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 [502]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 summary7 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, [503]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 [504]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 [505]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 [506]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. Barrio10 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. [507]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 [508]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.

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 [509]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 [510]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 [511]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 [512]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:—

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 [514]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 [515]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 League13 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 [516]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.

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 [517]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 [518]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 hectare14 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:—

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 [519]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 [520]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 [521]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 [522]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:— [523]

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 [524]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.

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 date15 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 [525]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 [526]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: [527]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 [528]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 [529]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. [530]

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 [531]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. [532]

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 [533]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 [534]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.

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. [535]

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 [536]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 [537]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 [538]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. [539]

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 [540]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.

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 [541]

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 [542]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 [543]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. [544]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 [545]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.

[546]

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 [547]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 [548]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. [549]

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 [550]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 [551]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 [552]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! [553]

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 [554]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!

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, [555]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 [556]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’s3 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 [557]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 [558]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. [559]

When I visited Benguet in July and August of 1900, I found conditions there such that the early establishment of civil government seemed practicable and desirable. The people had taken no part in the insurrection and nowhere in the province was there any resistance to American authority. An act providing for the government of the province and its settlements was accordingly passed on November 23, 1900, Benguet being thus the first province to pass from the control of the military.

In drafting this act I was fortunate in having the coöperation of Mr. Otto Scheerer, a German citizen who had lived for a number of years among the Benguet Igorots, understood them fully and was most kindly disposed toward them.

The Benguet law, in considerably amplified form, was applied to Nueva Vizcaya when that province was organized on January 28, 1902, and on April 7, 1902, a carefully considered act entitled “An Act providing for the Establishment of Local Civil Governments in the Townships and Settlements of Nueva Vizcaya” was passed by the commission.

On May 28, 1902, the province of Lepanto-Bontoc was established. It had three sub-provinces, Amburayan, Lepanto and Bontoc. The two Nueva Vizcaya acts above mentioned were made applicable to it, and to its towns, respectively.

On June 23, 1902, an act was passed organizing the province of Palawan (Paragua) and extending to it, and to its towns, the more essential provisions of the two Nueva Vizcaya acts. [560]

On the same day Mindoro was incorporated with the province of Marinduque under the regular Provincial Government Act, which was then being made applicable to all provinces populated chiefly by Filipinos. As might have been anticipated, it did not prove feasible properly to administer the affairs of Mindoro under this act, and on November 10, 1902, a province of Mindoro, including the main island and numerous neighbouring small islands, was established under a law embodying the essential provisions of the Nueva Vizcaya Act. Certain provisions of the Nueva Vizcaya township and settlement act were made applicable to its municipalities, while on December 4, 1902, other provisions of the same act were made applicable to the settlements of the wild Mangyans, who occupy the whole interior of this great island so far as it is occupied at all.

The desirability of uniform legislation for the government of the non-Christian tribes, except those of the Moro Province, soon became evident, and after much experience in the practical working of the several acts above mentioned under the conditions presented in the five provinces, Benguet, Nueva Vizcaya, Lepanto-Bontoc, Palawan and Mindoro, I drafted the so-called “Special Provincial Government Act,” and “The Township Government Act.” The former was made applicable to the five provinces above mentioned, and the latter to all settlements of non-Christian tribes throughout the Philippines except those of the Moro Province.

On August 20, 1907, an act was passed carving the province of Agusan out of territory which had previously belonged to Surigao and Misamis, and organizing it under the Special Provincial Government Act.

Finally, on August 18, 1908, the Mountain Province was established in northern Luzón.

At the same time that the Ifugao territory was separated from Nueva Vizcaya there was added to the latter province the Ilongot territory previously divided between Isabela, Tayabas, Nueva Ecija and Pangasinán. [561]

Before considering the details of the work accomplished in the several special government provinces and sub-provinces, I will state the general principles which have been found useful in bringing the non-Christian peoples under control and in establishing friendly relations with them, and will explain how these principles have been applied in actual practice.

I have always considered the opening up of adequate lines of communication an indispensable prerequisite to the control and development of any country, and this is especially true of the territory of the wild man. No matter how unruly he may be, he is apt to become good when one can call on him at 2.30 A.M., since that is the hour when devils, anítos and asuáng are abroad, and he therefore wants to stay peaceably in his own house! Again and again we have built a trail to an ugly, fighting, head-hunting settlement whose people have at first thrown spears at our road labourers, but later, when they found that the trail was really going to arrive, have ended by building one out to meet it. Constabulary garrisons which we have expected to be forced to establish have often proved unnecessary when communication was opened up.

We have had scanty funds for public works in these regions. At the outset I had to get along with four or five thousand dollars a year in the territory now included in the Mountain Province and the task which confronted me seemed utterly hopeless. Nevertheless, I made a beginning and did the best I could. Now the Mountain Province has annual receipts of about $85,000, of which some $65,000 are expended for public works and permanent improvements. This is made possible by the fact that the salaries and wages of the provincial officers, and certain contingent expenses as well, are met by direct appropriation of insular funds.

Another principle to which I have steadfastly adhered is never to impose taxes on a wild man until he can be [562]made to realize that direct good to him will result from their collection. One of several reasons why the Spaniards never could dominate the hill people of Luzón was that they insisted at the very outset upon exacting “tribute” from them. The hill people regarded the money thus contributed as a present to the man who collected it, and rebelled against making presents to people who did not treat them well and whom they did not like.

The most important tax in the special government provinces is the so-called “public improvement tax.”

The law imposing it does not become operative on the non-Christians of any given territory without the prior approval of the secretary of the interior.

It provides for the collection from every able-bodied adult male between the ages of 18 and 55 of an annual contribution of two pesos.1 The taxpayer is allowed to render ten days of service upon public works in lieu of cash payment if he prefers, and most non-Christians do prefer to settle the obligation in this way. All money derived from this source is expended on public works, going to pay for supervision, dynamite, powder, caps, fuse, steel, road tools and the like, as it is seldom necessary to hire labourers.

We paid for all labour on the first trails constructed, and it was only when the people themselves learned to comprehend the usefulness to them of improved means of communication that I made the public improvement tax applicable to them.

Except under very special circumstances, I did not allow the construction of a trail with a grade higher than six per cent. There are two reasons for this rule. First, the torrential rain-storms of the tropics rapidly destroy high-grade trails in spite of all efforts to provide adequate drainage; second, if trails are constructed on low grades, every shovelful of earth which is thrown is just so much accomplished toward the eventual opening up of cart [563]roads, carriage roads or automobile roads, the whole subsequent question involved being one of widening and surfacing.

In constructing a trail we first carefully stake what seems the best possible line between the two points to be connected; then build on this line a path which is cut into the hill2 four feet, the dirt being thrown outward. No special effort is made to give the bank a proper slope; the Almighty does this in the course of the first rainy season, when the earth sloughs off on to the trail in those places where it stands too steeply. It is then promptly thrown off the road-bed while still loose, and much hard pick and shovel work and many “pop shots” are thus saved. Only the most necessary drainage is provided before the first rainy season, for the reason that experience has shown that what seem dry beds of streams and look as if they would be converted into raging torrents during the rainy season sometimes then hardly carry water enough to wash one’s face in; while, on the other hand, destructive torrents come charging down the crests of hogbacks in places where one would least expect them, and cut out the trail completely where they strike it. With the first rain the maintenance gangs get to work, noting where drainage is especially needed and providing it, throwing off loose earth and stones when slides occur, and widening the trail or cutting off sharp corners when not otherwise engaged.

American and Filipino road foremen were at first used for trail construction, but the Igorots, Ifugaos and Kalingas, all of whom are very intelligent people, soon learned to serve as foremen. I had Ifugaos who ran about clad in clouts only, but were nevertheless quite capable of carrying a road or trail across the face of a precipice, doing all of the powder work.

The wild men soon learn to take great pride in their trails, and usually keep them in an excellent state of repair. [564]It is a remarkable fact that on the thousand miles of road and trail which have been constructed since the American occupation in the Mountain Province and Nueva Vizcaya no one has as yet been murdered. In the wildest regions there has been an understanding from the outset that people travelling over government roads were to be let alone!

The establishment of government, and of a decent state of public order, have gone hand in hand with the opening up of lines of communication. Wherever practicable it is highly desirable to police the wild man’s country with wild men, and this has proved far easier than was anticipated. The Bontoc Igorots make good, and the Ifugaos most excellent, constabulary soldiers. They are faithful, efficient, absolutely loyal and implicitly obedient. The Ifugaos are born riflemen, and their carbine practice is little short of marvellous when one considers their very limited experience. Natural fighters as they are, the people of these two tribes make the best of soldiers. They are absolutely fearless, and fight much as do the Ghurkas of India. Benguet Igorots and Kalingas are now being enlisted as constabulary soldiers, and from the very outset the people of many of the non-Christian tribes of the islands have been used as policemen in their own territory.

The annual inspection trip which the secretary of the interior is required by law to make to every province organized under the special provincial government act has become very important in the control and advancement of the non-Christian tribes.

It is now customary to hold fiestas, or as they are locally designated, cañaos, at central points, to which are invited great numbers of the wild people from the neighbouring country. At the outset these gatherings served to bring together men who had hardly seen each other except over the tops of their shields when lances were flying. They were all friendly with me, but they were by no means friendly with each other, and trouble threatened on various [565]occasions. Within the space of thirty seconds I have seen a couple of thousand men draw their war knives and snatch up their lances, and have feared that a record killing was about to occur, but in the end the excited warriors always quieted down.

We took advantage of these great gatherings to bring about the settlement of old difficulties between hostile towns and they have thus proved an important factor in the establishment of peace and order throughout the wild man’s territory. Furthermore, they afford excellent opportunity to discuss past events and future plans under the most favourable conditions. I well remember the occasion on which the Ifugao headman of Quiangan requested that the public improvement tax be imposed upon them and their fellow tribesmen. There was at that time but one decent trail in this sub-province. It had been built by paid labour. Some of the headmen who had gone to Bontoc with me had seen excellent trails there and had asked why Ifugao could not have some just as good. I had replied that the Bontoc Igorots were more civilized than the Ifugaos and had come so to appreciate the benefit of trails that they were willing to build them without being paid for their labour. Vehement exception was taken to my contention that the Bontoc Igorots were further advanced than the Ifugaos. The latter insisted that they were much better men than the Igorots, and could and would build better trails. I explained to them in detail the practical working of the public improvement tax, and asked if they would be willing to have this contribution imposed on them. They insisted that they wanted it, and I finally gave it to them, although I doubted their ability to bring their people into line. On the following day there was a precisely similar occurrence at Banaue. I soon found that I had underrated the influence of the headmen. That year twenty thousand Ifugaos worked out their road tax. The following year twenty-four thousand men rendered the prescribed ten days’ service; and the number [566]has steadily increased year by year ever since, with the result that the sub-province is crisscrossed with trails, many of which are already wide enough for considerable distances to permit the passage of automobiles if they could be brought there, while the main line of communication with Bontoc on the one hand and the capital of Nueva Vizcaya on the other is open for cart travel from the western to the eastern boundary of the sub-province.

At many of the cañaos we have athletic contests, which the wild men, with their splendid physical development, greatly enjoy. It is much better for two hostile towns to settle their differences by a tug-of-war, or a wrestling match, than by fighting over them, and they are now often quite willing to adopt these more pacific means provided the audience is sufficiently large and enthusiastic, for the average wild man has a very human love of playing to the gallery. He takes to the athletic contests of the American like a duck to the water, and soon learns to excel in them. No sooner is a cañao over than those who have taken part in it begin to look forward to the next one, and the small expense involved is repaid a thousand fold in the good feeling produced.

In the course of a year the people of each of the non-Christian tribes do many things for us simply because we want them to, and it seems only fair that we should give them at least one opportunity during the same period to have a good time in their own way.

The personal equation is of vital importance in dealing with wild men. They know nothing of laws or policies, but they understand individuals uncommonly well.

The men in immediate control of them must be absolutely fearless, must make good every promise or threat, must never punish except in case of deliberate wrong-doing committed in spite of warning duly given, and must, when punishment is thus made necessary, inflict it sternly but not in anger. The wild man thus dealt with is likely to call quits when he has had enough, and if [567]he promises to behave must be treated like a man of his word, which he usually is.

As a result of such just, firm and kindly treatment governors and lieutenant-governors soon find themselves endowed by their people with powers far in excess of those conferred on them by law. They are ex officio justices of the peace, but are just as apt to be asked to settle a head-hunting feud between towns, which has caused a dozen bloody murders, as a quarrel growing out of the joint ownership of a pig. They are the law and the prophets, and no appeals are taken from any just decisions which they may make, nor is their authority questioned. On the contrary, their people usually object when sent to the courts, as is of course often necessary.

These officers are always on the watch for opportunities to get the people of hostile towns to swap head-axes, or dance together, and so become friends.

When one town has been in the very act of raiding another the timely appearance of an unarmed Apo3 has sufficed to shame the culprits into laying down their arms and going home without them.

No one who has not seen for himself can appreciate the courage, tact and patience of the handful of Americans who have not only brought under control the wildest tribes of the Philippines, but have established the most friendly relations with them.

Having now outlined in a general way the principles which have been followed in the work for the non-Christian tribes of the special government provinces, I will set forth some of the more important results which have been obtained.

In Benguet, which under the Spanish régime was organized as a comandancia,4 there dwell a kindly, industrious, [568]self-respecting, silent tribe of agriculturists known as the Benguet Igorots. Governmental control was established over them by the Spaniards. They have never indulged in head-hunting nor caused any serious disturbance of public order, but have persistently refused to give up their ancient religious beliefs, and for this reason were not allowed by the Spaniards to obtain education, so that, with rare individual exceptions, they were completely illiterate. When I first visited their country I found the men clad in clouts, supplemented in the case of the more wealthy by cotton blankets. The women usually wore both skirts and upper garments, and bound towels around their heads for turbans.

The Benguet Igorots were formerly compelled to trade for the necessaries of life in the lowlands of the neighbouring province of Union, where they were shamelessly exploited by the Filipinos. They had been obliged by the Spaniards to pay taxes for which they received no adequate return. They had furthermore been roughly treated by the Insurgents during the war, and were extremely fearful and timid. Men ran away at my approach. Women overtaken unexpectedly on the trail leaped down the steep mountain sides, squatting where they first struck the ground and covering their faces with their hands.

It proved a simple matter to establish friendly and helpful relations with these simple and gentle people. Fortunately for them Mr. Otto Scheerer, who had lived among them for years, helped organize their settlements. Some of them were still so wild that they ran away at his approach, sitting up on the high mountain sides and watching him from a distance, but declining to come down. Patience, perseverance and kindness soon overcame their fears, and local governments were established in the several settlements.

Travel through Benguet was then dangerous and difficult because of the condition of the trails, which were [569]mere footpaths. None of the streams were bridged. Work was promptly begun upon a trail system, and now one can ride a large horse rapidly to every settlement of importance.

At first the people had nothing to sell, and no money with which to buy what they needed. From time to time they packed coffee and Irish potatoes down to the lowlands and traded them for salt, cloth and steel, which they needed, and for vino, which was poison to them.

We have protected them in their property rights and encouraged them to increase their agricultural holdings. As they were too ignorant to understand and exercise their right to obtain free patent to small tracts of land which they had long occupied and cultivated, I sent out a special survey party to help them make out their applications in due form.

The gradual development of Baguio, first as a health resort and later as the summer capital, afforded them an ever increasing market for their products; while trail construction, the opening of the Benguet Road and the erection of buildings at Baguio made it possible for every one desiring it to secure remunerative employment. In the old Spanish days they had been forced to build trails without compensation, and to feed themselves while doing it. When they realized that the new régime had come to stay, their gratitude knew no bounds.

For a time they could not be persuaded to try the white man’s medicines, but ultimately the wife of the most important chief in the province, who was dying of dysentery, was persuaded to let Dr. J. B. Thomas, a very competent American government physician, treat her case. She recovered, and the news spread far and wide. After that Igorots came in constantly increasing numbers to the hospital which had meanwhile been established, and to-day their sick and injured are often carried to it from a distance of fifty miles or more.

Schools were soon established in several important [570]settlements. The boys proved apt pupils. At the outset parents would not allow their girls to attend. Gradually the prejudice against sending them to school was overcome, and at three different places girls are now given instruction in English and in practical industrial work.

The children learn English readily and the old folks pick it up from them. Mrs. Alice M. Kelly, who started the first Igorot school, taught her boys respectfully to salute her in the morning, and shortly thereafter American travellers over the Benguet trails were addressed by Igorots with the cheerful greeting, “Good morning, Mrs. Kelly.” Their feelings were doubtless identical with those of the traveller in Japan to whom a beginning student of book English said, “Good morning, Sir, or Madam, as the case may be!”

The Benguet Igorots have responded quickly to the opportunities afforded them, and several serious dangers which have threatened their progress have been met and overcome.

The Filipino peoples will never become victims of alcoholism. They drink in moderation, but seldom become intoxicated. The non-Christian peoples, on the contrary, never lose an opportunity to get boiling drunk. All of them make fermented alcoholic drinks of their own. Fortunately most of these beverages are comparatively mild and harmless; but if a hill man can get hold of bad vino or worse whiskey he will get so drunk that he thinks he has to hang on to the grass in order to lie on the ground.

The Filipinos had long taken advantage of this weakness of the Benguet-Lepanto Igorots to debauch them with vino and cheat them while they were intoxicated. I regret to say that since the American occupation some white men who wanted them as labourers have used liquor as a bait. Because of these conditions, and of more or less similar ones throughout the rest of the wild man’s territory, I drafted and secured the passage of an act making [571]it a criminal offence to sell or give white man’s liquor to a wild man, or for such a man to drink such liquor or have it in his possession. This law has been very successfully enforced. Although Benguet-Lepanto Igorots have sometimes succeeded in purchasing liquor at Baguio or Cervantes, their use of strong alcoholic stimulants has steadily decreased, and throughout much of the wild man’s territory strong drink is absolutely unobtainable.

The Benguet Igorots have an abiding love for gambling, and some of them learned new tricks, which did them no good, through contact with Filipinos when working on the Benguet Road. Strict enforcement of the law against gambling has, however, prevented any considerable spread of this evil.

One of the most interesting results thus far obtained is the arousing of a strong commercial instinct among them. It was literally true at the outset that one could not buy from them an egg, a chicken or a basket of camotes, much less a pig or a cow. Now special market buildings have been erected for them at Baguio, and they are thronged on Sundays. The Igorots have money and spend it wisely. They also have farm products to sell, know what they are worth, and insist on getting full value for them. Among other things there may be mentioned sleek cattle, the best fat hogs grown in the Philippines, chickens, eggs, cabbages, Irish potatoes, peas, beans, tomatoes, squashes, camotes and strawberries.

There have been some interesting episodes in connection with the work for the Benguet Igorots. At one time it became necessary for the provincial governor, Wm. F. Pack, to undergo a severe and dangerous surgical operation. Word spread through Benguet that the doctors were going to cut him to pieces. Palasi, an old Igorot chief of Atok, gathered his cohorts and came in hot haste to Baguio to stop it. He was assured by Governor Pack himself that the cutting was to be done with his consent, but still entertained some doubts about the matter and [572]asked to be allowed to be present. His request was granted. There was then no operating room in Baguio, so one was extemporized in the governor’s house. He walked out to the operating table, and Palasi, who was standing by, once more asked him if he was to be cut up with his own consent, offering to stop the performance even then if the governor so wished!

On March 30, 1913, I sat at a luncheon given at Trinidad, Benguet, in honour of former Lieutenant-Governor E. A. Eckman, who had just been promoted to the governorship of the Mountain Province. At the long tables were seated a representative gathering of decently clad Benguet Igorot head-men, the hosts of the occasion. They understood the use of knives, forks and spoons. At the close of the luncheon they presented Governor Eckman with a beautiful silver cup. The presentation speech was made by an Igorot named Juan Cariño, who had been shot and badly wounded by American soldiers from whom he foolishly endeavoured to escape in 1900!

Fortunately old Juan was not killed. Like every other Igorot in Benguet he is to-day a good friend of the Americans. The people of his tribe are now sober, industrious, cheerful, contented and prosperous. As time passes they keep cleaner, wear more and better clothes and build better houses. In this case, at least, a primitive people has come in close contact with the white man and has profited by it.

Lepanto, like Benguet, was a comandancia in the Spanish days. Its Igorot inhabitants are fellow-tribesmen of their Benguet neighbours, and like them are, and have long been, peaceful agriculturists, raising camotes, rice, coffee and cattle. They also mine gold and copper. In the extreme southeastern and the extreme northern parts of Lepanto the people are wilder and less law-abiding than those of Benguet, and some of them are prone to indulge in cattle stealing.

This subprovince has one Ilocano town, Cervantes, [573]which was made the capital of the province of Lepanto-Bontoc. At the outset communication with the coast was maintained over a very bad horse-trail crossing the coast range at Tilad Pass. It zigzagged up one slope of the mountains and down the other on a grade such as to make travel over it very difficult. Furthermore, after reaching the lowlands on the west side of the range, it crossed a river some fourteen times. During the rainy season there were weeks at a time during which this stream could not be forded. In the early days of the American occupation a good wagon road was built from the coast to the point where the trail began, and the trail itself was put in the best possible condition. It was subsequently well maintained, but after the establishment of a Filipino provincial government in South Ilocos the wagon road was allowed to fall into such a state of neglect that travel over it, even for persons on horseback, became impossible during wet weather. Mr. Kane, the supervisor of the Mountain Province, was nearly drowned in mud when trying to ride over it, being thrown from his horse into soft ooze so deep that his hands did not reach bottom, and had it not been for a timely rescue by Filipinos who chanced to be passing, he would certainly have lost his life.

Although forty or fifty thousand pesos’ worth of supplies were annually sent into the mountain country by the people of South Ilocos over this trail, that province refused to spend a peso in keeping the connecting road up. The constantly growing trade of the mountain country made it, in my opinion, necessary that it should have a good outlet to the coast, and a route for a road was surveyed from Cervantes directly west over the Malaya range, traversing the subprovince of Amburayan from east to west and coming out at the municipality of Tagudin. In order to prevent the occurrence of a state of affairs such as had rendered the Tilad Pass trail practically useless during much of the rainy season, this Ilocano town was annexed to Lepanto-Bontoc, thus giving the [574]province a route to the coast within the limits of its own territory.

The people of Tagudin were at first inclined to protest against annexation to the country of the non-Christians, but soon discovered that the change was greatly to their advantage. Their town had long been threatened with destruction by the encroachment of the Amburayan River, and they had appealed in vain to South Ilocos for help. The Mountain Province gave them assistance in the construction of a protecting wall which held the river within bounds and adequately safeguarded the town. Their business rapidly increased when Tagudin became the western terminus of an important trade route. They soon began to take an active interest in improving local conditions, and their municipality was gradually changed from a dirty, down-at-the-heel place to a neat, clean, sanitary town in which its people could take justifiable pride. An old feud which had long separated the leading men into two parties so bitterly hostile to each other that the mere fact of advocacy of a given measure by one of them was sufficient to cause determined opposition to it by the other, died out, and Tagudin is to-day quite a model place in comparison with the general run of Filipino towns.

The opening up of transportation lines has placed the people of Lepanto within much easier reach of a market for their rice, coffee and cattle. The successful combating of cattle disease by the Bureau of Agriculture has been a great boon to them, as has the suppression of the liquor traffic. Schools have been established in a number of their settlements. Last, but by no means least, their lives are no longer endangered by the head-hunting Bontoc Igorots. They are now a peaceful, prosperous people, and are progressing steadily in civilization.

In Spanish days there was a comandancia known as Amburayan wedged in between the provinces of La Union and Ilocos Sur. After the American occupation this [575]territory was at first organized as a part of Ilocos Sur, but it soon became necessary to make of it a separate subprovince and add it to Lepanto-Bontoc, to the end that its people might be adequately protected. In contact on two sides with Christian Filipinos, they were shamefully maltreated and oppressed, and they appealed to me for help.

Filipinos were graciously permitting them to cut firewood and lumber in the public forests, and taking the lion’s share of the products in return for their consent! They were debauching the Igorots with vino. I remember particularly the case of one unfortunate individual who owned five carabaos, two of which got to fighting. As usually happens with these animals, the one that was whipped ran away, and the victor blindly pursued it. Both charged over a precipice and broke their legs. The owner killed them, dressed them, and divided the meat among his family and friends. He was arrested, given a mock trial for killing carabaos without a license, and fined three carabaos—all he had left—which of course went to his persecutors!

Instances of this sort of thing could be indefinitely multiplied.

Amburayan was freed from the vino traffic soon after it became a subprovince of Lepanto-Bontoc. This alone was a great boon to its Igorot inhabitants, who little by little were helped to assert their rights as they gained greater confidence in their American lieutenant-governor and learned to go to him freely with their troubles. They had so long been helpless and hopeless that it was some time before they could be convinced that a new day had dawned for them.

And now let us betake ourselves to the country of the real wild man, and consider briefly past and present conditions in the subprovince of Ifugao.

The people of the tribe known as Ifugaos are a remarkable lot. Their country is almost entirely made up of [576]exceptionally steep mountain sides with hardly a naturally level piece of ground in it. On almost precipitous slopes they have built wonderful series of irrigated rice terraces held in position by stone retaining walls which have been laid without mortar or cementing material of any kind, and are so skilfully constructed that they withstand even the terrific rains which sometimes occur during typhoons. Accurate rainfall statistics for Ifugao are not obtainable, but, as we have seen, in the neighbouring subprovince of Benguet, there is of record a period of twenty-four hours during which forty-nine and nine tenths inches of rain fell! Under such conditions as this, exceptionally good work is necessary to prevent structures of any sort built on mountain sides from sliding into the valleys below.

Up to the time of the American occupation the Ifugaos had always been inveterate head-hunters. Unlike the Bontoc Igorots, who depend on large numbers of fighting men for protection, they live in small villages usually placed in inaccessible spots which can be reached only by ascending the almost perpendicular rice-terrace walls.

Not only were the people of this tribe then constantly fighting among themselves, but they from time to time raided the Bontoc country or that of the Kalingas, and they persistently victimized the people of Nueva Vizcaya, making travel so unsafe on the main road between Nueva Vizcaya and Isabela that the Spaniards found it necessary to maintain several garrisons along it, and forbade private persons to pass over it without a military escort. Even so, parties of travellers were cut down from time to time, the savages making their attacks at the noon hour when Spanish soldiers had a way of going to sleep beside the road.

I have already narrated my earliest experiences in this subprovince, which occurred in 1903, and have called attention to the fact that when I returned in 1905 I was able to traverse it from east to west without the slightest danger. This condition of affairs was due to the efforts [577]of Governor Louis G. Knight, supplemented by those of Captain L. E. Case of the Philippine constabulary, who had established his headquarters at Banaue and had exercised a strong influence over his unruly constituents.

Perhaps I ought to change my statement and say that order was established by Captain Case, assisted by Governor Knight. Captain Case was very fortunate in his dealings with the Ifugaos. He was a kindly man, who won their friendship at the outset. He resorted to stern measures only when such measures were so imperatively necessary that the Ifugaos themselves fully recognized the justice of employing them.

On my trip through the Ifugao country in 1906 I was accompanied from Mayoyao to Banaue by Lieutenant Jeff D. Gallman, who had come to the former place to meet me. This young man had been especially selected by Colonel Rivers, of the Philippine constabulary, to be trained for work among the Ifugaos. Never was a selection more fortunate. When Captain Case injured himself by over-exertion in climbing a steep, terraced mountain side in the hot sun, and had to return to the United States for recuperation, Gallman took up his work and devoted himself most effectively to the task of bringing the Ifugaos under control, protecting them, and improving their conditions. He was a dead shot with revolver and carbine; was absolutely fearless; was of a kindly, cheerful disposition, and soon not only won their respect but gained their love.

As the years went by, the Ifugaos came to regard him as but little less than a god. He had extraordinary success in training them for service as constabulary soldiers. On the occasion of the first general rifle competition between all the constabulary organizations in northern Luzón ten Ifugao soldiers were sent to the lowlands to participate. Gallman, who had trained them, was travelling with me at the time, so they were taken down by a comparatively inexperienced officer who, instead of selecting [578]the best ten men from among the ninety possible candidates, took ten from the twenty who happened to be stationed at Mayoyao.

The hot climate of the lowlands troubled them. The Filipino constabulary soldiers made fun of them because they wore no trousers, and bedevilled them in various ways. The best shot among them lost his nerve in consequence. Nevertheless, when the competition was over they ranked Nos. 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, and 10, respectively, an Ilocano soldier from the lowlands being tied with the last man for tenth place!

Ifugao soldiers are submissive to discipline, obey orders implicitly, and are loyal and brave to a fault. When on duty they attend strictly to business. No prisoner ever yet escaped from one of them. This is more than can be said of the Bontoc Igorots. It is of record that on one occasion when a prisoner guarded by a raw recruit of the latter tribe made a break for liberty, the recruit followed him, firing as he ran. After missing the fleeing man five times, he threw his carbine at him, lance-fashion, and speared him with the bayonet! So long as an Ifugao has a cartridge in his magazine he does not indulge in bayonet practice.

The same general policy was pursued in Ifugao which had been found so effective elsewhere. Lines of communication were opened up; after a short time criminals were for the most part apprehended and turned in by the head-men themselves; whenever possible, hostile towns were left to sulk until they had learned from the experience of their neighbours that there was nothing to be afraid of or to complain about, and voluntarily came into the fold; head-hunting was suppressed with a heavy hand, but only after due warning as to what the fate of transgressors would be. It is now some six years since a head has been taken in this region. Travel not only in Nueva Vizcaya but in Ifugao itself is at present absolutely safe, and general conditions as to law and order [579]are better than those which prevail in many American communities. The people have been assisted in the construction of irrigation ditches, and little by little are being persuaded to come down from their steep and overpopulated mountain sides to the neighbouring fertile, level vacant plains. They are loyal and friendly to a marked degree, and I experience no greater pleasure than that which I derive from travelling through their country.

Credit for this happy result is chiefly due to the efforts of Jeff D. Gallman, who speedily rose to be a captain in the constabulary and at an early date was made lieutenant-governor of Ifugao. He has done a monumental work for civilization in the Philippines.

The Kalinga country was at the outset administered as a part of Bontoc. This made that subprovince so large that one lieutenant-governor could not hope satisfactorily to cover it, especially as there were no good lines of communication. Although a constabulary garrison was early stationed at the town of Lubuagan, comparatively little progress was made in bringing the Kalingas under effective control until their territory was made a separate subprovince of the Mountain Province and Lieutenant-Governor Walter F. Hale, of Amburayan, was transferred to it as its lieutenant-governor.

Lieutenant-Governor Hale has now been in the special government service longer than any other man who remains in it, and has an admirable record for quiet efficiency. Like Gallman, he is a man with chilled-steel nerve, and he needed it in the early days in Kalinga where the people, who had been allowed to run wild too long, did not take as kindly to the establishment of governmental control as had the Bontoc Igorots and the Ifugaos. The Kalingas are a fine lot of head-hunting savages, physically magnificently developed, mentally acute, but naturally very wild. Hale soon made friends with many of the local chiefs, and thereafter when he received invitations from outlying rancherias to come over and have his head [580]taken would quietly accept to the extent of setting out accompanied by a few soldiers, or none at all, and talking the matter over with the people who had made the threat! In the end they always decided that he was too good a man to kill.

Here, as in Ifugao, we felt our way, avoiding trouble with hostile settlements as long as it was possible to do so. And here, as in Bontoc and Ifugao, head-hunting was abolished and law and order were established practically without killing. In a few instances settlements which absolutely refused to come into the fold, and persisted in raiding and killing in the territory of people who had already become friendly, were given severe lessons, which they invariably took in good part.

One of the pleasant things about dealing with people like the Kalingas and the Ifugaos is their manliness when they fight. They let one know, so plainly that there can be no mistake about it, whether they are friendly or hostile, and even if thoroughly whipped they bear no ill will provided they know that they deserve a whipping, but come calmly walking into camp to tell you that they have had enough and are going to be good. And they keep their promises.

In Kalinga, as elsewhere throughout the Mountain Province outside of Apayao, an admirable trail system has now been opened up and travel is not only safe but comfortable. The people are most friendly and loyal, and while head-hunting has not completely disappeared, cases of it are extremely rare and occur only in the most remote parts of the subprovince.

Apayao has proved a hard nut to crack. As previously stated, I made a trip across this subprovince from west to east in 1906, without encountering any hostility whatsoever. Unfortunately, the officer who commanded my escort saw fit to go blundering back there with a constabulary command a few weeks later. He managed to get into a fight and was whipped and chased out of the [581]country. A so-called punitive expedition was then sent in, which came near meeting a similar fate, but finally withdrew in fairly good order after having inflicted slight damage on the town of Guennéd, the people of which made the original attack.

Apayao was at first organized as a subprovince of Cagayan, and Colonel Blas Villamor, who had accompanied me on my two longest exploration trips through northern Luzón, was appointed its lieutenant-governor. The attitude of the provincial officials of Cagayan toward the difficult task which confronted them in Apayao was most unsatisfactory. Indeed, the governor of that province informed me that in his opinion the best way to settle the Apayao problem was to kill all of the inhabitants. As Colonel Villamor reported that there were some fifty-three thousand of them5 this procedure would have presented practical, as well as moral, difficulties! I myself was of the opinion that the Apayao people, who proved to be wild Tingians, were altogether too good to kill.

Colonel Villamor was a native of Abra, where approximately half the population is made up of Tingians who have attained to a high degree of civilization. He was already quite familiar with the dialect spoken by these people, and speedily learned the language of their wild brethren in Apayao, many of whom understood Ilocano, which was his native tongue.

At the outset he made excellent progress in bringing his people under control. The task was undoubtedly more difficult than that in any other subprovince of the Mountain Province, both because the Spaniards had failed to penetrate into this region, leaving the people untouched by civilization up to the time of the American occupation, and for the further reason that their head-hunting is connected with religious beliefs. They think that when a man dies his prospect for a good time in the [582]future world is bad unless the members of his family take a head within six months, and this idea has a tendency to keep society in a somewhat disturbed condition.

For reasons which I have never been able fully to fathom, Villamor’s progress in establishing governmental control grew steadily slower as time went by, and ultimately came to a standstill. During my absence from the islands it was deemed best to accept his resignation, for reasons not immediately connected with his administration of the affairs of his subprovince. Before surrendering his post he caused word to be spread among the Tingians that the kindly policy which had thus far been pursued in dealing with them was to be superseded by one of severity, greatly alarming them, and seriously retarding work which he had quite auspiciously begun. There was absolutely no justification for his statements, as no one thought for a moment of dealing with the Apayao Tingians in a fashion differing at all from that invariably followed in our relations with non-Christians in the special government provinces.

Mr. Norman G. Connor was appointed to succeed Señor Villamor. Mr. Connor had been acting governor of Nueva Vizcaya and had rendered very satisfactory service. He has made material progress in establishing control over the people of Apayao, where the work of trail construction has now begun. At the outset communication was maintained by boats on the Abulúg River and its branches, near which most of the wild Tingian villages are situated, but it is a dangerous stream to navigate, especially when in flood, and lines of land communication must therefore be opened up.

We found the subprovince of Bontoc peopled by a tribe of wild, warlike, head-hunting Igorots over whom the Spaniards had never been able to establish effective control. At the time of the American occupation their numerous settlements were constantly at war with each other, and with the Kalingas and the Ifugaos as well. [583]

The Bontoc Igorots build large towns and depend on the numbers of their hardy fighting men for protection. Each town formerly kept a profit and loss account of heads with every town of its enemies. Physically these people are splendid men, and we soon found that they were usually both brave and fair in their fighting, formally making and breaking peace, and serving due notice on their enemies before attacking.

If a small town felt itself aggrieved by a big one, it would send a messenger to say, “You have more fighting men than we have, but they are no good! Pick fifteen of the best from your thousand and send them to a certain place at a certain time to meet fifteen real fighting men selected from among our five hundred.” At the appointed time the thirty warriors would meet in deadly combat, while their fellow-townsmen looked on.

The Bontoc Igorots are naturally truthful and honest, and they soon became most friendly, gladly bringing many of their troubles to their lieutenant-governor for settlement. Fortunately, head-accounts between different towns can be adjusted by proper payments made by those who hold the highest scores. We took advantage of this fact to establish peace between the towns, and when once established it was, as a rule, religiously kept.

Trail construction was promptly inaugurated and has been steadily pushed. Most of the towns have thus been made readily accessible.

When friendly relations had been established, and we were in a position to back orders with force if necessary, settlement after settlement was warned that head-hunting must cease and was further informed as to what would happen if the mandate was disobeyed. Certain dare-devils promptly broke over, partly, I fancy, to see what would happen, and partly, no doubt, because they found the influence of tribal customs too strong to resist. We made our warnings come true. One settlement required three bitter lessons. For others a single mild one [584]sufficed. The majority of the towns were content to get their experience vicariously. We were amazed at our own success in stopping this horrible practice. At the outset we burned towns if their people engaged in head-hunting.6 The Igorots recognized the justice of this action because the whole town was invariably cognizant of, and party to, every head-hunting raid made by any of its people. Later, when head-hunting became comparatively rare, we began to deal with the individuals concerned. They were arrested, brought before the courts, and tried like any other criminals. To-day head-hunting in Bontoc is almost unknown. When it does occur the people themselves usually capture and turn over the culprits.

The respect of the Bontoc Igorots for the law is extraordinary. In 1910 a Constabulary soldier shot the presidente of Tinglayan without just cause. The people of the place rushed to arms, meaning to kill the soldier. Chief Agpad, assisted by the son of the murdered man, took station before the door of the house in which the assailant had sought refuge, and the two stood off their fellow-townsmen, saying that the government had promised to kill evil-doers and that this man must be turned over to the government to be killed! When I passed through their town a few weeks later, with Governor-General Forbes, they begged to have him killed promptly.

In the early days I myself had a rather stormy clash with some of the Bontoc Igorots. During Aguinaldo’s long flight he had passed through half a dozen of their towns, as had the American soldiers who pursued him. The Igorots did not like this, so tore out the trail to Ifugao, between Bontoc and Samoqui, and built high-walled rice paddies where it had been, with the result that persons making the journey had to use the river bed for several miles. This was all very well if the river was low, but was no joke if it chanced to be in flood. [585]

I ordered that the trail be rebuilt, the Igorots to be paid for their work, and for the resulting damage to their rice fields, and this was done.

The lieutenant-governor was a weak man, and the Igorots, after getting their money, tore the trail out again and rebuilt their stone terrace walls across the place where it had been, just to see what he would do about it. He did nothing. I found things in this condition when I arrived, and was obliged to come down the river bed at dusk, with the result that my horse and I took several impromptu baths.

The Samoqui warriors came dancing out to meet me, playing their gansas7 and making a grand hullabaloo. Summoning my sternest expression, I refused to shake hands with them, telling them to go home and to report at Bontoc at nine the following morning.

The fighting men of the town of Bontoc met me on the other side of the river, and I served them the same way. The official under whose nose they had destroyed the trail was greatly alarmed, and assured me that if I ordered it rebuilt, as I told him I would do, there would be a fight, and the Igorots would cut the heads off all the Americans in town, including the ladies. He added, “Think how the ladies would look without any heads!” While this was a disquieting reflection, I remained obdurate.

At the appointed hour the Samoqui and Bontoc men appeared, armed with head-axes and lances. I asked them if they would rebuild that trail, and they said no! I told them that if they did not I would cut their main irrigating ditch and put a constabulary guard on it to see that it was not repaired until they changed their minds. This might have meant the loss of their rice crop. They knew me quite as well as they did their lieutenant-governor, and promptly rebuilt the trail for nothing, as I told them they must.

[586]

When the Mountain Province was established, the town of Bontoc was made the capital, as Cervantes, which had been the capital of Lepanto-Bontoc, was hot, had proved unhealthful, and was not centrally situated. Bontoc has a cool, delightful climate, is near the geographic center of the province, and from it radiates a road and trail system of constantly increasing importance. Things have moved rapidly there since the status of the place was changed.

To-day the town has modern public buildings of brick and stone. The bricks have been made, burned and laid by Igorots. Much of the stone has been cut and laid by Igorots. The mortar used has been mixed by Igorots with lime burned by Igorots. Some of the carpenter work has been done by Igorots. There is a modern hospital to which the Igorots flock. There are schools in which Igorot boys and girls learn the English language, and become adept in the practice of useful industries.

Perhaps the most unique of the Bontoc institutions is the provincial jail. Years ago I discovered to my horror that a two-year sentence to Bilibid, the insular penitentiary, was a death sentence for a hill-man! Not all who were sent there died, but the average term of life of men from the hills was two years only, while those who served out their sentences and returned to their mountain homes had invariably become adepts in crime as the result of prolonged contact with vicious Filipinos. I promptly drafted an act providing for the establishment at Bontoc of a penitentiary where all prisoners from the highlands should be confined, and the commission passed it. The prison has been made a real educational institution. Most of its inmates have been guilty of crimes of violence, committed in accordance with tribal customs, and are not vicious at heart. The jail building is perfectly sanitary. Its occupants are required to keep their persons clean and their quarters both clean and in perfect order. They live amid healthful surroundings and receive abundant and [587]nourishing food. They are taught useful trades and are compelled to work hard, which they do not in the least mind, as industry is the rule in the mountain country. They usually leave the jail better men than when they entered it, and thereafter, instead of being a menace to law and order, assist in their enforcement and maintenance.

We do odd things with some of these prisoners. Last year we paroled a man from Ifugao who had a score of heads to his credit. Learning that his people believed him to be dead and were greatly troubled, we told him to go home, show himself to them, tell them how he was treated in jail, and come back. He did it!

Proof of the kindliness of the relations which have existed with the Bontoc Igorots is found in the fact that no member of this tribe has ever yet turned his hand against an American. On the contrary, there are not a few Americans who owe their lives to Igorots. Agpad, of Tinglayan, has twice dived into rivers swollen by typhoons and rescued Americans who had sunk for the last time beneath the rushing, muddy waters, while their fellow-countrymen stood by paralyzed with fear.

Last year there occurred an event of profound significance. In the past, American officials have often worked hard for days to get representatives of two hostile towns to dance together, for this would make friends of them. On the occasion in question there had gathered at Bontoc to meet me representatives from every settlement in the subprovince. Each town had brought its gansas and its dancers. On the second day of my visit the people of one of the towns started a dance on the plaza. They were promptly joined by representatives from another town which had long been hostile to them. People from yet other towns followed suit, until finally the plaza swarmed with a great crowd of dancers in which every settlement in the subprovince was represented. Even at that late day I should not have dared to attempt to [588]bring about such a thing. It happened of itself, and to the initiated told an eloquent tale of the results of our years of patient work!

The first time I climbed Polis Mountain, on my way from the Bontoc country to the land of the Ifugaos, four Igorots went ahead of me, armed with head-axes and lances, carrying their shields in position. At each turn in the steep, worn-out trail, they drew back their lances ready to throw. I had eighty-six armed men with me, and knew that I might need them. To-day I travel through the length and breadth of the Mountain Province unescorted and unarmed. Furthermore, I usually take my wife with me.

Prior to 1903, if an Ifugao showed himself on the north side of the Polis range he lost his head. Now people of this tribe stroll into the town of Bontoc almost daily. They travel north through the Bontoc Igorot country to Lubuagan, in Kalinga, and west to Cervantes, in Lepanto, or even to Tagudin on the coast, crossing three subprovinces on the latter trip. They also go south to Baguio.

All freight was formerly packed in from the coast on men’s backs a distance of eighty odd miles over steep, narrow, stony trails which were really foot-paths. Now it comes in carts over a good road which has a maximum grade of six per cent.

The people of the settlement had to get their water from the river. Now it is piped into town.

There was not a shop in the place, and every one had to go to the coast to make the smallest purchases. There are at present half a dozen good stores, beside the provincial exchange, a store where the government sells the Igorots what they want at reasonable prices, thus preventing shopkeepers from overcharging them.

Commodious quarters for visiting Igorots and Ifugaos have been provided, and there is a fine market where they may display and sell their products. This market is a busy place. [589]

The population is rapidly increasing, now that head-hunting has practically ceased. The area of cultivated lands steadily grows larger, for the men are freed from the necessity of being constantly under arms, and we are helping them to get more irrigation water, so that they can extend their rice fields.

There are a thousand or so Bontoc Igorots in Benguet to-day, contracting for railroad excavation work. Times have changed.

When Nueva Vizcaya was first organized, its non-Christian inhabitants greatly outnumbered its Filipino population, as there were at least one hundred fifteen thousand Ifugaos in addition to several thousand Ilongots and a few Benguet Igorots, locally known as Isinayes, who had strayed over the boundary line. With the transfer of the Ifugao territory to the Mountain Province, the Filipinos were left in the decided majority. Later all of the Ilongot territory which had previously belonged to the provinces of Isabela, Tayabas, Nueva Ecija and Pangasinán was added to Nueva Vizcaya, in order that the members of this wild and primitive tribe might be brought under one provincial administration.

The Ilongots are a strictly forest-inhabiting people. Many of them have a considerable admixture of Negrito blood and live a semi-nomadic life. Their settlements, which are small and more or less transient, are usually situated in remote and inaccessible places surrounded by the densest jungle. It is at present impracticable to open up horse trails through their country, for the number of inhabitants is so small, in comparison with the area occupied, that such trails could not be built with Ilongot labour, nor indeed could they be maintained even if built. One main trail is, however, being constructed, and it is planned to build foot trails from this to the more important of the settlements which it does not reach.

A special assistant to the Provincial Governor of Nueva Vizcaya for work among the Ilongots has been appointed [590]and assigned to duty at Baler, on the Pacific coast of Luzón, from which place he can more conveniently reach the Ilongots east of the coast range. These people were very wild at the outset, and it proved difficult to establish friendly relations with them, but this has now been successfully accomplished, and their fear of the white man is largely a thing of the past.

There is a school for Ilongot children at Campoté. They prove to be bright, capable pupils.

At the same place there has been established a government exchange, where the Ilongots can sell such articles of their own manufacture as they wish to market, and can purchase what they need at moderate cost.

They still fight more or less with each other, but depredations by them upon Filipinos have ceased. [591]

The province of Mindoro includes numerous small islands, all peopled by Tagálogs, and the main island of Mindoro, which has a narrow broken fringe of Tagálog settlements along its coast. Its whole interior is populated, so far as it is inhabited at all, by the Mangyans, a primitive semi-nomadic tribe which is of Malayan origin but has considerable Negrito blood. No one knows even approximately how many of them there are, for although the island has been crossed in several different places, much of it is still quite unexplored. In most of the interior regions thus far visited the population is very sparse, but one quite thickly settled district has been found. It is believed that the Mangyans number something like 15,000.

The Filipino settlements were so disorderly, filthy, and unhealthy that the energies of the first governor, Captain R. G. Offley, and those of his successor, Captain Louis G. Van Schaick, were to a large extent expended in efforts for the betterment of the Tagálogs. It is a pleasure to record the fact that these efforts met with a very large degree of success.

The condition of most of the Tagálog towns is now good. Mangarin is the chief exception to this statement. Its surroundings are such as to make it impossible successfully to combat malaria, from which every one of its inhabitants suffers. We are still endeavouring to persuade its unfortunate people to move to a healthy site! [592]

Governor Offley did some work for the Mangyans. They have advanced but slightly beyond the Negritos in civilization. Many of them live under shelters not worthy of the name of huts, and in the vicinity of Mt. Halcon even the women are clad only in clouts. Houses are placed singly in the dense forests, or at the most are gathered in very small groups. It proved a most difficult undertaking to persuade any considerable number of Mangyans to gather together and construct decent dwellings. It had been their custom to abandon their forest homes whenever a death occurred, leaving behind all their belongings, and perhaps even changing their names on the theory that their old names were unlucky and new ones might prove advantageous.

With admirable patience Governor Offley organized a little village called Lalauigan on the south coast of Mindoro. Lalauigan has prospered. It is very clean; the houses of its Mangyan residents are quite presentable. The neighbouring fields are planted with corn and rice. It has a school, and the children prove to be apt pupils.

Another Mangyan village, organized near the west coast, was short-lived. The Tagálog Filipinos look with great disfavour on the gathering of the Mangyans into settlements where they can be protected, as this renders it difficult to hold them in a state of peonage. Whenever Governor Offley got a little group together, they did their best to scatter it. In this instance they passed the word that smallpox had broken out in a neighbouring Tagálog village. All Mangyans are deathly afraid of this disease, and this particular set built a great fire, jumped through the flames to purify themselves from contagion, took to the hills, and have not been seen since!

While in hearty sympathy with the admirable work which was being done among the Tagálogs, I was dissatisfied with the failure to push explorations in the interior more actively and to get more closely in touch with the wild inhabitants. When the Tagálog settlements had [593]at last been put in really good condition, I gave Governor Van Schaick, who had succeeded Governor Offley, positive instructions that more attention must be paid to the Mangyans. He then began active explorations, and pushed them with considerable success up to the time when he was compelled to tender his resignation by the terms of the Army Appropriation Bill for 1913, which necessitated his return to his regiment. Prior to his departure he succeeded in establishing a new Mangyan village which has continued to prosper up to the present time. His successor, Governor R. E. Walters, was kept from actively pushing exploration work during the past “dry” season, by unprecedented rains.

Road and trail construction began several years ago and is going forward as rapidly as limited funds will permit.

The great trouble with the Tagálogs of Mindoro is that nature has been too kind to them. They have only to plough a bit of ground at the beginning of the rainy season, scatter a little rice on it, and harvest the crop when ripe, to be able to live idly the rest of the year, and too many of them adopt this course. However, some good towns, like Pinamalayan, are waking up as the result of immigration from Marinduque.

Two great services have been rendered to the more orderly of the inhabitants of Mindoro, which was, in Spanish days, a rendezvous for evil-doers from Luzón. Indeed, it was the most disorderly province north of Mindanao. An excellent state of public order has been established, and there has not been an armed ladrone1 in the province for years. It was famous for its “bad climate.” We have shown that its climate is good, making its towns really healthful by merely cleaning them up.

The establishment of a great modern sugar estate on the southwest coast has doubled the daily wage, and given [594]profitable employment to all who wanted to work, and the people are beginning to bestir themselves. The public schools, of which every town has one, are materially assisting the awakening now in progress.

Palawan, like Mindoro, is made up of one large island, which bears the name of the province, and a number of smaller ones. Indeed, it includes more small islands than does any other province, with the possible exception of Moro.

The bulk of its Christian population are found on the smaller islands, several of which are very thickly settled.

The non-Christian inhabitants are divided between three tribes,—the Moros, Tagbanuas and Bataks. The latter are Negritos of very pure blood. Their number is quite limited. They extend across the island from the east coast to the west in the region north of Bahia Honda.

Until within a short time there have been Moro settlements scattered along both east and west coasts of the southern third of the main island. The Moro population of Palawan is largely composed of renegades who have been driven out of Joló, Tawi Tawi, Cagayan de Joló, British North Borneo and Banguey by their own people because of infractions of the laws of their tribe. When the province was organized, they were not cultivating a hectare of land amongst them. They lived in part by fishing, but chiefly on what they stole, or on the products of the labour of the hill people in the interior, many of whom they enslaved or held in a state of peonage, taking their rice and other agricultural products with or without giving compensation, as seemed to them good.

The hill people, who occupy the higher mountains in the interior of southern Palawan, and who in the central and northern portions of the island extend down to the very coast, are known as Paluanes in the south and as Tagbanuas elsewhere. Tagbanuas are also found on [595]Dumarán and Linapácan, and quite generally throughout the Calamianes Islands, especially on Culion and Busuanga. I have failed to discover any real tribal differences between the Paluanes and the Tagbanuas and believe that they should be classed as one people, although the Paluanes are more inclined to stand up for their rights than are the Tagbanuas, and by using blow guns and poisoned arrows have succeeded in keeping the Moros out of the interior highlands. They were, however, long forced to trade with the Moros in order to obtain cloth, steel, salt and other things not produced in their own country, and so were at their mercy.

The Tagbanuas are a rather timid and docile people, giving evidence of a considerable amount of Negrito blood. They are at times quite industrious, and raise considerable quantities of rice and camotes, but live, in part, on fish, game and forest products.

Communication in this province was very difficult. The main island of Palawan, which is some two hundred fifty miles in length and very narrow, extends in a northeasterly and southwesterly direction, and as a result both of its coasts are swept by each monsoon so that there are only about two months of the year when travel by sea in small boats is comfortable and safe. At the outset there was not a mile of trail on the island. This latter condition is being rapidly remedied.

The first governor appointed for the newly established province of Palawan was Lieutenant E. Y. Miller, U. S. A., a man of splendid physique, tireless energy, and indomitable courage.

Governor Miller set to work very actively to better the condition of the Filipinos and to establish friendly and helpful relations with the non-Christians.

The bulk of the Christians are unusually poor and ignorant and many of them were held in a miserable state of peonage by a few caciques. Vigorous efforts extending through a long term of years have weakened [596]the grip of the caciques, but have by no means broken it.

At an early date the new governor won the admiration of the Moros, who like courage, by a series of very brave acts. A number of constabulary soldiers who were coasting along the west shore of Palawan in a sail-boat went ashore, leaving their rifles on board guarded by two or three of their comrades. They also left several Moros on the boat, and the latter, watching their opportunity, killed the guards and got away with the rifles, taking them to Dato Tumay, their chief, who armed his people with them.

Governor Miller, with Captain Louden, of the constabulary company concerned, promptly attacked Tumay’s place and drove him into the hills. Tumay took refuge in a Tagbanua village, never dreaming that he would be pursued into the mountain fastnesses. Miller and his companions succeeded in getting into the place before Tumay knew they were in the vicinity, and there followed a fight to the death at close quarters. Two soldiers, standing one to the right and one to the left of Governor Miller, were shot dead, but he was not scratched.

On a number of other occasions he displayed a bravery approaching recklessness. Hearing that a fleet of some fifty Moro boats had put to sea on a piratical expedition, he embarked in a twenty-foot launch accompanied only by a captain of constabulary, and the two of them ran down and disarmed the pirates and sent them home. They nearly sank their tiny launch with the dead weight of the weapons which they took on board. The thing seems preposterous, and only Miller’s extraordinary moral influence over these unruly people made it humanly possible.

When I visited Palawan on my regular inspection trip in the year 1909, I found Mrs. Miller much worried about her husband, who was absent from the capital, having [597]gone to arrest some Moro murderers at Lara. As usual, he had taken with him only a constabulary captain and three or four soldiers, and Mrs. Miller feared that he might be killed.

I hastened down the coast of the island at the full speed of my steamer, keeping a close watch for his boat, and finally located it at Bonabóna, where he had succeeded in arresting several of the criminals. On his way down he had stopped at Lara and had learned that a brother of the local chief, Dato Pula, was responsible for the murder, having ordered it and paid the assassins who committed it, one of whom was lurking in the vicinity, while others had gone to Bonabóna. Governor Miller called upon Dato Pula to deliver both his brother and the murderer, who was then at Lara, and stated that he would be back on a certain day to receive them. As he insisted on returning at the appointed time and attempting to arrest these men, I took him on my steamer, together with his American companion and one constabulary soldier. The other soldiers remained on his boat to guard the prisoners he had already taken.

We returned to Lara, but were unable to land in front of the town as a heavy surf was thundering on the beach. A mile to the north we found a sheltered spot where we could safely disembark and our little party, consisting of Governor Miller armed with a six-shooter, a constabulary captain armed with a Winchester shotgun and a six-shooter, a constabulary soldier armed with a carbine, ex-Insurgent Colonel Pablo Tecson armed with my double-barrelled shotgun, Governor Pack of the Mountain Province, my brother George S. Worcester, and my stenographer, all of whom were without weapons, and myself carrying an automatic Winchester rifle, marched on the town. Governor Miller sent the soldier ahead to warn the Moros that they must meet us unarmed. A small reception committee did so.

On the very outskirts of Lara we waded a creek nearly [598]up to our necks in water, then marched up the street and entered Pula’s house. Just as we did so I saw twenty or thirty fully armed Moros come in on the run and hastily conceal themselves in one of the numerous neighbouring houses. I further promptly discovered that two rooms partitioned off in the corners of the great living room of Pula’s house were crowded full of men armed to the teeth, and that a second-story room, immediately under the roof and over our heads, was similarly occupied. I asked Governor Pack quietly to ascertain how many of the houses in the village were occupied by fully equipped fighting men, and he soon informed me that every one of them was packed. We estimated that there were several hundred warriors in town, which meant that Pula had raked the coast of the island north and south for miles and brought in every male Moro big enough to wield a weapon.

We seated ourselves on a table, back to back and facing out, with our own weapons very handy, and had a talk with Pula which lasted until late in the afternoon. Standing within striking distance of us most of the day, were two stalwart Moros, each of whom had a kriss dagger firmly gripped in his right hand and concealed between his folded arms. When one remembers that the average Moro fighter does not seem to know when he is dead, but keeps on doing damage after he ought to be busily occupied in passing to the other world, it will be seen that our situation left much to be desired.

Under the pretext of sending for a phonograph with which to entertain the crowd while our negotiations continued, I communicated with the captain of our steamer, advising him of the facts. He got out ammunition for his two one-pounder rapid-fire guns and took up a position immediately in front of the town. We did not ask him for reënforcements, believing that any attempt on his part to send them would precipitate an attack on us.

Never did I pass a more peculiar, or a more unpleasant, [599]day. Miller steadfastly insisted that Pula’s brother and the hired assassin be given up. Pula produced two thoroughly cowed Tagbanuas whom he had induced by threats to declare that they had committed the murders, and most emphatically declined to turn over either his brother or the true murderer. Our discussions were punctuated by tunes played on the phonograph which created great excitement among the Moros, some of whom got up and danced to the music!

Finally, late in the afternoon, Pula gave in, turned the murderer over to us, and promised to turn over his brother, but said that the latter must first be allowed to go home to get some clothes, and that he would then send him on board our ship.

We improved this our first opportunity to beat a retreat without losing face. Our Moro “friends” bid us good-by on the beach, then armed themselves and followed us at a short distance as we marched back to the landing place where our launch was pounding in the surf, awaiting our return. Three strong fighting parties came out of the dense vegetation which bordered the beach immediately after we had passed the places where they were concealed. They had obviously been waiting there to cut off our retreat if trouble started, and could most certainly have done it. In fact, they could have shot us down from the brush without showing themselves.

It required all the self-control which I could muster to keep my back toward the strong and constantly growing group of armed men who followed us, and to look unconcerned, yet I knew, as did every other member of the party, that our seeing the light of another day probably depended on our ability to do both things. The slightest evidence of alarm would have precipitated a fight which could have had but one outcome for us.

When opposite the launch, we turned and faced the Moros and then the several members of the party went aboard, one at a time. Never did a widening strip of [600]water look better to me than did that which finally began to separate us from the shore.

To our great amazement Dato Pula kept his word and sent his brother on board!

No man ever laboured more diligently for the good of alien peoples than did Governor Miller. He evolved a wise plan for improving the condition of the Tagbanuas living in the vicinity of Puerto Princesa, many of whom, as is so often the case with the uncivilized peoples of the Philippines, were reduced to a state of peonage by their Filipino neighbours. A large reservation was set aside for their exclusive use, and they were persuaded to retire to it. At the cost of infinite labour and pains Governor Miller built there a fine set of school buildings, and the Bureau of Education started a school which gives instruction in English, arithmetic and manual training to Tagbanua boys and girls.

Governor Miller’s keen interest in this project led him to stop to inspect the progress of the work when returning from a long trip around the island. In the face of a coming storm he ascended the Aborlan River to the school site, where he remained until after dark, oblivious of the fact that a tremendous downpour of rain in the neighbouring mountains had produced a sudden flood in the river. Returning to his launch, he jumped on board and cast off before the engine was started. The current swept the launch away like a straw, carried it in close to the bank, and an overhanging branch, which ordinarily would have been high above the water, struck the governor a stunning blow on the head, knocking him overboard. He never came to the surface, and twenty-four hours elapsed before his body was recovered.

Mr. John H. Evans, then serving as lieutenant-governor of Bontoc, in the Mountain Province, was appointed in his place, and I took him around the Palawan group of islands to introduce him to his unruly subjects. On arrival at Puerto Princesa we were told that the occupants [601]of a fleet of Moro boats were already raiding and killing along the southern coast of the island, and we accordingly took on board Captain Moynihan of the Philippine Scouts, with thirty of his soldiers. The report proved unfounded, but nevertheless the soldiers came in very handily.

I landed at Culasián Bay on the west coast, meaning to ascend a river to the settlement of Dato Tumay, the man whose people had on a former occasion fought Governor Miller with captured constabulary rifles and been soundly whipped. Finding no one on the beach, we walked up the river bank for a short distance to a group of half a dozen tightly closed houses which looked as if they might belong to fishermen. Here we were met by a splendidly dressed glad-hand delegation, who greeted us rather too effusively. My suspicion was further aroused by the fact that only three of them carried weapons, in sight at least. The weapons of a Moro chief are just as much a part of his full dress as are the garments he wears. I had a few moments’ friendly conversation with these people, during which I noticed that several of them displayed a marked inclination to get behind me. This I did not like, so took up a position with my back to the river. Presently I suggested that we had come to call on Dato Tumay. The following conversation ensued:—

“You cannot go to see him.”

“Why not? Are the trails in bad condition?”

“There are no trails.”

“Are you not Dato Tumay’s people?”

“Yes.”

“How did you come down if there are no trails?”

“We came down the river.”

“Very well, we will go up the river.”

“You cannot do that.”

“Why not?”

“There are no boats to carry you.”

“How did you come down?” [602]

“In those boats. [Pointing out two tiny dugouts barely able to carry two men each.] You and one of your friends can go up in them if you like. Two of our men will paddle you.”

This proposition did not seem attractive to me, so I suggested that I would take a little walk up the river. I had been positively assured that there was no other boat in the vicinity, but at the very first turn discovered a suspicious looking trail running up into the bushes and following it found a fully rigged war-canoe over which freshly cut brush had been hastily thrown. I suggested to the Moros that this looked very much like a boat. They replied that it leaked. I asked them to put it into the water, stating that I liked to see boats leak. Not a Moro stirred. We had brought twenty-five soldiers ashore with us, as Tumay’s reputation was by no means of the best, and I now called to some of them to come and put the boat into the river. In passing back of the group of Moros, one of these men stubbed his toe on the shaft of a lance which was hidden in the grass, and fell on his nose. He raised the lance as he recovered his feet, then stooped and picked up a second one, trailed them behind him until he reached a position in front of me and dropped them on the ground. Both had the sheaths removed from their long steel heads. Another soldier kicked around in the grass a bit and produced a serpent kriss which had been drawn from its scabbard. Still another fished up a baróng.2

I asked the ranking Moro present what was the meaning of these weapons, concealed at our very feet. He said that they were afraid that we would steal them and had therefore hidden them. I asked him whether any white man had ever stolen anything from them, and also why they had hidden them there, where we were likely to cut our feet on them, instead of in the forest which was not fifty yards away. Obviously there was no satisfactory [603]answer to these questions and he had no time to attempt any, for one of the soldiers stooped down and pulled out of the grass from beside his very hand a forty-five caliber single-action revolver, cocked and with all six cylinders loaded. Fearing to be taken at a disadvantage, I said to the soldiers, “Make these men sit down, and search the place for arms.”

The soldiers repeatedly ordered the Moros to sit down and the order was translated to them in their own language by my interpreter. Not a man obeyed. On the contrary, one of them turned his back and started off at a quick pace, disregarding repeated orders to halt. Theoretically he should have been shot.

Practically, I had ordered the soldiers not to fire under any circumstances unless some Moro drew a weapon. Mr. Olney Bondurant, assistant to the provincial governor for work among the Moros, had been taking a hasty look back of the houses and was returning to tell me that they were full of armed men. The Moro above mentioned, just before meeting Bondurant, reached into a bush and drew out two of the cruel fighting knives known as baróngs. They were in their flat sheaths, and lay one on top of the other. Snatching the upper one from its scabbard, he struck a wicked blow at Bondurant as the latter passed him on the trail. Bondurant, who was quick as a cat, dodged the blow, then whirled and shot his assailant. Instantly armed men with drawn weapons began to boil out of the houses on the side farthest from us, and those soldiers who were in a position to see them promptly opened fire. Other Moros also began to pop up at the edge of the forest, and we had a bit of a scrimmage, lively enough while it lasted. I took no part in it, but with three soldiers helping me compelled eleven men of the group with whom we had been talking to sit down, and kept them sitting until the unpleasantness was over, as I wanted to talk with them. I then told the head man to stand up. [604]

He was very reluctant to do this, obviously expecting to be shot, but no such fate was in store for him. On the contrary, I gave him a lecture, told him where certain wounded and certain dead Moros were to be found, and instructed him and his people first to care for the wounded; second, to bury the dead; third, to go to Tumay’s place and tell him that although I had come to make a friendly call on him, my party had been attacked by his people, but that the only men who had been hurt were those who had endeavoured to use their weapons on us. I furthermore directed him to tell Tumay that he must come across the island to the place where Mr. Bondurant lived, and explain this extraordinary occurrence. We then took our departure, marching down the beach a mile to our launch, and expecting every moment to be fired on from the dense forest close at hand.

We learned from a wounded Moro that our party had been mistaken at a distance for that of Governor Miller. On his last trip around the island he had been threatened by Tumay, who surrounded him with a strong body of armed men and talked to him in a very insulting manner. Miller, who had but a single companion, knew himself to be at Tumay’s mercy, and believing that he was in grave danger of being killed and that only a bluff could save him, slapped Tumay’s face vigorously and then gave him a strong piece of his mind. Tumay, overawed at such temerity, allowed him to depart in safety. Before leaving, Governor Miller exercised his lawful authority to order Tumay to take his people and move to the east coast of the island.3 Tumay begged that his people be [605]allowed to harvest some rice which he said they had planted, and Governor Miller, not knowing whether or not the statement was true, and not being in a position to investigate it, allowed him two weeks to be spent in this way.

I was about Governor Miller’s size. When I landed Tumay’s people mistook me for him, and thought that he was returning with soldiers to punish them for having disobeyed him, or to enforce his order that they move to a more accessible place. Hence the plan for the attack, which was rather clever. While the reception committee entertained us, the men concealed in the woods were to open on us. As we turned to deal with them the ones hidden in the houses were to attack us from the rear, and the reception committee were then to join in. When they found themselves mistaken as to the make-up of the party, which was larger than they had expected, there was delay and confusion, and the attack fizzled.

A few days later Tumay actually started across the island in obedience to my instructions, but on the way he met two recalcitrant Moro chiefs who encouraged him to stand out, saying that they and their people would help him fight the Americans, and he turned back. I accordingly asked that a hundred scouts be sent after him, and this was done, fifty of them marching over the mountains to cut off his retreat and fifty coming on a coast-guard boat which was intended to serve as a base of operations and afford a place to which injured men might be brought for treatment. Strict instructions had been given that there was to be no firing, except in self-defence, when women or children were liable to be hit. These orders were strictly adhered to, and Tumay was twice allowed to escape when he could have been shot down if it had not been for the danger of killing Moro women and children. Ultimately, after the non-combatants had surrendered, his armed band was overtaken early in the morning, and fired from ambush into the approaching scouts. The [606]return fire killed or wounded most of them, but Tumay got away. It was stated by some of his followers that he was badly wounded, but this proved to be untrue. A little later he voluntarily surrendered, as he had been deserted by his people and was reduced to dire straits.

The misconduct of Tumay and his men gave me a reason for moving the Moros from the west coast of Palawan, where they were living in mangrove or nipa swamps. It was hard to approach their settlements under any circumstances, and very dangerous to do so if they were disposed to be hostile. The west coast of Palawan was a no-man’s land, difficult of access on account of weather conditions and numberless uncharted reefs. It had long been a safe haven for evil-doers who fled from other portions of the Moro country to escape the vengeance of their fellows, and there was no possibility of compelling them to abandon their evil practices unless they were transferred to more accessible regions.

Governor Evans, with my approval, now issued the necessary instructions to them, and they were all moved to the other side of the island, together with their household goods and chattels of every description. Once there they were assisted in procuring building materials, and were fed until such time as they were able to take care of themselves. Only the old, the infirm, and women and children who could not support themselves by working were given food gratis. Trail construction was inaugurated, and all able-bodied persons were given an opportunity to engage in this or in other honest labor for a good wage payable either in money or in rice.

At the end of a year I visited these Moros at their new homes near Bonabóna, going ashore without a weapon of any sort, and finding them more friendly than could reasonably have been anticipated. I sent for old Tumay and had a very frank talk with him about past differences, in the course of which I asked him if he had had enough. He assured me that he had, and I then suggested [607]that we forget the troubles which were behind us and try to get on better in future. He promised to do his part, and has faithfully kept his word.

In August, 1912, I again visited the Moros of this region and to my great surprise was greeted as if I were a member of their royal family. They carried me ashore through the surf in a chair covered with a fine piece of purple brocade. Two men equipped respectively with a five-foot blue and a five-foot yellow umbrella, struggled with each other to see who should protect my delicate complexion from the sun. Wonder of wonders, the wives of the ranking chiefs were present in a dancing pavilion which had been erected for our benefit, this being the first time that these women had ever shown themselves in public. I learned that Hadji Mohammed4 had explained to them that the women of other nations were getting progressive, and had argued that they ought to follow suit. The poor things were dreadfully frightened, and sat with their backs toward us, covering their faces with gayly colored cloths if we so much as glanced toward them, but they were there, anyhow!

At noon the Moros sat down with us to a fine luncheon of their own providing. This is the first time in my eighteen years of residence in the Philippines that I have known a Moro to sit at meat with a white man, or for that matter with any person not a Mohammedan.

After the meal several chiefs insisted on my visiting them individually, and I found that entertainment had been provided at each of their houses. Old Dato Tumay, with only one woman to help him, had built the best house in town, and was cultivating with his own hands the largest piece of land farmed by any Moro in Palawan. He was greatly pleased when I complimented him on the good example he was setting. Later I referred to it in my annual report, and the assistant to the governor for work among the Moros read to him what I had said. The old [608]man was delighted. He immediately called the local chiefs together and delivered a long lecture on the advisability of settling down and tilling the soil. The principal request that the Moros made, on the occasion of this visit, was that they be furnished agricultural implements and seeds.

Tumay was very ill with dysentery. From the ship I sent him medicine and a case of milk. He recovered in due time.

Moros are uncertain people to deal with, but I believe that we are now on the right road so far as concerns those inhabiting Palawan, and that with a continuance of the present policy there will be no further serious trouble with them.

The Tagbanua reservation and the school established in connection with it have proved a great success. A large number of Tagbanuas have settled on the reserve and are farming industriously, while their boys and girls are making rapid progress in school, where they obtain practical instruction that will make them better and more useful men and women.

In Southern Palawan the wild people of the highlands, who have never yet allowed any one to enter their country, are being persuaded to come down to the coast by the establishment of little government trading posts where they can sell their few products at good prices, and can purchase what they need at a reasonable figure.

All in all, things are moving forward steadily in Palawan, although many of the Filipino settlements are still filthy and unsanitary. Encouraged by the results obtained in Mindoro, I have inaugurated an active campaign to compel these people to clean up, and anticipate success. One thing which renders it difficult to deal with some of the Filipinos of this province is that in its more remote districts they are showing a marked tendency to scatter out into the forests where they make caiñgins, or forest clearings, and live in tiny huts. Little by little they are [609]gravitating back to the barbarism from which they originally emerged, and under existing laws they are free to do this if they like. I regret that this tendency is by no means confined to the province of Palawan. The Spaniards dealt with it in no gentle manner, but we are powerless to do more than argue against it.

The cost of the work in Palawan in valuable human lives has been dear. No one can at the outset fill the place of a man like Governor Miller, who had become invaluable not only as a result of his personal characteristics, but because of his years of experience and of the regard in which he was held by his people. Unfortunately his life is not the only one which has been sacrificed for the good of the inhabitants of this province. Mr. W. B. Dawson, who organized the work of the Tagbanua Industrial School and was in a fair way to make a success of it, died of malignant malarial fever contracted at his post of duty. Mr. William M. Wooden, who succeeded him, in his anxiety to return more quickly to his post after a brief absence, leaped overboard from a launch and was drowned while trying to swim ashore. Mr. Olney Bondurant, assistant to the provincial governor, who did admirable work among the Moros and the Tagbanuas in Southern Palawan, and though suffering from dangerous illness never gave up, but rendered service in the field on the very day of his death, also fell a victim to pernicious malaria.

If the results obtained by these splendid men, who amid lonely surroundings and in the face of manifold discouragements, bravely and effectively carried on their country’s work, are to be permanent results, then I hold that the price has not been too dear, but if they are to be destroyed by the premature withdrawal of American control these sacrifices are pathetic indeed.

All of the territory in Northern Mindanao east of Dapitan and north of the eighth parallel of latitude was at the outset divided between the provinces of Surigao and [610]Misamis. It is generally conceded that these provinces had been worse governed under American rule by their Filipino officials than have any others, and it was to be anticipated that, under such circumstances, their very numerous non-Christian inhabitants would prove to have been very badly mistreated. Sinister rumours reached me from time to time as to what was occurring, but I had no competent persons whom I could send to make investigations on the ground, and intended to defer action until I could go myself.

Matters were finally brought to a crisis by reports from Catholic priests, school-teachers and other reliable persons setting forth a condition of affairs which seemed to demand immediate remedial action. The commission had previously made a liberal sum available for work among the Bukidnon people of Misamis, and I had endeavoured to bring about the prosecution of this work by the Filipino provincial officials, but my efforts had been fruitless. Not one centavo of the funds appropriated had ever been expended. No Filipino provincial official had so much as visited the main Bukidnon country, the borders of which were distant less than three hours’ ride from the provincial capital.

The Bukidnon people are industrious. They raise a large part of the coffee, hemp and cacao exported from Cagayan, the capital and the principal port of Misamis. They were being robbed when they sold their produce. A common procedure was to instruct them that they must sell to certain individuals at absurdly low prices, and if they did not promptly obey, to bring charges of sedition against them and throw them into jail. As a matter of fact, they hardly knew the meaning of the word sedition.

Depredations upon them were by no means confined to the town of Cagayan de Misamis. Filipinos from the coast invaded their territory, debauching them with vino and purchasing their property when they were [611]drunk; getting them into crooked gambling games and cheating them, or swaggering around armed with revolvers and so terrorizing them that they surrendered their belongings. It was common for a Filipino to go into the Bukidnon country with nothing but the clothes on his back, and soon to return with three or four carabaos heavily laden with hemp, coffee, cacao, or gutta percha.

Although the provincial governor had appointed, in some instances, men whom he had never seen as presidentes of settlements, the settlements were in reality without government, and their discouraged and disgusted people were betaking themselves to the mountains whence they had been brought years before by Jesuit missionary priests. The wilder members of the Bukidnon tribe, and the Manobos in the southern part of the province, who had never abandoned their mountain homes, were preying upon their neighbours, and committing crimes of violence undisturbed.

In the Agusan River valley conditions were nearly as bad. The people along the main stream were for the most part broken-spirited Manobos. Their settlements had been parcelled out among the members of the municipal council of Butuan to be plundered. The activities of these “Christian” gentlemen had been such that a number of Manobo villages were already completely abandoned, while the people of others were gradually betaking themselves to secure hiding-places in the trackless forests which stretch east and west from the banks of the Agusan.

Both in the Bukidnon and in the Manobo country the trade in bad vino was being actively pushed. The principal business on the Agusan River at that time was shipping it up-stream. Opium was being imported in considerable quantities from Cebu. The use of this drug was already established among the people of Butuan, and was gradually spreading up the river. The wilder Manobos, who lived some distance back from the stream, and [612]the Mandayas along its upper waters, were killing and plundering without let or hindrance.

These statements, coming as they did from absolutely reliable witnesses, convinced me that I had allowed work for non-Christians in other parts of the archipelago to interfere unduly with investigations which I should have made in this region. As the legislation under which we were working for the betterment of the wild people had now taken final form, all that was necessary in order to begin active operations looking to the correction of these untoward conditions was to cut off a province from Surigao and Misamis and organize it under the Special Provincial Government Act. In view of the relative unimportance of the Filipino population in Misamis and Surigao, and of the lamentable conditions which had arisen there under Filipino provincial officials elected in accordance with the provisions of the Provincial Government Act, I suggested that both provinces be reorganized under the Special Provincial Government Act. This would have had the effect of making their officials appointive. American governors who would have protected the non-Christian inhabitants could have been put in office. Unfortunately, the first session of the Philippine Legislature was about to be held, the assemblymen having already been elected. Every member of the commission present, American and Filipino, agreed with me that the course which I suggested would be in the interest of the inhabitants of these two provinces, but they all shied off when it came to taking the needed action because of the political hullabaloo which would most certainly have resulted. I was forced to accept the best compromise I could get, and a law was passed providing for the establishment of the province of Agusan with two sub-provinces to be known respectively as Butuan and Bukidnon. Butuan took in the whole Agusan River valley as far south as the eighth parallel of latitude, and east and west to the crests of the two watersheds. It also included some [613]territory on the west coast of the northern peninsula of Mindanao. Bukidnon included all of the territory inhabited by the people of the same name, and that of some wild Manobos in central Mindanao.

Armed with the law creating the new province, I proceeded to investigate conditions on the ground, and actually to establish the provincial government. At the town of Butuan, situated about five miles up the Agusan River, and accessible to good-sized steamers, I was met by Frederick Johnson, a captain in the Philippine constabulary who had had wide experience in dealing with the non-Christian tribes of the Moro Province and had been very successful in this work. At my request he had been appointed governor of the Province of Agusan, of which the town of Butuan was the capital.

We hired a launch, driven by a one-cylinder engine, from a man named Wantz, and in it proceeded up the river, taking the owner along to run the boat. It was paid for by the day, and I was warned before I started that Wantz had his own ways of lengthening journeys. I soon discovered that this was true. Before starting I had indicated the settlement which must be reached before dark, but the engine soon began to wheeze and thump dolefully. It happened that I knew something about gasoline engines, and this one sounded to me as if it were running with the spark advanced too far, but I could not discover the adjusting mechanism, so exercised diplomacy, involving Wantz in a discussion of the intricacies of modern gasoline engines, and stating that I had an automobile with a very convenient attachment for advancing and retarding the spark. He promptly and proudly showed me the device on his engine for the same purpose. It was hidden away where I could not have found it. After he had instructed me in its operation I quietly retarded the spark, and the engine began to work in a most cheering manner. In order to punish Wantz, I insisted that we keep on until we reached our [614]prescribed destination, in spite of the time we had lost.

We had a prophet of evil on board who predicted that Wantz would certainly have the engine thoroughly stacked by the next morning, and he did. We had planned to start at daylight, but, when we climbed down to the boat in the gray dawn, found him puttering over its machinery. He said that the cylinder was “froze up.” As the temperature did not seem to warrant such a result, I got him to explain to me what was wrong, and after watching him put on and take off the cylinder-head several times, discovered that he had an ingenious contrivance so arranged that by giving a single push he could put the make-and-break spark connection out of commission from the inside of the cylinder. I myself adjusted it properly, compelled him to put on the cylinder-head without touching his disarranging mechanism, and we went on our way. For some time I watched him closely, and while I continued to do so, the engine ran beautifully, but ultimately I had to go ashore to inspect a rotting Manobo settlement, and while I was gone he queered it again in such a manner that I could not find the cause of the mischief. We had speedy revenge, however, for while we were negotiating a swift rapid the engine died, with the result that the launch nearly turned turtle and narrowly escaped being wrecked. This frightened Wantz, and after a few mysterious manipulations on his part the engine began to “put, put, put” again most cheerfully, and we ascended the rapid without difficulty.

On the evening of the third day we reached a Filipino settlement called Talacógon, seventy miles up the river. Wantz began to complain that he was sick, and as Talacógon would have been a very comfortable place to lie over, I opined that his ailment would become acute before morning. At four o’clock I sneaked down to the river bank by a back street to see what was going on. He was whistling cheerfully. I beat a careful retreat, then came [615]ostentatiously down the main road to the pier. Sepulchral groans were now issuing from the launch, and Wantz was not visible. I found him writhing on its bottom in assumed agony. By this time I had become convinced that a native banca with a few good oarsmen would be better than a launch with such an engineer, so told him I was sorry he was ill, gave him permission to return to Butuan, and offered to pay what I owed him on the spot. When he found that it was not my intention to pay for the time consumed by the return trip his symptoms became less alarming, and he expressed hope of ultimate recovery. Interrogated as to the probable date when he would be prepared to continue the journey, he put it three days ahead. I told him that I could not wait so long. Gradually he reduced to half a day the time which the reëstablishment of his health would require, but I told him that I could not wait, and that his recovery must be immediate if he was to continue with us. This was too much of a jolt to his pride, and when we were ready to embark he was still too ill to start! We accordingly loaded our belongings into two bancas each some sixty feet long, lay down on our backs in their little cabins, and continued on our way upstream.

The trip up the Agusan River is a most wonderful one. Nothing could surpass the magnificence of the tropical vegetation along its banks. The sportsman finds himself constantly diverted. Great fruit pigeons and huge hornbills frequently fly over one’s boat, or perch in trees where they can be shot from the river. Monkeys abound. Huge crocodiles may occasionally be observed sleeping on the banks. Wild hogs are plentiful, but usually keep out of sight. The trees are hung with a marvellous drapery of vines, orchids and ferns, and, as the stream is so broad and deep as to render its navigation easy, one can lean back and enjoy to the full the beauties of nature displayed in prodigal abundance on every side.

We found the human inhabitants of this wonderful [616]region a highly unsatisfactory lot. The Manobo families were living either singly, scattered along the river, or grouped in little villages composed of a dozen or two rotting huts and surrounded by the accumulated filth of years. As was to be anticipated under the circumstances, most of the people were full of malaria, and many suffered from repulsive skin diseases. They had little cultivated ground. The growing and cleaning of hemp was their only resource, and they had become so accustomed to having the products of their labour taken from them by the people of Butuan that they had almost given up working. They listened with dull, uncomprehending hopelessness to our story of better days to come, and it soon became evident that nothing but practical experience would convince these helpless people that times were going to change.

The Filipinos of Talacógon were an especially lazy, vicious lot, who did no work themselves, but sponged or stole a living from their non-Christian neighbours. Forest trees were springing up on the plaza of this town. Its streets were deep in mud, and its sanitary condition beggared description. I was really afraid to stay overnight. I ordered the people to clean up, and they laughed at me. I ultimately made them clean up, but they successfully resisted my efforts to do so longer than the people of any other town ever did, and several years passed before I was at all satisfied with results.

Our progress up the river was unimpeded until we reached what is shown on the maps of Mindanao as a series of extensive lakes, but is in reality a huge and trackless swamp. Some years before a very severe earthquake had caused the subsidence of a vast forested area along the banks of this portion of the Agusan River, with the result that the old river-bed was completely broken up, and the river below this point reversed its flow for some time until the depressed region had been filled up by the water which entered it from all sides. There were no [617]well-established channels through this submerged forest, and navigation in it was dangerous unless one had experienced guides.

In order that such guides might be always available, the Spaniards had compelled a number of them to live on the outskirts of the swamp at a place called Clavijo. The ground on which their houses stood was under water most of the year. They were a miserable, sickly lot. Most of them were suffering acutely from malaria, and all were very anxious to abandon the ill-fated site of their village,—a thing which, it is needless to say, they were promptly permitted by us to do. Having secured the services of several of them, we continued our journey toward Bunauan, but found the stream which we ascended after extricating ourselves from the swamp so choked with rubbish that it was frequently necessary either to clear channels or to haul our heavy boats over masses of dead tree trunks, branches, bamboo, etc. From Bunauan we returned to Butuan and sailed for Cagayan de Misamis.

While passing along one of the main streets of the latter town on my way to the provincial building, I discovered Bukidnon people buying vino by the demijohn. The law prohibiting the sale of alcoholic liquors to members of non-Christian tribes was then in effect throughout the archipelago. One of the first questions which I put to the Filipino governor was whether he had taken the necessary measures to see that this law was enforced. He replied in the affirmative. I asked him what he had done. He said that he had sent letters to the several Bukidnon settlements telling the people that they must not buy vino. I asked him if he had warned the dealers in his own town that they must not sell to the Bukidnons, and he replied, “It has not occurred to me to do that!”

Having explained to the governor the terms of the law establishing the province of Agusan, and the reason for its adoption, I proceeded across the bay to a barrio which then was, and still is, the point of departure for [618]the interior, planning to start at daylight the following morning. I had with me my private secretary Mr. Zinn, and Mr. Frederick Lewis, who had just accepted appointment as lieutenant-governor of the sub-province.

Lewis had taken a number of Zamboanga Moros to the St. Louis Exposition and had also assumed charge of the Lake Lanao Moros there when their manager misbehaved and it became necessary to dispense with his services. He had looked after his people so carefully and so well that some of the hardened old sinners from Lake Lanao actually wept when they parted company with him on the beach after their return from the United States! He was a tireless rider, and the country which he was to govern was a horseman’s country par excellence.

Our transportation for the trip was in charge of a Filipino lieutenant of constabulary, named Manual Fortich, and I was not greatly pleased with this arrangement, as we had a hard journey ahead of us which might be rendered difficult or even dangerous by lack of efficiency on the part of the man who looked after our saddle animals and our carriers. I soon learned, however, that no better man could have been selected for this task.

We marched at daylight, as is my custom when travelling overland in the provinces. At midnight a mounted Filipino messenger, sent by the caciques of Cagayan, had started ahead of us to frighten the people of the towns which we proposed to visit so that they would take to the hills. In this he was partially successful. When we reached the small settlement of Tancuran late in the afternoon, after a hard day’s work, the only inhabitants left were a few old cripples who had been too sick or too feeble to run away. However, many of those who had fled were hiding in the underbrush near by. Lieutenant Fortich, who had already made himself invaluable to us, soon rounded up quite a number of them, and they were in turn despatched for their friends.

This little village was in a deplorable state of abandonment. [619]Only a few of its houses were habitable. It had been well laid out by some good Jesuit missionary priest, but its streets and plaza were choked with a jungle of tropical vegetation through which ran trails resembling deer paths! There was absolutely nothing growing in the vicinity which could furnish food for a human being.

Lieutenant Fortich ultimately got together quite an audience for me. We squatted around a cheerful camp-fire and discussed the past and the future until late at night. I was delighted to find that my auditors took a keen interest in my statements. They soon gained courage to tell me freely of the abuses which they had suffered, and while obviously not optimistic over my promises of better things, were evidently willing to be shown.

Just before we turned in Lieutenant Fortich asked me at what time I would like to start in the morning. I said “five o’clock.” He replied, “Very well.” While his remarks were gratifyingly in accord with the biblical injunction to “let your conversation be yea, yea; nay, nay,” I feared that he did not fully comprehend the difficulties involved in an early start, so decided to take a hand myself when the time came. I accordingly arose at three-thirty A.M., and nearly fainted when I found that the horses were already munching their grain and, wonder of wonders, that the carriers were eating their breakfast. The usual thing is to be informed, when you are about an hour on your way, that the carriers have had no breakfast, and to be forced to sit down and wait while they cook and eat their morning meal. I went back to bed, convinced that I had discovered a new kind of Filipino constabulary officer. I got up again at four o’clock, dressed, and went to the table at four-thirty, finding a piping hot meal ready. When at five o’clock I descended the stairs of the house where I had spent the night, my horse was saddled and waiting at the gate. All I had to do was to climb aboard. Meanwhile I had not heard an order given, or a word spoken in a tone above that of ordinary conversation. [620]Throughout the trip Lieutenant Fortich continued to display quiet efficiency. I jotted his name down in my mental notebook as that of a man to be used later. He is to-day the lieutenant-governor of Bukidnon, and a most faithful, competent and efficient public officer.

During my first day’s ride I had had a decidedly startling experience. On leaving the sea beach one climbs rather abruptly for some nine hundred feet and then comes out on a wonderful plain. After riding over this beautiful stretch of level country for some time I could not longer resist the temptation to attempt to take a panoramic series of views showing it, so dismounted, set up my camera and made three exposures, rotating the instrument so as to get a panoramic effect. I worked with my back toward my companions, and became so absorbed in my task that I failed to notice that they were moving on. When I finally turned around I discovered to my utter amazement that I was alone, save for the carrier who packed my camera and plates. In every direction an apparently unbroken plain stretched for miles, and there was not another human being in sight. My companions had disappeared from off the face of the earth. I actually began to fear that I had taken leave of my senses. Nothing which has ever befallen me has given me such a curious sensation. However, one tangible thing remained; to wit, a well-marked trail through the grass. I followed it, and before I had gone three hundred yards came to the brink of a precipitous cañon down the wall of which my companions were zigzagging. From the point where I had taken my photographs it was absolutely impossible to detect the existence of this narrow crack in the earth. We soon learned, to our sorrow, that this first cañon was only one of many.

At its bottom was a raging torrent which we forded with difficulty. My fool horse got frightened and turned down-stream where the current was swiftest, and I narrowly escaped taking an impromptu trip down rapids [621]which would have hammered me into insensibility against the rocks.

Until we reached Malaybalay the conditions encountered in the several villages through which we passed were similar to those which we had found at Tanculan: houses abandoned for the most part, and always in a lamentable state of neglect; sanitary conditions very bad; streets and plazas overgrown; an abundance of coffee bushes in some of the villages, but no visible source of food supply anywhere, except for a few scraggly banana plants.

At the outset we had found all the villages deserted, but in each case had managed to get some of the people back and hold a friendly interview with them. The “grapevine telegraph” got to working, and soon they began to await our arrival. At Malaybalay they gave us quite an ovation. This town was comparatively clean; the grass on the plaza was neatly cut. All in all, conditions were so encouraging that I decided that it should be the capital of the subprovince.

The following day we continued our journey to Linabo, where I heard of a Filipino engaged, as usual, in terrorizing the inhabitants and taking their products from them. I twice sent him courteous requests to come to see me, and then had him unceremoniously brought into my presence. He was carrying an ugly looking, heavy-calibre six-shooter. I demanded the document which justified his possession of this weapon, and as he could produce nothing more satisfactory than a note from the governor of Misamis authorizing him to use it in that province, I took his gun away from him. He assumed a threatening attitude and warned me that he was a friend of the provincial governor, but I told him that he was not a friend of mine, and started him on his way to the coast.

This occurrence was known throughout Bukidnon within three days, and as the man in question was influential the fact that his claws had been at least temporarily trimmed greatly encouraged the people. [622]

From Linabo we returned by a different route, visiting the old settlement of Sumilao, the site of the original Jesuit mission in Bukidnon, and spending a day in endeavouring to reach a constantly disappearing village named Nanca. We had gathered from the written report of a lieutenant of the United States army that Nanca was distant from Sumilao about two hours’ ride. We reached it after dark, having travelled steadily throughout the day except for some thirty minutes taken for lunch, and having, I firmly believe, broken the world’s record for the number of cañons encountered in the course of a fourteen-hour ride.

Nanca proved to be a very interesting Bukidnon village, as its people retained their picturesque tribal dress and most of their primitive customs. I became much interested in finding out about its organization, and the part that each family took in its affairs, and asked the persons present what each man did. I finally came to a particularly fine-looking white-haired individual, and when I inquired about him my informant replied: “Oh, he does not do anything. He is a philosopher!” Then the crowd shouted with laughter. We decided that the Bukidnons were not without a sense of humor.

A hard half day’s ride brought us back to Cagayan de Misamis, and I sailed at once for Manila, leaving Lieutenant-Governor Lewis to face his difficult task alone. As I had anticipated, trouble promptly began. The wealthiest people of Cagayan had always lived off the unfortunate Bukidnons, and had no intention of relaxing their grip. I have deeply regretted that I did not myself visit the remaining villages in the valley of the Cagayan River and explain to their inhabitants the change in their fortunes. Agents of the Cagayan caciques had been busy there while I was occupied on the other side of the subprovince, and shortly after my arrival at Manila a telegram was received from the provincial [623]governor, saying that the Bukidnons were asking for a brown governor, instead of a white one, and were reported to be preparing ropes and poison with which to commit suicide.

Now these simple people of the hills had no intention of committing suicide, nor did they want “a brown governor.” Their petitions were prepared by Cagayan caciques and they were forced to sign them.

In the part of the subprovince which I had visited the conspirators against the new government made little headway. Nevertheless their vicious activities continued, and later, on several occasions, they succeeded in frightening the people of one or another of the then rapidly growing towns so badly that they took to the hills, and Mr. Lewis had to hunt them up and persuade them to come back again, which he always succeeded in doing.

When I returned to inspect Bukidnon a year later, I found that a marvellous change had already been brought about. Model villages had taken the place of the ramshackle affairs which I had found on my first visit. The houses were grouped around spacious plazas on which the grass had been so carefully cut that they had already begun to look like lawns. Streets were kept so clean that one could literally pick up a dropped pin without the slightest difficulty. Where the streets reached the open prairie, bars were provided to keep stray animals out of town. Every yard was neatly fenced. All domestic animals were properly confined if not out at pasture. Every village was perfectly drained, the slope of the land being such that all drainage promptly ran off onto the prairie. Yards were immaculately clean and were planted with useful food-producing crops. Little cultivated fields were already beginning to appear near the outskirts of the towns. This latter change greatly delighted me. These poor, ignorant people had always believed that the prairie soil was worthless for agricultural [624]purposes, and that in order to grow crops it was necessary for them to go to the distant mountains, clear forest land and plant it. Furthermore, they had been quite unable to break the prairie sod and bring the underlying soil under cultivation with such simple agricultural implements as they possessed.

At the request of Lieutenant-Governor Lewis, I had furnished two disk plows with the necessary animals to pull them, in order that the land might be plowed the first time for those who were willing to cultivate it. Thereafter they were left to care for it themselves. This plan had aroused great enthusiasm. As I approached Sumilao I saw a crowd of men busily engaged in some task, and when I drew near was amazed and delighted to find that, although the disk plow intended for use at that place had arrived before the animals which were to pull it, fifteen men had harnessed themselves to it and were vigorously breaking the sod. I decided on the spot that the Bukidnon people had a future, and have never changed my mind. The progress which they have since made is almost unbelievable.

Efforts to destroy the government which we had established in Bukidnon, and to reëstablish the system of peonage under which its peaceful, industrious inhabitants had so long groaned, were persistently continued. During my third annual inspection trip, I found that there was a plan on foot to trump up criminal charges against Lieutenant-Governor Lewis and Señor Manuel Fortich, whose services I had meanwhile secured as an assistant to Mr. Lewis upon his severing his connection with the constabulary. The efforts of the mischief-makers had become so persistent and so vicious that I decided to declare war on them. Accordingly, I ran over to Cagayan and summoned the provincial officers and several other prominent citizens, with whom I went straight to the point, telling them that I had not anticipated that they would readily adapt themselves to the changed conditions [625]which resulted from the separation of Bukidnon as a distinct subprovince, and had patiently waited three years for them to accept the inevitable, but that I had grown weary of their constant efforts to nullify the work which we were doing, and that I was aware of the plan to destroy the usefulness of Lewis and Fortich; adding that they must let the Bukidnon officials alone, and that in the event of future failure to do so I would temporarily transfer my office to Cagayan de Misamis and devote my time and attention to making things interesting for certain of them. I named no names, and it was not necessary to do so. The individuals referred to knew whom I meant.

Conditions now rapidly improved for a time, but in November I was called to Washington to be investigated by the Committee on Insular Affairs with reference to my administration of public and friar lands, and the enemies of the Bukidnon government promptly became active. Governor Lewis was arrested and tried on two criminal charges, while his assistant, Señor Fortich, was charged with murder, no less. If the charges of estafa and falsification of public documents brought against Lewis failed, it was proposed to prosecute him for adultery, the minimum penalty for which in the Philippine Islands is imprisonment for two years, four months and one day.

Fortunately, it took but a short time to show that the cases against those two young men were spite cases pure and simple, and they collapsed miserably. Other charges were promptly brought.

There had been a sad mix up, resulting from an ill-defined boundary line between Bukidnon and the Moro Province, for which I myself was directly responsible, as the papers concerning it were on my desk awaiting action when I was called home, and in the rush of a hurried departure I had overlooked them. Lewis and Fortich had been unjustly blamed for the result. I now took a [626]hand in the game myself, and the whole matter was satisfactorily cleared up. Lewis was promoted to the governorship of the province of Agusan, and Fortich was made lieutenant-governor of Bukidnon, a position which he has filled ever since with great credit to himself and advantage to the Bukidnon people.

The progress which has been made in Bukidnon is really wonderful. At the outset there was not a decent trail in the subprovince. Now one can go nineteen miles inland to the Mañgima River cañon in an automobile, and it will be soon possible so to continue the journey ten miles further to Maluco. Excellent low-grade horse trails, many miles of which are already wide enough to serve as automobile roads as soon as the line to the coast is completed, connect the principal settlements of Bukidnon proper, which also have telephonic communication, the people having gladly undertaken to cut and erect the necessary poles and build and maintain the lines, if furnished instruments, wire, insulators and tools. They have kept their bargain, and there are constant demands for an extension of the system, under similar conditions, to the more remote mountain villages.

There was not a bridge or a culvert in the subprovince. Pack animals were constantly being swept away by the rushing currents of the larger rivers, or perishing miserably in mud when attempting to cross soft-bottomed creeks. Now one may ride from the sea-coast to Malaybalay without wetting the feet of one’s horse, and in so doing one will cross more than a hundred substantial bridges and culverts built by the Bukidnons themselves. As a rule, even the largest bridges have cost the government no more than the price of their iron bolts and braces. The people have voluntarily and cheerfully done the work, in order to get the benefits which would result. In some cases heavy hardwood timbers have been dragged for fifteen miles or more by teams of hundreds of men. All bridges are roofed, and they afford fine camping places [627]for travellers and their pack animals. Incidentally the load which pack animals can comfortably carry has been more than doubled.

Old villages have increased greatly in size, and numerous new ones have been established. All have spacious plazas and streets which are beautifully kept. The mountains are almost depopulated. The hardy old fighters who used to frequent them have become peaceful agriculturists. Houses are neat and clean. Yards are fenced, planted with useful crops, and well cultivated. Each house has its own sanitary arrangements. No domestic animals are allowed to run at large in towns.

Rich, cultivated fields surround the villages and each year stretch farther and farther out over the neighbouring prairies. Coffee production is increasing by leaps and bounds, and blight is disappearing from the plantations as the result of intensive cultivation. The people are well fed and prosperous. Their condition steadily improves. They have been taught the value of their products, and encouraged to insist on receiving it.

Practically every village has its schoolhouse and its schoolmaster’s house, voluntarily built free of charge by the inhabitants. Children are sent to school by their parents and learn rapidly. On my second visit I found the boys trying to play baseball, using joints of bamboo for bats, and big, thick-skinned oranges for balls. I sent to each of the more important towns a complete baseball outfit, and now the boys certainly know, and can play, the game.

These results have been accomplished practically without bloodshed or rough treatment of any sort. Only in the rarest instances, and in dealing with the very worst of the hill men, who were professional murderers, has a shot been fired.

When the subprovince was invaded by bands of savages from the mountains of Butuan and from the neighbouring Moro Province, the people requested firearms so that they [628]might protect themselves. Some twenty-five old carbines were furnished them, and they organized an effective force which pursued the evil-doers and policed them up very effectively.

Marámag, one of the most recently established villages, is in the very heart of Mindanao. Two years ago a good many of its leading citizens were living in tree-houses. During August, 1912, I found them cutting the grass on their plaza with a lawn-mower!

Another thing which has made me rub my eyes and wonder if I were awake was the discovery that the people of this subprovince were clothing themselves and their children in garments purchased from Montgomery, Ward & Co., of Chicago, Illinois, U. S. A.! The explanation is simple. The Cagayan shopkeepers persist in cheating them at every opportunity, and the house of Montgomery, Ward & Co. does not. Although Chicago is far away, the mail service is nevertheless good!

Death has just summoned Leoncio, one of the most remarkable men who has yet arisen among the Bukidnon people. We found him an absolutely illiterate heathen. With no other instruction than that given him by lieutenant-governors Lewis and Fortich, he learned to lay out and build roads and trails on any desired grade, to construct bridges which will be standing twenty years hence, and to erect public buildings which would be a credit to any man compelled to use such materials as those available in Bukidnon.

At the time of his death he was just finishing a bridge three hundred feet long across the rushing Culaman River. This structure has a galvanized iron roof, contributed by the enthusiastic residents of Sumilao.

The healthful rivalry between towns is one of the delightful things about Bukidnon. Each desires to have better buildings, better streets, better bridges, better roads and better schools than its neighbours.

I experience no keener pleasure than that which I enjoy [629]on my annual trips through Bukidnon. There is always something new to see. The people are most grateful for the help which has been given them. Their friendliness and their loyalty cannot fail to touch the hearts of all who know them. They are now well housed, and well fed. Their children are being given in liberal measure the education which had previously been denied to them. The Bukidnons are to-day a prosperous, progressive people, happy and contented. I have an abiding faith in their future if they are given a chance.

When they meet their old Filipino oppressors on trips to the coast, the latter grit their teeth and remark under their breath: “Oh, very well. This is your inning now, but ours will come! The Americans are going soon, and then we will square our little account with you. You will pay dearly for your ‘insubordination’!” Having set the feet of these people on the road which leads onward and upward, shall we leave them to their fate?

Conditions in Butuan have improved far more slowly than in Bukidnon. The climate is less favourable. Bukidnon is a highland country with a white man’s climate. The Agusan River valley is usually hot, and always damp. The town of Butuan was considered the worst misgoverned municipality in the Philippines on the date of its separation from Surigao, and it was certainly one of the filthiest. I have sunk to my knees in the mud of its streets. It is to-day a beautifully kept and sanitary place, and is certainly not misgoverned.

As I have already said, the Manobo inhabitants of the wretched villages along the banks of the main Agusan River were a sickly, filthy, broken-spirited lot, besotted with vino and in danger of becoming victims of the opium habit. It is almost a physical impossibility completely to suppress the opium traffic because of the ease with which the drug is smuggled, but the vino traffic has been suppressed. The chief business on the Agusan River was formerly the transportation of vino up-stream. It is [630]now the transportation down-stream of Manila hemp raised by the people of the valley.

The villages have been greatly improved and rendered reasonably sanitary. The best of them compare not unfavourably with some of the Bukidnon towns. The people improve, but radical improvement will not be in evidence until the next generation comes on.

Transportation facilities have been greatly increased by freeing several of the more important branches of the Agusan River from snags, and so opening them for launch navigation. Two good canals have been cut through the swamps, and communication by launch has thus been opened with the upper Agusan valley.

There is an industrial school for Manobo boys, and a number of the villages have primary schools.

Doubtless the most important single factor in improving the condition of the Manobos has been the establishment of a series of government shops at which they can sell their products for a fair price, and buy what they need so cheaply that it almost seems to them as if they were receiving presents.

Governor Frederick Johnston, who is largely responsible for these improved conditions, laboured ceaselessly to bring them about. At the outset he had no launch transportation and lived for weeks at a time in native canoes or bancas. He was fearless and tireless. When the time came for him to take long overdue leave I had no competent person to put in his place, and in deference to my wishes he continued at his post for nearly two years. At the end of that time it was found that one of his legs, which had been injured on an early exploring expedition, had become cancerous, and that immediate amputation was necessary. This made it impossible for him to continue his work, and crippled him for life. He had borne his trouble uncomplainingly, and I had not even known of its existence. Although a man of mature years, he bravely entered upon the study of medicine, hoping to prepare [631]himself for a useful life, but the operation had come too late. Cancer reappeared, and for a year he was dying by inches. In a way I am responsible for it. Do you think he laid it up against me? You shall judge for yourselves.

He used to write a copy-book hand. Just before leaving Manila I received from him an almost illegible letter in which he economized words as if composing a cablegram. It brought the tears to my eyes. He said:—

A few days later he went to his reward.

The loyalty of such a man is a precious possession.

The lot of the non-Christian tribes inhabiting the regularly organized provinces is not a happy one. The township government act is applicable to their settlements, and the provincial officers have the same powers and duties with reference to them as have the corresponding officers in the special government provinces. In both cases these powers are exercised subject to the approval of the secretary of the interior, but in providing [632]for the government of non-Christians in Christian provinces, we overlooked one very essential detail. Neither the secretary of the interior nor any one else has authority to compel the governors or provincial boards of these provinces to act. They have discovered that efforts to improve the condition of the ignorant and primitive peoples intrusted to their charge can be very effectively nullified if they merely sit still and do nothing, and almost with one accord they have adopted this policy. Exception should be made in favour of North Ilocos, South Ilocos, Pangasinán, Ambos Camarines, Iloilo and Zambales. No other provinces have made any real effort to help their non-Christian population, and the funds set aside by law to be expended for this end simply go on accumulating in their respective treasuries, as I have managed to convince them that efforts to divert such funds to purposes not authorized by law will not prosper. The law should be so amended as to provide that if provincial boards fail to act, the secretary of the interior may do so.

The organization of the Moro Province was provided for by an act passed on June 1, 1903. It is the largest single province in the Philippine Islands, including within its limits more than half of the great island of Mindanao with various small islands adjacent thereto, and Basilan, Joló, Siassi, Tawi Tawi, Sibutu, Cagayan de Joló and the very numerous other small islands stretching between Mindanao and North Borneo. It is divided into five districts, each with a district governor. The province has a governor, a secretary, a treasurer, an attorney, an engineer and a superintendent of schools.

The four officials first named constitute a legislative council the acts of which are subject to the approval of the Philippine Commission.

The province is allowed to expend the moneys accruing from the customs dues paid at Joló and Zamboanga, which are ports of entry, but is not fully self-supporting. The insular government pays for the Philippine constabulary [633]serving there. Until within a very short time the provincial officials have been almost exclusively officers of the army of the United States. In my opinion this arrangement has been a bad one, not because of the character of the men who have done the work, many of whom were of exceptional ability and were admirably fitted for the performance of the duties which fell to their lot, but because no one of them has retained a given office long enough to carry a policy through to its logical conclusion and get the results which might thus have been obtained. Indeed, the lack of a fixed policy, combined with some unnecessary and unjustifiable killing, explain, in my opinion, the fact that the results accomplished have come far short of what might have been expected when one considers the splendid body of men from which the provincial officials have been drawn.

Noteworthy public improvements have been made in places like Zamboanga and Joló, but the country of the hill people, which ought to have been crisscrossed with trails long ere this, is still not opened up. Tribes like the Mandayas would, if given the opportunity, advance as rapidly as have the Bukidnons, but such opportunity has not been given to them to any considerable extent.

Having heard much of the Mandaya villages near Mati, I improved the opportunity to visit them in August, 1912, only to find to my amazement that the local constabulary officer, who ought to have been in the closest possible touch with these people, did not even know the way to their settlements. At another place where some 1400 hill people had been compelled to come down from their native mountains and settle in a village which could have been made a model of cleanliness, and should have been surrounded by rich cultivated fields, not half enough ground had been cleared to furnish food for the inhabitants, even under the most favourable circumstances. The houses were falling down; the streets were deep in mud; the garden patches were overgrown with weeds; [634]more than half of the people had taken to the hills again in a search for food, and small blame to them! I found here as fine appearing a young constabulary officer as one could hope to meet, eating his heart out because he had nothing to do! Neither he nor any of his soldiers spoke the local dialect. He was supposed to be running a store, among other things, for the benefit of the hill people. I asked to see it, and it took him half an hour to find the key! In sixty minutes I could have set him work enough to keep him busy for three months. All that he needed was some one to direct him, but there was no one to do it. With the best intentions in the world he was using his soldiers to chase a lot of poor hill people back into a village where they ought never to have been asked to live. In other words, the Moro Province, having brought these people down and ordered them to settle on a site selected for them, had signally failed to back its own game. I myself would not think of trying to compel members of a wild tribe to live in any given place, unless it were necessary to do so in the interest of public order. Life in villages can, and should, be made so attractive to them that they will be glad to adopt it.

The Moros, with their fanatical religious beliefs and prejudices, present a very grave problem. Conditions have undoubtedly greatly improved in Davao, Cotabato and Zamboanga. I am not sufficiently familiar with affairs in the Lanao district to express an intelligent opinion concerning them. So far as concerns Joló, it is my opinion that things have come to a bad pass there; that life and property are not as safe to-day as they were during the early days of the American occupation, and that we have progressed backward for some time. However, Joló pirates have at least been pretty effectively kept off the sea, and that in itself is a very important result.

It is idle to suppose that the Moros can be subdued and made into decent citizens by throwing kisses at them. It [635]was certain from the start that they would transgress. In my opinion, if we are to cure them of their evil tendencies, we must first warn them that they will be punished if they misbehave, and then make the warning come true. This has been done, but to another very important part of the programme which I deem essential to success, comparatively little attention seems to have been given. When people who have been punished for misbehavior have had enough they should be afforded a chance to quit, and indeed should be encouraged and helped to do so. No grudge should be borne for past misdeeds after the account has once been settled. Occasions have not been lacking in the Moro Province on which men have been treated with severity when they should have been treated with kindness.

In the Moro, native racial characteristics have been profoundly modified by religious beliefs. Men endowed with such magnificent courage as the Moro warriors often display certainly have their redeeming qualities. The same old policy that has won with the Ifugaos, Bontoc Igorots and Kalingas, and is winning with the wild Tingians and Ilongots, has been tried in dealing with the renegade Moros of Palawan with a considerable degree of success. It is my firm belief that it will work with the Moros of Mindanao, Basilan, Joló and Tawi Tawi, but substantial and permanent progress cannot now be anticipated for many years. The Moros must be given more than a square deal, or results will not differ essentially from those which have attended the efforts of Japan to subdue the hill people of Northern Formosa, or those of the Dutch to subdue the Achinese.

Recently nearly all of the army officers holding positions in the Moro Province have been replaced by civilians. This is a move in the right direction; not, I repeat, because the men thus displaced are incapable of achieving success if given the opportunity, but because continuity of policy is absolutely essential to success and [636]is impracticable if the men charged with carrying out that policy are to be constantly changed. The next governor of the Moro Province should be a civilian and should be selected with the greatest care. He should be able, energetic, fearless, tireless and young. He should be kept in office for twenty years if he will stay so long. The task which awaits him is real man’s work. [637]

I trust that the foregoing incomplete outline of what has been accomplished toward bettering the condition of the non-Christian tribes of the Philippines has at least sufficed to convey some idea of the nature of the task which has confronted us and of the spirit in which it has been approached. Before considering further the difficulties which have been successfully met and the problems which still remain unsettled, I will correct some of the numerous misstatements which have been made relative to the unimportance of the non-Christian tribes, the nature of the work done for them, and the motives of some of those who have engaged in it.

I once heard it said that the trouble with Blount’s book was that it contained five thousand lies, that the correction of each would require, on the average, two pages of printed matter, and that no one would read the resulting series of volumes!

I have not counted the misstatements of this author. They are sufficiently numerous to make it impracticable to answer them all in detail. It is hard to know just what to do in such a case, as one must run the risk of giving undue importance to them by noticing them, or of creating the impression that they cannot be answered by ignoring them.

Under all the circumstances it has seemed to me well to reply somewhat fully to his more important allegations relative to non-Christian tribe matters, for the reason, among others, that many of his statements embody the more important claims of the Filipino politicians relative thereto; and to add that it would be equally easy to [638]riddle his contentions relative to most other matters which he discusses. He says:—

I have never had the good fortune to discover even one new tribe, the net result of my explorations and studies having been to reduce the number of such tribes claimed to inhabit the Philippines from eighty-two to twenty-seven, and to throw serious doubt on the validity of several of those which I still provisionally recognize. Blount adds:—

It is quite true that the Filipino politicians have bitterly resented my making known the facts relative to the existence of numerous uncivilized peoples in the islands, but to the charge that I hate the Filipinos I must enter an emphatic denial.

Fifteen years ago I expressed my opinion of them in the following words:—

This opinion, which I trust will not be considered unkindly, has not been modified in its essentials as a result of many additional years of life in the Philippines. I have unexpectedly had a hand in giving to the Filipinos opportunities which they had never before enjoyed. [640]I drafted the act under which the municipalities of these islands to-day govern themselves; the act creating the College of Medicine and Surgery where young Filipino men and women may receive the best of theoretical and practical instruction; the act creating in the Bureau of Lands a school of surveying as a result of which the present dearth of Filipino surveyors will soon end; the provision of law creating and providing for the Philippine Training School for Nurses, which is preparing hundreds of young Filipino men and women to practise a useful and noble profession. I drafted the legislation which created a forest school, where many bright Filipino lads are now being trained for the government service. I drafted the provision of law which gives to all Filipinos the right to make personal use of timber from the government forests without paying a cent therefor, and the act which makes it possible for municipalities to have communal forests, reserved for the special and exclusive benefit of their citizens.

I fought for eight years to get the money for the Philippine General Hospital, where nearly ninety thousand patients, the vast majority of whom are Filipinos, are treated annually either in beds or at the several clinics; I have approved, and indeed compelled, the appointment of a staff for that institution largely made up of Filipinos, and I have steadily supported the Filipino members of that staff when insulted or unjustly accused, as I regret to say they sometimes have been, as a result of race prejudice with which I have no sympathy.

I am the official ultimately responsible for the establishment and maintenance of a health system which indisputably saves the lives of hundreds of thousands of Filipinos every year, and has practically rid their country of smallpox, plague and cholera.

All of the employees of the Weather Bureau, which comes under my executive control, are Filipinos.

I could name a score of other important measures, having [641]for their sole object the betterment of the condition of the Filipinos, and extension to them of increased opportunity to demonstrate their capacity, which I have originated. I have never knowingly opposed a measure which would produce this result.

I frankly admit that I have declined to approve the appointment of a Filipino to any position under my control simply because he was a Filipino. I have insisted that appointees have higher and better reasons to claim consideration, among which may be mentioned decent character and ability to do the work of the positions to be filled. No living man entertains more genuinely kindly feelings toward the peoples of these islands, Christian and non-Christian, than do I. An allegation that I hate the Filipinos comes with especially bad taste from a man who himself never ceased to criticize them, and to denounce them as utterly incompetent and worthless throughout his Philippine career, but who finally experienced an eleventh-hour conversion on the eve of a presidential election which was likely to bring into power another political party.

Blount has worked out a theory, peculiarly his own, to the effect that the non-Christian peoples have been set aside as a field for purely Protestant missionary activities, and that I am a party to this scheme. In this connection he says:—

[642]

The first passage quoted has the merit of being ingenious, and embodies a half truth. Bishop Brent deems it inadvisable to try to proselytize Catholic Christians, and outside of Manila his co-workers confine their efforts to the conversion of persons other than Filipinos. They conduct missions for non-Christians at Sagada and Bontoc in Bontoc, at Baguio in Benguet, and at Zamboanga in the Moro Province.

In Manila they conduct a mission for Filipinos in connection with a hospital which does most valuable work, but they mean to leave Catholic Filipinos alone.

The Catholics recognize no corresponding limitations. They conduct missions for the Benguet-Lepanto Igorots at Baguio, Itogon, Kabayan, Cervantes and elsewhere; for the Bontoc Igorots at Bauco and Bontoc and for the Ifugaos at Quiangan.

The other Protestant denominations having missions in the Philippines work chiefly among the Catholics.

I have absolutely no connection with any such enterprises except that I have helped to make them possible in the wild man’s territory by the establishment of law and order there, and have sometimes made both Catholic and Protestant missionaries my agents for administering simple remedies to sick persons who might otherwise have perished miserably. [643]

To this extent, and to this extent only, has our government gone into the missionary business.

I am proud to count Bishop Brent and Archbishop Harty among my personal friends. I am in complete sympathy with the purposes which actuate both of them in prosecuting Christian missions. I have sometimes disapproved, personally, of methods employed by their subordinates in this work, and have felt free to tell them so!

Blount complains bitterly over the exhibition of members of non-Christian tribes at the Louisiana Purchase Exposition. For a wonder he admits that Tagálog and Visayan Filipinos were also exhibited. He fails to record the fact that a commission of highly educated and cultured Filipino men and women were sent to the exposition and travelled quite widely in the United States, so that they were seen, and heard of, by great numbers of people who never visited St. Louis at all. Of the exhibition of wild men, he says:—

And he rather ingeniously gives it to be understood that I was responsible for this exhibition, although he carefully avoids stating that this was the case.

I am quite as strongly opposed to the exhibition of members of the Philippine non-Christian tribes as is Blount himself, but for very different reasons hereinafter set forth. As such peoples constitute an eighth of the population of the Islands, I also object to the attempt of certain Filipino politicians to conceal the fact of their existence, and to the efforts of certain misguided Americans to minimize the importance of the problems which their existence presents. Let us look the facts in the face. The Moros are as “real” as the Tagálogs. [644]

The average Filipino does not object in the least to the exhibition of wild people. On the contrary, he is just as much interested in them as is the average American, and goes to see them whenever the opportunity offers. It is only the Filipino politician who pretends to see any actual immodesty in scanty costumes worn with the innocence with which Adam and Eve were endowed before the fall. The truth is that the politician himself does not really object to this semi-nudity, to which he is already sufficiently accustomed among his own people in his own native town, but he plays it up for political effect.

The pedigree of the average Filipino politician very frequently runs back to white or Chinese ancestors on the father’s side. In his heart of hearts he resents his Malay blood, and he particularly objects to anything which reminds him of the truth as to the stage of civilization which had been attained by his Malay ancestors a few centuries ago.

If he be a member of the Philippine Assembly, he further and bitterly resents his lack of authority to legislate for the Moros and other non-Christian tribes, and is ever ready to support his frequently reiterated demand for such authority by arguing the unimportance of these peoples, and that of the problems which their existence presents. Up to the time when the assembly was established and was denied the power to legislate for the non-Christians, my occasional illustrated lectures on the wild peoples, given at Manila, were very liberally attended by Filipinos, not a few of whom I am glad to say still continue to patronize them when occasion offers.

My own attitude toward the exhibition of non-Christians, and my reasons therefor, are set forth in the following official correspondence, with which I will this phase of the subject:— [645]

On April 22, 1910, in returning to the Governor-General a petition dealing with the exhibition of wild people I placed upon it this indorsement:—

“The undersigned would assume the same attitude toward any other person endeavouring to obtain Igorots for exhibition purposes.”

The advocates of the “united people” theory for these islands are forced to insist on the unimportance of the non-Christian tribes and it is needless to say that Blount [646]does this. His contentions on the subject are rather concisely stated in the following passage:—

If there were ten million American Indians who were in undisputed occupation of half the territory of the United States, this statement might in a way approximate the truth. Blount’s ten-year-old population figures are a trifle out of date, but before demonstrating this I wish to show certain peculiarities in his method of manipulating them. He says:—

This is all very well unless you take the Judge at his word and turn to the page of the census report referred to, but if you do this a rude shock awaits you, for instead of the table above quoted the following is the table which you will find:—

Table 1.—Total Population, Classified as Civilized and Wild, by Provinces and Comandancias.

[649]

From this it will be apparent to the reader that the Judge takes some rather unusual liberties even with such information as was available nine years before he finished his book. I have quoted the actual table in full, as it is useful for reference.

In the middle of the page referred to by Blount there begins another table showing “Total Population, Classified as Civilized and Wild, by Islands.” This table occupies four and one-half solid pages, and therefore does not closely resemble the one foisted on the public by him.

It includes 323 islands, from which the Judge has selected eight which happened to suit his purpose, giving it to be clearly understood that the islands which he has not included are “rocks sticking out of the water” and “little daubs you see on the map” “eliminated from the equation as wholly unessential to a clear understanding of the problem of governing the Islands.”

Among the “rocks” and “little daubs” thus eliminated are Mindoro with an area of thirty-eight hundred fifty-one square miles, and Palawan with an area of four thousand twenty-seven square miles. Of the islands included, Leyte has twenty-seven hundred twenty-two square miles; Cebu, seventeen hundred sixty-two square miles; and Bohol, fourteen hundred eleven square miles. Incidentally, neither Leyte, Cebu nor Bohol have any non-Christian inhabitants at all, while all of Mindoro and Palawan, with the exception of narrow broken strips along the coast are populated by wild people, hence it is convenient for him to ignore them.

In spite of his suggestion that it is not necessary to use the pencil in connection with his table, I ventured to do so, in connection with his statement that “Luzón and the Visayan Islands contain nearly 7,000,000 of people.” On his own showing they contain 6,158,311.

And now for the real facts. At the time the census enumeration was made Apayao had been crossed by a [650]white man only once and that more than a hundred years ago. Extensive portions of Ifugao and Bontoc, and the greater part of Kalinga, were unexplored, as were the interior of Mindoro and most of the interior of Palawan, to say nothing of immense regions in Mindanao. As a matter of fact, we do not to-day know with any accuracy the number of Mangyans in Mindoro, nor the number of Tagbanuas in Palawan, but it has been conclusively demonstrated that the latter were greatly underestimated by the census enumerators. There will be found in the appendix14 a table giving in detail the present accepted estimate of the non-Christian population of the islands, which numbers at least a million seventy thousand.

It is reasonably certain that the necessary corrections in the figures for several provinces for which the present estimates are admittedly too low will raise the total slightly.

Blount has made a further statement relative to the non-Christian population of Luzón which is indeed extraordinary. He says:—

The table on the opposite page, giving the census estimate of the non-Christian population of Luzón and the present accepted estimate, shows how erroneous is this statement.

It will be seen that the census estimate of non-Christian inhabitants in the province of Luzón was 224,106 and the present accepted estimate is 440,926.

In explanation of his extraordinary statement that practically all of the people of Luzón are civilized Blount has inserted the following foot-note:— [651]

Also you might live in the Philippines a long lifetime and never see anything but wild people. The question of [652]where they live is not intimately connected with that of their number, which is the point under discussion.

Blount devotes considerable space to alleged newspaper accounts of “a speech” said by him to have been delivered by me in the Y. M. C. A. auditorium at Manila. I delivered two illustrated lectures there, entitled respectively “The Non-Christian Tribes of the Philippines,” and “What has been done for the Non-Christian Tribes under American Rule.”

In the course of the latter discourse I made the point that Filipinos who claim that conquest confers no right of sovereignty are hoist with their own petard, for the simple but sufficient reason that the Negritos were the aborigines of the Philippines and were later conquered and driven out of the lowland country into inaccessible, forested mountain regions by the Malay invaders who were the ancestors of the present Filipino claimants not only to the territory thus conquered, but to territory which was held up to the time of the American occupation by wild tribes whom they now propose to conquer and rule if given the opportunity!

My shaft struck home and called forth a howl of rage from the politicians, which was the louder because I further expressed with entire frankness my firm belief that the Filipinos were unfit to govern the non-Christian tribes, whether or not they were fit to govern themselves.

In the course of further reference to the above-mentioned lecture, Blount says:—

[653]

Here, as is so often the case, he finds newspaper statements more suited to his purpose than cold facts. I yield to no one in my admiration for the courage of Filipinos, and have expressed it on a score of occasions. In my first book on the Philippines I made the following reference to it:—

This was not the only tribute which I paid to the courage of the Filipinos19 and I have never made a statement intended to reflect on it in the slightest degree. It is true that their fighting ability is on the average far below that of the Moros, and I may add that the same thing holds for Americans on the average.

It is really funny to see how Blount sometimes tells the truth in spite of himself. He takes me to task for amusing myself “by suggestions as to the superior fighting qualities of the Moros over the Filipinos,” and here is what he says on the same subject:—

“Consistency, thy name is not Blount!” [654]

The Moros are religious fanatics. I have known one when bayoneted to seize the barrel of the gun and push the bayonet through himself in order to bring the man at the other end within striking distance, cut him down, unclasp the bayonet and, leaving it in the wound to prevent hemorrhage, go on fighting. I have known two Moros armed with bamboo lances to attack a column of two thousand soldiers armed with rifles. It is an historic fact that Moro juramentados21 once attempted to rush the walls of Joló and kept up the fruitless effort until they blocked with their dead bodies the rifle slits, so that it became necessary for the Spanish soldiers to take positions on top of the walls in order to fire. I have known a Moro, shot repeatedly through the body and with both legs broken, to take his kriss in his teeth and pull himself forward with his hands in the hope of getting near enough to strike one more blow for the Prophet.

The Filipinos are afraid of the Moros and they have the best of reasons to be. The relative numerical insignificance of this little Mohammedan tribe of desperate fighters has little to do with the question under consideration. Their number has for centuries borne substantially the same proportion to the total population of the Philippines which it now bears, yet no one can deny that it is but a short time since they harried the archipelago from south to north and from east to west. The shores of Northern Luzón and the neighbouring islands are to-day dotted with the forts which were built for defence against them. The town of Polillo, on the northernmost island off the east coast of Luzón, is still surrounded by a high wall built to protect its inhabitants from the Moros. The churches at Cuyo, Agutaya, Culion, Linapacan and Taytay stand inside of strong stone fortresses in which the people took refuge when the Moros descended on their towns. Back of Bacuit a cave high up in a cliff was kept provisioned that it might serve a similar purpose. Not only were the [655]Filipinos unable to protect themselves against these bloodthirsty pirates of the south, but the Spaniards were for nearly two and a half centuries unable to afford them adequate protection. When I was in Tawi Tawi in 1891 the Moros of that island were still actively engaged in taking Filipino slaves and selling them in Borneo.

With all of our resources we have not as yet been able to establish a decent state of public order in the little island of Jolo. No serious minded person, familiar with the facts, with whom I have ever talked, believes for a moment that the Filipinos could establish an effective government over the Moros, or could keep them at home. They are wonderful boatmen and when once at sea in the little crafts of their own building are liable to strike the coast of the Philippine Islands at any point. When it is remembered that this coast is longer than that of the continental United States, the impossibility of adequately protecting the whole of it becomes immediately manifest. It would be always possible, under Filipino rule, for the Moros to strike defenceless towns, and where they struck the only resource of the inhabitants, whether Filipinos, Europeans or Americans, would be in speedy flight. It should be borne in mind that one Mohammedan who is earnestly desirous of being killed while fighting Christians can chase a good many unarmed citizens into the tall timber, brave though they may be!

I venture here once more to express the deliberate opinion that if American control were withdrawn from these islands and some other civilized nation did not interfere to restore a decent state of public order, the Moros would resume the conquest of the Philippines which they were so actively and effectively pushing when the Spaniards compelled them to abandon it, and would slowly but none the less surely carry it through to a successful termination.

The inaccuracy of Blount’s statements regarding matters [656]covered by absolutely conclusive documentary evidence is well typified by the following:—

The resolution which he quotes was never passed by the Assembly which on February 3, 1911, four months after my Y. M. C. A. lecture,23 and while I was absent in the United States, passed another and quite different one criticizing language “ascribed” to me, without ever making any effort to ascertain from me what was really said. I might quote the two in parallel columns, but I grow weary of showing the details of Blount’s false or mistaken statements, and refer those interested to the official records which he perhaps did not take the precaution to consult.

I gave the Assembly and every one else interested in the matter a chance to attack me by incorporating in my annual report for 1910 every important statement made at the lecture in question and by adding various new ones for good measure, but there was no response! It is a time-honoured procedure, but one of somewhat doubtful real value, to build up a man of straw in order to have the pleasure of tearing it to pieces. I must decline to assume responsibility for statements which I did not make.

Blount says he thinks that Nueva Vizcaya is my

With regret I must call attention to the fact that he thinks wrong. In Nueva Vizcaya as originally constituted there were representatives of three non-Christian tribes, to wit, the Ifugaos, numbering approximately [657]a hundred and fifteen thousand; the Ilongots numbering perhaps five thousand; and the Isinayes, who were numerically unimportant.

Years before Blount wrote his book the number of wild tribes was reduced to two and that of their individuals to approximately seven thousand by changes in the provincial boundary. As we have seen, there are slightly more than one million non-Christian inhabitants in the archipelago. These facts are of interest chiefly for the reason that they show how grossly unreliable are his statements.

Finally he seeks to convey the impression that the hill people are a rather harmless and lamb-like lot. He says:—

Had Blount taken this ride before the time when the American government established control over the Silipan Ifugaos there might have been a different story to tell needing some one else to tell it, for the Ifugaos were not by any means the gentle and harmless people that one would infer them to have been from reading the above-quoted statement.

At Payauan, a strongly held point within the plateau referred to, they annihilated a Spanish garrison. At Aua, further back in the hills, they did the same thing. The Spaniards never established control over the Ifugao country, into extensive portions of which they never even temporarily penetrated. On the main trail which connected the town of Bagabag, in Nueva Vizcaya with the nearest town in the province of Isabela, [658]over which Blount rode, the Spaniards found it necessary to maintain two garrisons. There were also garrisons at the terminal towns on this trail and it was prohibited to travel it without military escort. Even so, parties were repeatedly cut up by the Silipan Ifugaos, and the very soldiers who constituted their guard were again and again caught sleeping and butchered.

It is only very recently that the murderous raids of wild men on the Filipinos of Isabela have been finally checked.

Many a time have the Filipinos of Bagabag, in Nueva Vizcaya, thanked me for making their lives and property safe by quieting the Ifugaos. Ilongots killed Filipinos in the outskirts of Bayombong, the capital of Nueva Vizcaya, long after Blount left the province, and during a period shortly preceding his arrival conditions were very bad throughout the Cagayan valley.

On August 29, 1899, the Insurgent governor of Nueva Vizcaya reported27 that he had only a few rifles, that the “Igorrotes” were preparing to attack the towns, and that he had been forced to kill and wound a number of them. On September 6, General Tirona in Cagayan asked that General Tinio be ordered to give him some of his rifles to protect the people, as the “Igorrotes” were cutting off heads and the towns were in danger. Tirona said that he had nine hundred rifles; Tinio thought that he himself had some two thousand and could spare two hundred as the conditions along the coast were not as serious as the conditions inland with the savages preparing to attack.28

In July, 1899, the governor of Benguet asked that orders should be given prohibiting “Igorrotes” from leaving their own towns as they were growing restless and would probably soon become dangerous. The Benguet people are the most pacific of all the hill men.

In October, 1899, the Ilocanos of Lepanto petitioned Aguinaldo to send them arms with which to defend themselves against the people of the hills, who objected to [659]being forced into paying what the governor of Benguet Province called “voluntary contributions” for the support of the war. When an attempt was made to collect, they abandoned their towns and took refuge in the hills. Next to the Benguet Igorots, those of Lepanto have the best reputation for quiet and orderliness.

From Simeon Villa’s diary, heretofore referred to, we learn that Aguinaldo’s armed escort was attacked again and again by Ifugaos, Kalingas and Bontoc Igorots when he passed through their country.

The people of these three tribes, and the Ilongots, and the wild Tingians of Apayao, were fierce, war-like, unsubdued head-hunting savages at the time of the American occupation.

Friendly as is our present relationship with the former head-hunters of Luzón, and excellent as is now the condition of public order in their territory, we still often have the fact brought home to us that the blood-lust of these sturdy and brave fighters is only dormant. A steady hand must be held on them for many a year to come.

The problems which the primitive peoples of the Philippines present are neither few nor simple. We shall not get far by ignoring them or misrepresenting them. Let us look them squarely in the face. [660]

And now let us try to gain a clear appreciation of some of the problems actually presented by the existence of the non-Christian peoples of the Philippines.

They belong to twenty-seven tribes at the most. Probably this number will ultimately be somewhat further reduced. The number of dialects spoken is greatly in excess of the number of tribes, as the people of a single tribe sometimes speak three or four well-marked dialects.

The tribes are divided between two wholly distinct races, to wit, Negritos and Malays.

The Negritos are of very low mentality and are incapable of any considerable degree of civilization. Many of them are kept in a state of abject peonage, and not a few are held in actual slavery, by their Christian Filipino neighbours. In revenge for the abuses which they suffer they are prone to commit criminal acts, and the problem which they present resolves itself into protecting them from their neighbours and their neighbours from them. The latter thing would be easy enough if the former were practicable, but unfortunately their neighbours cannot be persuaded to let them alone, and never do it except under compulsion.

The people of all the Malay non-Christian tribes, with the exception of certain Negrito mestizos, are undoubtedly capable of attaining to a fairly high degree of civilization. Physically and, in my opinion, mentally the people of several of the hill tribes are decidedly superior to their lowland Filipino neighbours, who have degenerated to some extent as a result of less favourable climatic conditions and other causes. [661]

In social development these Malay tribes vary from the semi-nomadic Mangyans of Mindoro to the highly civilized Tingians of Abra, who are in many ways superior to the Ilocanos with whom they live in close contact. Some of these tribes, like the Benguet-Lepanto Igorots and the Tingians, are peaceful agriculturists; others, like the wild Tingians of Apayao, the Kalingas, the Bontoc Igorots, the Ifugaos, the Ilongots, the Manobos and the Mandayas, are, or recently have been, fierce fighters prone to indulge in such customs as the taking of human heads for war trophies, or even the making of human sacrifices to appease their heathen divinities.

The Moros, who are numerically stronger than are the people of any other one tribe, stand in a class by themselves on account of their strong adherence to the Mohammedan faith and their inclination to propagate it by the sword. Who would hold them in check if the Americans were to go? Certainly not the Filipinos. They have never been able to do it in the past, and they cannot do it now.

All the non-Christian tribes have two things in common, their unwillingness to accept the Christian faith and their hatred of the several Filipino peoples who profess it. Their animosity is readily understood when it is remembered that their ancestors and they themselves have suffered grievous wrongs at the hands of the Filipinos. In spite of all protestations to the contrary, the Filipinos are absolutely without sympathy for the non-Christian peoples, and have never voluntarily done anything for them, but on the contrary have shamelessly exploited them whenever opportunity has offered. They have never of themselves originated one single important measure for the benefit of their non-Christian neighbours, and their attitude toward the measures which have been originated by Americans has always been one of active or passive opposition. Their real belief as to what should be done with the wild people is that they should be used if they can be [662]made useful, but should be exterminated if they become troublesome. Governor Pablo Guzman, of Cagayan, actually said to me that the best thing to do with the wild people of Apayao, then supposed to number fifty-three thousand, might be to kill them all.

Americans have adopted a firm but kindly policy in dealing with the non-Christian tribes and have met with extraordinary success in winning their good-will and weaning them from the worst of their evil customs. Even with those of the Moros who live outside of the island of Joló considerable progress has been made. Head-hunting has been abolished among the Ifugaos, Igorots and Kalingas with an ease which was wholly unanticipated.

In all work for the wild people the attitude of governors and lieutenant-governors has proved to be a matter of fundamental importance. The problem in each province or subprovince has been a one-man problem. He who would succeed in handling wild men must be absolutely fearless, for if he is not, they are quick to discover the fact and to take advantage of it. He must protect his people from injustice and oppression, or they will lose faith in him. He must have a genuinely friendly feeling toward them, and must bear them no ill will even when they misbehave. They will not object to severe punishment when they know that it is deserved, but after being punished feel that the slate has been wiped clean, and that they are making a fresh start. They believe in letting by-gones be by-gones, and their officials should meet them half way in this.

The following occurrence illustrates my point. Before all the settlements of Ifugao had been brought under control, Lieutenant-Governor Gallman had a headman acting as a policeman, who rendered invaluable service and was allowed to carry a gun. No one dreamed that he would ever be molested. When on a trip to Lingay he became overheated, and stopped to bathe in a stream, [663]leaving his gun on the bank. Some young men improved the opportunity thus afforded to attack him. One of them threw a lance into him, and then they all started to run away. Such was his reputation and influence that he succeeded in compelling them to return and pull the lance out, but he was fatally hurt and soon died.

After his death they took his head and his gun, and immediately thereafter the Lingay people sent to Gallman a challenge to come and fight them. He promptly accepted their invitation, taking a few Ifugao soldiers with him. He found the country deserted. Women, children, pigs and chickens had been sent into the forested mountains. Roofs and board sides of houses had been removed so that there remained only the bare frameworks which could not readily be burned.

For some time Gallman encountered no opposition. He at last grew careless and walked into an ambush. He was met with a volley of stones and a volley of lances. Fortunately for him the stones arrived first and one of them, striking him in the face, knocked him senseless. Another injured his right hand and knocked his revolver from his grasp. The lances passed over him as he fell. He slid for some distance down the almost precipitous mountain side, and his soldiers thought him dead. When he recovered consciousness, he heard them talking close to him. They agreed that they must do two things: first, prevent his head from being taken; and, second, punish his assailants. Before he could call to them they charged the latter and scattered them right and left. Gallman staggered to his feet, hunted around until he found his revolver, and rejoined his men. It was known that their opponents had had ten guns before killing the policeman and taking his. There followed a marked unpleasantness, at the end of which Gallman had the eleven guns, and most of those who had been using them had been gathered to their fathers. He then returned to his station at Banaue.

[664]

Three days later the headmen of Lingay came walking in, shook hands and announced that they had had enough. Gallman asked them why they had been so foolish. They replied that as they already had ten guns, when they got one more the young men became overconfident, thought that they could whip the constabulary, get their guns also and dominate all that part of Ifugao. The old men said that they had warned the young fellows that their plan would result in disaster, but as they were not to be dissuaded, and as they were their young men, had finally joined in. They said, however, that they were glad things had come out as they had, for the young men would now behave themselves, and it is worthy of note that they have done so ever since.

Six weeks later, when I visited Banaue, the one survivor of the eleven gunmen came in and danced with the other Ifugaos on the plaza, apparently as happy as any of them.

How many Filipinos are there who have the courage, the kindliness, the knowledge of primitive human nature and the sympathy with it which would enable them to treat the really wild barbarians as Gallman and Hale have treated them? Thus far I have found one, and one only.

In a previous chapter1 I have told the story of a Kalinga with whom I had just made friends according to the formula of his tribe who put his life in deadly peril twice within the space of twenty-four hours in order to save mine when it was gravely endangered by his fellow-tribesmen. Is such real friendship possible between Filipinos and non-Christians? Not at present. A lot of ancient history must first be lived down.

In the Philippines it has invariably been true that the wild man has in the past been more or less completely despoiled of the fruits of his labour by his so-called “Christian” neighbours whenever compelled to do business with them in order to obtain some of the necessaries of life. [665]He is accustomed to receive a mere pittance for his products, and to pay enormous prices when he makes purchases. The opening of the so-called “government exchanges,” which are stores where the products of the surrounding country are purchased and where the things required by the hill people are sold at a small margin of profit, has proved very useful in the establishment of friendly and helpful relations with them. In some places they have been persuaded to grow new and more profitable crops. Some of the Benguet Igorots, for instance, now raise strawberries for sale at Baguio, although a few years ago they had never seen them.

If in control, would the Filipinos reverse the policy they have heretofore always followed in commercial dealings with the wild men? Most assuredly not.

The Igorots, Ifugaos and Kalingas are adepts in the use of irrigation water, and know how to terrace the steepest mountain sides so as to employ it advantageously wherever it is available. The giving of help in running main irrigation ditches through rock has been especially appreciated by them. The money which we expend for this purpose goes for the establishment of proper grade lines, the providing of necessary supervision and the purchase of explosives and tools for rock work. The people concerned are more than glad to contribute all necessary labour free of charge.

Would the Filipinos continue to make funds available for such improvements in the wild man’s country? A thousand times no! Before any one disputes me, let him show one instance where they have done any such thing in any one of the very numerous provinces where the expenditure of funds for non-Christians is under their control.

In dealing with tribes which have been accustomed to live by families, or small groups of families, and to select very inaccessible places for their homes, it is of course necessary to persuade them to live in larger groups and [666]in reasonably accessible places before much progress can be made toward improving their condition. This is usually not a very difficult task if one goes about it in the right way.

In Bukidnon, for instance, where we are still bringing people down from the tree-tops, in which they and some of their ancestors have lived for centuries, and settling them in well-ordered and beautifully kept villages, when new arrivals come in to inspect the towns and interrogate me as to the conditions under which they may take up residence there, I often have conversations like this:—

“What about this life in town?”

“Look around and see for yourself. Talk with the people and hear what they have to say about it. They will tell you whether they like it or not, and why.”

“But what do I have to do if I wish to live in town?”

“A piece of ground will be assigned to you and on it you must build a decent house like those you see. This house is for you and your family, not for me. I come here only once or twice a year and at the most stay over one night, so I do not need your house. The lieutenant-governor does not need it. When he comes he stays at the presidencia. He will not let any one take it away from you.”

“Very well. What else?”

“You will have to build a good, tight fence around the lot given you and keep your domestic animals inside it. You must also clean it up thoroughly, removing all vegetation and filling all the low places so that water cannot stand in them. Then you must keep it clean.”

“What is the use of that?”

“The búsaos2 who cause sickness do not like clean places and stay away from them.”

“I never heard of that.”

“Ask the people who have tried keeping their yards clean, and they will tell you that it is true.” [667]

“Well, what else?”

“As long as you have to keep your yard clean you might as well plant something useful in it, so that you will get a good return for your labour.”

“That is a good idea. Is there anything more?”

“Yes. You must take up a piece of the beautiful prairie land near town, build a fence around it to keep out the wild hogs and deer, and plant it with rice, camotes or something else that will give your family plenty of food and if possible leave a surplus to sell, so that you can buy better clothes with the money you make.”

“But I cannot break this thick prairie sod.”

“The ground will be ploughed for you the first time. After that you must look after it yourself.”

“Is that all?”

“No. There is one additional very important thing. I am getting old and fat,3 and I can no longer scramble around over these hills as I used to do. I want to come and see you every year, and find out how you are getting on. You will have to help build good trails for my big horse, working ten days every year, or paying two pesos, so that some one else can be hired to work in your place. Everything else that I have told you must be done, if you come to town, is for your benefit, not for mine, and even the trails are only partly for my benefit. You will find it easy and safe to travel over them, and when you want to go to market, your carabao will be able to pack three or four times as much as he can now carry over bad paths.”

“Will I gain any other advantages by living in town?”

“Yes, two very important ones. You and your family will be safe from attack, and you will have a chance to send your children to school.”

“Must I come and live in town if I do not want to?”

“By no means. If you prefer to live up a tree in the mountains, no one will interfere with you so long as you [668]behave yourself. There are plenty of mountains and plenty of trees.”

As a result of the simple arguments above outlined and of the protection and help given them, nearly all of the Bukidnon people have left the mountain fastnesses through which they have until recently been scattered, and are voluntarily taking up their residences in towns which in their way are models.

Could the Filipinos keep them in the towns where we have settled them? No; and they would not if they could. They would chase them back into the forests as they were doing when we made them stop it. Furthermore, they could not if they would. In September, 1912, I heard the people of eastern Bukidnon tell Governor Reyes of Misamis that if their territory were put back into his province, they would take to the hills and live with the Manobos.

One of the most important factors in winning and retaining the good will of the non-Christian peoples has been the extension to them of protection from the impositions of their Filipino neighbours. The following is a fair sample of the sort of thing to which they have in the past been subjected.

During my last trip through Bukidnon I learned that a long-haired mountaineer who had been encouraged to plant coffee and Manila hemp had acted on the suggestion, working very hard and establishing an excellent plantation which had prospered. When he had products ready for market he had taken them to the coast town of Balingasák. He did not speak the language of the Visayan Filipino inhabitants of that place, so fell into the hands of one of them who knew his dialect. This rascal helped him to sell his produce, but took a heavy commission for this service. The hillman was nevertheless delighted with the result, whereupon his “commissioner” suggested that what he really needed was a partner in town to sell his crops, so that he could spend his whole time in cultivating his [669]fields and not have to go to market. This struck the hillman as a good idea. The Filipino made out what purported to be articles of partnership and the hillman signed them with his mark, in the presence of witnesses.

A few months later he sent a valuable shipment of coffee and hemp to his “partner.” When weeks had passed without his hearing from it, he went to Balingasák to find out what was wrong, whereupon his “partner” stated that he was greatly obliged to him for his trouble in cultivating and harvesting the products of the farm. The hillman demanded his share of the returns and the “partner” calmly assured him that he had no share, having sold his farm at the time of his last visit. Investigation proved that this ignorant man had signed a bill of sale for his place.

Lieutenant-Governor Fortich interested himself in the case and caused suit to be brought against the rascally “partner” for stealing the hillman’s produce. The fiscal, or public prosecuting, officer was a bright young Filipino who had recently graduated from an American university. Nevertheless, he had the suit thrown out of court because the “partner” of the hillman claimed that the farm was his, and a question of property ownership could not be conveniently determined in connection with a criminal suit.

At this stage of events I took a hand and brought the matter to the attention of the Honourable Gregorio Araneta, secretary of finance and justice. The fiscal had suggested that the wild man could bring a civil suit for damages against his “partner.” How could this helpless barbarian have gone to Cagayan, hired a lawyer and lived there while his case was pending? He was absolutely helpless. Naturally, I was not. Another suit was brought and the “partner” was sentenced to pay a fine and was given a term in jail.

This is no isolated case. The wild men are constantly deprived of their crops or their lands; cheated in the sale [670]of their products and in their purchases; arrested and fined on trumped-up charges; compelled to work for others without compensation; charged by private individuals for the privilege of using government forests or taking up public lands; and badgered and imposed upon in a thousand and one other ways.

If the Filipinos were put in control, would there rise up among them unselfish men who would check the rapacity of their fellows, and extend to the helpless peoples the protection they now enjoy?

At all events, those who have made it their business to protect the people of the non-Christian tribes have not been popular among the Filipinos. As a precautionary measure, I warned every man appointed governor of, or lieutenant-governor in, a special government province that he must expect sooner or later to be accused of many of the crimes recognized by existing laws. Every such man who does his duty eventually has false, and usually foul, charges brought against him. A common, and indeed the favourite, complaint is that he has been guilty of improper relations with women. The Filipino is an expert in framing up cases of this sort, and seems to take special delight in it, partly no doubt because such charges are so excessively difficult to disprove.

Cruel abuse of the wild men, or their families; falsification of public documents; misappropriation of public funds; adultery; rape,—these are all common charges, while more than one of my subordinates has been accused of murder, and one has actually been brought into court on such a charge. It is certainly no sinecure to be an officer of a special government province.

A potent means of winning the undying regard of the wild man is to cure him when he is sick, or heal him when he is injured. Hospitals have already been established in two of the special government provinces and are doing untold good. Practically every officer of these provinces carries a set of simple remedies with him when [671]he travels, and treats the sick without compensation as opportunity offers, but this work is as yet in its infancy.

The Filipinos have not doctors enough to heal their own sick. Would they remember to heal the wild men? Hardly.

Several of the wild tribes have progressed much more rapidly during the brief period since the American occupation than have any of the Filipino peoples, and if given adequate protection and friendly assistance they will continue to progress. Their splendid physiques and high intelligence, no less than their truthfulness, honesty and morality, certainly make them well worth saving.

Under Filipino rule the more helpless of these tribes would speedily come under the control of their former oppressors, but people like the Ifugaos, Bontoc Igorots, Kalingas and wild Tingians would fight to the death before submitting to them, and there would result a guerrilla warfare as endless and disastrous as that which has lasted so long between the Dutch and the Achinese. There is every theoretical reason to believe that the Filipinos would adopt toward such hostile primitive peoples the policy of extermination which the Japanese have been so vigorously carrying out in dealing with the hill people of northern Formosa, who do not differ in any important respect from the hill people of northern Luzón, with whom such helpful and friendly relations have now been established.

We have encouraged the primitive Philippine peoples to stand up for their rights. We have promised them our protection and help if they would do it, and thus far we have kept our promise. To break it now, and turn them over to the tender mercies of the Filipinos, who have never ceased to make threats as to what they will do when they get the chance, would in my opinion be a crime against civilization.

The Moros openly boast that if the Americans go they [672]will raid the Christian towns, and this is no idle threat. They will most assuredly do it.

Were American control to be withdrawn before the civilization of the wild tribes had been effected, their future would be dark indeed. Under continued American control they can be won over to civilized ways, and will in the end become mentally and morally, as they now are physically, superior to the lowlanders.

No man has been blessed with better subordinates than I have had to assist me in the work carried on under my direction for the non-Christian tribes of the Philippines. I wish it clearly understood that it is to the loyalty and efficiency of these men that the results which have been obtained are due. Fearlessly, tirelessly, uncomplainingly, they have borne their heavy shares of the white man’s burden, finding their greatest reward in the respect, gratitude, and in many cases the affection, of those whom they have so faithfully and effectively served.

Think of Pack, weakened by illnesses which twice brought him within a hair’s breadth of death, wearing himself out riding over the Mountain Province trails, many of which he himself had laboriously built, in order to keep the little handful of men who control its 400,000 non-Christian inhabitants up to the high-water mark of efficiency, when he could have gone home any day and spent his remaining years in leisurely comfort; of Bryant, wandering for weeks on end through the trackless forests of Nueva Vizcaya in order to get in touch with Ilongot savages who were a good deal more than “half devil” with the balance not “half child” but peculiarly treacherous, vicious and savage man; of Offley, packing the bare necessities of life on his own back while he struggled out to the coast from the centre of Mindoro, where his frightened carriers had deserted him; of Kane, burning in the heat of the lowlands or soaked and shivering on chilly mountain crests, while building new roads and keeping old ones open for traffic; of Lewis, [673]trying to cover a territory large enough to tax the energies of three men, and in his efforts to do so riding until so weary that at night he fell from his horse unable to dismount; of Fortich, a Filipino lieutenant-governor, faithfully carrying out the white man’s policy and protecting the Bukidnons from his own people who charged him with murder because he drove them from their prey; of Gallman, risking his life a thousand times in a successful individual effort to bring 125,000 head-hunting savages under effective control and to establish relations of genuine friendship with them; of Hale, turning tattooed Kalinga devils into effective officers for the maintenance of law and order, or making a bundle of the lances thrown at him and sending them back to the people who threw them with a mild suggestion that it was impolite to treat a would-be friend in such an unceremonious way; of Johnson, tramping through the reeking filth of the Butuan swamps with a cancer eating away the bone of his leg, and referring to it as “a little swelling” when asked what made him lame; of Bondurant, spending the last afternoon of his life in pursuing Moro outlaws through that worst of all tropical infernos, a mangrove swamp, when burning with pernicious malarial fever and fighting for the very breath of life; of Miller, faithful unto death!

We are wont to quote with feeling the familiar words, “Greater love hath no man than this, that he lay down his life for his friend,” but what shall we say of the love of duty of men like Miller and Bondurant, who in doing their country’s work cheerfully laid down their lives for an alien people?

While in the United States in 1910 I read Rudyard Kipling’s “If” and thereafter did not rest until I had sent a copy of it to each governor and lieutenant-governor employed in the special provincial government service of the Philippine Islands. Kipling wrote for these men of mine up in the hills without knowing it. They understand him and he would understand them. [674]

There is not one of them who has not learned to

not one whose personal experience has left him deaf to the appeal of the lines:—

Furthermore, each of them has again and again finished on his nerve. Did not the words,—

run through Bondurant’s mind that last afternoon when he was following Moro outlaws through a foul mangrove swamp, while his senses reeled with the fever which was so soon to end his life?

In his wonderful quadruplet of stanzas Kipling has fixed one criterion of manhood which it is hard indeed to meet:—

I beg my fellow-countrymen to remember that the non-Christians of the Philippines constitute an eighth of the population; that the work undertaken for their physical, mental and moral advancement has succeeded far beyond the hopes of those who initiated it; that its [675]results would go down like a house of cards if American control were prematurely withdrawn. Shall the men who have devoted their lives to these things be forced to watch them broken, and then be denied the poor privilege of building them up again? If the splendid results of so much efficient, faithful, self-sacrificing and successful effort were to be lost, would not the dead who gave their lives for them turn in their graves?

The greatest of the non-Christian tribe problems in the Philippines at present is, “Shall the work go on?”

There is one satisfaction which no man can take from those of us who have worked for the advancement of these backward and hitherto neglected peoples. We have shown what can be done! [676]

Chattel slavery existed in the Philippine Islands when Magellan discovered them in 1521. It exists there to-day.

Morga, who was in the Philippines from 1595 to about 1608, and is admittedly the most reliable chronicler of the events of those early days, has given the following interesting account of the conditions then existing:1—

To the last of the preceding paragraphs Rizal makes the following annotation, which, mutatis mutandis, should give leading Filipinos of to-day matter for reflection:—

[678]

Morga continues:2—

Rizal comments on this passage as follows:—

The most frequent cause, already mentioned above, from which these conditions of servitude arose, is again pointed out by Morga in the following passage:3—

Of these statements Rizal says:—

It would be easy to compile passages similar to the preceding from other authors, but those given are explicit and authoritative enough to make it clear, first, that slavery existed in the Philippines at the time of the conquest as a general tribal institution of social and economical character and in minutely regulated form; and, second, that although it lost, with the advent of the Spaniards, the character of an institution, and indeed was formally abolished by early edicts from Spain, it continued to exist as an unauthorized practice, so that Rizal, writing at the close of the nineteenth century could say that slaves still existed in many parts of the country.

In a statement recently published in the New York Evening Post, Señor Quezon, Resident Delegate from the Philippines to Congress, has said:—

Whom will the American public believe, Morga, the historian, and Rizal, the Filipino patriot, or Quezon, the Filipino politician?

While I entertain no doubt as to the answer, I shall nevertheless discuss at length the more recent history and present status of slavery and peonage in the Philippines, because of the vital importance of full knowledge of the facts to intelligent consideration of the claim that the Filipinos have arrived at a stage of civilization comparable with that of the more advanced nations of the world, and are capable of establishing and maintaining a just and humane government. [680]

The Spanish Penal Code did not prohibit or penalize slavery, or the purchase or sale of human beings. It did contain provisions against forcible detention of individuals and the abduction of minors, but in the Philippines at least they were more honoured in the breach than in the observance during the Spanish régime.

The Moros raided the towns of the peaceful Filipino inhabitants of the Visayan Islands and of Luzón until within quite recent times. An unhappy fate awaited the prisoners whom they took. Men were frequently compelled to harvest for their captors the crops which they themselves had planted, and were then mercilessly butchered. Women, girls and boys were carried away into slavery, the former to serve as household drudges or as concubines, and the latter to be brought up as slaves pure and simple. Some men met a similar fate. The only reason that more were not enslaved was that it was usually considered too much trouble to make full-grown individuals work. Slaves were held as chattels if it suited the convenience of their masters to retain them, and otherwise were sold, bartered or given away. Zamboanga was at the outset largely populated by escaped Moro slaves who had sought the protection of the Spanish garrison there. Coming originally from widely separated parts of the archipelago, these unfortunates had no common native dialect, hence there arose among them a Spanish patois now known as Zamboangueño.

The American occupation brought many and brusque changes in political conditions. The attitude of Americans toward slavery and peonage was very different from that of the easy-going Spaniards, who had never sanctioned it but had never made any determined effort to break it up.

From the effective establishment of United States sovereignty in 1899 until July 4, 1901, the Philippines were under military rule, which has one great advantage: its methods usually bring quick results. [681]

Doubtless the majority of the slaves then held in the islands were too timid, and too suspicious of the character and purposes of Americans, to appeal to them for protection; but there were not a few whose lives had become so unbearable that they were prepared to take almost any risk on the chance of securing release. People of this class ran away from their masters and sought the protection of army officers. I am glad to say that in every such instance which has come to my knowledge it was promptly given. Not only were they advised that they could not be held in bondage, and were free to go where they pleased, but when practicable their masters were warned against attempting to regain control over them. It is probable that the large majority of such cases were never officially reported. Most of the army officers concerned were in some doubt as to their legal status in the premises, but they knew that the constitution of the United States prohibits slavery; their sympathies went out to the wretched human beings who appealed to them for aid, and they decided to be a law unto themselves.

After the establishment of civil government some army officers continued to exercise arbitrary powers in dealing with such cases of slavery as came to their attention, while others contented themselves with reporting them to the civil authorities.

The conditions which prevailed in the Moro Province in 1902 are concisely described by its military governor, General George W. Davis, in a report written on August 25 of that year. He said:—

Señor Quezon, in describing conditions in the Moro country, has said:4—

It is true that General Bates attempted to negotiate a treaty with the Sultan of Joló, in which he felt himself compelled to recognize slavery as an existing Moro custom. This action was unauthorized and was disapproved by his superiors. It did not legalize slavery. Neither Moro nor any other kind of slavery was ever protected by the civil authorities.

The act providing for the organization of the Moro Province was passed on June 1, 1903, and hardly had the civil officers therein provided for been appointed when, on September 24, 1903, the legislative council passed an act entitled “An Act defining the crimes of slaveholding and slavehunting and prescribing the punishment therefor,”5 which was promptly approved by the Philippine Commission and thus came to have the force and effect of law. Under it active measures were adopted to [683]break up slavery in the Moro Province. They have resulted very successfully, and persons who have captured others to be held or sold as slaves, as well as persons who have actually sold, bought or kept slaves, have been convicted and punished.

Señor Quezon’s statement relative to the attitude of the civil authorities in this matter is therefore recklessly false.

The existence of slavery in the Moro Province was well known from the outset, hence the immediate enactment of legislation to meet the special conditions which prevailed there.

Little by little the commission learned that slavery was by no means confined to Moro territory, and that peonage was general throughout the islands.

Before going further, I wish to make clear the sense in which I use these terms.

I define slavery as the condition of a human being held as a chattel and compelled to render service for which he is not compensated. As food and clothing are necessarily furnished by the slave owner, they are not considered to constitute compensation.

Peonage I define as the condition of a debtor held by his creditor in a form of qualified servitude to work out a debt.

On April 28, 1903, the senior inspector of constabulary in Isabela wired the first district chief of constabulary, Manila, as follows:—

[684]

Senior Inspector Sorenson was instructed to make a thorough investigation of, and a detailed report on, the slave question.

On May 2 he complied with these instructions,6 describing the conditions under which slaves were taken by the neighbouring Kalingas and Ifugaos, whom he wrongly calls “Igorrotes,” the methods employed in selling them, and the treatment subsequently given them by their purchasers.

He also furnished a list of “Igorrotes” sold in the province during the past year, with names of the purchasers and prices paid. The ages of these unhappy individuals varied from eight to twenty-seven years, the prices paid for them, from one hundred and ten to two hundred and fifty Mexican dollars.

This report led Governor Taft to write to Governor Dichoso of Isabela, who was charged with owning a slave, asking him for a frank statement of the facts as to the prevalence of slavery in his province.

Governor Dichoso’s reply, dated September 9, 1903, will make interesting reading for those who claim that slavery does not exist, and has never existed, among the Filipinos. I give it practically in full, omitting only the titles of the governor:—

As supporting evidence Governor Dichoso forwarded with his letter a number of statements from persons resident in the capital of Isabela to the effect that during the twenty-one years that he had lived there he had never purchased, intended to purchase, or kept in his house any Igorrote of the Ifugao or any other tribe.

In addition he forwarded a somewhat unique document in the form of a sworn statement by a slave dealer which is of such interest that I give it in its entirety:—

The existence of slavery in Misamis, a regularly organized province, had been disclosed at a still earlier date.

In May, 1902, its Filipino governor, Sr. Manuel Corrales, was asked to report, and did report, on slavery in that province, under the following circumstances:—

On May 2, 1902, General George W. Davis telegraphed the Adjutant-General, Manila:—

Governor-General Wright referred a copy of this telegram to Governor Corrales with an indorsement—

[690]

Governor Corrales himself has none too good a record in connection with the treatment accorded the non-Christians of his province, and would certainly not paint a darker picture than was called for by the facts, yet in his reply8 he gives the names of six towns in which “one still finds a few slave servants, most of them acquired many years ago.” He adds:—

Unfortunately neither the measures taken by Governor Corrales nor those adopted by his successors have sufficed to end this “hateful trade” in the province of Misamis.

In July of the present year,9 a man accused of holding two Bukidnon children in slavery did not deny the charge, but set up the defence that he was a resident of Misamis, where there was no law against this crime. He had been proceeded against under an anti-slavery law passed by the commission for the provinces under its exclusive jurisdiction, on the theory that he resided in Agusan. He won his case, proving that his house was about a hundred yards over the line.

The revelations contained in the reports above mentioned naturally called for action. Inspector Sorenson’s report was referred to the commission with the following indorsement:—

[692]

The report was, by direction of the commission, referred to Commissioner Wright as suggested by Governor Taft for consideration in connection with a proposed new Criminal Code which was being prepared, under his general supervision, for enactment. An immense amount of work was necessary on this code, and it was never completed and enacted. Various matters needing attention have since been reached through the medium of special laws, and it is obvious that it was intended to pursue this course in this instance, as is shown by the fact that Governor Dichoso’s reply was forwarded to General Wright on October 19, 1903, with the following indorsement:—

Why such an act was not drafted and passed I do not know. I was then absent on leave, and did not even learn of the existence of any of the above-quoted documents until years afterward. My personal attention was forcibly drawn to the existence of slavery outside of the Moro territory when I first inspected Nueva Vizcaya in 1905. The territory occupied by the Ifugaos, since separated as a sub-province of the Mountain Province, was then a part of Nueva Vizcaya, which had been organized as a province under a special act and was, in a way, subject to my executive control.

Its governor, Louis G. Knight, called my attention to the fact that Ifugao children were frequently enslaved by Filipinos of Nueva Vizcaya and Isabela. I asked him to get specific data so that we might prosecute the offenders. [693]He soon sent to the Executive Secretary a report10 which gave full details of a number of recent cases of the buying and selling of Ifugaos as slaves, contained a statement that Governor Knight, who was himself a lawyer, could “find nothing whatever in the penal code defining or punishing as a crime the buying or selling of human beings,” and recommended that “this crime be defined and punished in the proposed new penal code.”

The report was referred to me by the executive secretary on September 20, 1905, and on September 22 was by me forwarded to the Honourable Luke E. Wright, governor-general, with an indorsement—

The papers were referred by Governor-General Wright to the Attorney-General—

The opinion of the Attorney-General rendered in response to this request11 encouraged me to believe that something could be done under existing law. [694]

I returned the papers, together with the opinion, to the governor of Nueva Vizcaya and three test suits were brought as promptly as possible.

One of them has become historic. It was brought against Tomás Cabanag, a well-known slave dealer who made a business of buying and selling Ifugao children. [695]He was charged with illegal detention in connection with the admitted sale, by him, of an Ifugao girl named Gamaya.12

He was convicted in the Court of First Instance. I quote the following extract from the decision of the court:

The case was promptly appealed to the Supreme Court and was there lost on March 16, 1907.

Gamaya, a thirteen-year-old Ifugao girl, had been purchased from her mother for pigs, hens, rice and a cloak, under the absurd pretext that the object of the purchase was to keep her at home, where she would, of course, naturally have remained in any event. She was allowed to stay with her mother during a period of some three years. In this manner the purchaser was saved the cost of boarding her while she was growing up. Having now reached what the Igorots consider a marriageable age, she was sold to a man who was engaged in the business of buying in Nueva Vizcaya children to sell in the lowlands of Isabela; in other words, to a slave dealer. He sold her to an inhabitant of the town of Caoayan, in Isabela, who had instructed him to buy a girl. Caoayan is distant many days of hard overland travel from this girl’s home. When taken there she was among an alien [696]people of another tribe and another religion, and although, as stated by the Supreme Court, she was not kept under lock and key and although that court held that:—

and held further that:—

it is nevertheless true that this child, who had been thrice sold, was detained just as effectively in Caoayan as if chained to a post in the house of the man who bought her, and was required by him to perform menial labour without compensation. It would have been utterly impossible for her to escape and to make her way back through Isabela and Nueva Vizcaya to her own people, no matter how strenuously she might have endeavoured to do so.

It is extremely difficult to prove forcible detention in connection with most cases of slavery in these islands. Negrito slaves are usually purchased when mere babes and later have no recollection of their parents or of their former wild life in the hills. Babes or very young children bring a better price than do older children, for the reason that they are less likely to run away.

Adult Negritos, and adult members of other tribes held in slavery, have, as a rule, been made to feel the heavy hand of the oppressor and are so afraid of their lives that they will not testify. Only under very exceptional circumstances will they admit that they are being held against their will, although they are quick to make their escape when a favourable opportunity presents itself. [697]

The difficulty involved in protecting these simple people is illustrated by the following case which came to my personal attention:—

An eleven-year-old Bukidnon girl was carried away from northern Mindanao to Bohol by a Filipino school-teacher who had been discharged from the insular service. Her parents gave every indication of bitter grief and begged to have their daughter restored to them. This was finally accomplished, to their great joy, as a result of my efforts. The kidnapper was ultimately brought into court, but before the case came up for trial the parents had been subjected to such “influence” that when called to the witness-stand they swore that the kidnapper had taken their daughter with their full knowledge and consent.

In order to be reasonably effective, laws in these islands must be so framed as to make it possible to protect people too ignorant, or too timid, to protect themselves.

Returning now to the Supreme Court decision, the court also held that:—

But it further held that:—

More important still, the court held that:—

and also that:—

In view of the facts above cited the necessity for legislation seemed obvious.

The commission in its capacity as sole legislative body for the territory inhabited by Moros or other non-Christian tribes might have passed an act prohibiting and penalizing slavery, involuntary servitude and peonage in that territory; but such an act unless supplemented by a similar one applicable to the neighbouring Filipino territory where most of the slaves are actually held would obviously have been ineffective, while the desirability of having uniform legislation throughout the Philippines was evident.

The Philippine Assembly was about to meet for the first time. The work of drafting a proper bill was duly provided for and I am sure that no member of the commission for a moment entertained the belief that there would be any difficulty in securing the concurrence of the assembly in the passage of a reasonable act prohibiting and penalizing slavery, involuntary servitude, peonage and the sale and purchase of human beings. The gentleman charged with drafting the bill encountered difficulty in so framing it that it would accomplish the desired end [699]without unduly interfering with the rights of parents over their children. Long delay ensued.

I myself finally drafted a bill entitled: “An Act prohibiting slavery, involuntary servitude, peonage, or the sale of human beings in the Philippine Islands,” and introduced it in the commission.

It was passed, in slightly amended form, on April 29, 1909, and sent to the Philippine assembly, where it was introduced on May 6, 1909. On May 7 it was referred to the Committee on Revision of Laws, and on May 17 it was returned by that committee with the following report:—

[700]

This report, if adopted, would have emasculated the bill by striking out the minimum penalties, but it was not adopted. On May 19 the assembly laid the bill on the table without discussion.

So began a long struggle to secure the coöperation of the assembly in the enactment of legislation on this important subject.

I did not feel that the assembly ought to be allowed to make a joke of the provision of the Act of Congress of July 1, 1902, that “Neither slavery, nor involuntary servitude, except as a punishment for crime whereof the party shall have been duly convicted, shall exist in said islands,” and inserted a frank statement of the case in my annual report. During my absence it was cut out by the governor-general acting on the cabled suggestion of General, then Colonel, McIntyre, speaking for the secretary of war. The Secretary, it is understood, based his decision on the statement of alleged facts and the argument in the above-mentioned memorandum prepared by General McIntyre, and signed by General Edwards, then chief of the bureau of insular affairs. Various of these statements of alleged facts were incorrect, and much of the argument was fallacious, but the toute ensemble was plausible, and likely to mislead any one not thoroughly familiar with local conditions in the Philippines. I did not see this communication until three years later, and so had no opportunity seasonably to discuss it, or to present my side of the case.

On learning that all reference to slavery had been cut out of my report, I sent the following memorandum to the governor-general:—

The following year I introduced in the commission the bill which the assembly had rejected. Action upon it was postponed, pending the receipt of information which was requested from the assembly as to the reason for the failure of that body to pass it the preceding year. Shortly after this was obtained in the form of the above-quoted extract from the minutes of that body I was called to the United States and no further action was taken in the matter at that time, although the Governor-General in his message to the Legislature had included the following recommendation:—

I had also again attempted to discuss this important matter in my annual report.

I myself reached Washington at about the time this document arrived there, but that part of it dealing with [702]slavery and peonage was cut out without either consulting me or giving me a hearing. I was advised by General McIntyre that the secretary had disapproved it.

In writing to me under date of January 11, 1913, Mr. Dickinson said:—

I am quite prepared to believe that the matter was never allowed to come to his personal attention!

On January 31, 1911, I again introduced this bill in the commission. It was amended in minor details and passed on that date and was duly forwarded to the assembly. There it was introduced on February 2 and on February 3 was laid on the table. I here give the full record. It is significant as showing the lack of interest displayed by the assembly in this important subject.

In my report as secretary of the interior for the fiscal year ended June 30, 1911, I again took up this subject. [703]After this report had been submitted to the commission I myself cut out all mention of slavery at the request of Governor-General Forbes, who urged that we make a last effort to get the assembly to act before appealing to Congress.

In spite of the desirability of having uniform legislation on such a matter as this in adjacent provinces, the commission felt that it could no longer with propriety delay action for the territory under its exclusive jurisdiction, and on August 7, 1911, passed the bill for Agusan, Nueva Vizcaya and the Mountain Province.

The same act was again passed by the commission for the territory under the jurisdiction of the legislature, when that body reconvened. The assembly referred it to committee on October 27, 1911, and tabled it without discussion on February 1, 1912.

In my annual report for 1912 I included the following recommendation:—

This time I sent the copy for the report to the printer without awaiting further possible requests or orders to remain silent, for I was thoroughly convinced that it was useless to expect action from the assembly and that nothing remained but to appeal to congress to pass suppletory legislation making effective the provision of the Act of July 1, 1902, prohibiting slavery and involuntary servitude in the Philippine Islands. [704]

At the next session of the legislature the commission again passed the bill. The assembly referred it to committee on October 26, and tabled it without discussion on January 8, 1913.

From the above record it will be plain that, beginning in 1909, the commission passed laws prohibiting and penalizing slavery and peonage annually during four successive years, and that the assembly tabled each of the four measures without deigning to give any of them one moment’s discussion. Much less have they ever asked for any information as to the necessity for such legislation.

While no member of the assembly had ever made any official statement on the subject, the Filipino press had on various occasions denounced me as a liar or an ignoramus, and an enemy of “the Filipino people,” for saying that slavery existed.

In preparation for what I deemed to be a probable request from Congress for a detailed statement of facts, I now proceeded to get together the information on file in government offices and courts, called upon various officers of the government for data in their possession which had never been made of record, and initiated new investigations, using for this purpose the police of Manila, the Philippine constabulary and various other agencies. Drawing on the abundant material thus obtained, I began the preparation of a report to the commission, recommending that the necessity for legislation be called to the attention of Congress, and supplying abundant data relative to the existence of slavery and peonage in the Philippines.

Before this report was completed there occurred a most unexpected event.

Dr. W. O. Stillman, President of the American Humane Association, had written me months before asking about the power of the Philippine Legislature to enact humane legislation, and further inquiring what laws of this sort, if any, had been enacted. In my reply I had called his [705]attention to the act of the commission prohibiting slavery and peonage in certain provinces, and to the fact that the attitude of the assembly had prevented the enactment of similar prohibitive legislation for the remaining territory. My letter, which furnished no supporting data, was eventually published by this gentleman and was read in the United States Senate by Senator Borah. On May 1, 1913, the senate passed the following resolution:—

The reply addressed by the secretary of war to the president of the Senate on May 6, 1913, contains the following statement:—

This was a most peculiar statement. The passage cut out of my 1909 report was certainly on file there, and it explicitly stated that slavery existed in the Islands.

The similar passage from my 1910 report should have been on file there, and last but not least, when finally, after the lapse of years, I saw the so-called “Edwards” memorandum, in reality written by General McIntyre, on which the Secretary of War had based his action in ordering all reference to slavery cut out of my 1910 report, I had made a full reply to it, containing a specific statement that slavery and the sale of human beings were common in certain parts of the islands and [706]citing certain specific cases. I had specially requested that this communication be filed in the bureau of insular affairs, and General McIntyre, the chief of that bureau, who acknowledged its receipt, could hardly have forgotten its existence.

The war department reported on this matter without seeking any information from Manila. I can only conclude that Secretary Garrison was deceived by some irresponsible subordinate.

As promptly as practicable I completed my report and sent it to the commission, which read and considered it on May 17, 1913, immediately passing the following resolution:—

I was subsequently requested by the governor-general to address the report to him rather than to the commission, to the end that the Filipino members of that body might be spared the embarrassment which would otherwise result from the necessity of voting either for its acceptance or for its rejection, and I very willingly made the requested change.

The printing of the report was delayed until July 19, 1913, and I brought it up to that date, as evidence continued to pour in.

In this document I gave specific cases of chattel slavery in the provinces of Nueva Vizcaya, Isabela, Tarlac, Zambales, Pampanga, Batangas, Palawan, Agusan, Ambos Camarines, the Moro province, the Mountain province and Manila itself, describing quite fully the conditions under which Ilongots, Ifugaos, Negritos, Tagbanuas, Manobos, Mandayas, Moros and Filipinos are bought, sold and held as chattel slaves.

I will here only briefly summarize them.

The Negritos are savages of low mentality, and most of them lead a nomadic or semi-nomadic life. They constantly get the worst of it in the struggle for existence and to-day are found only on the islands of Mindanao, Palawan, Tablas, Negros, Panay and Luzón, where for the most part they inhabit very remote and inaccessible mountain regions. Owing to their stupidity and their extreme timidity it is comparatively easy to hold them in slavery, and they are probably thus victimized more than are the people of any other tribe. They are constantly warring with each other in the more remote of the mountain regions which they inhabit. It would be going too far to say that their moral sense has been blunted. It is [708]probably nearer the truth to say that they never had any. It is therefore a simple matter for Filipino slave dealers to arrange with Negritos for the purchase of their fellow-tribesmen. The latter then proceed to obtain captives by raiding some hostile group of their own people, killing ruthlessly if occasion arises.

They are more ready than are the people of any other Philippine tribe to sell their children or other dependent relatives, and do this not infrequently when pressed by hunger, a condition apt to arise because of their utter improvidence. Unfortunately, the matter does not end here. It is by no means unknown for Filipinos to join in their slave-hunting raids, or even to organize raids of their own, killing Negrito parents in order to get possession of their children. I submit the following case to illustrate this latter procedure:—

The subsequent fate of these Negrito children is made plain by the following letter:—

In this case one of the kidnappers was convicted of murder, but nothing could be done to him for selling the Negrito children nor could anything be done to Señor Ambrocio David for buying the children or for claiming that they were his property. [710]

Like many primitive peoples, the Negritos are inordinately fond of strong alcoholic drinks. It is strictly against the law to give or sell any of the white man’s liquors to them, but this naturally does not restrain slave hunters, who frequently get adults deeply intoxicated and then trade with them for their children or kidnap the drunken persons themselves and drag them away. Negritos are held to-day in bondage, in considerable numbers, in provinces like Zambales, Pampanga, Tarlac, Pangasinan and Cagayan. While they are not displayed for sale in any market in Pampanga, they can be readily negotiated for in several different public markets of that province; and if none happen to be available at the moment, the would-be purchaser is assured that the supply in the mountains is inexhaustible and that his needs can soon be met.

The publication of my report has caused consternation among slave owners in many provinces. Some slaves have since escaped and little effort has been made to recapture them. Others have been voluntarily set free by their masters, but in Pampanga the trade still goes merrily on. Until recently Negritos have been peddled around the country adjacent to Manila like carabaos or horses, and it is but a short time since their purchasers have in some instances refused to give them up, stoutly asseverating that they were their property. Now, however, warned by experience, owners make no such claim, but advance various more or less ingenious explanations of the fact that they have Negritos in their possession and deny that they are slaves. Some of them insist that it is a Negrito custom to kill orphan children, and that they have taken orphans out of kindness in order to save their lives. Patient investigation has failed to show the existence of any such custom among the Negritos.

Perhaps the commonest procedure of all is to claim that Negrito slaves are “adopted children” or “members of the family.” The presumption against a Filipino’s [711]taking into his family one of these little woolly-headed, black, dwarf savages is strong. In no single case have I been able to obtain evidence of real, legal adoption. The following document illustrates the procedure which seems invariably to have been followed:—

(Girl given the name of Juana de Jesus Vitug.)

A document of this sort imposes no legal obligation whatever on the owner of a slave, and makes no change in the status of the slave, but merely serves as a basis for the claim that he or she “is treated as a member of the family.”

This is a cheap and easy method of securing a slave, and the child thus “adopted” may be compelled to labour for a lifetime without compensation, or turned over for a consideration to be similarly “adopted” by some one else.

Other Filipinos who do not claim that their Negrito slaves are members of their families find complete justification for purchasing them in the allegation that they have taken them to Christianize, thus preventing their going to hell!

In the provinces of Agusan and Surigao the slave-taking raids of the Mandayas and Manobos are historic. In the more remote parts of these provinces they continue from time to time up to the present day. While one of them lies within the territory for which the commission has been able to legislate, what shall we say of those who contend that slavery does not exist in the [712]Philippine Islands in the face of such occurrences as have taken place there? The same query holds for the sub-province of Ifugao in the Mountain Province and for Nueva Vizcaya. The Ifugaos have been especially victimized. The following kinds of servitude are recognized by them:—

Jim-bút. This is the name applied to real slaves. The Jim-bút becomes an article of commerce and often changes owners several times before reaching the country of the Ba-li-uon (Christians).

Nij-cóp. This is the name applied to children who have been really adopted under a formal contract made with their parents or nearest relatives in case the parents are dead. The Nij-cóp acquire certain property rights from their new parents-by-adoption.

Baj-ál. This is the name given to orphan children who have been formally taken in charge by some well-to-do Ifugao and who are unable to support themselves. The Baj-ál is a tentative Nij-cóp, for if he turns out to be bright and industrious, he may become a member of the family and acquire property rights.

Ta-gá-la. This is the name applied to servants who receive regular compensation.

It is a matter of common knowledge throughout the sub-province that there are living to-day in Isabela hundreds of Ifugaos who have been sold to Filipinos as slaves.

In Nueva Vizcaya it has been possible to deal with the more flagrant cases since the passage by the commission of the law above referred to, but the commission is powerless to pass a law effective in Isabela.

The holders of slaves now seek to evade the law by nominally hiring them at a monthly salary which is not paid. The promulgation of Act No. 2071 prohibiting and penalizing slavery enabled Lieutenant-Governor Jeff D. Gallman of Ifugao to liberate some forty boys and girls held by Filipinos in Nueva Vizcaya. In no single case, however, could it be proved that the child had been sold. [713]The persons who held them testified in each instance that they were “hired servants.”

When they learned of the provisions of the above-mentioned act they were easily prevailed upon to pay “salaries” long overdue to their “servants” and the latter were allowed to return to their homes.

It was found that some of the persons originally sold into slavery in Nueva Vizcaya had run away from their masters and become vagabonds. Few really wanted to return to their parents, whose language in many cases they had almost forgotten.

I wish this were the worst, but the worst is yet to come. Not only do the Filipinos buy, sell and hold the wild people as slaves, but Filipino children have been kidnapped, or enticed from their homes, by other Filipinos, and sold as slaves to their own kind. Young girls have been sold outright to Chinese who purchased and kept them for immoral purposes. They have been sold to panderers and keepers of houses of prostitution and compelled to enter upon lives of shame. Filipino children and young women have been sold to Chinese who have taken them to China. God only knows what fate may have befallen them there. In such cases the victims disappear from these islands, never to return.

Some slaves are well treated. Others are half starved, brutally beaten, injured or even killed. The Manobos and Manadayas of Agusan and Surigao, and the Bagobos of the Moro Province, have been accustomed to sacrifice slaves to appease their heathen deities. The Manobos on occasion even have their boys take lances and try the effect of different thrusts on slaves tied to trees or posts.

Those who desire long lists of specific cases of slavery will find them in my report. I think that I have here abundantly demonstrated the fact that genuine slavery exists in the Philippine Islands. It can never be successfully checked until there is a law of general application [714]throughout the archipelago penalizing the sale, barter, or purchase of human beings. What reason has the Philippine Assembly for refusing to pass the necessary act?

Without hesitation I assert that, apart from false and foolish pride which makes the persons concerned unwilling to admit the fact of the existence of slavery, their chief reason for objecting to this law is that it would not only prohibit and penalize slavery, but would prohibit and penalize peonage, which is so common and widespread that it may properly be called general. Indeed, I have no hesitation in asserting that it prevails in every municipality in the Philippine Islands.

Slavery is a serious matter, but peonage is far more serious because of the very much larger number of persons involved. It lies at the root of the industrial system of the Philippines.

Much has been said relative to the probable attitude of large American landowners toward Filipino labourers. Thus far their attitude, and that of all other classes of Americans, has been infinitely better than has that of the wealthy Filipinos themselves. The truth is that peonage is repugnant to the average American. One of the complaints persistently made against us by the Filipinos is that we have raised the daily wage throughout the islands, and this is true. When I was there in the Spanish days, it was possible, in many regions, to obtain abundant labour at five cents per day with food, and ten cents with food was the general rule. Now the same class of labour costs at least twenty-five cents per day with food, and in some provinces it costs fifty cents or more. It must be frankly admitted that Americans are responsible for this sad condition of affairs! American landowners who desire to pay their employees regularly a living daily wage encounter difficulty in doing so, for the reason that the labourers have become accustomed to the old system, the evils of which they know, and are afraid of a new [715]one, fearing that it may involve worse evils of which they know nothing.

Incidentally, Americans have learned that their labourers are worth more if well fed, and this is another grievance held against us in certain quarters.

With many of the Filipinos it is a different story.

The rich and powerful man, commonly known as a cacique, encourages the poor man to borrow money from him under such conditions that the debt can never be repaid, and holds the debtor, and frequently the members of his family as well, in debt servitude for life. One might fill a score of volumes with records of cases and I can here do no more than to select a few typical illustrations of the workings of this vicious system.

The Filipinos are born gamblers. Gambling is their besetting sin. The poor are usually glad to get the opportunity to borrow money, and will do this on almost any terms, if necessary, in order to continue to indulge in their pet vice. They are thoughtless about their ability to repay loans, and thus readily fall into the power of the cacique money-lenders, who thereafter use them as house servants or labourers, under conditions such as to render their escape from debt-servitude practically impossible.

Indeed, if they seek to escape, the caciques often threaten them with the law, or actually invoke it against them, while if they endeavour to homestead public land and thus better their condition, the caciques only too often cause opposition to be made to their claims and keep it up until they become discouraged.

The following facts have been furnished me by Hon. James A. Ostrand, judge of the court of land registration.