Well, it was an interminable string of people. The Normal Schools of Jaro, La Paz, Molo, etc., each under their own banner, a long file of boys and then girls in all sorts of outfits and colours, but the girls all wearing the Filipinocamisa, and many of them carrying the branches of artificial and gilt flowers, which they use in religious processions. It was particularly noticeable that there was no priest of any sort in the procession, nor were the priestly colleges or the Convent Schools represented in any way.
We got quite tired of watching them at last, especially as the whole thing kept on getting muddled up and having to stop for long, weary halts. We came to the conclusion at last that as there was no crowd in the street or at the end of it; there must be a tiger round the corner. But a very literal Scotch friend said: “There are no tigers in the Philippines.”
A dance was given by the Spanish Club lastnight, and there is to be another to-night, at the invitation of the Presidente of the town, at his official residence, the Gobierno. I am not well enough to go to both, for I have not been out of the house for weeks, and even now it is rash to stand at all till my feet are healed, but I felt I must go to one of these functions, so I have chosen to-night, which is, according to Iloilo notions of etiquette, far the less exclusive of the two, so it will be much the more amusing.
I have been writing this, lying in my long chair in thesala, while C—— went out to the Plaza to see if he could hear any speeches or anything funny. He has just come back, and tells me there was a platform erected in the Plaza, where speeches had been rolled off, but he had been too late to hear any of them. A great pity, as I daresay they may have been amusing, because one of the speakers was a rabid pro-Filipino and the other (both Americans) a keen pro-American. I will finish this letter to-morrow, so as to be able to tell you all about the ball.
July 5.
We went for a drive yesterday, late in the afternoon, and when we got as far as the Plaza, we found a terrificFiestain progress—all the lamp-posts decorated with Stars and Stripes and Japanese lanterns; and a huge stage, covered with palms and more Stars and Stripes, put up opposite the bandstand, and full of Americans, while vast crowds of Filipinos surged below—the men in white and the women in colours like those in a cheap church window—and it all looked very gay and pretty. I was very much surprised to see all this, as I had had no idea anything of the sort wasin contemplation, and I was sorry that neither I nor the other Englishwoman had been invited to the stand, but I suppose they thought we would not care to take part in rejoicings over the Declaration of Independence although our countrymen had contributed, by request, a great part of the funds for the celebration.
We pulled up and looked on for a little while, much interested in a tug of war which was unlike anything we had ever seen. The two sides, Filipinos, stood on a long wooden frame like a gigantic ladder lying on the ground, and on this they lay at opposite ends, with their purchase on the rungs, and pulled at the rope with no effect whatever to the amateur eye; but apparently some man in command thought otherwise, for a voice suddenly sang out that one side had won, whereupon the competitors all let go the rope and fell quite limp, and then got up and walked away.
They had races, too, and a greasy pole—no, two greasy poles—of bamboo, with a packet of money at the top, and, of course, a flag of Stars and Stripes. Up these the enterprising native youth of Iloilo swarmed, to the intense joy of the onlookers, who howled and roared with appreciation. All sorts of dodges were allowed, which were ingenious if not particularly sporting. One small boy tried to get to the top by covering his hands and feet with sand, with which his pockets were laden and bulging, while the man who eventually got to the money hoisted himself by a device of bars of wood and rope, which betrayed him at once to C—— as a sailor. We very nearly gave up waiting for this enterprising mariner, who took an immense time to get up to the thin part at the top of the pole, where he could abandon his contrivance and get his hands round the bamboo—buthe secured the prize, and the people below bellowed with delight.
There were very few Americans amongst the crowd, all the officers and officials being in the stand, with many ladies in light frocks and big hats, while the rank and file could be seen in the bars round the Plaza, not caring a rap about tugs of war or greasy poles, or their “little brown brothers.” In the gaol the prisoners were crowded at the barred windows, getting what fun they could out of the general atmosphere of liberty; and as we drove round the Plaza, I saw a most ragged and miserable young countrywoman carrying a sad, puny baby at her breast, talking to her man through the bars of the prison, where the female relations come and hand food in to the dark ragged fellows inside. She slunk away round the Plaza, and her face was too pitiful for words, she was so gaunt and haggard. We had no money with us, but I doubt if she would have taken it if we offered it to her, as the country people are very proud, and very sensitive about “verguenza,” which is Spanish for shame. Very few of the white people seem to understand thisverguenza, by an appeal to which, as I told you before, wonders can be done with a Filipino.
This little incident put me out of humour with the Declaration celebrations, so we drove out on to the Molo road a little way and then returned, and I had a good long rest before dinner to prepare me for the evening’s festivities.
The day wound up with the ball at the Gobierno, which is a kind of Government House comprising public offices, and the Law Courts, and so forth. It is a big building across the end of the Calle Real, with a large over-hanging balcony or verandah, under which the carriages pulled up on a stone-flag pavement, all muddled up anyhow, anywhere, eachone turning and going out in any direction the horse chose, with the usual shouting and confusion and swearing on all sides.
The big stone basement was decorated with palms tied against the columns, and Stars and Stripes, and all up the staircase more Stars and Stripes and more palms.
The ball went on chiefly in the Court Room, a long narrow apartment, where the scheme of decoration was half a dozen huge American flags draped over the walls; and, stowed away over one doorway, a few folds of the red and yellow of Spain. On one side of the Court Room, through wide arches, was another long room, and on the street side was the long balcony, open to the night, and cool when compared to the rooms.
When we arrived, the ball was in full blast with the Official Rigodon, which C—— and Mr M—— who went with us, did not care to dance, and I could not, so we sat in a row and looked on, and I talked to an American friend we had met as we came in. He asked me to dance, but I said that was not possible for me, as my feet were still unhealed, and all bandaged up for this dance.
“Oh,” he said cheerfully, “I guess you are right to be careful, because if you neglect those things they turn into tropical ulcers, which arein-curable.”
“Do they?” I said.
“Why, yes, I had a friend who got mosquito bites poisoned just so, and he died of them.”
In spite of this, however, I spent a very cheerful evening, and was quite rewarded for the trouble of going out by the spectacle itself. For some time our American friend remained by us, as he said it was the last chance he would have of seeing us to say good-bye, because he was going back to the United States. We asked him if he were going onleave, but he said no, he was giving up his appointment; which rather surprised us, as he is one of the chief officials here, and has a very good position. But he said he simply could not stand the Philippines any longer, and would rather work for half the pay in any other country.
“Besides,” he said, “I am entirely out of sympathy with the whole thing, and can’t see what we are doing here anyway.”
I said, “But you have the country to develop.”
“Oh, I’m sick of hearing that,” he said. “What I want to do is to go right back to the States and see some development done there.”
“Where do you mean?” we asked.
“Why, in my own State alone there are hundreds of miles of virgin soil which I reckon I want to see developed before these silly old islands.”
“Ah,” I said, “then you don’t like the Philippines?”
“Have you ever met anyone who does?”
“No,” I said, “at any rate not one American who does not loathe the place, except one woman, the wife of a missionary, who says she likes it, but then she spends all the disagreeable season in Japan.”
“That’s so,” he said. “And I guess if I come back it’s going to be on the religious stunt, with no work and lots ofva-cation.”
The guests at the ball were all sorts and conditions of men, rather what C—— calls a “heterogeneous mass,” but most of the Americans were there too, and several new people whom I learned were officers and their wives from Camp Josman, over in Guimaras. One little woman particularly took my fancy, with her pale, pretty face and masses of fair hair, and a really lovely pink silk ball-dress. She looked so fresh and charming, but I felt quite anxious about her nicedress, as my own black skirt was a source of trouble on such dirty boards, where, I am sorry to say, some of the guests did not hesitate to expectorate when they felt inclined for this national pastime.
The floor, as I say, was simply rough, unpolished, dusty, dark-wood planks, and all the American men, except our friend and two others, wore day suits and boots, while many of the women had on walking shoes, which did not improve things.
The natives were all got up in blinding colours—little, dark, square-faced women in the harsh aniline dyes of thirty years ago—and some of them had on very handsome diamonds. C—— and I and Mr M—— were the only English people present. I believe the others, as well as many of the Americans, all thought the official ball not sufficiently select, which seemed to me a very amusing point of view in a place like Iloilo—or anywhere else for the matter of that.
After watching the ball-room for a little while, we thought we would like some fresh air, so we moved out on to the balcony, where the air was fairly cool, and where the band was stationed on a platform of two steps in height. This was the Constabulary, native brass, which sounds very well out of doors in a procession, but is rather deafening in a room. On the platform were two or three music-stands at which a few men lounged, but the rest of the twenty-five sat and blew (all brass and two flutes) wherever they pleased, most of them festooned gracefully about the steps of the stand; some lying almost full length on one elbow; and some huddled up with their chins on their knees, looking exactly like performing monkeys. One man with strips of black sticking-plaster on his flat, brown face, lay on the steps of the stand, gazing at the ceiling, and playing his cornet in one hand.
There were benches all round the balcony, and on one of these we sat, in company with a lot of other guests, while some energetic and perspiring dancers came out and extended the ball to the balcony, dancing solemnly up and down in front of the band. When some people moved away from the bench nearest the platform, half a dozen bandsmen instantly took possession of their vacant places and sat there, leaning back and blowing away at greater ease. They seemed to be playing instinctively while thinking of other things. One small boy on the bench by us was fast asleep, with his fingers still moving up and down on the stops, which so interested Mr M—— that he got up and put his ear down to the fellow’s trumpet, but declared he could hear no sound coming out of it at all. The other bandsmen watched him do this with impassive, expressionless faces, if they looked at him at all. This was during the second Rigodon, which we could see going on in the long Court Room, and when the last figure was reached, a bandsman suddenly sprang up from a recumbent position on the steps and tootled the first few bars of “Hiawatha,” which they all struck into with a swing, and some of the sleepers opened one dull eye, while the man with the black sticking-plaster on his face was suddenly galvanised into walking up and down to the tune—a sort of dancing walk—in front of the bandstand.
While we sat by the band, we were joined by another American friend, also a “prominent citizen,” with whom I had a long and interesting shout about the Philippines in general, and Mr Taft in particular, which was most entertaining, for this friend was as ardent a pro-Filipino as the other had been anti-Taft and anti-everything. This man was very enthusiastic about Mr Taft’sscheme, as he called it, and when I said, “What scheme?” he replied:
“Why, the way we run these Islands.”
Whereupon we entered upon a hot discussion, for I was all in favour of roads and irrigation, and he was all for school-desks and more teachers. I quoted a paragraph I had seen in the Manila papers, where the public were informed that some new and wonderfully fertile valley had been opened up in the Island of Luzon, and that the Government’s first care had been to send ten thousand school-desks to this favoured spot. Whereupon he said:
“Well, what is the matter with that, anyway?”
I begged him to consider what Ceylon would be now if Sir Samuel Baker had opened it up with school-desks instead of roads and reservoirs.
“Oh,” he said, “I never thought of it in that way. But perhaps our idea of raising these races is right. It is an experiment which time will prove.”
And that we argued too, with a running comment of amusement on thebaile, in spite of the loud blasts of the band.
Before we left, we had excellent supper in a side-room, where two long tables stood covered with food, and all the ceiling was draped with loops of greenery and paper lanterns. There were plates set out, each with a helping of excellent cold turkey in the middle surrounded by little piles of stuffing and vegetables and things, which we followed by very nice meringues, and accompanied with delicious iced drinks—ice from the Government factory—such a treat! While we were at supper, standing at one of the long tables, a paper lamp flared up and fell in a flaming mass just behind me. C—— and some Spaniards promptlystamped it out. But some of the women were frightened, so the Spaniards sang out:
“Terminado! Terminado!”
And everyone went on eating again.
A little group of natives andMestizoscame into the room immediately afterwards, but they had not seen the lamp fall, and one of the women in a light trailing gown passed over some smouldering fragments. C—— sprang forward and said in Spanish:
“Your dress! There has been a lamp burnt there!” And pointed to the sparks.
But the woman merely glared over her shoulder, as if he had offered her some insult. I could gladly have stuck my fork into her impudent, bold, brown face, and can’t, as yet, see why in the Eternal Fitness of Things she did not catch fire and flare up.
After supper we watched a waltz and a two-step, and then went away about twelve.
On our way out I passed one of the alcove openings into the inner room, where I saw a sad, white Bouguereau Madonna face looking up at a man bending down, and recognised one of the heroines of the latefuncion(a delightful Spanish slang word) next door. So I perceived that the Marble Misery was a chronic pose, and nothing at all to do with her relations stabbing each other. Only, I must say she looked more “in the picture,” running down the street with her hair streaming, than in a bright ball-room.
We had gone to thebailein a hiredquilez, as we did not want to take our own frisky pony out on such a night of Chinese crackers underfoot and rockets overhead, and we had told thequilezman to come back for us. To our astonishment, he did so. Not that it was much of a treasure in the way of a carriage, for it was so badly balanced that our weightat the back would have lifted the pony clean off the ground if the driver had not kept the balance by squatting on the shafts over the pony’s tail. The little animal tore along, and it was a wonder and a mystery to see how the driver stuck on at all. It was probably chiefly done with his toes, for Filipino toes stand apart, supple like fingers, and are used in the most marvellous and uncanny ways. In the streets the Filipinos wear, or ought to wear, only slippers of gaudy velvet, calledchinelas, but many of them now affect stockings and pointed shoes, which I think must be one of the most doubtful blessings of civilisation. In the procession I noticed many of the little school girls and boys with stockings on and awful shoes, and one or two of the little girls even wore hats, but, if I described them to you, you would not believe me!
Well, have you ever had such a long letter in your life? And yet there is any amount more to tell you if I only had the energy to write it.
Iloilo,July 14, 1905.
I know you will be sorry to hear that the last of our dear little mongeese is dead—killed by the dogs next door a week ago. We heard squeaking and barking and scuffling in the alley-way one evening, and rushed to the windows, but it was all dark below, and we could see nothing. So C—— and Sotero went down with a lamp, but there was nothing to be seen, and when we sent in to ask the old Tagalo dressmaker about it, they all swore they had heard nothing. So we hoped it was only a rat; but we waited in vain for our poor little pet to come back, and she never appeared again.
I could not bear the sight of the empty cage, and made the boys take it away after a day or two, and now I find it stands on the Azotea, with Sotero’s rooster sitting solemnly on a perch that has been fixed across the middle. This is the same cock, by-the-bye, that travelled back with us from Nagaba, and when C—— asks the boy about it, he always says it is “going to fight for fifteenpesos” on some Sunday—which never comes. The cock is as tame with Sotero as a dog, and allows itself to be combed and stroked the way one sees all the Filipinos do to their fighting-cocks.
A Village Cock-Fight.To face page 287.
A Village Cock-Fight.
To face page 287.
In the native huts the fighting-cock is a very precious and sacred person, enthroned on a special perch at one end of the living-room. The night before he fights, this warrior is watched with thegreatest care to see which point of the compass he faces, as on that omen hang many events, for if the creature faces the east he is bound to win, but if he is turned towards the west you may as well not take him to the battle at all. A little hope is left, however, for when the cocks all crow before the dawn, he who makes the first scrawk is bound to win, and you can put your lastpesetaon him.
The poor beasts are taken to the ring, where spurs of curved steel are fastened to the back of their heels, which makes the fight pretty short and decisive, and may be indirectly merciful if it helps towards a swift death. The making of the blades is a fine art, and they are carefully carried about in a small box with a little stone on which to sharpen them. When one sees a Filipino on the way to a cock-fight, with his bird sitting on his arm, there is generally another native walking beside him, carrying this little black box containing the spurs and the little whet-stone.
There is as much roguery and “doping” amongst these cock-fighters as there is about horse-racing amongst “civilised” men, and some of the dodges are really very ingenious, such, for instance, as taking tiny pills of opium or other poison under the finger nail and dropping them in front of your opponent’s bird when it is pecking about before the contest begins.
Before the fight the interested parties are allowed to test the roosters, like looking at a horse in the paddock, only they enjoy advantages which I believe are not to be indulged in a paddock at a race-meeting, for they may form their opinion of a bird by picking the animal up and feeling its muscles, looking at its thighs and examining its feet, of all of which points the Filipino is a wonderful judge, being able to graduate his largebets on the feeling of a muscle with great certainty. All the same, this is the occasion, if he is so minded and the other man is not quick enough, to injure the animal by means of a sharp pin point hidden in the palm of the hand or between the fingers.
I notice that the fighting-cocks here don’t have their breasts pulled bare of feathers like those poor birds we saw in that old man’s house below the walls of the Alhambra. Do you remember how bald and horrible they looked? And how the old villain who kept them told us he pulled the feathers out and rubbed in spirits to keep the skin hard? They don’t seem to do that here, for I have never seen a bare-breasted cock, and never met anyone who has heard of such a custom.
The General has gone off to Samar, the long island parallel to this, and on the other side of Cebú—though I can only use those terms vaguely, and by way of a general indication to you where to look on a map. The island is now under martial law, owing to the patriotism and enterprise of certain jolly fellows, called Pulajanes, going about with big curvedbolos, and old Spanish flint-locks, and in fact anything they can catch hold of. These persons are really patriots of a most irreconcilable type, but it suits the programme of the Government to label themladrones(robbers), and to refer to their own hard fights with them as “cleaning up the province.” On the strength of this nickname, the Americans cut down these patriots freely (when the Pulajanes do not do the cutting down first), and if they catch them alive the poor devils are hanged like common criminals.[11]The papers continue topublish long eulogiums on the peace and prosperity of the Philippines, and all the time the richest commercial centre of the Archipelago is under martial law, with all its business houses shut down; and soldiers and officers continue to arrive at the hospital here every now and then, with more or less severe wounds. Also waggons occasionally go past from the barracks, piled up with baggage, and followed by troops in service kit, and one hears that they have “gone to the front.”
For some time past the staff of C——’s firm has been increased here, in this Iloilo branch, by the absorption into it of one of their men from Catbologan, the chief town of Samar, as their business there, along with all the others in that island, has had to be shut down.
There is desultory fighting even here, in Panay, but we never hear of it except as an occasional paragraph in a Manila paper.
So much for peace. As to prosperity, there is general scarcity, many districts suffer actual famine. In Cebú the lower classes are chiefly dependent on an allowance of so many sacks of rice a day, the gift of the Chinamen! In that town, indeed, matters are so bad that siege-like conditions prevail, and amongst other horrible things that happened, a starving native woman lately killed and ate her own baby. This is not hearsay, but sober reports in theManila Times.
I am paying the penalty of my recklessness in having gone to the Declaration Day ball, for the little walking I did that night made my feet very painful again, and I am laid up in bed once more, reading papers and trying to forget my American friend’s optimistic remarks about tropical ulcers. The doctor tells me I want feeding up to get the poison out of my system, and this I can quite believe, but fail to see how it is to be brought about. I havetried drinking a little wine, but that makes my prickly heat unendurable. The Spaniards here drinktinto—the red Spanish wine one gets attables d’hôtein Spain—but it has to be spirited up for export, so out here it is rather heady and sour; but I am sure it must be more wholesome than the whisky and soda of the English people, or the eternal tea of the American women. You will be tired of hearing about my mosquito bites, but I must just tell you one new thing that I have heard about this unpleasant ailment, which is that many people think the poison is introduced by flies—one fly would be quite enough! There were no flies, or very few, when we came here at first, in the dry season, but with the rain they have appeared in black swarms, and we live surrounded by large sheets of sticky paper with Tangle Foot written on them—a delightful American expression! Here again I am reminded of the amount of indifference shown to an animal in proportion to its size—comparative with that of a human being. For can you imagine anyone being tolerated, who caught cats or horses in deep, thick glue and let them slowly struggle to death? Yet what are you to do with flies? You can’t catch each one—first catch your fly, in fact—and then kill it in the quickest and most scientific manner. No. It must be Tangle Foot papers. But even though I find I am simply compelled to have them about the house, when I see a fly trying to haul one foot after the other out of the dreadful Tangle Foot, I can’t help appreciating the poor insect’s point of view.
The old millionaire I told you about is still here, and everyone is trying to be civil to him, but I hear he is very difficult to entertain, for he insists on being the only man to talk, which he does very slowly and in an almost unintelligible accent. He gives considerable annoyance, too, byhis bad clothes, dirty hands, and unshaven face, and one can’t help sympathising with the men who are irritated by such slovenliness, or agreeing with them, that it is not much good being a millionaire if you can’t get hold of a decent tailor and a razor and some soap!
I think I told you that our friend Mr —— sent his wife and family off to Hong Kong when the heat began? They have come back, and are giving me so much annoyance by rhapsodies over the climate, the cheapness of everything, and the good food in Hong Kong that at last I had tobegthem to say no more! Mrs —— is still comparing prices here with prices there, and she brought back pretty things for her house, which make me wild with envy—or would if we were not soon to pass to happier climes! Her husband went to fetch his little tribe, and he is raving, not so much about the comparison of prices and the joys of fresh milk, fruit, and vegetables as the horrible imposition of being compelled to pay the Philippine Cedula Tax all over again. Fivepesosa head—10 shillings each for his wife, the three children, and the nurse! And what annoyed him most of all, I think, was his having been away about three weeks himself and having to pay it again too. However, it has been worth the money to them, I should think, for they all look quite brown and jolly compared to the people here, and quite different beings to the washed-out folk they were when they went away. At this time of year, as I think I told you, all the Hong Kong people who can afford it go home or to Shanghai or Japan, as they consider Hong Kong at this season not fit to live in!
Iloilo,July 14, 1905.
We are having much cooler weather now, the thermometer sometimes as low as 77°, and hardly ever above 80°, and at night it has even been down to 64°. We have had some spells of hot sunshine, which have brought the flowers out in the few gardens and the cemeteries. We get a trayful now and then of all sorts of queer-looking blossoms, mostly bright reds and yellows, with no smell, and very gaudy and handsome. Many of them I have seen in hothouses at home, especially one big bright yellow funnel-shaped flower; but I don’t know any of their names, except the native words told me by the charming white-haired old Filipino gardener who brings them. Amongst the last lot was a thing exactly like a large periwinkle, which made me think at once of the garden at home, and some stuff like May-blossom, which made me feel more homesick than ever! They are beautiful, all these flowers, when they come in fresh, but there is no scent about them, and they seldom live twenty-four hours. One I do recognise, and that is the Canna lily, which I have seen in hothouses at home, and some irises of different sorts. I am feeling much better, so we went for a drive yesterday between the showers, but got caught in two tremendous squalls—one in the town and one on the Molo road. Thecalesahas a hood, which is raised on crooks, and one can shut oneself in altogether inheavy rain, with an arrangement of waterproof curtains, the reins passing through a hole in the high apron. It looks so funny, in wet weather, to see the bottled-upcalesasgoing about, being driven as by magic, with the miserablesota(groom) trying to make the best of his narrow perch behind.
Watering Carabaos.To face page 293.
Watering Carabaos.
To face page 293.
The roads were a maze of huge pools of water, through which we just splashed anyhow, and all the palm-groves were brilliantly green, and full of new little fairy lakes, which looked so lovely that they were well worth the discomforts of the drive. Near the huge Priests’ College, a little way out of Iloilo, we saw somecarabaoshaving a glorious time in various new pools. They looked very picturesque, with their great dark curved horns, standing out against the shining water and the green grass. The greenness is wonderful—too wonderful. There is no beauty of purples and soft blues about a wet day here; it is all grey and green, and even the little lakes in the palm-groves are very garish, and all exactly alike. One longs for a change of colouring, and these crude tints get on one’s nerves like an oleograph in a hotel.
Talking of nerves, the perpetual sounds were added to, as soon as the rainy season set in, by the bell-like voices of countless frogs, singing in every ditch and pool. They sing in the day, but at night they are loudest, or else most noticeable, and their melodious notes might be pretty if one heard less of them and a long way off.
A day or two ago Sotero came to me saying that a woman was at the door wanting to sell me a ring. I said I would look at it; so he went off and brought me a dirty little piece of newspaper, out of which emerged a huge pearl set in a very common, florid, claw setting. I looked at the pearl and saw that though it was white enough, itwas very rough, with no iridescent lustre, what connoisseurs call “skin,” I believe. I also noticed that as the stone tapered away, and was discoloured under the setting, it could not be worth more than £10 at the most. But Sotero said the woman wanted two hundredpesos(£20), so the incident came to a rapid close. When C—— came back in the middle of the day, and I told him about the ring, he said he knew it quite well, for it had been hawked all over Iloilo; and everyone thought the price asked a preposterous sum. In spite of which the woman refused all reasonable offers.
The pearl came from the pearl-fisheries of the Philippines, which are chiefly in the Sulu Islands, far away South, where the Philippines almost touch British North Borneo. They say the pearls are not very good ones at the best, but none of the best specimens find their way about the Islands, for they are sent straight away to Singapore by the Chinamen who own the fisheries. Here there are oysters with beautiful, transparent, white pearl shells, of which the small panes of the rain-shutters are made; but these shells have no pearls in them, and are of very little value. Besides these oysters, we get all manner of shell-fish—crabs, cray-fish, clams, shrimps, as well as soles, sprats, whiting, and quantities of other fish. Indeed the supply of fish is wonderfully varied and always exquisitely fresh, except on Fridays, when the servants of all good Catholics clear the markets, or even secure the fish before they get into the markets at all. In stormy weather, too, we don’t get much fish, but, as a rule, the supply is a great boon, and one of our chief sources of sustenance. I was astonished to find in Manila that fish was very scarce and dear, and people there envied us the fish here, while those who only knew Manila refused even to believe that we could have such a supply at all!
A Filipino Fish-Market.To face page 294.
A Filipino Fish-Market.
To face page 294.
Iloilo,July 31.
I think I told you we had been very lucky in the selling of the greater part of our furniture, and now we have got thecalesaand pony off our hands as well, which is a great loss in the evenings, but we had to take what chance we could. Some of the young Englishmen got up a Gymkhana on the beach yesterday, and C—— rode the pony for the last time, when he was lucky enough to win two races out of three, and only missed the third by a misunderstanding about the start.
It was a dull, showery afternoon, unfortunately, but when the rain went off, I strolled down to the beach to see if anything was to be seen. I found crowds of Filipinos standing about the upper part of the beach, and a few hurdles down on the sands, which the receding tide had left quite firm. The competitors, who included some of the young Spaniards andMestizos, were riding up and down, and just as I arrived on the scene, a race came flying along in great style, to the intense joy of the native onlookers.
The occasion was enlivened by thebanda de musica popular, the members of which had been on their way to play in the Plaza, but had strolled down to the beach, where they stood amongst the crowd, and every now and then blew and tootled a tune while they goggled about.
I signalled to oursotaand made him go up tothe house and fetch me a chair, on which I sat and watched the race. As I sat there a Filipino youth came up and very civilly asked me if theseñorawanted amuchacho, but I said I did not, as I was quite content with the servants I had at present.
We have had one or two very fine days again lately, and have been for one or two drives, but some very blood-thirsty road-mending has been going on, to prepare the town for the critical eyes of the Taft party, who are to arrive here from Manila on the 14th or 15th of next month. This road-mending is done by hauling the volcanic gravel out of the river beds, and dumping it in huge piles along the middle of the roads, and as the thoroughfares are not lighted, the result is a wild steeplechase with one wheel in the air. Sometimes fellows come along and spread the gravel out, but more generally it just spreads itself. It makes very soft roads, which the heavycarabao-carts plough up at once.
One of the last drives we took was to visit the foreign cemetery, which is on the outskirts of the town, on a road running parallel to the beach. We got out of the trap at a tall wooden gate, which an old man opened to us, and walked up a short avenue of flowering bushes and palms. The graves stood on a grassy plot, with bushes growing about it, laden with large red or yellow blossoms, and crossed at right angles by sandy paths bordered with tiles. They were not ordinary graves, like those one sees at home, for each one was a sort of small brick tunnel some feet from the ground, and closed by a cemented tablet. There were names of some English people on one or two of them, and one had just been opened to send the bones of the occupant back to his native land. The man had been dead twenty-five years, and it seemed to me hardly worth while to disturb him.
A little behind the main row of tombs we came on a Jewish grave—a big marble sarcophagus—with an iron rail round it and inscriptions in Hebrew on the flat top. The marble was native to this country, I have no doubt, as there is plenty of it in the Philippines; in fact some of the small islands are known to be of solid marble, but it does not pay to work them—did I not tell you this before, though?
Mr B—— came to call this afternoon, and was very indignant about local justice, as it appears that one of his Filipino clerks was impudent to a white man in his firm, whereupon the white man naturally struck the Filipino as any ordinary man of grit strikes a man who is rude to him. However, the cur Filipino went off to the police and lodged a complaint. The white man was had up, and has been heavily fined for “assaulting” the Filipino, and Mr B—— says:
“What on earth are you to do with impertinent natives if you don’t hit them? They don’t care a straw if you dismiss them, and take not the least notice of reproof.”
But I think there is right on both sides, for the way some of the white men hit their servants about is brutal and foolish. I said something to this effect, whereupon Mr B—— said, very much surprised:
“Why, doesn’t your husband have to kick your fellows about?”
And he was quite incredulous when I assured him that C—— had never dreamed of such a thing except once, when our first cook had muttered impertinences, and been kicked out on to the Azotea for his rudeness.
“But they are such stupid fools,” argued Mr B——.
We replied that we did not think blows wouldmake them any brighter, on which he laughed and said perhaps we were right, as we certainly had remarkably good servants.
Another guest, Mr M——, was talking about Philippine food, and observed that tomatoes grew so well here. I said I thought they were miserable failures, as they are about the size of walnuts, and quite green. But he maintained that that was because the Filipino just sticks his tomato plants in the ground and goes off to sit in the shade or to a cock-fight, and when he sees any sign of fruit on the plants, he picks it and takes it to market. Any notion of tilling the soil—weeding or manuring—is absolutely unknown to these people, or if known, carefully avoided. Mr M—— said he had seen tomatoes, grown by Chinamen, as good as the very best out of a hothouse at home. There are several Chinesepotagèresin the town where rows of trim little beds may be seen thick with extraordinarily luxuriant crops of vegetables of every sort, but out here no one will eat anything grown by the Chinamen, as those enterprising people employ some dreadful and unmentionable methods of agriculture. Besides this, there are many germs in the teeming, prolific air which invest vegetables such as cabbages, lettuce, etc., and make them very unsafe experiments, even if one can procure any. When I was in Manila, there was a good deal of talk at dinner tables, and much writing in the papers about some American scientist who professed to have found out a way to “treat” the Philippine green lettuces before eating them, so as to destroy some dreadful germ which causes horrible complaints. But it seemed to me less trouble and a great deal safer to give up lettuce as a bad job!
The great and terrible fear in the Philippines is the germ of a disease called “sprue”—a sort ofwasting away—which is very difficult to remedy, and almost ineradicable.
Melons would grow well here, for in the wet season anything in the nature of a gourd springs up like a weed—a habit which suits the Filipino agriculturist to perfection. Some of the more energetic spirits fasten a piece ofbejucofrom the marrow plant up to a window, and gourd vines may often be seen obligingly toiling up a string to hand fruit in to the weary dwellers in anipahut. Nevertheless, melons are only to be got from Hong Kong, and even then they are a costly delicacy. Some friends sent us half a watermelon a few days ago, as a present, but we did not like to accept anything so valuable, and insisted on paying for it. What a treat it was!
With the rainy season we also have a tiny hard native fruit that looks like a damson outside, but has white flesh with a stone like a date-stone, and is entirely devoid of any flavour of any sort. I tried having this fruit stewed, but it was even nastier than when raw. When we were at Nagaba for the day, in the spring, we got some fruit like knobs of rose-coloured wax, pink all through, with black pips, and rather tart, but also tasteless. I suppose all these insipid, nasty little native fruits could be cultivated into something nice, in the way that cherries have been developed, and apples and everything else, from the tasteless wild fruit. At present, however, they are tolerable only to the native palate. The best of them is a tiny brown fruit calledlazones, which has a fluffy thin brown skin, and grey brown flesh in divisions like an orange, each division containing a large green seed. The flavour of thelazonesis sharp, rather nice, and very refreshing, but this fruit only comes from Luzon, and is very expensive, besides being half-rotten by the time it gets here.Bananas, pine-apples, and mangoes—that is all. Bananas one gets unutterably sick of, and pine-apples too—and mangoes, even if one likes them (which we do not), give one prickly heat. In fact tinned strawberries and raspberries are about the best Philippine fruits.
We have received an invitation to the banquet in honour of Mr Taft and his party on the 15th—on the payment of 12pesoseach. But we may have to sail before that date if our Hong Kong steamer comes in. I shall be very sorry if we miss that event, for I think the Taft utterances would be well worth 25 shillings a head, though that does seem a pretty stiff sum for an Iloilo banquet!
Iloilo,August 11, 1905.
We went a last trip to Nagaba on Sunday, but only for the day, and were lucky in having very fine weather and delightfully cool, only 80°, with a lovely breeze blowing, and the sky a little overcast.
We roused ourselves up after lunch, and two friends came to the house to join the party, and we sent the “boy” for twoquilezes. When we went down, I stepped into the first one; there was Tuyay lying in it already! How she knows when we are going out is simply marvellous.
We drove to the Muelle Loney, at the farther end of whichparaosare moored for hire, and chose a nice big boat, theValentino, with an upper deck of split bamboo, a rabbit-hutch cabin ofnipamatting, and a crew of eight men, and set sail for Nagaba.
The sun came out soon after we started, so we lay half in and half out of the cabin and the shade it cast. It was a “three-man breeze,” so some of the crew ran out on the outriggers and others hauled ropes, while three ruffians sat on the deck, which was 3 feet wide, by-the-bye, and spread out a piece of blue paper, which they held down with their bare brown toes. We could not think what they were going to do, when, to our astonishment, one of them produced a pack of greasy cards and pieces of money and began the three-card trick!They did their best to get us interested in the game, the chief little old brown swindler losing to his confederates all in the best Derby style. We looked on with deep interest, but showed no signs of wishing to take part in the gamble, except for C—— to ask casually if they knew he was in the Secret Police, which made them look quite serious for a few minutes. This remark about Secret Police was no empty jest, for it is an Institution of the Free and Enlightened U.S.A., worthy of Russia or the Dark Ages. Well, after this disquieting joke about the Secret Police, the three-card trick seemed to lose its flavour, and the gamblers shifted billet again, to our intense amusement, crawling along the outriggers, and past the “cabin,” and on to the tiny space of after-deck, where the steersman sat huddled up with his legs round the tiller. Here they spread the blue paper out again, one of the confederates lying airily across the stern entrance, betting excitedly, with an occasional squint into the cabin to see if anyone was inclined to slip aft on the sly. But we never even looked round, so they soon abandoned that tactic and climbed on to the “cabin” roof, where they crouched like monkeys, chattering, and now and then a great flat brown face hung over the edge and looked down in on us; but we got rather tired of them, so C—— leaned out and hit one of them, and they gave that up too.
All this time we were skimming through the water, going at a tremendous pace, the boat leaning over first to one side and then to the other, with the white foam spurting up from the brilliant green sea, the half-naked brown sailors running out on the long poles of the outriggers, and the big sails filled out tight. It was most exhilarating.
We went straight across, a little wide of Nagaba, and then made a wide tack, which enabled the boat to go quite close to the beach, as the tidewas high, and we came up right opposite the village. One of the boatmen carried me ashore, and the moment Tuyay saw me leave the ship, she flung herself into the water and swam after me in a sort of tragic despair that made us all laugh very much.
Then other brawny little natives took C—— and our two friends astride on their shoulders and set us all down on the dry sand, and we walked up through the little village of huts, all amongst the babies and dogs and pigs. There were several new swamps to be seen, and everything was even greener than when we were last there, which was before the S.-W. Monsoon had really set in. I noticed, too, that the bushes had flowered, as our friends had predicted, and one of them was a beautiful, scentless yellow blossom, a little like a snapdragon.
We had meant to go for a real walk, but the sun was too hot, as it was not more than four o’clock, so we wandered along to “our” house, through the fields and village. It was delightful to feel the fresh country air, and to smell the earth and plants after the streets of Iloilo, and we actually felt hungry, and began to ask each other what was to be done about food. Nothing was to be had at any house in the village, as we all knew by experience, but by luck we came upon a sort of opennipashed, where a little Filipino woman was standing behind a wooden tray containing ears of maize, little heaps of rice, and betel-nut, which was by way of being a shop. From her, and a youth who cropped up from nowhere and conducted the bargaining, we bought what the Americans call corn-pone, which is whole ears of young maize roasted. We munched the corn, which was very sweet and tender, and uncommonly filling—after about half a “pone” one could hardly breathe.
A little further on we regretted our haste in satiating ourselves with maize, as we saw a big open shed, with two steps up to it, and all sorts of glasses and dishes glittering on a table spread with a white cloth, evidently a sort ofFiestarestaurant. We cheered up at this, and hurried along with talk of fizzing drinks, but when we came nearer, and out of the full glare of the sunlight, we got a horrible shock on finding it to be the Aglipay church!
So we trailed on, rather despondent, and very thirsty, between the huts and boats, through the deep soft sand, which was unpleasant to walk on. We saw a bigparaolying drawn up, hewn out of one vast tree-trunk, which is the original model of these long, narrow boats, and it looked like a hugebaroto(canoe).
When we got to the house, Tuyay was greeted most enthusiastically by a little spaniel friend, and the caretakers were civil enough to us, but incredibly stupid about a request for coffee. At last C—— made them understand by talking to them in Visayan, but it is really very strange how very few of the people in the country know any Spanish, and the town’s-people can only say a few words or phrases at the best.
We took chairs out of the house, opened the sliding bamboo frames shutting off the balcony, and established ourselves out there in the cool shade. There we sat for an hour, munching maize, and watching three fowls and three brown babies picking up mysterious food on the rocks and in the shallow pools. One of the babies was an elderly person of five or six, who was “minding” the other two, and one could see that he was older and more important, as he had on a very short and entirely foolish white muslin shirt, but the other two were in nothing but fat brown skin. The tiniest was avery serious and bullet-headed little chap, with thin arms and legs, and a huge rice-tummy. All three mites were squatting about, very busy and solemn, finding some little shell-fish, which they cracked between stones and ate with the gestures of monkeys.
They were to us a source of absolute delight, and it was not till the elderly pastor in the muslin shirt led his flock off to fresh pools out of sight that we went into the house and drank the coffee which the woman had prepared for us. It was excellent black coffee, made in the native fashion by holding the grounds in a little bag at the end of a piece of bamboo in a coffee pot—simple, but effective. With it went large flat cakes of yellowish sugar, calledcaramelo, and she had also produced from somewhere four ship’s biscuits. The latter were rather a relief after the maize, and indeed we thought the meal a delicious feast, though I have no doubt we would not have looked at it over the other side of the Guimaras Channel.
After this, as it was about six o’clock, and the sun was going down, we walked down to the river mouth and got on board the good shipValentinoby crawling along anotherparao, which was beached in the shallower water further inshore, and thence by perilous ventures along those outriggers on which the sailors run about in a gale as if they were on firm land!
The sail back in the sunset was exquisite, all the mountains of Panay dark blue against an orange sky, a young moon overhead, and the air exquisitely fresh.
Altogether it was a most delightful trip, and I only wish we had had more such days, but with only one day a week to choose from it is often too hot, and sometimes too wet to go on the water. Most of the time, too, I have not been well enoughfor expeditions under the most favourable circumstances, and then, over and above all these reasons is the fact that one seldom has the inclination here to do anything or go anywhere. I think it must be owing to this latter phenomenon that there is no sort of “week-end resort” at Nagaba, for one can hardly understand how such an enterprising people as the Americans have neglected this golden opportunity for a business that, I believe, they understand so admirably—I mean sort of Simple Life Hotels. I remember an American whom I met at home once, in England, telling me a long story about some place in the Adirondaks, where people from New York (or was it Chicago?—no matter) go and live in tents; and millionaires catch food, and their priceless wives and daughters cook and sweep. The story came upà proposthe daughter of a millionaire who had just married an English duke, as this personage had been roughing it in the next tent to my friend. I think I may have told you the story at the time. But I have read so much and heard so much about the American love of country life that I am astounded to see how they all sit grilling in Iloilo when they might have a hotel at Nagaba. The truth is, of course, that such an enterprise might be a doubtful undertaking, as every American I have ever yet met or seen, from the highest to the humblest, is simply saving money to get away from the Philippines and back to “God’s Country.”
We are still undecided about our departure, as theSung-Kiang(the sister-ship of theKai-Fongand the same Line) has come in before what the Americans call her “scheduled” time. That is a very queer word of theirs, by-the-bye, and they work the poor thing to death, making it do all sorts of unnatural gymnastics in place of good, ready, useful English. Probably we shall wait for theKai-Fong,but whichever we decide for, we shall not miss the Taft party after all, which I am very pleased about, and we have put our names down for the banquet.
They are in Manila now, the first intimation of their arrival having been a telegram in the IloiloEl Tiempo, headed “Impresiones de Miss Alice Roosevelt”—who had not been an hour in the Philippines, if she had landed at all, when the impression was what newspaper language calls “voiced.”
Now we haveThe Manila Timesof that and the following two days, which are “all Taft,” of course, set forth in the quaintest concoction of cheap picture-writing, bad grammar, and awkward, slapdash slang. Much about “Miss Alice,”—a whole column of an interesting description of that lady’s every gesture at a race-meeting—in fact she looms so large in the Philippine eye that it looks as if she were here for a very good reason; perhaps to take the fierce, white light off Mr Taft a little. They allude to the latter, by-the-bye, as “theSecwar,” which, when I first came across it, I took to be the name of some Indian chief, but it at last dawned upon me that the word was a contraction of Secretary of War, and I have since been told that it is his telegraphic address used as an affectionate nickname.
The American reporter seems to be as virulent in Manila as anywhere else, for before the party had landed one of these human mosquitoes asked a Senator what he thought of “these islands,” but the visitor cleverly replied that he had come to gather impressions, not to furnish them.
The papers are still full of guesses about the true reasons for this visitation, for so many of them persist in the theory that Mr Taft is not entirely actuated by altruistic wishes for the welfare of his “little brown brothers,” but has a wary eyeupon the elector at home, and will pose as the Saint of the Philippines just as far as his own interests are safe. I think it is a great shame to say this, however, for it is obvious that he has done the best he can for the Philippines according to his views; and whether one agrees with his theories or not, his good intentions are not to be denied. I had a long talk with a man who has been here in a good business for thirty-three years, and is supposed to know more about the Philippines than any other white man alive; and he told me that, as far as enlightening the Senators went, he thought the Taft visit was a costly farce, for they are to be allowed to see and hear nothing that does not “suit the Taft book.” A week in Manila of meetings, balls, parties, and banquets, followed by flying visits to the principal towns in the provinces and more banquets, all feasting and flags and anthems; but not a glimpse of the miserable, wasted agricultural districts, the abandoned rice-fields, and the real truth of the labour problem. Moreover, their opinion of the self-government problem is to be formed by the conversation of a few well-educated and carefully selectedMestizosin the towns.
The natives, themselves, however, are tremendously jubilant about the approaching visit of their Patron Saint, and expect all blessings to spring up miraculously in his footsteps.
Talking of natives, I am glad to say that our three excellent servants have found good billets, with a rise in importance and wages, and they are all so pleased, poor souls, that we took the trouble to recommend them to our friends. They did not want much touting, for the spotless tidiness of their appearance is an advertisement that speaks for itself and their honesty is patent, for we trust them in a way that no one else dreams of doing with their Filipino servants. I don’t know how the two houseboys will get on with impatient Englishmen, for they are both very shy, faithful, simple countrymen—real unspoilt Filipinos. But if they were spoken to sharply, or muddled in their work, they would become confused and stupid at once. Not that there is anything peculiar to the Filipino race in these traits, because they are perfectly familiar to me in many kindly, simple, limited souls in other latitudes. You have to take them as you find them, only hoping, as with the same type at home, that their secret cunning may be ranged on your own side, and that if you can’t make a silk purse out of a sow’s ear, you may perhaps manage to contrive a useful little leather bag if you are patient enough.
Note.—I have before meThe Manila Timesof 17th January 1906, from which I give the following extract:—“While the municipal and ecclesiastical dignitaries, etc., were awaiting the arrival of Secretary Taft, a Government vessel slowly made her way up the Pasig river filled with the dead and wounded from the island of Samar. During the stay of the party in Manila, four native men were brought in from the adjoining province of Cavite frightfully mutilated because of their pro-American sympathies.”
Iloilo,August 14, 1905.
We have now decided to go to Hong Kong by theKai-Fong, which sails next Saturday or Monday, the 20th or 22nd. TheSung-Kiangloaded up as much as she could and shoved off on Saturday, as she did not want to be paying port dues here the whole of to-day (Sunday) and to-morrow, which is a public holiday, being the anniversary of the taking of Manila by Admiral Dewey.
The transport conveying the Taft party isscheduledto arrive here to-day, and this evening they are to be present at a performance of the Filipino Amateur Dramatic Club, to which we have been invited by means of a huge printed invitation, couched in elaborate Spanish, and adorned by many ornaments and flourishes.
We heard the sound of a band going past very early this morning, and when we went out on to the balcony, we saw it was the Infantry band from Guimaras, with the regiment behind them marching down the street. They marched splendidly, and the band was playing a most sad and beautiful tune, which made one think of war, and troops marching away, and women crying in the morning. The soldiers had just arrived, I expect, for everyone from Camp Josman is pouring into Iloilo for thefêtesfor the Taft party.
Arches are being put up in the streets, and, as everybody has been requested to decorate theirhouses, we have hoisted a Union Jack on a long pole, and all this morning the servants were very happy, in the pouring rain, sticking up palm-branches which they had stolen from some plantation. They are much excited about the arrival of this hero of theirs, and one of them—who gets confused when we accuse him of being anIndependiente, because he has his watch hung on a nail in the kitchen, with a portrait of Rizal over it, a sort of little shrine—is simply beaming with delight, and can’t haul up enough palms.
In the office opposite, the native clerks are surpassing themselves with archway and window decorations of greenery and flowers; while the old Tagalo dressmaker next door has been busy for a week past making paper flowers of all the hues under the sun. In that house, by-the-bye, the stock of domestic pets has lately been increased by the addition of a sheep, which is quite tame, for we can hear its little hoofs tap-tapping over the bare boards, and see it sitting amongst the work-girls in the big front room. They have a nice little black pig, too, also running about the house and equally tame, and in the evenings the old man goes out for a walk to the beach with the fat old brown dog, the pig, and the sheep all running after him and playing about. I have often seen them go along the street—such a curious company! And people who live near the beach tell me he takes them all down to the sea, washes them, and then walks about to give them an airing. They are all sharing in the popular rejoicings, too, for the brown dog and the pig have got on necklaces of paper flowers, while the sheep is crowned in the most arcadian fashion.
Mr Taft has made a lot of speeches in Manila, but, so far, they have only contained very nebulous references to the Independence question; thoughhe has cast a sop to the malcontents by promises of abolition or reduction of certain export duties, by which the excited Filipinos argue and predict a millennium of agricultural improvement and general plenty.
But none of the business men are very clear as to how this miracle is to be wrought, for the Government will not lower the standard of wages; Chinese labour will not be allowed in; and the Filipino will not suddenly, if ever, become a thrifty, hard-working tiller of the soil, even if he passes all the standards of the American schools.
One paragraph stowed away in a corner ofThe Manila Timesmade us laugh very much, for it was an account of how Poblete de los Reyes (a FilipinoIndependienteagitator) and Father Aglipay were “haunting the corridors of the Ayuntamento” (theGobiernoof Manila), “but up to noon to-day they had failed to get the ear of Secretary Taft.”
This gave me a delightful vision of those two anxious flat brown faces peering out of all sorts of shadowy places, and Mr Taft for ever making a break for another room, and rushing through suites and up and down little staircases to escape the gen-u-inepatriots. This is only a fancy picture, of course, but still it may contain a grain of truth, and at any rate it afforded us much amusement.
Many people think Mr Taft is reserving some great pronouncement for Iloilo, as he favoured this town above all Philippine communities in that he made here his great pro-Filipino speech, two years ago, when he was Governor-General of the Philippines. In this famous oration he used these words: “These Philippine Islands are going to be governedforthe Filipinos, and no onebutthe Filipinos, and any stranger or American who does not like it can get out.”
This did much to ensure his popularity withthe natives everywhere in the Islands, and in Iloilo in particular. However, even the easy-going Americans seem to have grasped that these words went a little too far, for they tried to hush up that part of the speech, but the Filipinos, already fully alive to the blessings of a free press, seized on this utterance, and it was published inThe Nuevo Heraldo, which is the IloiloIndependienteorgan. The phrase got about everywhere, and did much to shake public confidence in justice towards the white man, with incidental harm to trade and enterprise, but it pleased the “little brown brother,” and added another step to the pedestal on which he has placed the Patron Saint.
To the mere observer, however, this cry of Altruism is not very convincing in face of the fact that the Philippines lie so conveniently on the west of the future Panama Canal. It was not brotherly love which prompted astute American politicians to wash off the Spaniards with rivers of blood and treasure, and I think the Filipino will find that he gets just as much of “Philippines for the Filipinos” as is contained in the other famous phrase of “little brown brother”—and no more. Gradually, too, he will find that to be a “little brown brother” out here will be the same sort of distinction as being a big black brother in the U.S.A.
In one of the last magazines we received from home is a description by some woman of a cruise in a tramp steamer in the Pacific. Lotus Islands, and all that sort of thing, and who-wants-to-return-to-fretful-Europe rhapsodies, which it struck me I should better have appreciated this time last year. But now all I think of is the utter, mental sterility of such a life, which appears to me, in the light of experience, still more like the impression made by a beautiful and stupid woman. She winds up with a fine peroration about the “spell of theAncient World,” which “binds one to the Island home and the Island life for ever.”
I can’t think what there is of the “Ancient World” about a Pacific island; but the spell, if there is one, must be that of indolence; or the attraction, as in the case of Stevenson, simply a matter of health; for it seems to me that no other inducements could make one willingly lose touch of all that civilisation has to offer to distinguish one from a south sea islander. Of course, in the temperate climes there are the inconveniences of dress, frost, and drainage, but those are small when compared with art, books, good music, and intelligent fellow-creatures. Oh, you can’t imagine the deadliness of the lives the white people lead here—the indifference, the stagnation, the animal round of food and sleep! I think if it had been my fate to stay on in the “Island home and the Island life” for ever, if I had not become physically ill, I must have become mentally an invalid for the rest of my life.