The Philippines Past and Present

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The Metamorphosis of a Bontoc Igorot.

Two photographs of a Pít-a-pit, a Bontoc Igorot boy. The second was taken nine years after the first.

The Philippines Past and Present

By
Dean C. Worcester
Secretary of the Interior of the Philippine Islands 1901–1913;
Member of the Philippine Commission, 1900–1913
Author of “The Philippine Islands and Their People”

In Two Volumes — With 128 Plates
Volume II
New York
The Macmillan Company
1914
All rights reserved

Copyright, 1914,
By The Macmillan Company.

Set up and electrotyped. Published February, 1914.

Norwood Press
J. S. Cushing Co.—Berwick & Smith Co.
Norwood, Mass., U. S. A.

Contents

Vol. II

ChapterPage
XIX.[Education]501
XX.[The Exploration of Non-ChristianTerritory]532
XXI.[The Government of Non-ChristianTribes]559
XXII.[The Government of Non-ChristianTribes (Continued)]591
XXIII.[Corrigenda]637
XXIV.[Non-Christian TribeProblems]660
XXV.[Slavery and Peonage]676
XXVI.[Murder as a GovernmentalAgency]730
XXVII.[The Philippine Legislature]768
XXVIII.[The Picturesque Philippines]792
XXIX.[Rod, Shotgun and Rifle]806
XXX.[Philippine Lands]829
XXXI.[Philippine Forests]846
XXXII.[Improved Means ofCommunication]861
XXXIII.[Commercial Possibilities of thePhilippines]884
XXXIV.[Peace and Prosperity]911
XXXV.[Some Results of AmericanRule]921
XXXVI.[Is Philippine Independence nowPossible?]933
XXXVII.[What Then?]961
Appendix
[Index]1005

List of Illustrations

Vol. II

The Philippines Past and Present

Chapter XIX

Education

No work accomplished since the American occupation is of more fundamental and far-reaching importance than that of the Bureau of Education. In order to appreciate it one must gain some familiarity with the conditions which prevailed in Spanish times.

The first evidence of the Spanish governmental attitude toward education in the Philippines is found in a royal edict of March 21, 1634,[1] in which Felipe IV orders all archbishops and bishops to take steps for the education of the Filipinos in the Spanish language and in Christian doctrine.

That this decree was more honoured in the breach than in the observance is evident from another royal decree of June 20, 1686,[2] in which the king reminds civil and religious authorities that the non-observance of the decree of 1634 will be charged against them.

Neither of these documents provided for financing the scheme of education ordained, but a decree of December 22, 1792,[3] did make financial provision for the establishment of Spanish schools for natives. The salaries of teachers were to be paid from the royal treasury, and deficits were to be made up from the communal properties and treasuries.

Although this was the first practical attempt to introduce general native education, there are evidences that individual opportunities were offered to, and embraced by, Filipinos. It is probable, too, that in certain localities the most generous of the Spaniards opened private schools.

The College of San José was founded in 1601, the University of Santo Tomás in 1619. Neither made provision for educating natives. They were established for the children of Spaniards only, although both later admitted Filipinos. But in the rules for the short-lived college of San Felipe (1641–1645),[4] Corcuera lays down the following: “The college servants shall be of influential Pampango families, and they shall be taught to read and write in the Spanish language, and shall be given clerkships if they show aptitude therefor.” We learn that when the charity school of San Juan de Letran passed under the control of the Dominicans in 1640, native boys were admitted, on payment of fees, to share the advantages offered charitably to Spanish orphans.[5]

Primary education for Filipinos secured no real foothold until 1863.[6] In that year, by royal decree, a school system originally planned for Cuba was extended to the Philippines. It made provision for the beginnings of primary instruction in all municipalities of the islands. A summary[7] called forth by a circular of March 1, 1866, gives information with regard to the progress actually made. This summary fixes the number of towns at nine hundred, the number of children attending school at one hundred thirty-five thousand boys and twelve thousand two hundred sixty girls, and the number of schools at sixteen hundred seventy-four, but it gives the number of buildings actually in use for schools as only six hundred forty-one. Instruction in Spanish was not always, or even generally, given.

In 1863 provision was also made for the establishment of a normal school at Manila. In 1893,[8] forty years later, the actual appropriation for the Normal School was $5525. Fourteen years after the American occupation, the appropriation for the Normal School was $56,476.42, in addition to $224,500 spent for new buildings and furniture.[9]

In 1892 there were two thousand one hundred seventy-three schools. The attendance of these schools was small and irregular. In 1896, at the outbreak of the insurrection, the Spanish had in operation a public school system which could call upon the Normal School for teachers and also upon such graduates of private schools as cared to undertake the work. Naturally the latter were few. Between 1863 and 1893, the Normal School had enrolled two thousand and one students.

This may be contrasted with the number of schools which, under the present régime, prepare the pupils for teaching, as well as for other occupations. Including the students of the Philippine Normal School, the Philippine School of Arts and Trades, the Provincial High and Intermediate Schools, nearly thirty-seven thousand pupils are now following studies which fit them more or less to undertake the work of giving instruction to others.

In addition to the Normal School, the Spanish established a Nautical School in 1820, a School of Commercial Accounting and of the French and English Languages in 1839, and an Academy of Drawing and Painting. Their final system of public instruction was not badly planned, but it was never actually put into full operation.

From the beginning of the insurrection against Spain in 1896 until the beginning of the insurrection against the United States in 1899, most of the public schools were closed. The schoolhouses were used for barracks, prisons, or hospitals. No attempt was made to keep them in repair, and what scanty equipment they had once possessed was for the most part destroyed or stolen.

Between 1899 and 1901, many of these buildings were repaired in towns which were occupied by American soldiers, and the beginnings of a public school system were made by our victorious army. Wherever our flag was raised a public school was soon established, soldiers often serving as teachers, and the moral effect of this upon the Filipinos was very great.

The city of Manila was naturally the first place to receive attention. Three weeks after our army entered it on August 13, 1898, seven schools were opened under the supervision of Father W. D. McKinnon, chaplain of the first California Regiment. In June, 1899, Lieutenant George P. Anderson was detailed as city superintendent of schools for Manila, and during the following school year he had an average of forty-five hundred pupils enrolled in the primary schools. Captain Albert Todd was detailed to act as superintendent of schools for the islands, but on May 5, 1900, in anticipation of the transfer of the islands from military to civil government, he gave way to Dr. Fred W. Atkinson, who had been chosen by the Philippine Commission as superintendent of public instruction. This title was changed later to that of director of education.

On January 21, 1901, the commission passed Act 74, the basis of the present school law. It provided for the appointment of one thousand American teachers to begin the work of establishing a school system carried on in English. Appointments were made as rapidly as possible. By the end of the year, seven hundred sixty-five American teachers were at work.

When provision was made for the appointment of this large number of Americans, it was with the idea that they should act as teachers of English in schools over which there should be Filipino principals, but there was, at that time, no body of Filipino teachers properly prepared to carry on school work, and by force of circumstances, this plan was soon altered.

Ten school divisions were established, covering the archipelago. Each was presided over by a division superintendent of schools. The teachers were theoretically subject to his control, but the divisions were so large that it was impossible for him to exercise control very effectively. It is perhaps well that many of the teachers were left free to employ their own ingenuity in meeting local conditions.

The school system finally established represents a composite of the recommendations of hundreds of teachers scattered throughout the archipelago, and these recommendations were based on hard-earned experience.

One of the first duties of teachers was to begin the training of Filipino assistants. This took form in the organization of so-called aspirante classes, into which the best of the Filipino youth who were old enough to teach, and who had already received some education, were gathered. These aspirante classes were often held side by side with classes in the primary schools first established by American teachers, and by the beginning of the year 1902 some of the brightest pupils were able to assist in primary school work. These classes made possible the establishment of organized primary schools under the control of American teachers with Filipino teachers in the lower grades. Their graduates formed the nuclei of the first secondary schools, which were established in 1903.

The difficulties which teachers had to overcome at the outset were numerous. In some of the older and richer towns there were stone or brick schoolhouses more or less fit for occupation. In such cases a small number of old wooden benches and a few square feet of blackboard were usually available. Sometimes there were books provided by the army: Baldwin’s readers in English or in rudely translated vernacular; Frye’s geographies translated into Spanish; and possibly Spanish editions of the history of the United States. This stock was greatly improved during the latter half of 1902, and teachers were furnished books and supplies as rapidly as transportation facilities permitted.

In 1901 the number of school divisions was increased to eighteen, and in 1902 to thirty-six, making the school divisions identical with the thirty-six then existing political subdivisions of the islands. The organization of the public school system gradually crystallized and assumed something of the form which it has to-day. Barrio[10] schools were opened, and the work of American teachers who were detailed to supervise them was thus greatly increased.

The school system took permanent shape in 1903 and 1904. As it now stands it is controlled by the director of education, who is responsible for its conduct. Serving with him, and subject to his control, are an assistant director and a second assistant director. The directors have immediate charge of the general office, which has the following divisions: records, accounting, buildings, property, academic, industrial and publications. Each has a chief who is directly responsible for its work.

The islands are now divided into thirty-four school divisions, corresponding, except in two cases, to provinces. Each has its superintendent of schools.

The divisions are subdivided into districts, over each of which there is a supervising teacher who is responsible for the conduct of its work. Certain of the intermediate schools are under supervising teachers, while others are directly under division superintendents.

The school system to-day extends to the remotest barrios. It is organized and equipped for effective work, and ready to carry out promptly and effectively the policies determined upon by the central office.

In each province there is a central provincial school offering intermediate and secondary courses. Only twelve of them now give a full four-year course. Others offer three years, two years or one year of secondary work. There is also a manual training department attached to the provincial school, or a trade school. So much for the provincial school system.

At Manila we have the Philippine Normal School, with an attendance of six hundred sixty-nine, and the Philippine School of Arts and Trades, with an attendance of six hundred forty-one. Also, there are the School of Commerce and the School for the Deaf and Blind, both supported directly from insular funds. The School of Household Industries has recently been established for the training of adult women in embroidery, lace-making and similar arts, so that they may return to their provinces to establish little centres for the production of articles of this nature. This is most important work. The Filipinos are endowed with great patience, and with extraordinary delicacy of touch and manual dexterity. If productive household industries based on these valuable characteristics are generalized, the prosperity of the common people will be very greatly increased.

Of the school system in general it can be said that Filipino teachers have been gradually employed for the lower grades, and Americans have thus been freed to take charge of the higher instruction. Primary instruction is now in the hands of Filipinos, and intermediate instruction is rapidly being turned over to them. In July, 1913, there were about eighty-five hundred Filipino teachers, with an estimated total enrolment of five hundred thirty thousand pupils. The total enrolment in primary schools was approximately four hundred ninety thousand, in intermediate schools thirty thousand nine hundred, and in secondary schools six thousand. When we compare these figures with the hundred and seventy-seven thousand reported by the Spanish government in 1897, and when we consider the fact that attendance at that time was extremely irregular, it is evident that noteworthy progress has been made. Mere figures, however, come far short of telling the whole story. There has been very great improvement in the quality of the instruction given. In the old days children “studied out loud,” and the resulting uproar was audible at quite a distance.

Head-hunters’ Weapons.

On their arrival in these islands, Americans found that the educated Filipinos as a rule held honest manual labor in contempt, while many of those who had managed to secure professional educations did not practise their professions, but preferred to live a life of ease. There were doctors who made no pretence of treating the sick, and lawyers who had studied simply for the standing which the title would give them. The Bureau of Education has brought about a profound change in public sentiment; a change of basic importance to the country. It was apparent at the outset that any educational system adhering closely to academic studies would simply serve to perpetuate this condition of affairs. Fortunately, those in charge of the situation were untrammelled by tradition, and were free to build up a system that would meet actual existing needs. The objection to manual labor offered much difficulty, but it has been largely overcome. There was, furthermore, a feeling against industrial work on the part of the people in many regions, based on the idea that teachers meant to supplement their salaries by the sale of the industrial products of the schools. This prejudice, which seemed formidable at first, disappeared when the bureau took up in earnest the introduction of industrial education and vocational training.

Just as the academic organization grew out of local conditions, so did industrial education accommodate itself to existing circumstances. In the Spanish colegios, girls had been taught to do exquisite embroidery and to make pillow lace. In various parts of the islands, hat weaving was carried on by families or groups of families. The making of petates,[11] of rough but durable market baskets and of sugar bags constituted widespread local industries. American teachers were quick to see how these vagrant arts could be organized and commercialized. An intense rivalry sprang up between supervising teachers, and as a result the arts of pillow lace-making, embroidery, Irish crochet, hat weaving, basketry and macramé work have been introduced and standardized throughout the primary and intermediate schools. The excellence of the output is truly astonishing.

Courses in housekeeping and household arts also received early attention. The social and economic conditions in the Philippines are such that the so-called “domestic science” course of American schools is quite inadequate to meet the needs of Filipina girls. Specialized instruction in hygiene, in the care of the sick, in household sanitation and in the feeding and care of infants is included in this course of housekeeping and household arts, which was taken by fifteen thousand two hundred twenty-seven girls during 1912–1913.

School gardening was introduced at an early date. This course now includes the school garden, in which each pupil has his own individual three and a fourth by thirteen foot plot, and home gardens which are not less than four times the size of the school plot. By this arrangement eighty per cent of the garden work is carried on at the homes of the pupils or on vacant lots under the direct supervision of teachers.

In the beginning much of the school agricultural work was not very practical. Teachers who themselves knew nothing about agriculture were wedded to the small “individual plot” idea, which I regret to say still continues to prevail in some of the schools. On a bit of ground about three feet by six the pupil might plant one tomato plant, one camote vine, one grain of rice, two or three eggplants and a flowering plant or two. This gave him helpful open-air exercise, but taught him nothing about agriculture. Weeks after the school year had opened I once visited a number of school gardens in Mindoro and found that several of them consisted of rectangular plots marked off on solid sod with shells picked up on the beach! On my return I told the director of education that three active hens would have done far more toward preparing soil for cultivating than had all the children in these towns.

These conditions have changed rapidly since the adoption, three years ago, of a definite policy of agricultural education consisting of standard school and home gardens and farm schools for Filipinos; and large communal tracts of land cultivated at the Settlement Farm Schools for non-Christians.

Lieutenant-Governor Frederick Lewis of Bukidnon was as deeply disgusted with the former play agriculture as was I. Exercising, I fear, rather arbitrary authority over the local Filipino teachers, but with my connivance, he persuaded them to turn their active, strong schoolboys loose on large tracts of the beautiful prairie land found near almost every school in the sub-province, and raise crops. As a result of this experiment, first carried out at Tankulan, each boy took home a bushel or two of unhulled rice. Parents were enthusiastic, and so were the boys. From this small beginning came the so-called farm-settlement schools, of which there are thirty-eight among the non-Christian tribes. On large, well-fenced, carefully cultivated tracts of ground the schoolboys grow camotes, upland rice, corn, bananas, cowpeas, beans, pineapples, eggplants, arrowroot, and in some cases, cacao and coffee. Instead of learning what individual plants will do when grown quite by themselves under abnormal conditions, they learn to produce real crops. They become interested in the introduction of American sweet potatoes in place of the less nutritious camotes, in the selection of seed corn, in the generalization of the better varieties of bananas, and in other practical matters. Incidentally they largely furnish the school food supply.

It is of course true that in many of the Filipino towns sufficiently extensive tracts of land cannot be had near the schools to make such a system possible, but, wherever it can be done, school children should be taught how to raise crops on a commercial scale, instead of spending their time on small individual plots of ground. Even the latter procedure has good results. It teaches them not to be ashamed to work. It also makes possible the introduction of home gardens, and through this means brings the practical production of vegetables into the home life of the people, with the result that unused yards and vacant lots are put under cultivation.

The system of establishing home gardens is one which meets with my unqualified approval. In 1911–1912 there were no less than twenty-two thousand nine hundred fifty-eight of these. It is said to be true that a large percentage of them soon pass into family care, and thus not only help to educate parents, but become a permanent additional source of food supply.

The schools have proved a useful medium through which to bring about the introduction of new and valuable plants. There are many school nurseries in which grow thousands of seedlings, and these are distributed at opportune times.

Woodworking is one of the industrial branches which received first attention. As previously stated, every one of the thirty-eight provinces has either a trade school with first-class equipment, or a manual training department attached to the provincial school. Eighteen schools have already been established as regularly equipped trade schools. The Philippine Normal School and the Philippine School of Commerce offer special advantages to those studying for the profession of teaching, or for a business career.

Previous to 1909, industrial instruction was only partially organized. Experience had shown, by that time, that it was expedient to introduce a degree of specialization into the courses of study at an early stage of the child’s development. Special intermediate courses were therefore organized to meet this need. After finishing the four-year primary course, the child may choose between a course in teaching, a course in farming, a trade course, a course in housekeeping and household arts and a general intermediate course. Relatively few children are at present able to take up secondary courses, and it is therefore necessary to provide in the lower grades for instruction which will prepare them for some vocation. So important has become this line of instruction that it has been found necessary to maintain, in the general office, an industrial information department, under a division chief, which employs a botanist, a designer, four native craftsmen and a force of travelling supervisors who inspect trade schools, machinery, school gardens, building sites and the general industrial work done throughout the public school system. This system of industrial instruction receives the fullest support from the Filipino people.

The following quotation from the twelfth annual report of the director of education serves to give some idea of the extent to which industrial instruction has been developed in the Philippines:—

“As is at once evident, with requirements so definitely fixed for industrial work in the schools, the great majority of the pupils who are enrolled must be engaged in some branch of this work. An examination of the figures included among the statistical tables of this report will show that of the total enrolment of 235,740 boys and 138,842 girls during the month of February, 1912 (an average month), 216,290 boys and 125,203 girls—91 per cent of the entire monthly enrolment—were doing some form of industrial work. More specifically, it will be found that 21,420 boys were taking manual training and trade work; 96,167 boys were engaged in school gardening and farming; 15,463 girls were also engaged in garden work; and 68,194 girls were taking up various lines which go under the general caption of minor industries.... Further in this connection it will be found that in the subject of lace-making alone 16,439 girls were receiving instruction; in embroidery, 12,339; and in cooking 4768. There were 22,965 boys and 7709 girls making hats in the industrial classes, 40,264 pupils making mats, and 104,424 studying the art of basketry.

“... 1309 pupils were enrolled in the regular trade school classes; 924 in regular trade courses in other schools; and 7360 in the shops operated in connection with provincial and other intermediate schools. In 401 school shops having an enrolment of 19,949 boys, articles to the value of ₱142,189.74 were fabricated and from this product, sales to the amount of ₱131,418.13 were made during the school year 1911–12. In addition to the above, 10,356 pupils were doing work in 236 primary woodworking shops conducted in connection with municipal primary schools in all parts of the Islands. The figures for trade and manual training are taken from the March report.”

This most important result is due in very large measure to the determination of the Honourable Newton W. Gilbert, while secretary of public instruction, to give a practical turn to the activities of the Bureau of Education. I must confess that at first I was profoundly dissatisfied with the work which this bureau was doing, for the reason that, in my opinion, it tended to produce a horde of graduates fitted to be clerks, in which event they would naturally desire to feed at the public crib, or be likely to become abogadillos,[12] who would be constantly stirring up trouble in their own towns, in order to make business for themselves.

Much of the industrial work originally provided for was at the outset carried out in a haphazard and half-hearted way. Under Mr. Gilbert’s administration it has been hammered into shape, and we now see in prospect, and in actual realization, practical results of vital importance to the country.

Personally, I feel especially indebted to Mr. Gilbert for his attitude relative to school work among the non-Christian tribes. The children of the hill people are naturally hard-working. In some places they were being actually taught idleness in the schools, and in most the education given them was of little practical value. I found Igorot children in Lepanto studying geography. I asked a boy what the world was, and was told that it was a little yellow thing about the size of his hand! This was a fairly accurate description of a map, the significance of which had utterly failed to penetrate his understanding. Filipino teachers who were not considered fit for appointments in the lowlands were being foisted off on to the unfortunate hill people, as they were willing to accept very small salaries in lieu of none at all. Prior to Mr. Gilbert’s assumption of office, my frequent complaints had produced no practical result. He was kind enough to say to me at the outset that he would give very serious consideration to my opinions in the matter of educational work among the people of the non-Christian tribes. To-day industrial work has taken its proper place in schools established for them, and considerable numbers of them are being fitted for lives of usefulness, although it is still true that school facilities among them are, as a rule, grossly inadequate. In Ifugao, for instance, with at least a hundred and twenty-five thousand inhabitants, there are but two schools. In Kalinga, with some seventy-six thousand inhabitants, the first school has just been opened. However, this condition will doubtless be remedied in time.

The former tendency of Filipinos to prepare themselves for trades or professions and then not follow them has been largely overcome. Most of the students graduating from the Philippine Normal School take up the profession of teaching, and practically all of the graduates of the Philippine School of Arts and Trades are following the lines of work which they have studied. And now I come to what I deem to be one of the most important accomplishments of the Bureau of Education.

Before the American occupation of the Philippines the Filipinos had not learned to play. There were no athletics worthy of the name. Athletic sports had their beginnings in the games played between soldiers. Gradually Filipinos became interested enough to attend contests of this nature. Later, through the influence of American teachers, they began to take part in them. As soon as athletic sports reached a point where competition between towns and provinces was possible, they aroused the greatest enthusiasm among the people. To-day, the athletic policy of the Bureau of Education is heartily approved by all classes. At first, highly specialized sports were introduced, but the necessity for developing some form of group athletics in which a large percentage of the pupils would take part was soon made manifest. For the past few years this programme has been pushed. Eighty per cent of the pupils now participate in some form of athletics, and the number steadily increases.

The results are justifying the hope of the original promoters of this athletic programme. The physical development of the participants has been wonderful. The spirit of fair play and sportsmanship, hitherto lacking, has sprung into being in every section of the islands. Baseball not only strengthens the muscles of the players, it sharpens their wits. Furthermore it empties the cock-pits to such an extent that their beneficiaries have attempted to secure legislation restricting the time during which it may be played. It has done more toward abolishing cockfighting than have the laws of the commission and the efforts of the Moral Progress League[13] combined. It is indeed a startling sight to see two opposing teams of youthful savages in Bukidnon or Bontoc “playing the game” with obvious full knowledge of its refinements, while their ordinarily silent and reserved parents “root” with unbridled enthusiasm!

Annual meets between athletic teams from various groups of provinces, and a general interscholastic meet held each year at the Philippine Carnival, offer advantages of travel to boys who have seldom if ever left their homes, and promote a general understanding between the various Filipino peoples. In the “Far Eastern Olympiad” held at Manila in 1913, in which China, Japan and the Philippines participated, the victorious teams representing the Philippines were largely composed of schoolboys.

The Three Leading Men in the Funeral Procession of an Ifugao who has lost his Head to the Enemy.

When the American school system was organized, it was found that adequate accommodations for school children were almost entirely lacking. In some of the towns there were long, low stone or brick buildings, small and poorly lighted. They were usually located in the larger centres of population, and had no grounds that could be used for play or garden purposes. In most of the barrios, there were no schoolhouses at all.

The American teachers at once set to work to put the old buildings into decent condition. Some private houses were rented, and others were donated, for school purposes. In a number of cases the teachers attempted, as best they could, to construct buildings for the thousands of pupils who wished to avail themselves of school privileges. At that time the whole burden of such construction fell upon the municipalities. The insular government had given them no aid. Many mistakes were made during these early days, and many of the buildings then erected have long since fallen into ruin. The experience gained has demonstrated the folly of spending large sums of money on anything but strong, permanent construction. It will be necessary, for a long time, to depend to some extent upon temporary buildings; and when these can be erected at low cost they are good provisional expedients, but destructive storms and the ravages of wood-eating insects quickly reduce them to ruins.

The demand upon local funds for the maintenance of schools was so pressing, and these funds were so limited, that it was found impossible to erect modern buildings without insular aid. When the necessity for help was brought to the attention of the insular authorities, the commission responded by enacting a bill which appropriated $175,000 from the congressional relief fund for the construction of school buildings. Two years later $150,000 were appropriated and, in August, 1907, an additional $175,000 were voted for this purpose. A total of $500,000 was thus made available by the Commission before the Philippine assembly came into existence. This amount was augmented by provincial and municipal funds and voluntary contributions, and the erection of twenty-two buildings for provincial high schools, twenty-six for trade and manual training schools, and fifty-seven for intermediate schools other than provincial was thus made possible.

The first act of the Philippine Assembly was to vote for an appropriation of $500,000, available in four equal annual instalments, to aid municipalities in constructing school buildings. The bill was duly approved by the commission and became a law. Under its terms, municipalities received $2 for every dollar furnished locally, the maximum insular allotment for one project being $2500. This bill was later supplemented by an act which appropriated an additional $500,000 under similar conditions. Three subsequent acts have been passed, each appropriating the sum of $175,000 for the aid of municipalities in constructing school buildings under such conditions as the secretary of public instruction may see fit to prescribe. The funds made available by the three appropriations last mentioned are being used chiefly for the erection of large central school buildings at provincial capitals.

The sums appropriated by the Philippine Legislature since the assembly was established have made possible the construction of five hundred twenty-nine school buildings, of which two hundred seventy-three are finished and three hundred nineteen are being built.

There have been additional appropriations for the construction of a Philippine Normal School already completed at a cost of $225,000, a girls’ dormitory now building to cost $147,000 and a building for the Philippine School of Arts and Trades to cost approximately $250,000.

The bureau has required that school sites for central schools shall have a minimum of one hectare[14] of land, and the barrio schools a minimum of one-half hectare, for playgrounds and gardens. There have been secured to date three hundred eighty-nine school sites of ten thousand or more square metres, and six hundred forty-three sites of at least five thousand square metres. These represent the results obtained during the past three years.

The Bureau has formulated a very definite construction policy. Its programme may be outlined briefly as follows:—

1. The preparation of a set of standard plans for permanent buildings which provide for a unit system of construction whereby additions may be made without injury to the original structure, and which shall be within the limited means available.

2. The selection of suitable school sites.

3. A decent and creditable standard in temporary buildings.

4. The proper care and maintenance of schoolhouses and grounds.

5. The equipment of every school with the necessary furniture and appliances of simple but substantial character.

From the beginning, other branches of the government have clearly seen that no agency is so effective as the Bureau of Education in the dissemination of knowledge among the people. It has therefore been called upon frequently to spread information, either through classroom instruction or through the system of civico-educational lectures established by an act of the Philippine Legislature. The Bureau of Health has frequently requested it to instruct the people in the means to be used for the prevention of diseases, particularly cholera, smallpox and dysentery, and has always met with a ready response. Great good has doubtless been accomplished in this way, but with regret I must call attention to the fact that in connection with a matter of fundamental importance the Bureau of Education has signally failed to practice what it preached, or at all events what it was requested to preach. The Philippines are constantly menaced by epidemic diseases, such as cholera and bacillary dysentery, while amœbic dysentery occurs in every municipality in the islands and is a very serious factor in the annual death-rate, hook-worm disease is common, and typhoid fever is gradually increasing in frequency. The question of the proper disposition of human feces is therefore one of fundamental importance. It seems incredible, but is nevertheless true, that in connection with a large majority of the modern school buildings which have been erected there are no sanitary facilities of any sort whatsoever. The condition of the ground in the rear of many of these buildings can better be imagined than described. This state of affairs not only sets an evil example to the children, but exposes them to actual danger of infection with the above-mentioned diseases. In many of the special provincial government towns where a great effort has been made to have the people clean up, I have found school grounds and the private premises of school teachers, including, I regret to say, those of American school teachers, to be in a more unsanitary state than were any others in town; and finally, in despair of securing improvement in any other way, I have fallen back on the courts and caused teachers responsible for such conditions to be brought before justices of the peace and fined.

The Teachers’ Camp at Baguio was long maintained in a shockingly unsanitary condition; and as a result many persons who went there seeking health and recreation became infected with intestinal diseases, and were incapacitated for work during more or less prolonged periods. In dealing with this situation I finally resorted to radical measures, but got results.

Such a state of affairs is wholly incomprehensible to me. School-teachers should be the first to set the people practical examples in sane living, which means sanitary living, and should improve the great practical opportunity afforded by the public schools to bring home to their pupils certain homely but much-needed lessons in ordinary decency.

In another important particular the Bureau of Education has, in my opinion, fallen short of performing its manifest duty. Not only does beri-beri kill some five thousand Filipinos outright, annually, and cripple ten times as many, but it is believed to be a determining factor in the deaths of large numbers of infants through its untoward influence upon their mothers. As previously stated, the fact that it is due to a diet made up too largely of polished rice has been demonstrated beyond a reasonable doubt. Persons who eat unpolished rice do not contract it. Tiqui-tiqui, the substance removed from rice in the process of polishing, has proved to be a very effective remedy for it. The use of polished rice should therefore be discouraged, yet at the Philippine Normal School, where the brightest and best youths of the land receive their final education before going out to teach their fellows, polished rice is furnished the students; and the director of health, and I myself, have sought in vain to have the unpolished article substituted for it.

The secretary of public instruction has stated, with obvious truth, that it is only when polished rice forms a very large element in the diet that there is actual danger of its causing beri-beri, and so far as I am aware no case of beri-beri has occurred at this school; but the practical result of the present practice will be that the graduates, while instructing their pupils in the dangers of the use of polished rice, will themselves continue to use it. There exists at the present time a foolish prejudice against unpolished rice, which, although far more nutritious and actually more palatable than the polished article, does not look so attractive and is commonly considered “poor man’s food.” So long as the instructors in the public schools continue to teach by precept that its use is dangerous, and by example that it is safe, the undiscriminating and ignorant Filipino public, which does not draw fine distinctions, will be encouraged to continue to eat it, will eat it in excess, and will pay the penalty.

The Bureau of Education has coöperated with the Bureau of Lands in instructing the people as to the right to acquire homesteads and free patents. It has also given the Bureau of Public Works assistance in promoting the campaign for good roads. Its system of civico-educational lectures has met with fair results. Thousands of people have secured information relative to the rights and duties of citizens, the prevention of human and animal diseases, and the growing of corn, coconuts and other useful crops. A corn-raising contest in 1912 was participated in by more than thirty thousand boys, and thousands of people attended the demonstrations which formed a part of the campaign. This is a most important matter. Corn is a far better food than rice.

At first the only books available for use in the schools were those prepared for American children. These were soon found to be unsuited to the needs of Filipino children, and teachers were set to work to prepare more suitable text-books. Book companies in the United States quickly interested themselves, and as a result there is now in general use a comprehensive series of text-books particularly adapted to the needs of Filipinos.

In the secondary grades American text-books are quite generally used, although a few special texts dealing with literature, rhetoric, economic conditions and colonial history have been prepared in the islands.

In order to keep the teacher in the field well informed, the Bureau of Education has issued a large number of bulletins and circulars on matters of current interest. These bulletins have covered instruction in domestic science, drawing, manners and right conduct, school buildings and grounds, embroidery and athletics, and have conveyed information as to the general and special courses of study followed in such schools as the School of Arts and Trades, the School of Commerce and the Normal School. They have received much commendation from educators in the United States and the Orient.

When public schools were first opened children crowded into them by thousands. With them came many adults who believed that they could learn English in a period of a few weeks, or in a few months at the most. No doubt they entered the schools in many cases with the idea of thus conciliating the victorious American nation. It was not long until they realized that there was no royal road to learning. Then came a slump in attendance. Largely through the influence of the American teacher and his Filipino assistants, the attendance was again built up. This time the people clearly understood that education is not a matter of a few months or weeks. It is greatly to their credit that they have now settled down to a realization of what public education is, and are giving the public school system most loyal support.

The industrial programme has been accepted with enthusiasm, and without doubt there are in the islands to-day thousands of people who believe that it is a Filipino product.

There is an interest in athletic sports that can hardly be equalled in any other country. The crowds of enthusiastic spectators that attend every meet of importance testify to the hold that such sports have taken upon the people, whose attitude toward all forms of education is such that it needs only adequate revenue to develop an effective school system along the broadest lines.

Manhood suffrage does not exist in the Philippines. The qualifications for an elector are as follows: he must be a male citizen at least twenty-three years of age, with a legal residence of six months previous to election in the municipality where his vote is cast, and must belong to at least one of the three following classes:—

1. Those who, previous to August 13, 1898, held the office of municipal captain, gobernadorcillo, alcalde, lieutenant, cabeza de barangay, or member of any ayuntamiento.

2. Those who hold real property to the value of $250 or annually pay $15 or more of established taxes.

3. Those who speak, read or write English or Spanish.

With a population of approximately eight million people, there were, in 1912, two hundred forty-eight thousand qualified voters. Of these a large number had obtained the franchise because they belonged to class 1 or class 2. Death yearly claims its quota from both these classes, but the public schools more than make up the decrease by their yearly contribution. Any boy who finishes the primary course possesses the literary qualifications of an elector, and will become one on attaining legal age.

In 1912 there were graduated from the primary schools 11,200 pupils, of whom approximately 7466 were males; from the intermediate schools 3062 pupils, of whom 2295 were males; and from the secondary schools 221 pupils, of whom 175 were males. In that year alone the schools therefore contributed 9936 to the contingent of persons qualified by literary attainments to vote. Of these 175 are perhaps capable of intelligently holding municipal and provincial offices, and to this number may probably be added half of the 2295 intermediate male graduates, making an increase of 1362 in the possible leaders of the people.

The public schools, however, do not limit their contributions to that part of the electoral body having literary qualifications only. Vocational training, it is true, is limited in the primary grades to cottage industries; but no pupil is graduated from the primary schools with only literary qualifications. In some form or other, he has had a vocational start. His own energy must determine the use he makes of it.

The intermediate schools add vocational training to increased academic training. All their graduates have done three years’ work in the general course, leading to a literary course in the high schools, the course in farming, the course in teaching, the business course, the course in housekeeping and household arts or the trade course.

The Sacred Tree of the Ifugaos.

This great tree at Quiangan is considered sacred by the Ifugaos of that region. They believe that when it dies they too will perish.

Of the graduates of secondary schools a small part have highly specialized vocational training; but the great majority have followed the literary course and have undoubtedly done this with the idea of entering political life. Rome was not built in a day, and in spite of herculean American efforts, it will be a long time before Filipinos cease to regard a certain kind of literary culture as the proper basis for statesmanship. It has been said of them that they have “the fatal gift of oratory”! The future leaders of the Filipino people, dependent or independent, must be the output of the public schools. The danger is that the number of would-be leaders will be disproportionately great in comparison with that of the useful but relatively inconspicuous rank and file.

There are in the Philippine Islands fully twelve hundred thousand children of school age. The present available resources are sufficient to educate less than one-half of that number.

The claim has been made that a due proportion of the very limited revenues of the insular government has not been expended for educational purposes. It is not justified by the facts. It is certainly important to keep the Filipinos alive, and if this is not done, they can hardly be educated. The expenditure to date[15] from insular funds for health work, including cost of necessary new buildings, has been approximately $9,630,000; that for educational purposes, also including buildings, approximately $21,376,000.

As a simple matter of fact, the Bureau of Education has been treated not only with liberality but in one regard with very great leniency. Taking advantage of the friendly attitude of the legislative body and of the people toward education, one of its earlier directors incurred expense with utter disregard for appropriations. He repeatedly made deficits of $150,000 to $250,000 and then in effect calmly asked us what we were going to do about it. After stating that I, for one, would never vote to make good another deficit incurred by him while he was allowed to remain in the service, and at a time when I was threatening to hold the director of forestry personally responsible for a deficit of $5000 resulting in his bureau from unforeseen expenditures by forest officers in remote places, and therefore more or less excusable, I learned that the usual shortage in the Bureau of Education had again occurred and was being covered by the quiet transfer of a sum approximating $200,000.

The present director of education believes that the total number of children who would enter the public schools without compulsion, if adequate facilities were provided, is approximately eight hundred thousand. Until revenues materially increase not many more than five hundred thousand of these can be educated, if due regard is had for other imperative necessities of the government and the people. If the people of the United States, or any political body composed of them, really desire to help the Filipinos toward the practical realization of their ideal of an independent, self-sustaining government, let them stop talking about the advisability of now conferring upon the present generation of adults additional rights and privileges, and provide the hard cash necessary to make intelligent, well-trained citizens out of the three hundred thousand children who are now annually left without educational advantages which they earnestly desire, and greatly need.

Under the Spanish régime private education as distinguished from that provided for by the government attained considerable importance. At the time of the American occupation, Santo Tomás, the oldest university under the American flag, had colleges of medicine and surgery, theology, law, engineering and philosophy. There were also numerous private so-called “colleges” for boys and girls and very numerous smaller private institutions. At first the establishment of public schools had no apparent effect on those conducted privately other than to induce them to introduce the study of English, but as years went by, the organization, modern methods and industrial development of the public schools forced the private institutions into activity. The law provides that the secretary of public instruction may give approval and recognition to such private schools as meet certain requirements, and in 1910 a division superintendent of schools was detailed to assist him in carrying out this provision. His report for the period ending September 1, 1912, is a very interesting document. It compares the Philippine private schools with those of South America, very much to the disadvantage of the former. It notes particularly the lack of manual training in boys’ schools and the lack of standardization in the manual training of girls’ schools; and speaks of the allegiance of the Filipino institution to the classical programme of mediæval institutions of learning. It is a notable fact, however, that English is gaining. Thirty-four private schools are giving their entire primary and intermediate courses in that language; nine are giving primary, intermediate and high school courses in it, and two are so giving all courses, including the college course.

These private institutions are employing public and normal school graduates as teachers to a constantly increasing extent. They are bringing their courses of study into conformity and competition with those of the public schools; are introducing athletics; using standard patterns and materials in their industrial work, and rapidly improving their buildings and equipment. During the year 1911–1912 improvements to the value of $100,000 were made in four of the Manila private schools: the Jesuits are planning a new college to cost $1,000,000; the Dominicans an expenditure of $500,000 on a new university, and the Liceo de Manila looks forward to becoming the most modern and best equipped school in the islands.

Twenty-five private schools have already received government recognition and approval.

No account of education would be complete without mention of the University of the Philippines. Higher education is the great conscious goal of Filipino desire; and to meet the growing need for it, an act passed June 18, 1908, established this institution. Subsequent amendments authorized, when practicable, colleges of liberal arts, law, social and political science, medicine and surgery, pharmacy, dentistry, veterinary science, engineering, mines, agriculture and fine arts. At present there are in actual operation the colleges of liberal arts, veterinary science, engineering, medicine and surgery, law, agriculture and the school of fine arts. Instruction in pharmacy is given in the College of Liberal Arts, and instruction in forestry is given in the College of Agriculture. By special acts of the Philippine legislature, several scholarships have been provided, but for the most part the university is open only to those who can afford to live in Manila during their period of attendance.

The opening of some of these colleges has served sharply to call attention to one of the present weaknesses of the Filipino people. It is but a few years since agriculture was well-nigh prostrated as a result of the decimation of cattle and horses throughout the islands by contagious diseases. The need for well-trained veterinarians was, and is, imperative. Filipinos properly qualified to undertake veterinary work would be certain of profitable employment. A good veterinary course was offered in 1909. At the same time the School of Fine Arts was opened. No one took the veterinary course the first year. Admissions to the School of Fine Arts were closed when they reached seven hundred fourteen. At the end of the school year 1912–1913 the students in the Veterinary College numbered twenty-seven as compared with six hundred ninety-four in the School of Fine Arts. The grand total enrolment of this latter institution since its organization is thirty-two hundred twenty-nine, while that of the Veterinary College during the same period is forty-seven. It is necessary to restrict attendance at the School of Fine Arts. Until there is a livelier and more general interest in saving carabaos than in painting them, the country will not attain to a high degree of material prosperity through the efforts of its own people.

I take genuine pleasure and pride in briefly describing the work of the Philippine Training School for Nurses. I have always believed that young Filipina women would make excellent trained nurses, and I earnestly endeavoured to have a certain number of them included among the first government students sent to the United States for education soon after the establishment of civil government. In this effort I rather ignominiously failed. The prejudices of the Filipino people were then radically opposed to such a course, and my colleagues of the commission were not convinced that it would lead to useful practical results.

To the Bureau of Education must be given credit for inaugurating the movement which has resulted in the firm establishment of the profession of nursing in the Philippine Islands as an honourable avocation for women. At an early date it employed an American trained nurse to give instruction, and inaugurated a preparatory course at its Normal School dormitory. The work at the outset could not be made of a very practical nature, but after a number of bright and well-trained young women had become interested in it arrangements were perfected for giving them actual training at the government institution then known as the Civil Hospital. Here strong racial prejudices of the Filipinos were gradually overcome, and the student nurses soon showed themselves to be unexpectedly practical, faithful and efficient.

Later when the great Philippine General Hospital was established it became possible for the Bureau of Health to open a school under the immediate control of the chief nurse, and to take over all the work of training nurses. Students at this school are supported at government expense while in training. Its opportunities and advantages are open to young men, as well as to young women, and may be extended to a number not exceeding one hundred six of each sex at a given time.

The training of young women began sooner, and thus far has resulted more satisfactorily, than has that of young men, although many of the latter are now making good progress.

The work is popular, and as there are more candidates than places only the more promising are admitted. They have shown that they possessed common-sense by avoiding the traps set for them by Filipino politicians and newspaper reporters. Their tact and self-respect have brought them safely through many embarrassing, and a few cruelly trying, situations forced upon them by the unkindness or brutality of those whom they have sought to serve. Their gentleness and kindness have endeared them to their patients, and it is now a common thing for Americans to request the services of Filipina nurses. Their faithfulness and efficiency have won the confidence of patients and physicians alike. Their courage has enabled them to triumph over the prejudices of their own people, and to perform many hard, disagreeable tasks, and meet some very real dangers, without faltering. The gratefulness which they have shown for the opportunity to help their people, no less than for the interest taken in them by Americans, has won them many friends. The training of Filipina nurses has passed far beyond the experimental stage; it is a great success.

Instruction in the Philippine Nurses’ Training School is now largely given by members of the university faculty and the graduates of this school must certainly be numbered among the most highly educated women of the Philippines. More of them are sadly needed, not only in government institutions, but in private hospitals, and especially in the provincial towns, where a few of them are already engaging in district nursing with unqualified success. The country might well get on for the present with fewer lawyers, and fewer artists, if the number of nurses could be increased.

Equally praiseworthy is the work of the students and graduates of the College of Medicine and Surgery, which is housed in a commodious and adequate building. Their theoretical instruction is of a very high character, and they have almost unrivalled facilities for practical clinical work in the Philippine General Hospital. Entrance requirements are high and the course of study is severe. A number of the best students do post-graduate work in the hospital, where they are employed as internes and assistants. As a result, the college is turning out graduates admirably qualified for the great work which awaits them among their own people.

The other colleges of the university are, for the most part, doing their work efficiently and well, and as a rule their students are showing appreciation of the opportunities afforded them, and are utilizing them to good advantage.

Important educational work is being carried on by various bureaus of the government. The Bureau of Lands has an excellent school for surveyors. The Bureau of Printing is in itself a great industrial school, and ninety-five per cent of its work is now done by Filipinos trained within its walls, while many others who have had practical instruction there have found profitable private employment.

An excellent school is conducted in Bilibid Prison with convicts as teachers. A very large proportion of the prisoners receive practical instruction in manual training and are fitted to earn honest livings when their sentences expire. Furthermore, they readily secure employment, as the men discharged from this institution have in many cases earned well-deserved reputations for honesty and industry.

All the women confined at Bilibid are taught to make pillow lace.

At the Bontoc Prison, the non-Christian tribe convicts of the islands are taught useful industries, and so satisfactory are the results that I have formed the habit of calling the institution my “university.”

At the Iwahig agricultural penal colony convicts are taught modern agricultural methods under a system such that they gradually become owners of houses, land and agricultural implements and may in the end have their families with them so that they are well settled for life when their sentences expire, if they take advantage of the opportunities given them.

The educational policy which the United States has adopted in dealing with the Filipinos is without a parallel in history. I am glad to have assisted in its inauguration, and I am proud of its results, which will make themselves felt more and more as the years go by. Even now English is far more widely spoken in the Philippine Islands than Spanish ever was, and this is a boon the magnitude of which cannot be appreciated by those who have not had brought home to them by experience the disadvantages incident to the existence of very numerous dialects among the inhabitants of one country.

When it is remembered that in the present instance each of these dialects is very poor in literature, and that its use is limited to a million or two of human beings at the most, the enormous value of instruction in English will be realized, to some extent at least.

[1] Blair and Robertson, Vol. 45, p. 184.

[2] Ibid., Vol. 45, p. 186.

[3] Ibid., Vol. 45, p. 222.

[4] Blair and Robertson, Vol. 45, p. 175.

[5] Ibid., Vol. 45, pp. 213–265.

[6] Census of the Philippines, Vol. III, pp. 578–590.

[7] Ibid., Vol. III, p. 591.

[8] Ibid., Vol. III, pp. 579–580.

[9] Report of Director of Education, 1911–1912.

[10] Barrios are small outlying villages.

[11] Sleeping mats.

[12] Literally, “little lawyers.” This designation is commonly applied to pettifoggers.

[13] An organization which long vigorously combated the cock-pits, but failed to bring about their abolition.

[14] A hectare is equivalent to two and a half acres.

[15] End of fiscal year 1913.

Chapter XX

The Exploration of Non-Christian Territory

At the time of their discovery the Philippine Islands were inhabited by a very large number of distinct tribes the civilization of which was directly comparable with that of the Negritos, the Igorots and the Moros as they exist to-day. Do not understand me to imply that the Negritos, the Igorots and the Moros have attained to the same stage of civilization.

The Negritos belong to a distinct race. They are woolly-headed, nearly black, and of almost dwarfish stature. They seem to be incapable of any considerable progress and cannot be civilized. Intellectually they stand close to the bottom of the human series, being about on a par with the South African bushmen and the Australian blacks.

The Igorots are of Malayan origin. They are undoubtedly the descendants of the earlier, if not the earliest, of the Malay invaders of the Philippines, and up to the time of the American occupation had retained their primitive characteristics.

The Moros, or Mohammedan Malays of the southern Philippines, exemplify what may be considered the highest stage of civilization to which Malays have ever attained unaided. They are the descendants of the latest Malay invaders and were, at the time of the discovery of the islands, rapidly prosecuting an effective campaign for their mohammedanization.

At the outset the Spaniards made extraordinary progress in subduing, with comparatively little bloodshed, many of these different peoples, but the Moros at first successfully resisted them, were not brought under anything approaching control until the day of steam gun-boats and modern firearms, and were still causing serious trouble when Spanish sovereignty ended.

As time elapsed the political and military establishments of Spain in the Philippines seem to have lost much of their virility. At all events the campaign for the control and advancement of even the non-Mohammedan wild peoples was never pushed to a successful termination, and there to-day remains a very extensive territory, amounting to about one-half of the total land area, which is populated by non-Christian peoples so far as it is populated at all. Such peoples make up approximately an eighth of the entire population.

When civil government was established I was put in general executive control of matters pertaining to the non-Christian tribes. Incidentally, a word about that rather unsatisfactory term “non-Christian.” It has been found excessively difficult to find a single word which would satisfactorily designate the peoples, other than the civilized and Christianized peoples commonly known as Filipinos, which inhabit the Philippines. They cannot be called pagan because some of them are Mohammedan, while others seem to have no form of religious worship. They cannot be called wild, for some of them are quite as gentle, and as highly civilized, as are their Christian neighbours. The one characteristic which they have in common is their refusal to accept the Christian faith, and their adherence to their ancient religious beliefs, or their lack of such beliefs as the case may be. I am therefore forced to employ the term “non-Christian” in designating them, although I fully recognize its awkwardness.

While serving with the First Philippine Commission I was charged with the duty of writing up the non-Christian tribes for its report, and tried to exhaust all available sources of information. The result of my investigations was most unsatisfactory to me. I could neither find out how many wild tribes there were, nor could I learn with any degree of accuracy the territory which the known tribes occupied, much less obtain accurate information relative to their physical characteristics, their customs or their beliefs.

Entrance to the Quiangan Schoolhouse.

The Ifugao boys on either side of the stairways helped build this remarkable structure. Most of their companions in the work were older, but all were of school age.

The most satisfactory source of information was the work of Blumentritt, an Austrian ethnological writer; but Blumentritt had never set foot in the Philippines, and I suspected at the outset what later proved to be the case, that his statements were very inaccurate. He recognized more than eighty tribes of which thirty-six were said by him to be found in northern Luzón.

As it was obviously impossible to draft adequate legislation for the control and civilization of numerous savage or barbarous peoples without reliable data on which to base it, and as such data were not available, I had to get them for myself, and undertook a series of explorations, carried out during the dry seasons so far as possible, in order to gather my information on the ground.

I first visited Benguet in July and August, 1900.

On my second northern trip I traversed the province of Benguet from south to north, arrived at Cervantes in Lepanto, and was about to leave for the territory of the Bontoc head-hunters when I received a telegraphic summons to return to Manila for the inauguration of Governor Taft on July 4, 1901.

The following year such time as could be spared from my duties at Manila was necessarily devoted to the search for a suitable island for the site of a proposed leper colony; but in 1903 I was able to make a somewhat extended exploring trip, traversing the country of the Tingians in Abra, passing through the mountains which separate that province from Lepanto, visiting the numerous settlements of the Lepanto Igorots and continuing my journey to Cayan, Bagnin, Sagada and Bontoc; and thence through various settlements of the Bontoc Igorots to Banaue in the territory of the Ifugaos.

The latter portion of the trip was not unattended with excitement. A few weeks before a fairly strong constabulary detachment, armed with carbines, had been driven to the top of a conical hill in the Ifugao country and besieged there until a runner made his way out at night and brought assistance. We felt that there was some uncertainty as to the reception which would be accorded us. The Bontoc Igorots who accompanied us did not feel that there was any uncertainty whatever as to what awaited them, but were more than anxious to go along with us, as they were spoiling for a fight with their ancient enemies.

We had to use them for carriers to transport our baggage, and each carrier insisted on having an armed companion to lug his lance and shield. As a precautionary measure we took with us twenty-five Bontoc Igorot constabulary soldiers armed with carbines, while each of the five American members of the party carried a heavy six-shooter. We also had with us a dog which was supposed to be especially clever at seasonably discovering ambushes and giving warning.

We were able to use horses more or less as far as the top of the Polis range, but the trail down its eastern slopes was impracticable for horses and dangerous for pedestrians.

We shivered for a night on a chilly mountain crest, and the next day continued our journey to Banaue. When still several miles from the town, we were met by an old Ifugao chief with two companions. They marched boldly up to us and inquired whether we were planning to visit Banaue. On receiving an affirmative reply, the chief asked if our visit was friendly or hostile. I assured him that we were friends who had come to get acquainted with the Ifugaos. He said he was glad to hear this, but that after all it did not really matter. If we wished to be friends, they were willing to be friendly; but if we wanted to fight, they would be glad to give us a chance. As he and his companions were facing a column of eighty-seven armed men I rather admired his courage.

He next presented me with what I now know to be an Ifugao gift of friendship, to wit, a white rooster and six eggs, after which he took from one of his companions a bottle filled with bubud,[1] and having first taken a drink to show me that it was not poisoned, handed it to me. I did my duty, and we were friends.

We then proceeded on our way to Banaue, being obliged to plunge down through the rice terraces to the bottom of a deep cañon and then climb two almost perpendicular earthen walls before reaching the house of the chief.

I was completely exhausted when I began this climb, and did not feel comfortable clinging like a tree frog to the face of a clay bank with nothing to support me except rather shallow holes which could be better negotiated by Ifugaos, possessed of prehensile toes, than by men wearing shoes. Seeing my predicament, an Ifugao climbed down from above, pulled my coat-tails up over my head and hung on to them, while another came up behind me, put his hands on my heels and carefully placed my toes in the holes prepared for their reception. Thus aided, I finally reached the top.

The Ifugaos did not invite us to enter their houses, but allowed us to camp under them. I was assigned quarters under the house of the chief. It was tastefully ornamented, at the height of the floor, with a very striking frieze of alternating human skulls and carabao skulls.

One of my reasons for coming to Banaue at this time was that I had heard that the people of seven other towns had recently formed a confederation and attacked it, losing about a hundred and fifty heads before they were driven off. I therefore thought that there might be a favourable opportunity to learn something of head-hunting, and to secure some photographs illustrating customs which I hoped would become rare in the near future, as indeed they did.

Trouble promptly arose between our Bontoc friends and the Ifugaos. The Bontocs wanted to purchase food. Some baskets of camotes were brought and thrown down before them and they were told that they were welcome to camotes, which were suitable food for Bontoc Igorots and pigs, but that if they wanted rice they would have to come out and get it. As twenty-five of them were armed with carbines and all the rest had lances, shields and head-axes, they were more than anxious to go, but this we could hardly permit! So we put them in a stockade under guard, and subsisted them ourselves, a thing which necessarily rendered our stay brief, as provisions soon ran low.

The Ifugaos of Banaue showed themselves most friendly, but warned us that a large hostile party was waiting to attack us at Kababuyan, a short distance down the trail. My mission to the Ifugao country was to establish kindly relations with the people rather than kill them, so I did my best to get on good terms with the inhabitants of the more friendly settlements.

The day before we left, people came in haste from a neighbouring village to advise us that one of their men had lost his head to the Ifugaos of Cambúlo, and begged us to join them in a punitive expedition, assuring us that there were numerous pigs and chickens at Cambúlo and that our combined forces would have no difficulty in whipping the people of that place, after which we could have a most enjoyable time plundering the town, while they would secure a goodly toll of heads which might be advantageously employed in further ornamenting their Banaue homes. They were greatly disgusted when we declined to join them, and said they would do the job anyhow, as no doubt they did.

First, however, they insisted that we come with them to see that the story they had told us was true. We soon overtook a procession carrying a very much beheaded man who was being borne out for burial on his shield, and were readily granted permission to attend his funeral. It was an interesting and weird affair. After it was over we hastened back to Banaue, in constant fear of breaking our necks by falling down the high, nearly perpendicular, walls of the rice terraces, on the tops of which we had to walk. Most of us discarded our shoes, in order to minimize the danger of a fall. One member of the party, who insisted on wearing his, glissaded down a steep wall and had to be pulled out of the mud and water at the bottom. Fortunately he was not injured.

Having succeeded beyond our expectations in establishing friendly relations with the Ifugaos of Banaue we took our departure, requesting them to tell their neighbours about us and promising to visit them again. I returned to Bontoc and made my way to Baguio in Benguet through the Agno River valley, stopping at numerous settlements of the Benguet Igorots on the way.

It was not possible for me to make further explorations in the territory of the Luzón wild people until 1905. In this year I set out, accompanied by Mr. Samuel E. Kane, an American who spoke Ilocano exceptionally well, and Colonel Blas Villamor, a former Insurgent officer, who was more familiar with the territory which I desired to visit than any one else of whom I could learn. He had established friendly relations with some of its inhabitants during the insurrection.

We visited several of the wilder settlements of the Tingians in Abra, then made a hard climb over Mount Pico de Loro and descended its eastern slopes to the Tingian village of Balbalasan in the Saltan River valley. Its people, while not really head-hunters, were often obliged to defend themselves against their Kalinga neighbours, and were consequently well armed.

After a brief rest we continued our journey down the Saltan River, visiting settlements on the high hills in its immediate vicinity.

At Salecsec we had an extended conference with an old chief named Atumpa, a very acute man of wide experience and sound judgment, who exercised great influence in the territory through which we had just passed.

Atumpa, satisfied as to our good intentions, consented to accompany us into the Kalinga country. A Kalinga chief named Saking, whom Villamor had known during the insurrection, met us here, and told us of a war trail into his territory which would greatly shorten our proposed journey, and make it possible for us to reach in one day the first of the previously unknown Kalinga settlements of the Mabaca River valley.

Saking, observing that the people in the Saltan valley had cleaned off their old trails, and in some cases had built new ones for our convenience, went ahead of us to his own country in order to try to persuade his people to do some trail work, leaving us to follow him.

Our route lay over the top of a high peak called “Dead Man’s Mountain” because a good many people who tried to climb it never came down, the true explanation of their failure to appear being no doubt that they perished from exposure during violent storms.

While ascending this mountain I suffered an attack of partial paralysis of the legs, due, as I now have reason to believe, to heart strain, but was able to continue the journey after a brief rest and the use of stimulants.

A considerable part of our trip down the steep northern slopes of this mountain was made by utilizing a stream bed in lieu of a trail, and was in consequence very uncomfortable and somewhat dangerous, as the chance for broken bones was good. Fortunately, however, no one was badly hurt.

At the first Kalinga village we found about a hundred and twenty fighting men armed with shields and head-axes, but Saking and his brother Bakidan at once came forward to greet us and we did not suspect mischief.

I had brought with me from Manila a great bag of newly coined pennies. They looked like gold, and we distributed them among the warriors, who were greatly delighted and promptly proceeded to place them in the ends of the huge ear plugs which the men of this tribe are so fond of wearing. Every one seemed friendly enough at the outset, but soon a rather disturbing incident occurred.

An Ifugao School.

A Filipina woman is teaching Ifugao boys to read English.

There were eight chiefs present. I noticed that they suddenly withdrew a short distance and squatted all together in a circle as if by word of command. After a brief but very animated discussion they rose simultaneously, and six of them started down the trail at a run, while Bakidan and Saking came to us and somewhat anxiously suggested that it was time to be moving on.

Our way lay through enormous runo grass which closed in over our heads, so that we were marching in a rather low tunnel through the vegetation. Bakidan went ahead of us, Saking brought up the rear, and both were evidently on the alert. Bakidan suggested that we keep our revolvers handy, which we did.

A short march brought us to Saking’s place. Here a still larger body of fighting men awaited us, and there were no women in evidence except Saking’s wife, who, at the direction of her husband, came forward, and under his instructions sought to shake hands with us. This was a new ceremony to the Kalingas, and she gave us her left hand.

Standing in a conspicuous place in front of Saking’s house were two baskets filled with flowers which were wet with blood. We surmised, rightly, as it later proved, that these baskets had contained human heads just before our arrival, and that we had interrupted a head-cañao.[2]

One did not need to be an expert in the moods of wild men to see that the people of this place were feeling ugly, and after shaking hands with Saking’s wife we promptly marched on.

It was fortunate for us that we did so. We later learned that the conference of the eight chiefs which aroused our suspicion had been held to discuss our fate. Six of them were in favor of killing us immediately, arguing that we were the first white men to penetrate their country; that they might have to carry our baggage, which would be a lot of trouble; and that if they allowed us to pass through others might follow us, whereas if they killed us they would have no further trouble with strangers. Saking was severely criticized for having told us the whereabouts of the war trail over which we had come, and was appointed a committee of one on extermination, with power to act. In fact, he was directed to take his people and kill us, but he declined to obey instructions, and the other chiefs had run down the trail ahead of us in order to gather a sufficient force to wipe our party out. Saking’s people were somewhat loath to act under the orders of any one else, and our sojourn among them was so brief that they did not have time definitely to make up their minds to attack us.

We now rapidly completed our journey to Bakidan’s place, where we were to spend the night. Here again a crowd of armed fighting men awaited us. It was momentarily augmented by the arrival of recruits from the villages through which we had just passed.

Still unsuspicious of mischief, we turned our revolvers over to one of our Ilocano companions, a man named Lucio, who had served as Aguinaldo’s mail-carrier during the latter days of the insurrection. We then walked into the middle of the crowd and sat down on pieces of our own luggage.

Bakidan immediately brought me a small wicker basket of very dirty looking bananas. I was nauseated as a result of severe exertion in climbing Dead Man’s Mountain, and the bananas did not look appetizing, so I thanked him and put the basket on my lap. Instantly I felt strong tension rising in the crowd. We had brought along chief Atumpa and several friendly Kalingas from the Saltan River valley. They seized their head-axes and stepped in behind us, facing out. Bakidan instantly withdrew into his own house, and from a point where hardly any one except myself could see him made emphatic gestures, indicating that I was to eat. Little suspecting the significance of the act, but desirous of placating his outraged feelings if he felt that his hospitality had not been appreciated, I hastily peeled a banana and took a bite. To my amazement, there was an instant and obvious relaxation of tension in the crowd. The Kalinga warriors loosened their grip on their head-axes and began to walk about and talk. My own old men also assumed an air of indifference.

Much puzzled, I made up my mind to look into this matter further, and later learned that when people from one Kalinga settlement visit those of another if the latter wish to be friendly it is customary for them to offer the visitors salt if they have it, bananas if salt is lacking, and water in the event that neither salt nor bananas are available. If the visitors wish to accept the friendship thus proffered, they promptly eat or drink, as the case may be; otherwise it is understood that they have come looking for trouble.

Bakidan had ceremonially proffered the friendship of himself and his people, and in my ignorance I had practically declared war on the whole outfit! When I learned these facts I asked Bakidan why they did not kill us at once. He said they were afraid. I expressed my surprise that they should be afraid of three unarmed men, and he explained that it was very bad etiquette in the Kalinga country for a person with a head-axe to go behind another, and that we had amazed every one when we walked into the midst of that gathering of armed men and sat down with our backs to half of them. They instantly concluded that we had, concealed about our persons, some new and strange device with which we could annihilate a crowd, hence they were afraid!

Here, as at Saking’s place, we had interrupted a head-cañao. The head had been smuggled out of sight just before our arrival. The cañao was now renewed and continued all night, although the head was not again put in evidence. It is needless to say that we attended. We witnessed one of the weirdest sights I have ever seen.

The following day was spent in distributing presents to the Kalinga head-men, in taking photographs, and in getting a little much needed rest. As evening drew near Bakidan suggested that it was about time we formally made friends with each other. We were beginning to feel rather far away from home, and wanted all the friends we could get, so promptly acceded to his suggestion and repaired to his house at eight o’clock, the hour he had indicated.

The ceremony proved very simple. His wife fried some boiled rice in fat—dog fat as we afterward learned, but fortunately we did not know this at the moment! We all squatted on the floor, Bakidan facing us, and the dish of fried rice was placed between us. He squeezed a mass of it into a ball and gave it to me. I ate it, and then rendered him a similar service. He ate in turn, and we were friends! The same procedure was followed with each of my companions.

In the midst of the ceremony there came a very unexpected interruption. A Kalinga woman was standing near me holding a torch. She had been silent and had seemed timid. I chanced to stretch out my right hand palm up. To my surprise she uttered an exclamation which was almost a shriek, seized my wrist and began to point excitedly to the lines in my palm. The other Kalingas gathered about, evidently greatly interested. Several of them showed the lines in the palms of their own hands, and an animated conversation ensued. I asked what it all meant, and was informed that I was going to become a man of great influence! I had already modestly introduced myself as the ruler of all non-Christians, so found this reply unsatisfactory, but could get no other.

It was fortunate indeed for us that we made friends with Bakidan. On the following day we continued our journey down the valley. Our baggage was carried by women, children and a few old and more or less decrepit warriors who obviously felt deeply insulted at being required to render such a menial service, and were decidedly resentful toward Bakidan for having ordered them to do it.

Before we started Bakidan warned us that the Kalingas were queer people, and in consequence it would be well for us very quietly to go around certain of their settlements. Others we would visit. Their inhabitants would be sure to invite us to stay and enjoy their hospitality. He would second every such invitation. We were to pay no attention to his words, but were to note whether or not he sat down. If he did, we might accept the invitation. Otherwise we must plead an urgent engagement farther down the valley and move on.

Things came out exactly as he had foretold. In several villages we heard noises decidedly suggestive of head cañaos, and discreetly circled these places. We declined all invitations seconded by Bakidan when he did not seat himself, and rested comfortably for a time in several villages where he did.

Toward noon we walked straight into an ambush laid for us in the runo grass, discovering it only when Bakidan began to deliver a forceful oration in which he set forth the fact that he had a right to stroll down his own valley with a party of friends without being annoyed by having his fellow tribesmen hide beside the trail and prepare to throw lances.

Bakidan, who was himself a famous warrior, told these men that they might kill us if they saw fit to do so, but must kill him first. Apparently rather ashamed of themselves, they came out on to the trail and slunk off to their town. Bakidan, greatly disgusted, suggested that we follow them and lunch in their village just to show that we were not afraid of them, and we did this.

After lunch I photographed a number of our late opponents, and we then continued our journey, escorted by a Kalinga chief named Bogauit from Took-Took. This man had previously descended to the Cagayan valley, where he had seen white people, and hearing of our advent in the Kalinga country, and fearing that we might have trouble in getting carriers for our baggage, had come with his fighting men to help us out.

The people of his village received us in a most friendly spirit, and after attending a bit of a cañao organized in our honour, and doing our best to entertain the crowd with a few simple experiments in physics, and some sleight-of-hand tricks, we retired, as we supposed, for a peaceful night’s rest.

No such good fortune awaited us. We were aroused in the middle of the night by a fearful din only to find our hut surrounded by a great circle of armed men. The people who had attempted to ambush us earlier in the day had repented of their action in letting us pass through unharmed, had gathered a strong force of fighting men, had surrounded our house and were now vociferously demanding to be allowed to take our heads.

Old Bakidan was apparently fighting a duel with their chief in the midst of the circle. The two men were dancing around each other with cat-like steps, occasionally coming to close quarters and clashing shields, then leaping apart, swinging their head-axes and obviously watching for an opportunity to strike home. Had either of them gained any decided advantage of position he would doubtless have used his head-axe, and this would have started a fight which could have had but one ending.

The Sub-provincial Building at Quiangan.

All the work of preparing materials for this building and of erecting it was done by Ifugao school-boys under the direction of a foreman. It was not quite completed when this photograph was taken.

Owing to a mistake made when the ammunition for our trip was purchased, we had just twenty-two revolver cartridges amongst us, and in the darkness they would have been worth about as much as so many firecrackers. The roof of the house was dry as tinder; a blazing brand thrown on it would promptly have forced us into the open. We should have been met by a flight of head-axes and lances, and this book would not have been written!

The majority of the crowd were determined to take our heads. The Took-Took people, greatly outnumbered, were evidently on the fence, and Bakidan was our only advocate. He still insisted that any one who wished to kill us must kill him first. His reputation stood him in good stead, and no one tackled the job. The uproar continued until nearly morning. Bási, a strong native liquor, was constantly passed. Indeed, every one but Bakidan had been drunk when we were first awakened. Finally food was handed around, and when the excited warriors stopped yelling in order to eat it the liquor had a chance to work, and most of them went to sleep.

We might probably have then effected our escape for the time being, but it was utterly impossible for us to get out of the country without the assistance of the Kalingas, and we decided to see the thing out right there.

In the morning the crowd was uglier than ever. As we crossed the little plaza they suddenly closed in on us with the obvious intention of doing for us, and we thought the end had come. At this critical moment a diversion was created in our favour by the wholly unexpected arrival of a letter brought in by a Kalinga runner. It had followed us all the way from Abra, and contained information about two pieces of baggage which were missing when we started. Its arrival greatly alarmed the hostiles, who interrogated me as to whether soldiers were coming. They had heard of soldiers, but had never seen them. I assured them that the arrival or non-arrival of soldiers would depend on the way they treated us, and to our utter amazement, they presently faded away.

The Took-Took people again showed themselves friendly when their unwelcome visitors had departed, and made us bamboo rafts on which we descended the river.

Our voyage was a decidedly adventurous one. Our rafts were repeatedly smashed by the swift current. As we approached each Kalinga village we were met by a reception committee carrying a bunch of bananas, followed at a short interval by a crowd of fighting men fully armed, and were thus given an opportunity to decide whether there should be peace or war. Needless to say, we voted for peace every time. I ate bananas until it was difficult to find room for more!

We spent the night at the rancheria of a friendly, white-haired old chief who had been to Tuguegarao, the capital of Cagayan, and knew a few words of Spanish. The next day we reached the settlement of Chief Doget, who had a wonderful house of red narra, a wood which closely resembles mahogany. It was furnished with beds, chairs and tables obtained from the Spaniards. Here we were able to rest in peace.

After sleeping the clock twice around, we continued our journey, and at dusk reached the Filipino town of Tuao, glad enough to get back to civilization and feeling that the kindly Providence which watches over fools, drunken men and children had had its eye on us. Without escort, and armed only with six-shooters rendered almost useless by lack of ammunition, we had completed the first trip ever made through the Kalinga country, and had done it without firing a shot and without losing a man.

This trip marked for me the beginning of friendly relations with the Kalingas. They have never since been interrupted, and now, when I ride a fast American horse rapidly over the splendid trails which cross their country from south to north and from west to east, or meet at Lubuagan the fighting men who were once so anxious to take my head but now make a long journey yearly in order to see me, I realize, as perhaps no one else does, how very materially conditions in Kalinga have changed.

It had been our intention, after spending a brief period in recuperation at Tuao, to proceed to Malaueg and continue our journey through the absolutely unknown country of the Apayaos, but we found it impossible to secure guides. The leading men of Malaueg, who came to Tuao to meet us, assured us that there were no trails known to them, which was untrue, and added that they would not under any circumstances consider trying to enter the territory of the fierce Apayao head-hunters.

We accordingly proceeded to Tuguegarao, the capital of Cagayan, intending to descend the Cagayan River to Aparri, go overland to Abulúg or Pamplona and there get guides and carriers.

At Tuguegarao, however, we found assembled the presidentes of all the Cagayan towns. Those from Abulúg and Pamplona positively assured me that there were no trails thence into the Apayao country, and that guides and carriers would be absolutely unobtainable. I insisted that I would visit their towns and ask them to accompany me, whereupon they actually wrung their hands and wept, complaining that the people of Apayao used bows and poisoned arrows.

In disgust I told them that I would abandon the trip for that year, but the following year would go to Laoág in North Ilocos, cross the “Cordillera Central” and come out through the Apayao country, taking with me Ilocano guides and carriers, as the Ilocanos were real men.

I then proceeded up the river to Ilagan and went overland through Nueva Vizcaya, ultimately crossing Ifugao from east to west and thoroughly exploring the territory from which I had been excluded on my previous trip; proceeding thence to Bontoc and Cervantes over a route new to me, and finally returning through Benguet and Pangasinán to the railroad, where I took train for Manila.

The following year I carried out my promise, taking with me Colonel Villamor, who had rendered very valuable and satisfactory assistance on my previous trip. I also had three white companions, Dr. Paul C. Freer, superintendent of government laboratories, Major Samuel Crawford and Lieutenant L. D. Atkins. These officers commanded a detachment of twenty-five Ilocano constabulary soldiers which I reluctantly took along, warned by my experience of the previous year and convinced by the arguments of my Ilocano carriers, who declined to accompany me unless I took an armed escort.

Prior to my departure from Manila I had received an urgent telegram from the governor of North Ilocos informing me that one Abaya, a wild Tingian from Apayao, had been sentenced to a term of imprisonment in Bilibid, the insular penitentiary, and urging me to arrange if possible to have him detained at Laoag until my arrival there, which I did.

On reaching Laoag, I was amazed to find a large delegation of fully armed Apayao men waiting for me at the river bank. They followed me to the house where my quarters were to be, and sat down on the stairway, with the obvious intention of seeing that I did not leave without their knowledge.

On asking the meaning of this occurrence, I was told that they were friends of Abaya and wished to talk with me. When given an opportunity to do so, they told me a singular tale, which admirably illustrates the relations prevailing in that region between the wild men and their Filipino neighbours.

Abaya was one of a few men in Apayao who dared to descend to the lowlands. He came down occasionally, bringing tobacco and wax to barter for cloth, steel, salt and other necessaries not obtainable in Apayao. Being unable to speak Ilocano well, he obtained a Filipino agent known as his “commissioner,” who transacted his business for him, withholding for himself a liberal percentage of the proceeds.

On the occasion of his last visit to the lowlands, the “commissioner” had told Abaya that he had a Negrito slave who was planning to escape, and had directed him to take his head-axe and kill the Negrito, promising him half of a large pig in payment for this service.

Abaya, nothing loth, hastened to execute the order, hunting up the Negrito and aiming a terrific blow at him. Fortunately the Negrito saw it coming and jumped so that he received it on his shoulder instead of his neck. It inflicted a horrible wound, but he nevertheless ran away so fast that Abaya was unable to catch him and finish the job. He returned and regretfully reported his lack of success to his “commissioner.” To his amazement he was arrested, taken to Laoag and held for trial. Both he and his friends were convinced that the reason for this was his failure to kill the Negrito, and the friends assured me in the most positive terms that Abaya had done his very best and that it was through no fault of his that the Negrito had escaped! They demanded his immediate release.

Meanwhile I had been informed by the governor of the province that Abaya’s people had threatened to come and wipe out the village where his “commissioner” lived, and also to kill all of the Negritos in that vicinity in revenge for the arrest and imprisonment of their chief.

It struck me that the “commissioner” was the man who ought to be in jail, but I did not care to allow the Apayao people to think that they could make such threats with impunity, so asked them whether it was true that they were planning to wipe out the village in question. They said yes. I then told them that they must not do it. They expressed a willingness to obey any instructions that I might give to them. I asked whether their promise to let the village alone was dependent upon Abaya’s being set at liberty, and they answered no. We then took up the question of killing the Negritos. They were greatly amazed that I should object to this, urging that they had always fought the Negritos, and that the latter were bad people who constantly made trouble with their poisoned arrows; theretofore it had been considered commendable to kill as many as possible. However, they said that they would let the Negritos alone if I insisted upon it, irrespective of whether or not Abaya was released. Having duly impressed them with the fact that the matter of the release of Abaya must stand on its own merits, and could not be made to depend on their subsequent good or bad conduct, and having interviewed the Filipino judge who sentenced Abaya and learned that he had been puzzled to know what to do and was heartily in favour of having him pardoned, I telegraphed to the acting governor-general requesting that this be done, and continued my journey, leaving word that Abaya should follow me if set at liberty.

He was promptly pardoned. His people insisted that he join them and take to the mountains, but he told his friends that since I had secured his release he would do what I had asked. He overtook me before I had finished my second day’s march, and stayed with me until I gave him leave to go his way!

Our climb over the cordillera was by no means a pleasure trip. We were forced to use beds of streams and Tingian warpaths in lieu of trails. At one time our way lay over wet limestone rocks which were slippery as ice. Here our hobnailed shoes were a positive source of danger. The feet of our carriers were badly torn, and we ourselves suffered from occasional falls on the sharp rocks. We secured the help of some additional Tingians whom we met journeying to the coast, paying them liberally enough so that they were willing to abandon their proposed trip and accompany us.

We sent all of our Tingian companions ahead to give notice of our friendly intentions before reaching the first village in Apayao, but its inhabitants nevertheless ran away. Thoroughly exhausted, we decided to spend a night there. In the course of the afternoon our men were able to bring in some of their fellow tribesmen who lived in the vicinity, and we made friends with them.

From this point a half day’s march brought us to the head-waters of the Abulúg River at a point where it was navigable for bamboo rafts. We delayed at a little village until we could construct rafts enough to float our large party, and then started downstream, knowing that we should meet plenty of people, for the Tingians of Apayao are fond of placing their villages on river banks.

Our trip was a wild and adventurous one. Fortunately I had purchased some twenty dollars’ worth of beads and with these I made at least twenty-five hundred presents! The friendship of the women at the first town which we met was thus secured, and thereafter the “grapevine telegraph” worked ahead of us and we found waiting delegations of women and girls on the river bank at almost every village. So long as they were about, it was reasonably certain that the men would not make any hostile demonstration.

The trip proved a great success in every way. Many of the numerous settlements which we visited were at war with each other. One had just been attacked, and a number of its people had lost their heads, literally. We were constantly warned that the residents of the next town down the river were “bad people” and that “five hundred” of them were waiting in the river bed to attack us, but only once were we in any real danger of being molested, and even then diplomacy prevailed.

We were careful to respect local customs. One town was reported to be cañao, which is equivalent to “taboo,” because of the death of the wife of the headman, and we religiously kept away from it. Another was cañao because of a virulent epidemic of smallpox, and we were more than willing to keep away from that one!

We bumped down rapids and shot over several low falls. Again and again our rafts were torn to pieces and we were precipitated into the rushing stream. At one time a constabulary soldier was under water for some ten minutes, and we thought him dead when he was first fished out, but finally succeeded in resuscitating him.

We had been told that the trip would take eight days and had made our plans accordingly. It took fifteen. Food ran short. Shoes and clothing gave out. Some of our soldiers were dressed in clouts before we reached civilization, and crawfishes on which our men could pounce along the edges of the river were out of luck!

I shall long remember the shout of delight which our Filipino companions set up when we finally passed through the last mountain gap and came out into the open country, but as a matter of fact the most disagreeable part of our journey lay before us. Up to that time our progress had been rapid and exciting. Now the current of the river grew sluggish, and we were largely dependent on it, as our rafts were too heavy to paddle and the stream was in many places so deep that we could not pole them.

We found ourselves in the country of very wild Negritos. Our Tingian friends had informed us that these people would certainly sneak up and shoot arrows into our camps at night, but nothing of the sort occurred. On the contrary, through the liberal use of scarlet cotton cloth, we were able to establish very friendly relations with the Negritos encountered, some of whom gave us in exchange deer meat enough for a feast, which was highly appreciated by all concerned.

On arrival at Abulúg we were received with great surprise by the people, who had heard that we had been attacked and killed. There I developed malaria and contracted bronchitis.

We made our way up the Cagayan River to Ilagan and thence proceeded overland to the Kalinga villages in the vicinity of Sili. At the latter place we had an amusing experience. Knowing that we were going to Mayoyao, some Ifugaos from that town had joined our party for protection. A delegation of Sili Kalingas waited on us during the lunch hour and politely asked to be allowed to take the heads of these Ifugaos, saying that they needed some fresh heads, and that it would save a lot of trouble if they could have these, so providentially brought to them by their respective owners. I explained to them that we really needed the Ifugaos, and they politely waived their claim to them in our favour!

Ifugao Constabulary Soldiers.

These men are brave, efficient, and loyal. They shoot with extraordinary accuracy. The Filipino officer at the left, Lieutenant Maximo Meimban, has long rendered efficient service in Ifugao.

I had been assured that I could ride a horse to Mayoyao in two and a half days. The trip took five days. Much of the way horses were worse than useless. Before we reached our destination my bronchitis had developed into pneumonia and I was very ill. My white companions on the Apayao trip had long since left me, but at Ilagan I had been joined by Señor Claraval, who was later elected governor of Isabela, and by an American school-teacher. Colonel Villamor had stayed with me. Now all my companions turned back and I continued my journey accompanied only by Ifugaos and by a young lieutenant of constabulary named Gallman, who had then just come to the Ifugao country but was later destined to play a most remarkable part in bringing its warlike people under control and starting them on the road toward civilization.

Our route from Mayoyao to Banaue of necessity followed the Ifugao war trails, which invariably run along the crests of mountains so as to command a view in both directions. The country through which we passed was frightfully broken, and I could hardly stand.

Wherever it was humanly possible to do so, the Ifugaos carried me in a blanket slung under a pole. They took me up almost perpendicular ascents in this way, but in some cases the ascents were quite perpendicular and the descents the same, so that I had to try to climb, constantly falling as the result of weakness and exhaustion, in spite of the efforts of the Ifugaos to keep me on my feet. We reached Dukligan at dusk and there we spent the night.

In the morning I found myself unable to rise, so took a stiff dose of whiskey. As this failed to produce the desired result, I took a second and finally a third. Under the potent influence of the stimulant I managed to get up. The willing Ifugaos carried me clear to the rice terraces near Banaue, making a joke of the hard work involved. There were always a dozen men on the pole, and whenever one set of carriers grew weary there was a scramble, closely approaching a fight, to determine who should be allowed next to take their places.

These jolly people constantly gave a peculiar shout which was ridiculously like an American college cheer. Ill as I was, I almost enjoyed the trip, and conceived a great liking for the splendidly developed men who were seeing me through in such gallant style. Had it not been for their kindness, I should certainly have left my bones somewhere between Mayoyao and Banaue.

They were determined to lug me through the rice terraces, but as it took at least four men to carry me, and the weight of the five of us was sufficient to cause the tops of the high terrace walls to crumble so that I had several narrow escapes from falling down them, I climbed out of my extemporized hammock, took one more big drink of raw whiskey and on the strength of it managed to stagger along to the river, where I was amazed to find a horse awaiting me. Nothing ever looked better to me than did that somewhat decrepit animal!

I was absolutely unfit to travel, but having rested at Banaue for half a day, and realizing that it was imperatively necessary that I should get to a doctor at once, I made what was then record time to Banaue, Bontoc, Cervantes and Baguio, and on arrival at the latter place proceeded to go to bed and be comfortably ill.

Tramping over the northern Luzón mountains with my lungs partly solidified left my pumping machinery in such shape that I have never since been able to make a hard trip on foot, but that is no longer necessary. Splendid horse trails now make travel through this region a pleasure.

When we crossed Apayao only one other white man had achieved the feat. This was a good missionary priest who in 1741 traversed the country between Abulúg and one of the North Ilocos towns.

Lieutenant Gilmore’s[3] Filipino captors took him and his companions across a corner of Apayao, and instead of murdering them in the forest, as they had been ordered to do, turned them loose. They made their way across a portion of the territory traversed by us, and had reached the Abulúg River and were attempting to build rafts when overtaken by a rescue party of American soldiers. All hands then descended the river to the town of Abulúg, and proceeded overland to Aparri.

Colonel Hood, who was commanding the United States forces there, declined to let them enter the town until they had been provided with decent clothing, thinking that the sight of American soldiers clad in clouts might be too much of a shock to the inhabitants!

In 1907 I was able to land at various points along the then absolutely unknown Pacific coast of northeastern Luzón, but failed to get into touch with the Negritos, who constitute its sole inhabitants, until near Palanan, the northernmost settlement of Filipinos on the east coast.

With this trip my exploration work in northern Luzón ended, although I have ever since made extended annual trips through the non-Christian territory of the island.

During the years covered by this hasty narrative, I also made trips to the territory of the wild men in Mindoro, Palawan, and Mindanao, as opportunity offered. In Spanish days I had lived among the Moros and had visited the mountains of Negros and Panay and seen something of the wild men living there, so that I finally gained a fairly comprehensive knowledge of the non-Christian tribes of the Philippines, having seen representatives of nearly all of them,[4] and lived for longer or shorter periods among all except some of the more unimportant peoples in the interior of Mindanao.

As a result of these personal investigations I was able to reduce to twenty-seven the eighty-two non-Christian tribes said by Blumentritt to inhabit the Philippines; to determine with reasonable accuracy the territory occupied by each, and not only to become familiar with the manners and customs of the people of each important tribe, but to establish relations of personal friendship with many chiefs and headmen which have proved invaluable to me in my subsequent work for the betterment of the non-Christian peoples which has so irritated certain Filipino politicians who have wished to continue to oppress and exploit them, or, like Judge Blount, have sought to minimize their importance.

The latter individual seems to regard my past efforts to portray actual conditions among the wild men as a personal grievance, and has devoted an entire chapter to the shortcomings of “Non-Christian Worcester.” In it he says of me that I impressed him as “an overbearing bully of the beggar-on-horseback type”; that I am “the P. T. Barnum of the ‘non-Christian tribe’ industry”; that “in the early nineties he [Non-Christian Worcester] had made a trip to the Philippines, confining himself then mostly to creeping things and quadrupeds—lizards, alligators, pythons, unusual wild beasts, and other forms of animal life of the kind much coveted as specimens by museums and universities,” and goes on to tell how it was that “the reptile-finder ultimately became a statesman.” The Honourable Judge summarizes his views concerning me by stating that he “considers Professor Worcester the direst calamity that has befallen the Filipinos since the American occupation, neither war, pestilence, famine, reconcentration nor tariff-wrought poverty excepted.” He describes the experience on which he bases these statements as follows: “During all my stay in the Philippines I never did have any official relations of any sort with the Professor, and only met him, casually, once, in 1901.”

This latter statement is correct to the best of my recollection. “A man is known by the company he keeps.” I feel that I have been fortunate in my friends and singularly blessed in my enemies! If I do not in turn attack the Philippine career of Judge Blount, it is not for lack of abundant ammunition, but for the reason that I believe that the American public will be more interested in the truth or falsity of the allegations concerning more important matters which we respectively make than in our opinions of each other.

The Judge seems to have overlooked the fact that invective is not argument. I leave to him the use of needlessly abusive and insulting language. He has also apparently overlooked the further fact that disregard of the truth is apt, sooner or later, to bring its own peculiar reward. Later I call attention to certain of his misstatements concerning the wild peoples of the Philippines, and correct them.