could not understand. She advised with the good sense of a veteran. She went from place to place, singing, talking and encouraging. She was always active in the cause of Philippine independence, and no task, no privation, was so great as to deter her. But perhaps the service that most appealed to the Filipino leader came through her friendship with Ambrosia Lonzello. She managed that the aling[1] might meet her lover, and at the same time protected them from the friar, her father, so that he never suspected that his enemy was the lover of his daughter.
“Go, and God bless you,” said the insurgent, after he had finished reading the friar’s address.
Again the boat pushed from shore, this time bearing, not Saguanaldo, but Mrs. Rizal. When they arrived at the American flagship the woman introduced herself to Admiral Rainey and gave a history of her husband’s struggle and his fate. There was more feeling in her recital than there had been in Saguanaldo’s and the admiral was clearly touched by it. When she had finished the story she said:
“And, Admiral, our enemies are your enemies. The men who are fighting us are warring you also. I do not ask you to take my word for it, but I bring you a circular which is being distributed over the island by Friar Lonzello, which I ask permission to read to you.”
The admiral gave his consent and the woman read, translating from the Spanish as she proceeded:
There appeared at dawn, on a sad day for this country, my beloved sons, mastering our beautiful bay, the North American squadron, that in a few months, and in spite of the heroism of our sailors, destroyed our ships and raised upon one of our plazas, blessed soil of the nation, the flag of the enemy. Do not ignore who it is and what he attempts, who with such haughty pride, would trample right under foot and impose himself upon us. It is the alien, who wishes to subject us to his hard yoke. It is the heretic, who desires to snatch from us our religion. It is the insatiable commercialist, who, with the ruins of Spain and her possessions, wants to swell his fortune. Unhappy Spain, if the invader achieves his purpose! Poor Filipinos, the day that the North American establishes here a permanent government! Very soon you will see an impassible barrier between you and your proud masters. You would then have neither office, employment nor participation in the government or administration of the cities. You would soon form a separate class, reviled as pariahs, exploited like miserable serfs, reduced to the condition of day laborers, and even to that of a beast or a machine fed with a pinch of rice or corn, that your master would throw in your face as a daily ration, in order to not see himself deprived of the product of your labor and sweat; he regaled with the treasures and fruits of the country that is yours and not his. You would soon see your temples in ruins. The cross would disappear from your cemeteries, the crucifix from your schools.... Fortunately the Filipinos recognize all the perils that threaten. Perhaps us a unit for your defense, and as a single soul raise to heaven your ardent supplications. To arms, to arms, and to prayer! To arms, for Spanish people, when its patriotism is wounded and its religion attacked, is capable of great achievement. To prayer, because the victory is with God and against infidels.
Jose Lonzello, Bishop of Manila.[2]
Shortly afterward two boats put forth from the battleship for the shore bearing, not only Mrs. Rizal, but also a quantity of guns and ammunition, as well as other equipments for campaigning. They were met at the shore by Saguanaldo and his men with demonstrations of joy and Mrs. Rizal delivered her message from the admiral with the feeling of triumph:
“Tell General Saguanaldo,” the message went, “to take and hold the city of Manila. The American battleships will see that the Spanish forts do not interfere. But destroy as little property as possible, and maintain order and discipline.”
[2] This circular is a correct translation of a portion of a circular, signed by a priest, that was distributed in Manila shortly after the battle that gave America possession of the bay. [↑]
IV.
“BY THE DAWN’S EARLY LIGHT.”
It was a dark night. The sports that had characterized the early evening, and the throng of gay promenaders that had ranged the streets devoted at night to the business of pleasure instead of the pleasure of business, had given place to rest and quiet. The city was asleep—soundly asleep. It was the sleep of exhaustion that comes after play that is the hardest of work. Gambling houses were closed. The cock-pit, where a few hours before so many had gathered to participate in the great Spanish amusement, was deserted. Even at the arsenal of Cavite, eight miles away, all was silent except for the tread of sleepy sentinels.
New Manila, a modern city of more than a hundred thousand mixed people, lay on the east of Passig river, a place of merchandising and cosmopolitan in its sport and games of chance. But, though it was the more important of the two towns that were yet one, it was within the walled city that the public buildings and the great cathedral were located. Several stone bridges spanned the Passig river, each opening to a gate in the wall, which was often 150 feet through, but hollow, with rooms inside for the storage of forage, the stabling of animals, etc. In olden days the wall was a formidable defense, and was supplemented, where the river did not flow, with a moat. But now the moat was neglected and covered with a green scum, and snakes infested it while disease was breeded from it. And the wall was no longer a defense. The soldiers were careless now. In truth, they were poorly paid and none too loyal to Spain. It may have been for this reason that at one of the gates, this night, there was an opening that would admit a man, yet that was not observable from a distance. For some strange reason no one seemed to be watching. Dark figures filed into this gate, and crept under the walls to the true gate, entering the city. A squad here, a few there, but, all told, hundreds. Again, for some mysterious reason, no soldiers were on guard. The city was safe anyhow; it had not been invaded for many years, and the proud Castilian felt that no one would dare to challenge him.
Up unfrequented streets a few figures stole silently, unobserved. It was so dark that, even had they been seen, few would have known that they were armed. It was so silent that the city seemed a place of the dead instead of the living, and the superstitious natives who were thus stealing into the city were more apprehensive of apparitions than of the Spanish soldiery. As the men entered from many streets they converged to one place. They then moved in small squads silently on the sentries, capturing and silencing them. They moved to the public buildings and took possession of them. They ran down the Spanish flag and in its place hoisted the insurgent flag. It was the crowning work of Saguanaldo.
Before this time, under his leadership, the insurgents had taken possession of Malalos, and even now they were active all over the island of Luzon. An election was under consideration, and Saguanaldo’s candidacy for president was uncontested. It was a peculiar situation, due to a lull before the storm. The American fleet, after having sunk the Spanish vessels, hesitated about taking possession of the islands lest complications might ensue; yet it was such a menace to the Spanish forts that they realized their helplessness. With both the Spaniards and Americans doing nothing, the insurgents were able to accomplish more than they had ever done before. Their success filled Saguanaldo with delight. He arranged his troops to the best advantage and was soon in possession of the city.
Then suddenly the stars winked out and over the wooded uplands to the east the sun arose.
“It is the sun of Filipino independence,” said Saguanaldo, pointing to the orb of day. “How quickly has the darkness passed and how bright the new era of the Philippines is.” And then the soldiers cheered.
When morning come and the people understood the changed situation Mrs. Rizal called on Ambrosia Lonzello that she might felicitate with her. “Ambrosia, the city has been taken and is in the hands of the insurgents,” began the older woman. “It means Filipino freedom. Even if we are not able to maintain our own independence, then America will be our protector. And the night is past. Oh, thank God, thank God!”
“Dr. Rizal has won, in his wife,” replied the younger woman. “I think he must rejoice, together with all the thousands who through the centuries have given their lives for Filipino freedom. It must be a happy day in heaven as well as earth. Even the sun seems glad and all nature rejoices this morning.”
“For the first time since my husband suffered so cruelly and unjustly I am happy,” responded the older woman. “You will wed Saguanaldo and you will be happy with him. You will not have to see him shot in disgrace, Ambrosia, but instead will be hailed as the wife of the liberator. But think not that I envy you or grumble at my fate. It is enough for me that I have realized the dream my husband dreamed and helped to do his work.”
V.
“CURSED WITH A CURSE.”
“Where is Ambrosia?”
Bishop Lonzello addressed the woman who had borne a daughter to him in the home he had provided for her. He was deeply agitated with passion. The insurgents, who had elected a president and assembly, had already nationalized the friars’ lands, and the heresy of Aglipay was waxing formidable, having possession of most of the churches throughout Luzon. Lonzello had heard that his daughter Ambrosia had been receiving attentions from Saguanaldo, the leader of the insurgents, and the thought of it made him furious. It showed in his face as he stood before the woman he had once loved and whom now he supported.
She was deeply religious. To her, submission to the embrace of Friar Lonzello had been obedience to God’s messenger, and to this day she regarded him as a sinless representative of Deity rather than as husband. It had been many weeks since Bishop Lonzello had deigned to visit her. There were other and younger women whom he met now; still, he made no attempt to conceal the parentage of the girl, and the general knowledge that he was her father had no bearing on his standing either as a citizen or a priest.
“I do not know, Holy Father,” replied the Filipino woman meekly.
“You ought to know. What do you suppose will become of your daughter if you let her wander about apart from your knowledge?”
“Nothing bad, I hope. I have great faith in Ambrosia.”
“Nothing bad! Diablo![1] Something has happened to her. Ambrosia has disgraced us and blasphemed the God of her fathers.”
“Holy Father, what do you mean?”
“I mean that the girl has gone astray, and you have not prevented her.”
It apparently did not occur to him that both father and mother had aforetime gone astray, and that it hardly behooved them to talk of lapses of their daughter while making religious professions themselves. But the mother only turned pale and gasped.
“I do not see how it can be. Tell me what you mean, Holy Father.”
“Ambrosia has been meeting Saguanaldo, the enemy of his country and of religion—meeting him in secret and at night. I will not say that she has fallen from virtue, for that is not so bad as lapsing from her God and her duty. Fornication might be forgiven, but the sin against the Holy Ghost hath never forgiveness. Woman, these meetings must cease. You hear me; they must cease.”
The woman trembled and mumbled. Her eyes fell as she replied:
“I will do my best, Holy Father.”
“Do your best! Damnation! Am I to be told that you will do your best? I tell you your daughter is the enemy of God, and you will only do your best to stop her. Do your best, Diablo! Forbid her leaving the house; keep her in prison; put her in a convent. This thing must stop. Woman, do you hear me?”
The mother faltered, and crossed herself. Apparently she was willing, but had not the strength of character to enforce her will.
“You speak to her, Holy Father,” she spoke hardly above a whisper. But the irate priest turned away with an imperious gesture. As he turned Ambrosia herself entered from a side door and now confronted him.
“Sin-verguenza![2]” he hissed.
The girl straightened in dignity. “I do not permit even my father to say that to me,” she said.
“And I do not permit a daughter of mine to consort with a heretic and rebel.”
The priest faced her with a sneer, and anger that shook his frame, while his fingers clasped and unclasped themselves. He looked ready to clutch her by the throat.
“I owe you nothing as a father,” the young girl replied quietly but bravely, “since you did not give me even a name when you gave me life. I owe you nothing as a mediator between God and man, because your life and words have not convinced me that you have the ear of God. But I am as much above your accusations as I am above your habits.”
The bishop lifted his hand and struck at her. She was young and lithe, and avoided the blow. He picked up a stone and threw at her, yet again she slipped away. Then he remembered himself, and, raising his hand, began the formal curse of the church. The girl listened with form erect and with a smile of defiance on her lips; but the mother fell on her knees and as the anathemas poured in anger from the lips of the father upon the child, she who believed they would come to pass, fell on the ground, and, writhing in agony before him, begged him to desist. But it was all in vain.
“The eye that mocketh at her father, and despiseth to obey her mother, the ravens of the valley shall pluck it out, and the young vultures shall eat it,” the priest hissed; the mother groaned.
The priest straightened, and, pointing his finger at his daughter, continued:
“Cursed shall thou be in the city and cursed shall thou be in the field. Cursed shall be thy basket and thy store. Cursed shall be the fruit of thy body and the fruit of thy land, the increase of thy kine, and the flocks of thy sheep. Cursed shall thou be when thou comest in and cursed shall thou be when thou goest out. The Lord shall send upon thee cursing, vexation and rebuke in all that thou settest thy hand for to do, until thou be destroyed and until thou perish quickly, because of the wickedness of thy doing whereby thou hast forsaken me.”
The mother lay with her face on the ground in a swoon as he concluded. The priest walked away, and the eyes of the girl, his daughter, followed him with fearless look.
“You have cursed me with life,” she said. “You have cursed me before this, so that I can not even love as others do. That is the end of your power.”
[1] Diablo—The devil. An exclamation or oath. [↑]
[2] Sin-verguenza—Sin without shame. [↑]
VI.
FILIPINO INDEPENDENCE.
“Foolish, foolish, foolish!” Mrs. Rizal was expressing her opinion of General Saguanaldo’s action to the insurgent general himself.
“Caspita! Why is it foolish?” asked the general.
“Because you may offend America, without the friendship of which you can not win. It will be natural for the United States, after having captured the Philippines in the prosecution of a foreign war, to want to hold on to them. And if America chooses to hold the islands and make them part of the United States in declaring the independence of the Philippines you will only turn America from your side to oppose you.”
“Do you suppose I want to fight side by side with America for freedom from Spain and then be subjected to that country? Did you not tell me that Admiral Rainey promised us independence?”
“No. He could not promise us independence, because he is not the sovereign of America. The most he did, the most he could do, was to promise to aid us in our fight with the Spaniards, and he could do that only because his country, too, is at war with Spain.”
“Then what advantage will it be to us to win, seeing that, though we may win from Spain, we will lose to America? Por Dios, Señora! what do you expect of us?”
“You may not win independence, but you may win freedom and justice. You can not win independence, anyhow. It is doubtful if foreign countries would recognize the Filipino republic, even if America should depart and leave us to work out our own salvation. It is also doubtful if we could win without America’s help. Our hope is in securing the aid of the republic that is giving Cuba her liberty, and repay the freedom that is possible of attainment at this time and at no other.”
“Independence is all that will suit me. I have not such a low conception of good for the Filipinos as you seem to have.”
The Filipino impatiently and angrily entered his headquarters.
Mrs. Rizal went away, sad at heart.
After Saguanaldo had secured the city of Manila he had occupied the public buildings, and a provisional government had been organized. The Filipino assembly at Malalos had adopted a constitution for the Filipino republic fondly hoping that the Americans would ratify it. Admiral Rainey had offered no objection; but it can not be said that he had advised the move. Indeed, he was merely awaiting instruction from America; and yet the presence of his fleet was the wholesome reminder that gave the provisional government power to maintain itself. Saguanaldo had been elected president and duly installed in office. The provisional government, among its first acts, had declared the friar lands confiscated and nationalized; and, while nothing had been done to enforce the new law, yet it was a fact that native priests, representing the schismatic Filipino Catholic church, had secured possession of the larger number of the churches and religious buildings throughout Luzon. This was not to be wondered at, because there were nearly three million who were in rebellion against the foreign priests, and less than half that number who were yet loyal to them. It was in Manila alone that the friars were in undisputed control.
Perhaps power may have turned the head of Saguanaldo. Mrs. Rizal had told him that desire for honors had tempted him beyond the pale of discretion. It might have been better had he organized a provisional government and made it subject to the United States, since, then, it might have been recognized and maintained by the new invading power. But Saguanaldo denied personal ambition, and with some truth. He had planned to make the day of the declaration of national independence, which he had proclaimed, as the occasion of his marriage with Ambrosia Lonzello, and had craved, as a young bridegroom, to show her the honor, on that occasion, of having her hailed as the president’s wife, so that it was for her sake more than his own he sought the honor. So often this is true. Men seek wealth and place, not so much for themselves as that they may please and impress a woman.
But things did not seem to be going right. Not only was Mrs. Rizal offended at his action, but when he, with a lover’s ardor and enthusiasm, had laid the matter before Ambrosia Lonzello, she had responded with tears.
“You do not love me,” he began.
“Better than life, Camillo,” responded the girl. “But my heart tells me that all is not well. You may declare independence, but you will not have it until you first fight for it. I understand you are eager to give me honors, and I appreciate the motive, but I can not marry you and become a burden to you until the bitter battle and hard struggle are past.”
“That proves you do not love me,” iterated the youth, sulkily.
“I shall prove to you I do love you by waiting for you until your work is done, and then I shall marry you just as freely and just as proudly, though you are defeated and without honor, as if you are successful and undisputedly president of the Filipino republic. It is the desire to do great and right things, the effort to do them, that makes the soul great, whether the deeds be really done or not.”
“But what pleasure will there be for me in the ceremonies of inauguration if you be not by my side?”
“If it was merely to give you pleasure, Camillo, if it was merely to gratify my pride or my selfish desire, I would become your bride on the day set for the celebration of Filipino independence. But I must decline to marry you now for your sake and for the sake of Filipino independence. You shall need to be free from ties of home and responsibility to me. Unless you are free I do not think you can win. Therefore, I refuse to hang around your neck in the battle, lest in doing so I cause you to be defeated.”
The insurgent general plead, but in vain. Then he left, hurt and blaming her.
The day for inauguration and celebration approached, and where he had expected the triumph of his life he faced defeat; where he had expected exultation and bliss he was filled with disappointment and bitterness. Still, preparations for the ceremonial proceeded. The day dawned at last. General Saguanaldo was present as the central figure, and was received with cheers as the savior of his country. But neither Mrs. Rizal or Ambrosia Lonzello were present. The people were merry with feasting and noise, and the enemies did not show themselves. The ceremonies of inauguration of the first Filipino president proceeded without interruption, and Saguanaldo made an inaugural address that was favorably received. Yet to him it was a disappointment, because the One was not there amid the thousands. It is always the One we care for. The applause we crave is as nothing except the One applaud. The attainment we secure is mediocrity unless the One see us advanced and glories in our deed. And when, instead of the applause of the One, the approval and sympathy of the One, the One turns away with disapproval, then we feel the deed were better not done, and the applause is a mockery. So the day was not a triumph to Saguanaldo. Even when the shades of evening fell, and the people brought forth the fireworks, when Manila was noisy with explosives and when she was gay with rejoicing and sportive people, Saguanaldo’s heart was like lead, and he was bitter against the two who were the most loyal to him of all others.
Yet there seemed to be no reason for the heaviness of his heart. Perfect weather, a program without a hitch, expressions of good will only, without a word or act of disapproval from the enemies of the republic, it seemed that Saguanaldo ought to have been happy. He was making history as his friends told him. He would hereafter be hailed as the liberator of the Filipinos. The day would be celebrated for years as the day of rejoicing, the greatest in Filipino history. Why could he not shake off the dread apprehension that lay like lead on his heart? Is there such a thing as premonition, which tells one things to come, when he is too hard of hearing to receive the message?
But Saguanaldo got through the day. As night came he was wearied, exhausted from sorrow. But with the weariness peace came to him. It is the ease that comes when nature would heal a wound. Saguanaldo thought it meant success for him. He would triumph anyhow, and then they would believe in him. It was the fate of the great to be misunderstood and derided by their friends, and he must greatly bear if he would triumph greatly.
At last the last fireworks had been exploded, the last hurrahs expressed, and in the deep silence and serenity of the night Saguanaldo lay to rest, feeling that, after all, it was not a failure; and, being tired, he slept.
VII.
SUBJECTED BY WORDS.
It was late when Saguanaldo awakened the following morning. He had no more than opened the casement blinds and stepped out on the veranda than he saw that the city was unusually stirred. He went into the streets to make inquiry.
“The American army has arrived and is disembarking,” was the word he received.
He walked into the heart of the city, and saw regiments of soldiers wearing the new khaki uniform, marching through the streets. His heart sank within him at the sight, and the warning Mrs. Rizal had given him recurred to his mind. Against these soldiers he knew he could do nothing, and if he should seek to maintain the Filipino independence that had been proclaimed the day previous, with hostile Spaniards on the one side and hostile Americans on the other, he saw at once that the case was hopeless. Yet, to give up his ambition, to forego independence for the Filipinos, to abandon the hope of making Ambrosia Lonzello his wife and the first lady of Luzon, to yield his new title and new honors without at least a show of resistance, was more than he felt like doing. He was perturbed, his mind flying from one resolve to another and his heart filled with one emotion after another. “And while he mused the fire burned.”
“Camillo, the people are depending on their president to do something for them in this crisis. Do you feel you can gather your troops together and successfully resist the Americans?”
It was Mrs. Rizal speaking. She was standing by his side. There was no trace of exultation in her voice, but she spoke in deeply sympathetic tones.
“What would you advise?” asked the insurgent general, meekly.
“Go as the accredited leader of the Filipino people and welcome at the landing the general who comes from America. It will put America on your side, and that means against the Spaniards.”
Saguanaldo considered. “I will do it,” he said.
Indecision had left him. A few moments afterward, accompanied by his staff, and wearing his smartest uniform and accoutrement, he was driven to the pier, where he asked to be conveyed to the American general. His rank was at once recognized and he was taken to the commander in charge, being received by him with marked civility, and consulted relative to the placing of the American troops. Cordial relations seemed to be established between the two leaders at once; and Saguanaldo was very much gratified, after the noon hour, to receive from Judge Benjamin Daft, the man who had been sent from America to serve as civil governor of the Philippines, an invitation to visit him on shipboard.
Judge Daft was found to be a large man with a happy smile, who was very cordial in his manner. Within a very few minutes after they met Saguanaldo was smoking with him and felt at perfect ease.
“I understand,” said Judge Daft, “that it is somewhat embarrassing for you, as well as for me, that I come with orders to supercede you as governor of the Philippines. But you understand that the war is not yet over, and the final termination of things is not yet determined on. I want to assure you, however, that the United States desires only the welfare of the Filipinos. I believe it would be better for us to co-operate and make sure of victory than to quarrel and possibly defeat the good that both desire.”
“Vd. disponza! All I want,” said Saguanaldo meekly, “is not to be humiliated.”
“I feel that as a representative of the American republic I can guarantee you that. You can be of invaluable service in the field in quelling disorder and bringing opportunity to your people.”
“I am not insensible to the fact that you, as representative of a great republic with standing already before the world, can command greater respect than I could do as president of the untried Filipino republic.”
“A very sensible view to take of it. I am very much pleased to find so liberal and disinterested a man as you at the head of affairs. It speaks well both for the Filipino people and for the cause you represent. The American republic will remember such unselfish sentiments, and I am sure you will not lose by it.”
General Saguanaldo was flattered by these remarks. They made him desire to appear oven more disinterested. He began:
“My chief concern is for the Filipinos. You can scarcely be ignorant of the injustice we have borne for centuries. We want freedom and opportunity. I ask these things for the Filipinos.”
“The request does you honor, and it will do America honor to grant them. Between us all we shall be invincible. With the prestige of the American republic behind us we can command the good will of the nations. Rainey’s fleet will be able to keep Cavite in subjection. The American general is an old campaigner who has with him a seasoned army and the best of equipment, so that he will be able to stand before any army that Spain can muster against him. Lastly, and most important of all, you, General, are familiar with the islands of the Philippines, and can render service as a guide and leader such as no other man on the earth can give; and in serving us you will be serving yourself and the cause of Filipino liberty. I have heard much of the Fox of Luzon, and have felt that if I could formulate a plan that would enable us all to work together harmoniously, it would be a victory second only to the great victory that Admiral Rainey won in this beautiful bay of yours.”
“I will do all I can, Judge Daft. As you have said, together we shall be invincible.”
“In that case I shall feel no hesitancy about landing. I did think that perhaps it was not a courteous thing to do, to come from across the great ocean to your shores and then ask you to take me in as something more than guest. But in war we can not stand on ceremony. Your disinterestedness and your courtesy have been so great that you have made it much easier for me to do my duty.”
The two men wandered over the ship, Judge Daft showing Saguanaldo all the wonders of the modern man of war. They discussed various matters apart from the questions most in their minds, and always Judge Daft was courteous and apparently keenly appreciative of Saguanaldo. Following the visit of Saguanaldo to the battleship, Judge Daft visited him in the public building of Manila, and, with his permission, the American flag was run up over the town in place of the flag of the new republic. Within two days Saguanaldo went into the interior as the guide rather than the commander of an expedition which the American general sent against some Spanish troops that had, under the direction of Bishop Lonzello, been preparing to attack Saguanaldo in Manila, but that, after the Americans landed, had retired into the interior.
It was only after they had gotten into the interior that Saguanaldo began to realize his position. It came to him that, though he had been hailed as president of the Filipino republic, another occupied his capital, and the Filipino republic was at an end; though he had been the leader of an insurrection, the insurrection was inoperative; and he was fighting under another power; though he had celebrated the independence of the Filipinos, Filipino independence was gone, and he was seeking to subject the people to another foreign nation. While he was under the spell of Judge Daft’s influence, he had not noticed it, but now it came to him with all its meaning and bearing all its bitterness. He felt that he had lost. He felt that he was not only unable to cope against the arms and warships of this strange republic from across the seas, but he was also unable to meet their wiles—diplomacy, they called it. He had heard the word used and now he was beginning to understand what it really meant.
“I am a fool,” he said to himself. “Ambrosia knows it, and so she despises me. But if I must be beaten I will show her that at least I am no coward.” It was heroism surviving folly.
So ever it is the one who influences human actions, whether they be good or bad, public or private, in nature.
VIII.
THE MIGHTY DIPLOMAT.
The day following the departure of the allied troops from Manila an English ship steamed into Manila bay, and among those who landed was a Jesuit, who came as papal nuncio, a special envoy of the pope, the astute Leo XIII. He at once hunted up Bishop Lonzello and was soon closeted with him over wine and cigars, discussing the situation.
“You see yourself the Spaniards cannot stand before the Americans. They represent the old order, the Americans the new; the old must pass. It is more than useless, it is folly, to stay with the passing policy.”
“But the Spaniards are friends of the church and the Americans are its enemies.”
“I fear you are short-sighted, Brother Lonzello. The Americans are to be Catholics, while the Spaniards have only been Catholics. A live dog is better than a dead lion. But the Americans are not to be despised. The republic is entering on world politics, and if the Holy Father could control that nation he would as good as control the world through it.”
“But he can never control that nation; it is given to heresy.”
“I do not agree with you. Neither does the Holy Father at Rome. Remember, I am speaking for him. Already we have two million voters in America. United, that means the balance of power. It is something that any candidate may well covet. But that is not all. As a result of this war America will add the Philippines to her territory, with possibly Cuba and Porto Rico besides. In time, states will be formed of these territories, and they, being almost wholly Catholic, will give America to the true religion. It is something worth working for, and the prospect makes the Holy Father eager that you should fall in with his plans.”
“I can’t believe it possible to make America Catholic.”
The apostolic nuncio puffed his cigar in silence a moment. Then he leaned forward and said:
“Suppose we induce the capitalists of America to import a million Italians to be naturalized. Suppose we secure jobs for a million Mexicans in America and see that they are naturalized. Suppose that finally Central America and Mexico are annexed to the United States.”
“Why, that is treason to the Latin and the Spanish races.”
“No. It is taking advantage of new conditions. America is developed to the point where it is necessary that she should expand. If she should dig the Panama canal, it will be natural for her to close in on territory that divides her, and excuses are more easily found than grapes in a vineyard. It will aid rather than hinder the Catholic. American capitalists can pay higher wages than either the Italians or Mexicans receive and still obtain them cheaper than they get labor today. Catholic workmen will merely supercede heretics. If Mexico is taken there will be a leveling up as well as a leveling down, and the peon will gain immensely by the change.”
“But it means an entire change of policy.”
“The old policy has been worked to the end, and a new one is necessary. We are living in an age of machinery. Peon and slave can no longer yield the returns that the hireling can do by the aid of machinery. The returns from the Philippines can be quadrupled; and we were foolish to forego the rich harvest because it involves a change of tenants.”
The friar was flushed and angry. He almost shouted.
“But that means that the Spanish friars are to lose power in the Philippines. Do you realize what you are asking us to forego?”
“Perfectly. You have had your opportunity and have made a failure of it. The natives have been rebelling against you for three hundred years. Now, Aglipay has stirred a schism that has taken from Rome a majority of our churches. So long as the Spanish friars remain in power the dissatisfaction will increase rather than diminish. It seems providential that America should come at this time, for it gives the supreme pontiff an opportunity to transfer you and by diplomacy save the work you have done for the church.”
The friar sank back in his chair and thought. Then he mildly said:
“It is a hard thing you ask.”
“Yes, but your order asked the same thing once of the Jesuits, and, on order of the Pope, we were expelled from the Philippines for many years. Now the supreme pontiff is merely exercising his right of transfer relative to the three orders of friars in the Philippines. It is his voice, and you will not dare disobey it.”
“I suppose, of course, we shall have to submit. But it is hard. Shall we have to lose our property, our lands?”
“I come with a mission to the Americans relative to them. I have not talked with the Americans yet, but I can assure you justice. As for the churches and convents, you have lost them to the church, and it is part of my mission to regain them for the church.”
“I shall have to submit. But I can not overcome my hatred of the Americans and I will not remain to knuckle to the natives. I wish I might strike them one hard blow.” He brought his fist down on the table with a thump. The Jesuit was silent a moment. Then he said: “The Lord giveth and the Lord taketh away. You know the response.”
“The lands which the supreme pontiff gave to Legaspi he may take again from the heirs of Legaspi.”
“I can not for the life of me see where the holy church will profit from the change, seeing that Spain is a Catholic country and America is heretic.”
“Spain will remain true to the church even if she loses. But if America wins, then we may not only win back into the fold the schismatics of the islands, but stand also a chance of winning America, and with it the world. It is the greatest, opportunity the church has had for years.”
“I do not yet see how you expect to win America.”
“We have been working for the conquest of America for centuries, ever since Columbus gave it to the world and dedicated it to Christ and his viceregent. After the heretics had taken possession of it, we have labored without cessation to win it back. We brought believing emigrants to the cities until we control many of them. We now have ten million population and two million voters, controlling several states and holding the balance of political power. Already the politicians are taking cognizance of us, But, more important than this, the statesmen are looking for a power that can withstand the tide of Socialism that is sweeping over the land and are ready to make concessions to us for our influence.
“The most far-seeing of American politicians recently remarked that some day Socialism would become a menace to the world and that the strongest influence to combat it would be the Roman Catholic church. Acting on this belief he has already been negotiating for our support. It was the Catholic vote that saved America from the domination of the middle class when threatened by the mob in 1896. It was members of my order who fanned the flame that led to the present war, so that America might enter on world politics. The end is not yet. The Pope sees the importance of our plans, and you must submit. We intend that in the future it shall be known that he who would succeed at the polls must have our favor. We have the power now, and we shall use it. The Brotherhood of Jesus has been banished from almost every country on the face of the globe, but in spite of this we have remained loyal to our extreme oath, and have not for a moment faltered in our purpose to make America Catholic. We are now at the point of success, and the supreme pontiff sends me to command you to yield. Is your loyalty sufficient for that? Remember, we have been driven from land after land, and show yourself as true as the Jesuits have been.”
Bishop Lonzello did not reply. But he filled the two glasses, and as he raised his glass to his lips he proposed the toast:
“Leo, the greatest of Popes. When he speaks it is time for the rest of the world to be silent.”
After the toast had been drunk the Jesuit father referred no more to the topic about which he had been talking. They were sitting by the window looking out on the street where quite a few people were promenading. As one woman after another passed they discussed the good points of each and waxed merry over the wine, rehearsing many salacious stories. Finally Ambrosia Lonzello passed. The Jesuit, looking on her, remarked:
“That is the woman for me. She has the woman’s ten perfect points. Do you know her, Brother?”
The bishop’s lips were dry and his heart was enraged as he answered, feebly, “Yes.”
“Can’t you give me opportunity to hear her confession?”
The bishop knew what was implied by the request, and his heart was fired with the heat of his passion. He made a motion once to kick the Jesuit down stairs. But the knowledge that he was a special envoy of the Pope, and, more than that, the counter-fire of anger at Ambrosia, and the fierce flame of his hatred of Saguanaldo, caused him to desist. Indeed, the first flames had eaten so deeply into his heart that there was little left for the flame caused by the insult to touch. He merely answered, quietly, after swallowing a little:
“That is the sweetheart of the insurgent general, Saguanaldo.”
“Ah, that is good,” responded the Jesuit. “You hate him and would like to wound him to the death before you go. Behold, the Lord hath delivered him into your hands. Promise me that the girl shall confess to me.”
He seized the bishop’s arm and leered lewdly at him. “You really must, for I am mad from continence while on the water. Some day I will do as much for you. Won’t you, good Bishop?”
Bishop Lonzello clenched his fist and hissed through his teeth, “Yes; and may God damn your soul to hell.”
IX.
A LITTLE GAME.
“I am very glad to meet you as a citizen, but of course it is against the policy of my country to receive you as an envoy from the Pope.”
“Very well, Judge Daft, we shall not quarrel over a little thing like that.”
It was the Jesuit talking to the new American governor. He had no intention of abandoning his purpose, but he meant to approach it by indirection. He knew something of diplomacy himself, and so devoted a few minutes to casual conversation. He was by nature and practice an expert in the recounting of stories, having found that an art which won where no other art was honored, and the two passed a pleasant half hour together. Finally, as Rodriguez Violeta, the Jesuit father, arose to take his departure, he said:
“If I speak purely as an individual, I presume you will not object to my asking that you treat us fairly relative to churches and church lands.”
“By no means. I have no objection to telling you that I desire to treat you fairly in these and all other matters.”
“Perhaps you would not object, then, to issuing an order that, until the matter can be settled in the courts, the possession of churches is to be secured to the party in possession, whether that party be the Roman Catholic church or the Filipino Catholic church. This seems to me to be fair, and I believe is in accordance with American jurisprudence.”
“I shall be glad to issue an order of that nature to the soldiers in the Philippines. Anything that is mutually just will be granted you; and, while I can not receive you as envoy of the Pope, I shall take pleasure in hearing your recommendations as an individual of experience who is capable of understanding your people and presenting your side of the controversy in a fair and liberal way.”
“If I can be of any service to you, it will afford me pleasure to be commanded by you. I do believe, however, that the holy father, the Pope, has a plan which would save you very much trouble. I wish you would permit me to present it—as an individual.”
“You are at perfect liberty to do that. Be seated and I will hear you.”
The Jesuit re-seated himself. The camel’s nose had found entrance, and the rest of the body was about to follow.
“The Spanish friars are at the bottom of all the trouble in the Philippines. The Aglipayan schism came because of them, and the many revolts that have disturbed the islands for the past three centuries have been because the people wanted native rather than Spanish priests. Now Leo, who has always been friendly to America and Americans, is desirous of removing the Spanish friars from the Philippines.”
Judge Daft leaned forward, evidently interested. “This concerns me greatly,” he said. “Outline to me the plan more fully.”
The Jesuit ignored the request. Instead of answering him directly, he observed: “This would greatly simplify matters and make your problem sensibly easier of solution.”
“I am conscious of that,” asserted the Judge, betraying eagerness, a weakness which revealed that he was being beaten in diplomacy.
“America can easily handle the Spanish army. Your future problems will lie with pacifying the natives and adjudicating the conflicting claim of the two churches.”
“You understand the situation just as it presents itself to me.”
“You have splendid opportunities here.”
“You mean, to make a fool of myself?” laughed Judge Daft.
“That is an opportunity that knocks often at every man’s door. But I was not thinking of that. I was merely musing—speaking aloud the thing I thought—and a man never ought to do that.”
“Sometimes I think he never ought to speak aloud anything else than his undisguised thoughts. I shall insist on hearing this novel thing, the undisguised thought of a Jesuit.”
“I meant, opportunity to make yourself a reputation that shall lead to future political power. Who knows but that the presidency of the United States lies along this path?”
“I am not ambitious.”
“I understand that; indeed, I was not thinking so much of you as an individual as of you in your position. I was musing, you know. We Jesuits naturally look into the political possibilities of things, and I am astonished at the possibilities I see before you.”
“War generally brings a warrior to the front. The people take pleasure in preferring their military heroes.”
“That is very true. I perceive you are an astute politician. Because you are so far-sighted, you cannot fail to realize that if you are enabled to satisfactorily settle a dispute that has been raging for three centuries, and give America the Philippines to exploit, you will have distinguished yourself in a way that is sure to bring reward. Perhaps not at once. The military hero may come first, while your reputation is in process of building; but if you succeed, your time will come.”
“The people are very forgetful.”
“But men of affairs are not, and they are the folks who count. The substantial business men, who see the advantages that accrue to them because of these things, will remember; and the holy church never forgets. We alone poll two million votes in America now. But, remember, I am only musing. I am asking nothing. I shall report, however, the kindness you have shown me, which will, I feel sure, help to make your task easier.”