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Title: The Head Hunters of Northern Luzon
Author: Willcox, Cornélis de Witt
Language: English
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University of Michigan.
The Head Hunters of Northern Luzon
From Ifugao to Kalinga
A Ride Through the Mountains of Northern Luzon
With an Appendix on the Independence of the Philippines
By
Cornélis De Witt Willcox,
Lieutenant-Colonel U.S. Army,
Professor United States Military Academy,
Officier d'Académie.
Kansas City, Mo., U.S.A.
Franklin Hudson Publishing Co.,
1912.
Copyright 1912 By Franklin Hudson Publishing Company.
To
J.G.H.
TABLE OF CONTENTS.
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS
PREFACE
CHAPTER I
Highlanders of Northern Luzon.--Meaning of the word
_Igorrote_.--Trails.--The Mountain Province.--Nature of the country.
CHAPTER II
Annual inspection of the mountain tribes.--We set out from
Baguío.--Pangasinán Province.--Agno River.--Reception by the people.
CHAPTER III
Padre Juan Villaverde.--His great trail.--The beginning of the
mountain journey.--Nozo.
CHAPTER IV
Early start.--Pine forest.--Vegetation.--Rest at Amugan.--The
_gansa_--Boné.
CHAPTER V
Aritao.--Bubud.--Dúpax.--Start for Campote.
CHAPTER VI
The Ilongots and their country.--Efforts of our Government to reach
these people--The forest trail.--Our first contact with the wild man.
CHAPTER VII
School at Campote--Our white pony, and the offer made for his tail.
CHAPTER VIII
Appearance of the Ilongots.--Dress.--Issue of beads and cloth.--Warrior
Dance.--School work.--Absence of old women from meeting.
CHAPTER IX
Return to civilization.--Reception at Bambang.--Aglipayanos and
Protestants.
CHAPTER X
Magat River.--Enthusiastic reception at Bayombong.--Speeches and
reports.--Solano.--Ifugao "college yell."--Bagábag.
CHAPTER XI
We enter the Mountain Province,--Payawan.--Kiangan, its
position.--Anitos.--Speech of welcome by Ifugao chief.--Detachment of
native Constabulary.--Visit of Ifugao chiefs to our quarters.--Dancing.
CHAPTER XII
Day opens badly.--Ifugao houses.--The people assemble.--Dancing.--
Speeches.--White paper streamers.--Head-hunter Dance.--Cañao.
CHAPTER XIII
Dress of the people.--Butchery of carabao.--Prisoner runs _amok_
and is killed.
CHAPTER XIV
Barton's account of a native funeral.
CHAPTER XV
Visit to the Silipan Ifugaos at Andangle.--The Ibilao River.--Athletic
feat.--Rest-house and stable at Sabig.
CHAPTER XVI
Change in aspect of country.--Mount Amuyao and the native legend of
the Flood.--Rice terraces.--Benawe.--Mr. Worcester's first visit to
this region.--Sports.--Absence of weapons.--Native arts and crafts.
CHAPTER XVII
We ride to Bontok.--Bat-nets.--Character of the country.--Ambawan.
--Difficulties of the trail.--Bird-scarers.--Talubin.--Bishop
Carroll of Vigan.--We reach Bontok.--"The Star-spangled Banner."--
Appearance of the Bontok Igorot.--Incidents.
CHAPTER XVIII
Importance of Bontok--Head-taking--Atonement for
bloodshed.--Sports.--Slapping game.
CHAPTER XIX
The native village.--Houses.--Pit-a-pit.--Native
institutions.--Lumawig.
CHAPTER XX
We push on north.--Banana skirts.--Albino child.--Pine
uplands.--Glorious view.
CHAPTER XXI
Deep Valley.--A poor _ranchería_.--Escort of boys.--Descent of
Tinglayan Hill.--Sullen reception at Tinglayan.--Bangad.--First view
of the Kalingas.--Arrival at Lubuagan.
CHAPTER XXII
Splendid appearance of the
Kalingas.--Dancing.--Lubuagan.--_Basi_--Councils.--Bustles and
braids.--Jewels and weapons.--Excellent houses.
CHAPTER XXIII
We leave the mountains.--Nanong.--Passage of the Chico.--The
Apayao.--Tabuk.--The party breaks up.--Desolate plain--The Cagayán
Valley.--Enrile.
CHAPTER XXIV
Tobacco industry.--Tuguegarao.--Caves.--The Cagayán
River.--Barangayans.--Aparri.--Island of Fuga.--Sail for Manila.--Stop
at Vigan.--Arrival at Manila.
CHAPTER XXV
Future of the Highlanders.--Origin of our effort to improve their
condition.--Impolicy of any change in present administration.--
Transfer of control of wild tribes to Christianized
Filipinos.--Comparison of our course with that of the Japanese
in Formosa.
APPENDIX
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS.
An Igorot Warrior
Hon. Dean C. Worcester
Views of the Benguet Road
Working on the Benguet Road
Padre Juan Villaverde
Benguet Road, Zig-zag
Tree Fern, Province of Bontok
Ilongot Women
Native Policemen
Reception Committee of Ifugaos
Mountain Scene in the Ifugao Country
Mountain Scene between Benawe and Kiangan
Inaba, Ifugao Village
Ifugao Couple with Adornments of a Wedding Ceremony
Ifugao Children
Headless Body of Ifugao Warrior
Ifugao Warrior
Typical Ifugao House
Ifugao Making Rounds of Granary
Anitos, Kiangan
Ifugao Chief Making a Speech
Conference between Government Officers and the Headmen of the District
Ifugao Head-hunter, Full Dress
Head-hunter Dance, Kiangan
Dancing at Kiangan
Ifugaos Dancing
Silipan Ifugao Earring
Ifugaos Dancing, Benawe
Crossing Ibilao River by Flying Trolley
Ifugao Head Dance
Rice Terraces at Benawe
Body of Igorot Girl Prepared for Burial
Carabao Fight
Igorot Tribunal
A Bontok Igorot House
Igorot Rice Fields
On the Trail from Benguet to Cervantes
Bontok Igorot Woman
Elaborate Tattooing of the Head-hunter
Bontok Igorot Constabulary Soldiers
Bontok Igorot Slapping Game
_Gansas_ with Human Jaws as Handles
Women and Girls Wearing Banana-leaf Skirts
New School-house, Bontok
Valley of the Rio Chico
Kalinga Girl
Looking Down the Rio Chico
Spiral Camote Patch
Madallam, Kalinga Headman
Two Headmen of Lubuagan
Kalinga Warriors
Typical Kalinga House
Conference at Lubuagan
View of Lubuagan, Capital of Kalinga
Kalinga Head-ax
Igorot Shield
Ifugao Carved Bowl
Ifugao Pipe, Carved Figure, and Wooden Spoon
Carved Wooden Figurines
Map of Northern Luzon
PREFACE
In 1910 the Secretary of the Interior of the Philippine Islands did
me the honor to invite me to accompany him on his annual tour of
inspection through the Mountain Province of Northern Luzon. In the
following pages I have tried to describe what fell under my notice
during the journey, with such comments, observations, and conclusions
as seemed pertinent.
I should like here to thank Mr. Worcester for having invited me to join
him, and Major-General Duvall, United States Army, for allowing me
to accept. My thanks are also due the various officers and officials
of the Insular Government who placed me under obligations by their
hospitality and other courtesies and by the never-failing patience
with which they received and answered my many questions. To my
friend Colonel J.G. Harbord, United States Army, Assistant Director
of Constabulary, I am beholden for instructions sent out in advance
of the journey to the various Constabulary posts on the itinerary,
directing them to offer me every opportunity to accomplish the purpose
of my trip. Except where otherwise indicated, the illustrations
are from photographs taken either by Mr. Worcester himself, or else
under his direction. Some of these, as shown, were lent to me by the
National Geographic Magazine of Washington, and others by the Bureau
of Insular Affairs of the War Department. My best thanks are due and
given in each case. Dr. Heiser was kind enough to let me have a few
photographs taken by him. To Lieutenant P.D. Glassford, 2d Regiment
of Field Artillery, I am indebted for the map of Northern Luzon and
for one or two other illustrations copied from Jenks' "The Bontoc
Igorot"; to Father Malumbres, of the Dominican Monastery in Manila,
for information relating to Padre Villaverde and for the portrait of
that missionary; it is to be regretted that this portrait should be
so unsatisfactory, but it is the only one available. The frontispiece
is by Mr. Julian Miller, who has lived in the Igorot country, and
whose drawing is from life.
C. De W.W.
West Point, N.Y.,
January, 1912.
CHAPTER I
Highlanders of Northern Luzon.--Meaning of the word
"Igorot."--Trails.--The Mountain Province.--Nature of the
country.
It is to be regretted that the people of the United States should in
general show so little interest in the Philippine Islands. This lack
of interest may be due to lack of knowledge; if this be so, then it
is the duty of those better informed to do all that lies in their
power to develop the interest now regrettably absent. Be this as it
may, it is assumed here that most of our people do not know that a
very large fraction of the inhabitants of the Philippines consists
of the so-called wild men, and that of these the greatest group or
collection is found in the mountains of Northern Luzon.
These mountaineers or highlanders constitute perhaps, all other
things being equal, as interesting a body of uncivilized people as
is to be found on the face of the earth to-day. The Spaniards, of
course, soon discovered their existence, the first mention of them
being made by De Morga, in his "_Sucesos de las Islas Filipinas_"
(1609). He speaks [1] of them as inhabiting the interior of a rough
mountainous country, where are "many natives who are not pacified,
nor has anyone gone into their country, who call themselves Ygolotes,"
Here we have the first form, the classic form according to Retana, of
the word now universally written _Igorrote_, or in English _Igorot._
The word itself means "highlanders," _golot_ being a Tagalog word for
"mountain," and _I_ a prefix meaning "people of." De Morga mentions
the "Ygolotes" as owning rich mines of gold and silver, which "they
work as there is need," and he goes on to say that in spite of all
the diligence made to know their mines, and how they work and improve
them, the matter has come to naught, "because they are cautious with
the Spaniards who go to them in search of gold, and say they keep it
better guarded under ground than in their houses,"
The Spaniards at a very early date sent armed exploring parties
through the highlands and maintained garrisons here and there down
to our own time. [2] But they never really held the country.
The Church, too, early entered this territory, the field being given
over to the Dominicans, [3] who furnished many devoted missionaries
to the cause. But here, too, failure must be recorded in respect of
permanency of results in the really wild parts of the Highlands. It
has remained for our own Government to get a real hold of the people
of these regions, to win their confidence, command their respect,
and exact their obedience in all relations in which obedience is
proper and just.
The indispensable material condition of success was to make the
mountain country accessible. Only those who have had the fortune to
travel through this country can realize how difficult this endeavor
has been and must continue to be, chiefly because of the great local
complexity of the mountain system, but also because of the severely
destructive storms of this region, with consequent torrential violence
of the streams affected. But little money, too, can be, or has been,
spent for the necessary road-work. In spite of the difficulties
involved, however, a system of road-making has been set on foot,
the labor needed being furnished by the highlanders themselves in
lieu of a road tax. Very briefly, the system is as follows:
(_a_) The first thing done is to open what is known as the "meter
trail," i.e., a trail one meter wide, at a grade not to exceed 6
per cent, and where possible to be kept at 4 per cent. At certain
points where the absolute necessity exists, a 10 per cent grade is
admissible for very short distances, as at river crossings, but only
where a gentler grade would involve a long detour at great expense.
This "meter trail" weathers for one year, and thus automatically
develops its own weak spots. These are repaired as fast as discovered
(which is practically at once, by reason of constant supervision),
and the trail thus hardens, as it were, into something approaching
permanency.
(_b_) The next step in the history of the trail is to widen it to
two meters, the same general course being followed as outlined in
(_a_). As a satisfactory state of permanency is reached we come to
(_c_) The final widening, draining, and metalling of the trail to
accommodate wagon traffic. The trail now becomes a permanent road.
In many cases only wooden tools have been available, and the lack of
money has compelled a sparing use of explosives. Nevertheless under
this system there now exist in the Mountain Province 730 miles of
excellent horse trail of easy grade, [4] and what is significant,
the people of the highlands are using these trails, and so becoming
peacefully acquainted with one another.
The Mountain Province itself is the outcome of the difficulties
encountered in governing the wild tribes so long as these were
left in provinces where either their interests were not paramount,
or else the difficulties of administration were unduly costly or
difficult. Established in 1908, it has a Governor, and each of its
seven sub-provinces a Lieutenant-Governor, the sub-province as far as
possible including people of one and of only one tribe. The creation
of this province was a great step forward in promoting the welfare
of the highlanders.
A word must be said here in explanation of the nomenclature of the
mountain tribes. Generically, having in mind the meaning of the word,
they are all Igorots. But it is the practice to distinguish the various
elements of this great family by different names, restricting the term
"Igorot" to special branches, as Benguet Igorot, Bontok Igorot, meaning
those who live in Benguet or Bontok. The other members are known as
Ifugao, Ilongot, Kalinga, and so on. [5] Lastly, the following extract
from the "Census of the Philippine Islands" [6] gives some idea of the
mountain system in which dwell the people whom we are about to visit.
"West of this Valley [the Cagayán] and separating it from the
China Sea, stands a broad and complex system of mountains, known as
the Caraballos Occidentales. Its length is nearly 200 miles, and
its breadth, including the great spurs and subordinate ranges and
ridges on either side, is fully one-third its length. The central
range of the system forms the divide between the waters flowing to
Cagayán River on the east and those flowing to the China Sea on the
west. Its northern part bears the name Cordillera Norte. Farther south
it is called Cordillera Central, while the southern portion is called
Cordillera Sur." "At its south end the Cordillera Sur swings to the
east, and, under the name of Caraballos Sur, joins the Sierra Madre,
or East Coast Range."
This description, it must be understood, gives no adequate idea of the
local intricacy of the system, while at the same time it is precisely
this intricacy, both vertical and horizontal, that increases the cost
and difficulty of making roads, and that has served in the past to
keep the inhabitants of these regions apart.
CHAPTER II
Annual inspection of the mountain tribes.--We set out from
Baguio.--Pangasinán Province.--Agno River.--Reception by
the people.
Every year Mr. Worcester makes a formal tour of inspection through
the Mountain Province to note the progress of the trails and roads,
to listen to complaints, to hear reports, devise ways and means of
betterment and in general to see how the hillmen are getting on. This
tour is a very great affair to the highlanders, who are assembled
in as great numbers as possible at the various points where stops
are made; during the stay of the "Commission" (as Mr. Worcester is
universally called by the highlanders) at the points of assemblage,
the wild people are subsisted by the Government.
The trip is long and hard, nor is it altogether free from
danger. Preparations have to be made two months ahead to have forage
for animals, and food for human beings, at the expected halts, while
everything eaten by man or beast on the way must be carried by the
_cargadores_ (bearers) who accompany the column, since living off
the country is in general impossible. Under these circumstances but
very few guests can be invited. I was so fortunate as to be one of
these in 1910; how fortunate, I did not realize until the trip was
over. For although an American may ride alone unmolested through the
country we visited, still he would see only what might fall under his
eye as he made his way; whereas, on this official trip, thousands of
people are brought together at designated points, and one can thus
do and see in a month what it would take a much longer time to do
and see under one's own efforts.
This year (1910) the party was made up of Mr. Cameron Forbes, the
Governor-General of the Philippine Islands; Mr. Worcester, Secretary of
the Interior; Dr. Heiser, Director of Health; Dr. Strong, Chief of the
Biological Laboratory; Mr. Pack, Governor of the Mountain Province;
and of two officers besides myself, Captain Cootes, 13th Cavalry,
Aide de Camp to the Governor-General, and Captain Van Schaick,
16th Infantry, Governor of Mindoro. General Sir Harry Broadwood,
commanding His Majesty's forces at Hong Kong, had been invited, but at
the last moment cabled that his duties would prevent his coming. Unless
he reads this book he will never know what he missed! As we passed
through the various sub-provinces their respective governors and one
or two officials would join us and ride to the boundary.
On account of the difficulties of supply and transportation, we were
requested to bring no _muchachos_ (boys--i.e., servants), so we had to
shift for ourselves. Our baggage was very strictly limited; each man
being allowed two parcels, one of bedding, and the other of clothes,
neither to be more than could be easily carried on the back of a single
_cargador_. Mr. Worcester took along for the whole party an ingenious
apparatus of his own contrivance for boiling drinking-water, as all
streams in the Philippines at a level lower than 6,000 feet have been
found to contain amoebae, [7] the parasitic presence of which in the
intestines produces that frightful disease, amoebic dysentery. We were
especially desired to leave our revolvers at home, and had no escort.
Accordingly, our mounts and kit having been sent on a day or two in
advance, we set out from Baguio in motor-cars, April 26, at eight
A.M., of an extraordinarily fine day. The day before it had rained
mercilessly; not only that, but clouds and mists had enveloped us so
that one could not see twenty yards ahead. We were nearing the rainy
season, and conditions were uncertain, but this morning the gods were
on our side and we could not have asked for better weather. We went
down the splendid Benguet Road, following the bed of the Bued River [8]
to the railway, a drop of over 4,000 feet in thirteen miles. Strange
to say, the stream had not risen at all, a fortunate circumstance,
as one hundred and sixty bridges are crossed in the drop, and at
times a rise will wash out not only the bridges, but all semblance
of a road. [9] At the railway we turned south over the great plain
of Pangasinán. This, in respect of roads, is the show province of
the Archipelago and deserves its reputation, one hundred and twenty
miles having been built. Those we passed over this day would have
been called good in France even. Our passage was of the nature of
a progress, thanks to the presence of the Governor-General. Simple
bamboo arches crossing the road greeted us everywhere, Mr. Forbes
punctiliously raising his hat under every one. All the villages had
decorated their houses; handkerchiefs, petticoats, red table-cloths,
anything and everything had been hung out of the windows by way of
flags and banners. Across the front of the municipal building of one
village was stretched a banner with this inscription, "_En honor de
la venida del Gobernador General y de su Comitiva_" ("In honor of the
arrival of the Governor-General and of his retinue"), and then below on
the next band, "_Deseamos iener un pozo artesiano_" ("We should like
to have an Artesian well"), which led Mr. Worcester to remark that
four years before the banner would have demanded "_independencia_"
(independence), and not an Artesian well.
Even in Pangasinán, good roads must come to an end, and ours did as
we neared the Agno River. For this blessed river is a curse to its
neighborhood, and rises in flood from a stream say seventy-five yards
wide to a rushing lake, if the expression be permitted, half a mile
and more across. Our car finally refused to move; its wheels simply
turned _in situ_, so deep was the sand. There was nothing for it but
to walk to the river bank, where we were met with many apologies. A
bamboo bridge had been built across the stream a few days before so
that our cars might cross, but yesterday's rain had washed it down,
and would we try to cross on rafts? We looked at the rafts, bamboo
platforms built over large _bancas_ (canoes, double-enders cut out of a
single log), the bamboos being lashed together with _bejuco_ (rattan,
the native substitute for nails), and decided that no self-respecting
motor would stand such transportation, but would go to the bottom first
by overturning. So we got our stuff aboard the rafts, were poled over,
and made the rest of the journey to Tayug, our first considerable halt,
in _carromatas_ (the native two-wheeled, springless cart). Fortunately
the distance was short, the _carromata_ being an instrument of torture
happily overlooked by the Spanish Inquisition.
At Tayug a great concourse of people welcomed us, with arches, flags,
and decorations. The _presidencia_, or town hall, was filled with the
notabilities, and Mr. Forbes was presented with an address by one of
the _señoritas_. Suitable answer having been made, we adjourned, the
men first, the women following when we had done, according to native
custom, to the side rooms, where a surprisingly good tiffin had been
got ready for us, venison, chickens, French rolls, _dulces_ (sweets),
whiskey and soda, Heaven knows what else, to which, all unwitting of
our doom, we did full justice. About two miles beyond Tayug lies San
Francisco, the initial point of our real mounted journey. The people
along this part of the road had simply outdone themselves in the matter
of arches, there being one at every hundred yards almost. At San
Francisco the crowd was greater than at Tayug; and here was set out
for us another sumptuous tiffin, in a house built the day before for
this very purpose, of bamboo and nipa palm. Access to it was had by a
ladder and we sat down at a table, while the _señoras_ of the place
waited on us, every inch of standing-room being occupied by people
who had crowded in to see the performance of the Governor-General and
of his _comitiva!_ And perform we did--we had to! Ducks, chickens,
venison, _camotes_ (sweet potatoes), peppers, beer, red wine--no one
would have thought that but three-quarters of an hour before we had
just gone through the same thing. But it would have been the height
of discourtesy to give way to our inclination by showing a lack of
appetite; moreover, it is not often that a party is held in a house
built to be used merely one hour. So we did honor to the occasion,
but had to let out our belts before mounting immediately afterward.
CHAPTER III
Padre Juan Villaverde.--His great trail.--The beginning of
the mountain journey.--Nozo.
The point to which we had come, San Francisco, marks the beginning of
the Juan Villaverde trail from the Central Valley of Luzon through
the mountains before us, to the province of Nueva Vizcaya. All day
the chain we were to pierce had been in sight, and I for one had been
wondering where we were to find a practicable entrance, so forbiddingly
vertical did the range appear to be.
Now the Spaniards in the Philippines at best were but poor road-
or trail-makers. Indeed, in the matter of trails they were simply
stupid, in some cases actually going straight up a hill and down
the other side, when the way around was no longer, and of course far
easier to maintain. But Padre Juan Villaverde of the Dominicans was
a great and honorable exception. Quite apart from this aspect, we
hear so much that is evil of the friars that it is a pleasure, when
possible, to point out the good they did, a thing more frequently
possible than people imagine it is. For Father Villaverde gave his
life to missionary work among the hill-people, seeking in every way to
better their condition materially as well as morally. Born in 1841,
as early as 1868 we find him on duty at Bayombong, in Nueva Vizcaya,
the province we were about to enter. From the first he seems to have
been impressed by the possibilities of the country in which he was
laboring; and, foreseeing that good communications would ultimately
settle most of the questions relating to the highlanders, he built
trails, trails that are still in use, whereas nearly all the others
(but few in number) established by the Spaniards have been abandoned by
us, where Nature has not indeed saved us the trouble by washing them
out of existence. For thirty years Villaverde worked unceasingly,
building roads and bridges and churches, and striving to civilize
the people among whom he lived; but his chief work, that by which
his memory is kept green to this day, is the great trail from the
otherwise almost inaccessible province of Nueva Vizcaya, across the
Caraballos to the Central Valley of Luzon, where access to the outer
world by rail becomes possible. This trail is officially designated
by his name, and is maintained by Government. This was the one we
were about to enter upon. [10] Accordingly we thanked our kind hosts
of San Francisco; and at last set out on our real trip. But, curious
and eager as I felt to engage upon it, I could not help regretting that
this part of our journey was over, that we had to turn our backs on the
smiling plains of Pangasinán, its hospitable and courteous people. The
day had been so cool and fresh, and our progress so easy; flat as
was the country, it had its charm, the charm of cultivated plains,
relieved by lanes of feathered bamboos, by clumps of nodding palms,
by limpid streams. But we were off, nevertheless, the Governor-General
on a cow-pony, nearly all the rest on Arabs and thoroughbreds, Van
Schaick and I riding mountain ponies. We had fifteen miles to go to
reach our first resting-place.
Crossing a stream, we began to climb at once, and as we rose the
plain of Central Luzon began to unroll itself below us, with our road
of the morning stretching out in a straight white line through the
green rice-fields. Far to the west we now and then caught glimpses of
Lingayen Gulf, with the Zambales Mountains in full view running south
and bordering the plain, while still farther to the south Mount Arayat
[11] rose abruptly from its surrounding levels. Now Arayat is plainly
visible from Manila. Here and there solitary rocky hills, looking for
all the world like ant-heaps, but in reality hundreds of feet high,
broke the uniformity of the plains. Flooded as the whole landscape
was with brilliant sunshine, the view was exquisite in respect both of
form and of color. But as we moved on, turning and twisting and ever
rising, we were soon confined to just the few yards the sinuosities
of the trail would allow us to see at one time. For a part of the way
the country was rocky, hills bare and fire-swept; not a tree or shrub
suggested that we were in the tropics. Soon pines began to appear,
and then thickened, till the trail led through a pine forest, pure and
simple, the ground covered with green grass, and the whole fresh and
moist from recent rains. It was up and down and around and around. Not
a sign of animal life did we see, not a trace of human beings.
I was disgusted, and still more disconcerted, this afternoon, to find
my pony going badly. He was perfectly willing to walk, but at a most
dignified rate, selected by himself. He apparently had no objection to
catching up the party every now and then, but only to relapse into his
funeral walk, after contact had been re-established. But then Cootes
took the lead that afternoon, and as his thoroughbred had had two days'
rest, and breasted all the rises with apparent joyousness, nobody was
able to keep up, until Mr. Worcester took the head with his black,
a powerful but reasonable animal. However, everybody gets into camp
sooner or later, and so did we all at a resting-point called Nozo,
where we all turned in after supper, for reveille was to be at three
o'clock. This had been a great day of contrasts in a descending scale,
from motors, electric lights, and telephones in the morning to our
solitary camp in the mountains at night, surrounded by watch-fires
and guarded by Constabulary sentinels. This, by the way, was the only
time we were so guarded.
CHAPTER IV
Early start.--Pine forest.--Vegetation.--Rest at Amugan.--The
_gansa_.--Boné.
We set out next morning at five-thirty. Our journey so far, that is,
since we mounted, had taken us over a preliminary range, and now we
began a more serious climb. The morning was delightfully fresh and
cool, with promise of a fine blazing sun later. Far ahead and above
us on the skyline, we could see a cut in the forest where our trail
crossed the divide. But that was miles away, and in the meantime we
were ascending a lovely valley, pines, grass, and bright red soil. It
was delicious that morning, riding under the pines.
"Pinea brachia cum trepidant,
Audio canticulum zephyri!"
And part of the pleasure was due to the fact that we had an
unobstructed view in all directions, usually not the case in the
tropical forest. At one point we had a full view of Arayat, at another
of Santo Tomás, near which we had passed yesterday on coming down from
Baguío. But fine as were the distant views we got from time to time,
the great attraction was the country itself, through which we were
passing. Barring the total absence of any sign of man, it might have
been taken for Japan, in the neighborhood of Miyanoshita, without,
however, any trace of Japanese atmosphere.
The valley was steep-walled, narrow and twisting, at one point closed
by a single enormous rock nearly three hundred feet high--in fact,
a conical hill rising right out of the floor of the valley, and
apparently leaving just room for the stream to pass on one side.
A curious fact was that while the mountains were decidedly
northern-looking as to flora, yet the groins, wherever possible, were
thoroughly tropical. For in these water runs off but slowly, with
consequent richness of vegetation. And yet, on the other side of the
divide which we were now approaching not a pine could be seen, but,
on the contrary, the typical tropical forest in full development. The
watershed, our skyline, was an almost absolute dividing-mark. At any
rate, there the pines stopped short.
At the divide we crossed from Pangasinán into Nueva Vizcaya. And with
the crossing began the forest just mentioned, and a long descent for
us. Our immediate destination was Amugan, our first rest halt. It
is of absolutely no use to try to describe this part of the trip. If
the confusion of trees, vines, orchids, tree ferns, foliage plants,
creepers, was bewildering, so was the impression produced. But we saw
many examples of the most beautiful begonia in existence, in full
blossom, gorgeous spheres of dark scarlet hanging above and around
us. According to Mr. Worcester, all attempts to transplant it have
failed. Its blossoms would be sometimes twenty and thirty feet in
the air. Nothing could exceed the glory of these masses of flowers,
sometimes a foot and more in diameter, as projected by the rays of
the early morning sun against the dark green background, the whole
glistening and dripping in the rain-like dew. Tree ferns abounded;
we passed one that must have been over sixty feet high. At one halt
the ground about was aflame with yellow orchids, growing out of the
ground. And there was one plant that I recognized myself, unaided,
the wild tomato, a little thing of eight or nine inches, but holding
up its head with all the rest of them. As always, on this trip,
however, it was the splendor of the country that held the attention,
the wild incoherent mountain masses thrown together apparently without
order or system, buttressed peaks, mighty flanks riven to the core
by deep valleys, radiating spurs, re-entrant gorges, the limit of
vision filled by crenellated ranges in all the serenity of their
distant majesty. And then, as our trail wound in and out, different
aspects of the same elements would present themselves, until really
the faculty of admiration became exhausted. And so on down we went,
to be greeted as we neared Amugan by a sound of tom-toms; it was a
party that had come out to welcome us, carrying the American flag and
beating the _gansa_ (tom-tom) by way of music. The _gansa_, made of
bronze, in shape resembles a circular pan about twelve or thirteen
inches in diameter, with a border of about two inches turned up at
right angles to the face. On the march it is hung from a string and
beaten with a stick. At a halt it is beaten with the open hand.
After crossing a coffee plantation, we reached a little settlement,
where we off-saddled and took a bite after six hours' riding. The
half-dozen houses of this tiny village are of the usual Filipino type,
and the very few inhabitants were dressed after the fashion of the
Christianized provinces. Nevertheless, we here first encountered the
savage we had come up to see; for not only did they have the _gansa_,
but they offered us a _cañao_. This is a feast of which we shall
have splendid examples later on, with dancing, beating of _gansas_,
drinking and so on, and the sacrifice of a pig.
Here the affair was to be much smaller, all the elements being absent
except the pig and drums. We had noticed as we dismounted a pig tied
to a post and evidently in a very uneasy frame of mind, and justly,
for, although the honor of a _cañao_ was declined, on account of
the length of the ceremony and of the distance we had yet to go,
still they were resolved upon the death of the pig. He, however, at
the same time had made up his mind to escape, and by a mighty effort
broke his tether, and got off; but in vain, for after a short but
exciting chase he was caught and then, an incision having been made in
his belly, a sharpened stick was inserted and stirred about until his
insides were thoroughly mixed, when he died. We left them cleaning and
scraping and dividing, and beating two drums, about four feet long,
eight inches in diameter, covered with leather at one end. These are
beaten with the open hand, the performer sitting on the ground with
the instrument coming up over his left thigh, and produce a muffled
and melancholy note. Mr. Forbes had some notion of buying one of
them, but was told he would be simply wasting his time, both _gansas_
and drums having an extraordinary value in the eye of their owners.
We moved on, gradually descending, rested at Santa Fé, a rest-house
and nothing else, for two or three hours, and then turned north,
following an affluent of the Magat River, by an old and poor trail,
the new one having been washed out for three hundred yards some two
or three miles ahead. And after dark we made Boné, our resting-place
for the night.
CHAPTER V
Aritao.--_Bubud_.--Dúpax.--Start for Campote.
We all slept in the school-house, for Boné is a Christianized village,
and next day, April 28th, made a late start, for it was to be a
day of easy stages. By nine o'clock, passing through an undulating
champaign country, we reached Aritao, being met at the outskirts
by _gansa_-beaters and also by the Christian school-children with
medieval-looking banners, and all in their best bibs and tuckers;
the heathen and the Christians mingling apparently on the best of
terms. Aritao is an old town, now much decayed, but showing evidences
of former affluence. It has a brick church, the bells of which were
rung on our approach.
As there is some Government here, of course we had to pay a visit
of ceremony, and were accordingly received by the _presidente_ and
other dignitaries in an upper chamber, the little children with
their banners massing around the gate of the house and forming a
really pretty picture. When we were all in, the _presidente_ made
the Governor-General and his suite a dignified speech of welcome,
very well done, to which Mr. Forbes made answer in fluent and pretty
good Spanish.
_Bubud_ was then passed about--but this is going too fast! _Bubud_
(called _tapuy_ elsewhere) is an institution in the parts where we now
were, and I had been hearing of it for days. It is the native (Ifugao)
name of a drink produced by the fermentation of rice, a drink that
varies in color and in flavor, according to the care taken in its make,
but nearly always agreeable to the palate and refreshing. That offered
us to-day was greenish yellow, slightly acid and somewhat bitter from
the herbs added. Unfortunately, it will not bear transportation,
but we made up for this by carrying off personally as much as was
convenient. It had a happy effect on my pony, too: all the way to
Aritao he had been slower than the wrath to come, but from this on he
showed life and spirit; in fact, he danced and pranced through every
town we crossed for some days afterward. I always meant to ask if some
one had given him any _bubud_ at Aritao, during the speech-making;
on reflection I am inclined to doubt it, but at any rate, in honor
of the circumstances, he was known as Bubud the rest of the trip.
A short ride through the charming, smiling country (part of it might
have been France), over a really good road most of the way, brought
us to Dúpax. On the way we were met by some of the American officials
of the province, among them Mr. Norman Connor, Superintendent of
Education (Yale, 1900), and by two Belgian priests, De Wit of Dúpax
and Van der Maes of Bayombong. The natives met us, all mounted, with
a band, so that we made a triumphant entrance, advancing in line to
the _presidente's_ house, while the church-bell pealed out a welcome.
Dúpax must, like Aritao, have been a point of some importance in the
past. It has a large brick church with a decidedly Flemish facade,
and a detached pagoda-like belfry. Its streets are overgrown with fine
soft grass, and its houses had somehow or other an air of comfort and
ease. Here we made quite a stop, first of all quenching our thirst with
_bubud_, beer, cocoanut milk, anything, everything, for we had ridden
nearly all the way so far in the sun. We then sat down to an excellent
breakfast, and smoked and lounged about until two, when fresh ponies
were brought, and we set off on a side trip to Campote, where we were
to have our first contact with the real wild man, the Ilongot. [12]
CHAPTER VI
The Ilongots and their country.--Efforts of our Government
to reach these people.--The forest trail.--Our first contact
with the wild man.
These people, the Ilongots, although very few in number, only six
thousand, stretch from Nueva Vizcaya to the Pacific Coast, inhabiting
an immense region of forested and all but inaccessible mountains. Over
these they roam without any specially fixed habitation. They have the
reputation, and apparently deserve it, of being cruel and treacherous,
as they certainly are shy and wild. It was these people who killed
Doctor Jones, of the Marshall Field Museum, after he had been with
them eight or nine months. So recently as 1907 they made a descent on
Dúpax, killing people and taking their heads. When they mean to kill a
man fairly, according to their ideas, they hand him a fish. This is a
signal that he must be on his guard: to refuse the fish is of no use,
because by so doing one puts one's self beyond the pale, and may be
killed in any fashion. We heard a story here of a Negrito stealing a
pig from two Ilongots who had a Negrito brother-in-law. Failing to
recover the pig, they decided that they must have a Negrito head,
and so took their brother-in-law's. Pig-stealing, by the way, in
the mountain country is regarded much as horse-stealing used to be
out West. Besides the spear and head knife, the Ilongots, like the
Negritos, with whom they have intermarried to a certain extent, use
the bow and arrow, and are correspondingly dreaded. For it seems to be
believed in Luzon that bow-and-arrow savages are more dangerous than
spear-and-ax-men; that the use of this projectile weapon, the arrow,
induces craftiness, hard to contend against. An Ilongot can silently
shoot you in the back, after you have passed. A spear-man has to get
closer, and can not use an ambush so readily. [13]
Now our Government in the Philippines, by and through and because
of Mr. Worcester, had made repeated efforts to reach these Ilongots,
to bring them in, as it were, and only recently had these efforts met
with any success. For one thing, it is a very serious matter to seek
them out in the depths of their fastnesses if only because of the
difficulty of reaching them; many of them even now have never seen a
white man, and would escape, if I recollect aright, on the approach of
our people. But in 1908 some fifty of them did "come in," and, gaining
confidence, this number grew to one hundred and fifty in 1909. They,
or some of them at least, now sent an invitation to Mr. Worcester
to come and see them, and he accepted on condition of their making
a trail, saying that they could not expect a man of his stature to
creep through their country on his hands and knees. This trail they
had built, and they had assembled at Campote, four hours from Dúpax,
for this first formal visit; It was the desire of Mr. Worcester
that this visit should be happy in all respects; for, if not, the
difficulties of intercourse with this people, already great, would
be so seriously increased as to delay the civilizing intentions of
the Government for many years to come.
We rode off at about two o'clock, passing under numberless
bamboo arches, on an astonishingly good road, built by Padre Juan
Villaverde. About two miles out we left the road, turning off east
across rice-paddies, and then followed a stream, which we crossed
near the foot of a large bare mountain facing south. Up this we
zigzagged four miles, a tiresome stretch with the sun shining full
upon us. But at the top we had our reward: to the south reached a
beautiful open valley, its floor a mass of green undulations, its
walls purple mountains blazing in the full glory of the afternoon
sun. At the extreme south, miles away, we could make out Las Salinas,
Salt Springs, [14] whose deposits sparkled and shone and scintillated
and danced in the heated air. Grateful as it would have been to rest
at the top and enjoy the scene, we nevertheless had to turn our backs
upon it, for we had yet far to go over an unknown trail, and it was
most desirable to get in before dark. So we turned and now plunged
into a forest of tall trees so thick overhead and so deeply buried in
vines, and creepers and underbrush generally, that just as no light
got in from above, so one could not see ten yards in any direction
off the trail. This effect was no doubt partly due to the shades of
evening, and to our being on the eastern slope of the mountain. And
that trail! The Ilongots, poor chaps, had done their best with it,
and the labor of construction must have been fearful. [15] But the
footing was nothing but volcanic mud, laterite, all the worse from
a recent rain. Our ponies sank over their fetlocks at every step,
and required constant urging to move at all. Compared to the one
I was riding, Bubud was a race-horse! Cootes, Strong, and I kept
together, the others having ridden on. As the day grew darker and
darker, the myriad notes of countless insects melted into one mighty,
continuous shrill note high overhead, before us, behind us, in which
not one break or intermission could be detected. Anything faster than
a walk would now have been unsafe, even if it had been possible, for
at times the ground sloped off sharply down the mountain, the footing
grew more and more uncertain, and part of the time we could not see
the trail at all. Indeed, Cootes's pony stepped in a hole and fell,
pitching Cootes clean over his head, and sending his helmet down the
mountain-side, where Cootes had to go and get it. Soon after this,
though, the forest thinned perceptibly, the trail grew better, and
we met Connor, who had turned back to see how we were getting on,
and who informed us we had only one-half hour more before us. Going
on, we were greeted by a shout of welcome from our first Ilongot,
standing in the trail, subligate, or gee-stringed, otherwise stark
naked, and armed with a spear, the sentinel of a sort of outpost,
equally naked, with which we soon came up. They were all armed, too,
spears and shields, and all insisted on shaking hands with every
one of us. You must shake hands when they offer to, an unpleasant
matter sometimes, when you notice that the man who is paying you this
attention is covered with _toenia imbricata_, or other rare tropical
skin disease. [16] _Noblesse oblige_, here as elsewhere; besides,
a consideration for your own skin may require you to put aside your
prejudices. The trail now turned down over a broad, cleared hog-back,
at the flattened end of which we could see two shacks and a temporary
shed for our mounts. Smoke was rising cheerfully in the air and people
were moving about. This was Campote.
CHAPTER VII
School at Campote.--Our white pony, and the offer made for
his tail.
It was too dark by this time to see or do much. We had supper, looked
up the place where we were to sleep, and then collected at the lower
of the two shacks. Here we received visits, so to say, from as many
Ilongots, grown men only, as could get into the place. In truth,
we were as much objects of curiosity to them as they possibly could
have been to us. To Mr. Worcester the occasion was one of business,
explaining through interpreters why we had come, what the Government
wanted, getting acquainted with the _cabecillas_ (head men), and
listening to what they had themselves to say. One of our visitors was
a grandfather, remarkable, first, because of his heavy long beard,
and, second, because his own grandfather was alive; five generations
of one family in existence at the same time.
Campote, I may as well say it here as anywhere else, is merely a
point where Connor has established a school for children, under
a Christianized Filipino teacher. Some thirty children in all are
under instruction, the average attendance being twenty-four. It is
almost impossible, so Connor told us, to make these people understand
why children should go to school, or what a school is, or is for,
anyway. However, a beginning has been made. They all have a dose of
"the three Rs"; the boys are taught, besides, carpentry, gardening,
and rope-making, and the girls sewing, weaving, and thread-making
from cotton grown by the boys on the spot. They ought to show some
skill in all these arts; for the native rice-basket is a handsome,
strong affair, square of cross-section, with sides flaring out, and
about three feet high, and some of their weapons show great manual
skill. The garden was on show the next morning, displaying beans,
tomatoes, cotton, perhaps other things that I failed to recognize
or have forgotten, anyway, a sufficient garden. There is besides an
exchange here for the sale of native wares.
One of our party had ridden a white pony, and was much amused, as
were all of us, to receive an offer for his tail! There is nothing
else the Ilongots hold in higher estimation than white horse-hair,
and here was a pony with a tail full of it! But the offer was refused;
the idea of cutting off the tail was not to be entertained for one
moment. Certainly, he might keep its tail: what they wanted was the
hair. Would he sell the hair? No; that was only a little less bad
than to sell the tail itself.
On our way back to the shack in which some of us were to sleep (the
school-house it was) we noticed an admiring crowd standing around the
pony, tethered under the house, and all unconscious of the admiration
he was exciting, most rudely presenting his hind-quarters to his
admirers. But that was not his intention; the crowd--half women,
by the way--wanted to be as close to the tail as possible. We left
them gesticulating and pointing and commenting, much as our own
women might while looking at crown jewels, but not so hopelessly;
for the next morning, when we next saw the pony, nearly all the hair
had been pulled out of his tail, except a few patches or tufts here
or there, tougher than the rest, and serving now merely to show what
the original dimensions must have been.
While we were undressing in came a little maiden, who marched up
to every one of us, shook hands, and said, "Good evening, sir." We
were pretty well undressed, but our lack of clothes looked perfectly
natural to her, perhaps inspired her with confidence. She said her
name was Banda, that she was thirteen, but of this she could not know,
as all these children had had ages assigned to them when they entered
the school; after greeting us all, and airing her slight stock of
English, she withdrew as properly as she had entered. A trifling
incident, perhaps not worth recording, but in reality significant,
for it marked confidence, especially as she had come in of her own
accord. We all agreed that she was very pretty.
CHAPTER VIII
Appearance of the Ilongots.--Dress.--Issue of beads and
cloth.--Warrior dance.--School work.--Absence of old women
from meeting.
The next morning we turned out early, and got our first real
"look-see." Campote is completely surrounded by mountains, the
hogback dropping off into the valley below us. About four or five
hundred people had assembled, men, women, and children. As a rule,
they were small and well built, but not so well built as the tribes
farther north. The men were fully armed with spears, bows and arrows,
shields, and head-knives; gee-strings apart, they were naked. Some of
them wore on the head the scarlet beak of the hornbill; these had taken
heads. Quite a number, both men and women, had a small cross-like
pattern tattooed on the forehead; the significance of this I did
not learn. The shield is in one piece, in longitudinal cross-section
like a very wide flat V open toward the bearer, the top terminating
in a piece rising between two scoops, one on each side of the median
line. The women had on short skirts and little jackets (like what,
I am told, we call bolero jackets), the bosom being bare. Around
the waist they wore bands of brass wire or of bamboo stained red and
wound around with fine brass wire. These bamboo bands were pretty and
artistic. You saw the children as they happened to be; the only thing
to note about them being that they were quite bright-looking. What
the men lacked in clothes they made up in their hair, for they wore
it long and some of them had it done up in the most absolute Psyche
knots. Such earrings as we saw were worn in the upper cartilage of
the ear. It may be remarked, too, that the women had a contented and
satisfied air, as though sure of their power and position; we found
this to be the case generally throughout the Mountain Country.
The purpose of the visit being to cultivate pleasant relations with and
receive the confidence of these shy people, the real business of the
day was soon opened. Mr. Worcester took his place in the shade of his
shack, and proceeded to the distribution of red calico, beads, combs,
mirrors, and other small stuff, the people coming up by _rancherías_
(settlements or villages); none of the highlanders seem to have any
conception of tribal organization, a condition no doubt due to the
absence of communications. A _cabecilla_, or head man, would receive
two meters, his wife one, and others smaller measures. This sort
of thing was carefully studied out, so far as rank was concerned,
for it would never do to give a common person even approximately
as much as a _cabecilla_. One _ranchería_ would take all red beads,
another white, another blue, and so on. Not once did I see a trace
of greediness or even eagerness, though interest was marked. The
whole thing was conducted in the most orderly fashion, the various
_rancherías_ awaiting their turn with exemplary patience. [17]
The issue over, dancing began. In this only men and boys took part,
to the music of small rude fiddles, tuned in fifths, [18] played by
the men, and of a queer instrument consisting of two or three joints of
bamboo with strings stretched over bridges, beaten with little sticks
by the women. The fiddles must be of European origin. The orchestra,
seven or eight all told, sat in the shade, surrounded by an admiring
crowd. Among them was a damsel holding a civilized umbrella over her
head, whereof the stick and the rib-points were coquettishly decorated
with white horse-hair tied in little brushes, doubtless furnished by
our white pony.
The dancing at once fixed our attention. Two or three men, though
usually only two, took position on the little terreplein below the
shack, and began a slow movement, taking very short, formal, staccato
steps in a circle against the sun. Keeping back to back and side to
side, they maintained the whole body in a tense, rigid posture with
the chest out, head up and thrown back, abdomen drawn in, right hand
straight out, the left also, holding a shield, eyes glazed and fixed,
knees bent forward. Between the steps, the dancers would stand in
this strained, tense position, then move forward a few inches, and so
on around the circle. After a little of this business, for that is
just what it was, the next part came on, a simulation of fighting:
and, as everything before was as stiff, strained, and rigid as it
was possible to be, so now everything was light, graceful, agile,
and quick; leaps forward and back, leaps sideways, the two combatants
maneuvering, as it were, one around the other, for position. It was
hard to realize that human motions could be so graceful, light and
easy. Then head-knives were drawn, and cuts right, and cuts left,
cuts at every part of the body from the head to the ankles, were
added to the motion; the man on the defensive for the moment making
suitable parries with his shield.
The dance completed, the dancers would advance and face Mr. Worcester,
put their heels together in true military fashion, hold their arms out
right and left, and make a slight inclination of the head, a sort of
salute, in fact, to the one they regarded as the principal personage
of the party.
We saw much dancing later on in our trip, but none that equalled this
in intensity and character, apart from its being of a totally different
kind, Heiser managed, with some difficulty, to take a photograph of
the tense phase of one of the dances; it gives a better idea of the
phase than my imperfect description.
The dancing was followed by archery, the target being a small banana
stem at some thirty paces. This calls for no especial comment,
except that many hits were made, and many of the misses would have
hit a man. More interesting was an ambush they laid for us, to show
how they attacked. While collecting for it, to our astonishment the
entire party suddenly ran in all directions at top speed and hid
behind whatever offered. On their return, in four or five minutes,
they explained that a spirit had suddenly appeared among them, and
that they had had to run. On our asking how they knew a spirit had
turned up, they asked if we had not noticed leaves and grass flying in
a spiral. As a matter of fact, some of us had, a very small and very
gentle whirlwind having formed for a second or two. They had seen it,
too, and that was the spirit.
It was now mid-day; we had _tiffin_, and began preparations for
our departure. The various arms, shields, and other things we had
bought were collected to be cargadoed back to Pangasinán. Among them,
alas! were not two beautiful head-knives, which their wearers had
absolutely declined to part with on any terms whatever. They resisted
the Governor-General even. I give a photograph here of a knife and
scabbard that Connor sent me on later. It is a handsome one, but not
as handsome as those two jewels!
Our last performance was to look at the garden and to see the school
at work, making thread and rope, weaving mats, and so on. I take it
that this school was really the significant thing at Campote, apart
from the significance of the occasion itself. We spent but little time
over it, however, our interest in the arts of war having left us only
a few minutes for those of peace. Nevertheless, here is a beginning
that will bear fruit, and in the meantime Connor rides alone and
in safety among these wild people, which proves a good many things,
when you select the right man to do your hard work.
Mr. Worcester, as we rode off, expressed the liveliest satisfaction
with the meeting. These people, returning to their _rancherías_, he
said, would talk for a year of their treatment at the hands of the
Americans, of the gift of _palay_ (rice) to four hundred people,
for two days, to say nothing of two _vacas_ (cows) and of other
gifts. Next year, he hoped, half of them would come in; besides, the
start made was good; the presence of so many women and children was a
good sign, and equally good was the total absence of old women. For
these are a source of trouble and mischief with their complaints of
the degeneracy of the times. They address themselves particularly
to the young men, accusing them of a lack of courage and of other
parts, taunting them with the fact that the young women will have
none of them, that in _their_ day _their_ young men brought in heads,
etc. Thus it has happened, especially when any native drink was going
about, that trouble has followed. It is the practice, therefore,
of our Government when arranging these meetings to suggest that the
old women be left at home, and if so left, it is a good indication.
CHAPTER IX
Return to civilization.--Reception at Bambang.--Aglipayanos
and Protestants.
The return to the main road from Campote was a great improvement over
the advance. The sun had partly dried the trail, and his vertical rays
enabled us to see about us a little, and realize what a tremendous
phenomenon tropical vegetation can be. Some Philippine trees, for
example, the _narra_, throw out buttresses. One we saw on this trail
must have measured twenty feet across on the ground, from vertex to
vertex of diametrically opposite buttresses, the bole itself not being
over two and one-half feet in diameter, and the buttresses starting
about fifteen feet above the ground. But the greatest difference
to me personally was in my mount, Connor having lent me his pony,
as admirable as mine of the day before had been wretched. In spite
of the fact that Connor had to stay behind at Campote and could catch
us up later, this attention on his part was one of the most generous
things that ever happened to me, for certainly the pony he got from
me was the most irritating piece of horseflesh imaginable. I am glad
publicly to give him my warmest thanks again! Mr. Worcester was well
mounted, too; he rode this day at two hundred and thirty-five pounds,
and his kit must have weighed some thirty more, yet his little beast
carried him soundly to Bambang, our destination, about seventeen
miles, twelve of them at a "square, unequivocal" trot, by no means
an unusual example of the strength and endurance of some of these
native ponies. In what seemed a very short time (but the trail was
comparatively dry) we broke out of the forest, and again had our
lovely valley below and in front of us. At the top we saw some giant
fly-catchers, a bird of so powerful and erratic a flight that no
one has so far, according to Mr. Worcester, succeeded in killing one
of them. It may be mentioned here that we saw very few birds or any
other animals on our journey. Shortly after beginning the descent,
some of the party, impatient of the zig-zags, decided to go straight
down, the temptation being a cool green stream at the foot of the
mountain; half an hour afterward, on turning a point, we could see
them disporting themselves in the waters, and at that distance looking
very much like Diana and her nymphs in the usual pictures.
Back in the main road, we stopped to rest at a point covered with
a sensitive plant so delicate that, on stepping on it anywhere, the
nervous thrill, if that is what it is, would run three or four feet
or more in all directions before dying down. From this point we turned
north, our way taking us through a broad open valley, past rice-fields
and between clumps of flowering guava bushes. As we neared Bambang,
where we were to spend the night, we were as before met by the local
notabilities on horseback; and breasting a rise, we saw our road down
in the plain in which this town lies, lined on both sides by all the
school-children of the place, dressed in their very best clothes, some
of them American fashion with shoes and stockings and looking mighty
uncomfortable in consequence. Nearly everyone had a flag. Riding into
the town, we found the _plaza_ crowded with men and women, dressed
mostly in white, and what with the flags, the church-bells clanging
with all their might, the crowd, and the children trooping in, our
cavalcade made a triumphant entrance.
We dismounted at the _presidente's_, where muscatel and cocoanut milk
were given us. A little muscatel goes a long way, but this is not true
of the milk when one's tongue is hanging out from riding in the sun,
and there are only two or three cocoanuts. Filipinos apparently are
not fond of this drink, and we nearly always had to send out and
get more. No sooner were we in the house than addresses began, one
of these being in Ilokano. The native language of Bambang, however,
is the Isanay, spoken elsewhere only at Aritao and Dúpax, a dying
tongue, doomed to early extinction.
Bambang, like nearly all the other Nueva Vizcaya towns we had seen
or were to see, shows signs of decadence. It has a good church and
_convento_, a great _plaza_, and is surrounded by a fertile country,
but something is missing. After dinner, I went over and called on
the padre, one of the Belgians, whom we had met the day before. He
informed me that Bambang had many Protestants, which he explained by
the sharp rivalry between the _Aglipayanos_, or members of the "native"
church, headed by the secessionist Aglipay, and the Catholics. To
avoid the issues raised by this rivalry, many natives would appear
to have abandoned the errors of Rome (or of _Aglipayanismo_, as the
case may be) for those of the Reformation.
When I got back to the _presidente's_, everybody had turned in, and the
house was dark. However, I found a bed not occupied by anyone else, but
of my bedding there was not a sign. So I stretched out on the _petate_
[19] of my bed, only to wake up later shivering with cold, which I
tried to remedy by fishing around for cover in a pile of straw mats,
from which I extracted what turned out in the morning to be a _jusi_
table-cloth, through which you could have shot straws. It is altogether
a mistake to imagine that one can not be cold in the tropics.
CHAPTER X
Magat River.--Enthusiastic reception at Bayombong.--Speeches
and reports.--Solano.--Ifugao "college yell."--Bagábag.
The next day, April 20, we rode out at six, a splendid morning;
Bubud felt the inspiration, too, for he got on capitally. We soon
reached the Magat River on the other side of which was Bayombong,
the capital of the province and our first halt of the day.
The Magat is another of those turbulent, uncertain rivers of the
Archipelago; we were not sure as we neared it whether we could get
over or not. When up, it carries waves in midstream six to seven feet
from crest to trough. But we had no such ill-luck, and _bancas_ soon
came over for us, the horses swimming. While waiting for them we had
a chance to admire the beautiful country; on one side tall spreading
trees and broad savannahs, on the other the mountain presenting a
bare scarp of red rock many hundreds of feet high; immediately in
front the cool, green river, over all the brilliant sun, not yet too
hot to prevent our thinking of other things.
Once over, we had no occasion to complain of our reception! All
the notabilities were present, of course, mounted, but in addition
there were three bands, all playing different tunes at the same time,
in different keys, and all _fortissimo_. No instrument was allowed
to rest, the drums being especially vigorous. One of the bands was
that of the Constabulary, playing really well, and with magnificent
indifference to the other two. I am bound to say they returned
it. We had the Constabulary troops, too, as escort, a well set-up,
well-turned-out and soldierlike body. What with the bands, the pigs,
the dogs, the horses, the children, the people, it was altogether
one of the most delightful confusions conceivable, not the least
interesting feature being the happy unconsciousness of the people
of the incongruity of the reception. However, we formed a column,
the Constabulary at the head, with its band, and were played into
Bayombong, with the other bands, children, dogs, etc., as a mighty
rear guard.
Our first business was to listen to reports and addresses. So we
all went upstairs in the Government House, the _presidencia_; the
Governor-General, Mr. Worcester, and the _presidente_ took their seats
on a dais, while the rest of us, with the local Americans and some of
the native inhabitants, formed the audience, and listened to a report
read by the treasurer. This made a great impression on us, so sensible
and businesslike was it; not content with a statement, it went on to
describe the affairs of the province, the possibilities of agriculture,
and what could be accomplished if the people would turn to and work,
and in particular it made no complaints. Apparently this report alarmed
the _presidente_, for he left his seat on the platform as soon as
he decently could, and delivered a speech intended to traverse the
treasurer's report. His concern was almost comic: the idea of saying to
the Governor-General that a great deal could be done locally by work,
when there was a central Government at Manila! Mr. Forbes, as usual,
made in his turn a very sound speech, based on his observation in
the province, on its fertility, its possibilities, the necessity of
improving communications and of diversifying crops. I noticed here,
as elsewhere in the province, the excellence of the Spanish used in
speeches. As for the treasurer, we were informed that he had been taken
in hand at an early age by the Americans and trained, so that in making
his reports he had developed the ability to look upon the merits of
the question in hand. But he must feel himself to be a unique person!
We rested here in Bayombong through the heat of the day, part going to
Governor Bryant's house, the rest of us to that of Captain Browne, the
local Inspector of Constabulary. I have a grateful recollection of his
hospitality, as well as of that of his brother officers, with whom we
dined. Nor must I forget the Standard Oil Company. For had not Browne
rigged up a shower, consisting of the Standard five-gallon tin? A
_muchacho_ filled it with water and pulled it up over a pulley, and
you got an excellent shower from the holes punched in the bottom. In
fact, the Standard five-gallon tin is as well known in the East as
its contents, and is carefully preserved and used. We had several
opportunities to bless its existence.
Pleasant as was the nooning, it had to end: we mounted and rode on
to Solano. On the way Bubud insisted on drinking from a dirty swamp
by the roadside, although there was a limpid stream not fifty yards
ahead which he could see as well as I. But there was nothing for
it but the swamp; I accordingly let him have his way, only to find
the bank slippery and the water deep, so that he went in up to his
shoulders, with his hindquarters on the bank. While I was trying to
pull him back, he got in his hindquarters, and then, in further answer
to my efforts, sat down in the water! And such water! Thick, greasy,
smelly! A _carabao_ wallow it was. He now gave unmistakable evidence of
an intention to lie down, when a friendly hand got me up on the bank,
whereupon Bubud, concluding he would get out too, emerged with a coat
of muddy slime. This seemed to have no effect whatever on his spirits,
for on entering Solano a few minutes later, to the sound of bells
and bands, with banners fluttering in the breeze, he got into such
a swivet that before I knew it he was at the head of the procession,
having worked himself forward and planted himself squarely in front
of the Governor-General's horse, where he caracoled and curvetted and
pranced to his heart's delight. As soon as we got out of the _barrio_,
he was quite satisfied to take a more modest position, but occasions
of ceremony seemed to deprive him of all realization of his proper
place in the world.
The people of Solano made a great effort to have us stay the night,
but it was impossible; we had to get on to Bagábag. Solano, by the way,
is the commercial emporium of this end of the province, for there
is not a single shop in Bayombong. So on we went, through a calm,
dignified afternoon, the country as before impressing me with its open,
smiling valleys, its broad fields, its air of expectant fertility,
inviting one to come scratch its surface, if no more, in order to
reap abundant harvests. In fact, it seemed to me that we were riding
through typical farming land at home, instead of through a Malay valley
under the tropic. And if anything more were needed to strengthen the
illusion, it was a college yell, given by a gang of Ifugaos (the people
we were now immediately on our way to visit) repairing a bridge we had
to cross! They did it in style, and naturally had no cheer-leader;
time was kept by beating on the floor of the bridge with tools. For
this uttering of a shout of welcome or of other emotion in unison is a
characteristic trait of the Ifugaos, like their using spoons, and can
be likened to nothing else in the world but our American college yell.
Our reception at Bagábag was much like all the others we had had:
bands, arches, addresses, one in excellent English. But on this
occasion, after listening to a speech telling how poor the people were,
how bad the roads were, how much they needed Government help, etc.,
etc., Mr. Forbes squared off in his answer, and told them a few things,
as that he had seen so far not a single lean, hungry-looking person,
that the elements were kindly, that they could mend their own roads,
and that he was tired of their everlasting complaint of poverty and
hunger, when a little work would go a great way in this country toward
bettering their material condition. This, of course, is just the kind
of talk these people need, and the last some of them wish to hear.
CHAPTER XI
We enter the Mountain Province.--Payawan.--Kiangan,
its position.--Anitos.--Speech of welcome by Ifugao
chief.--Detachment of native Constabulary.--Visit of Ifugao
chiefs to our quarters.--Dancing.
We were now on the borders of the Mountain Province; literally one more
river to cross, and we should turn our backs on Nueva Vizcaya. And
with regret, for it is a beautiful smiling province, of fertile
soil, of polite and hospitable people, of lovely mountains, limpid
streams and triumphant forests. In Dampier's quaint words, spoken of
another province, but equally true of this one, "The Valleys are well
moistened with pleasant Brooks, and small Rivers of delicate Water; and
have Trees of divers sorts flourishing and green all the Year." [20]
Its people lack energy, perhaps because they have no roads; it may be
equally true that they lack roads because they have no energy. However
this may be, the province can and some day will grow coffee, tobacco,
rice, and cocoa to perfection; its savannahs will furnish pasturage
for thousands of cattle, where now some one solitary _carabao_ serves
only to mark the solitude in which he stands.
We crossed the stream about seven in the morning, May 1, and opened
out on an immense field, which we estimated at about thirty-five
hundred acres, a whole plantation in a ring fence, and offering not
the slightest suggestion of the tropics in its aspect. The ground now
broke and we went on down to a bold stream so deep that those of us
riding ponies got wet above the knees and were almost swept down by
the current. The _cogon_ grass in this river bottom was the tallest I
ever saw, some clumps being well over twenty feet high. Then we began
to climb till we reached another divide, across the stream at the
foot of which was Payawan, our immediate objective. Payawan consists
of two shacks and a name. Here we were to have had our first meeting
with the clans of the Ifugao, but through some misunderstanding they
took the place of meeting to be at Kiangan, some, miles further on;
so we all rested a while, and some of us took a swim in the little
river we had just crossed, finding the water on first shock almost
cold, but delightful beyond belief. Cootes and I were quite satisfied
with the pool we found near the shack, but Strong and the rest thought
they saw a better one downstream, so they crawled in the water around
a small cliff, reached their pool, and then had to walk a mile and
a half through the _cogon_ and in the sun to return, there being no
getting back upstream. Now, if there is anything else hotter on the
face of the earth than a walk through the _cogon_ in the dry season
with the sun shining vertically down, it has yet to be discovered.
At Payawan we were met by Captain Jeff D. Gallman, P. C,
Lieutenant-Governor of the Sub-province of Ifugao, accompanied by
one of his chieftains, who made a splendid picture in his barbaric
finery. Erect, thin of flank and well-muscled, he had a bold, clear
eye and a fearless look; around his neck he wore a complicated necklace
of gold and other beads; each upper arm was clasped by a boar's tusk,
from which stood out a plume of red horse-hair. His gee-string was
decorated with a belt of white shells, the long free end hanging
down in front, and he had his bolo, like the rest of his people,
in a half-scabbard--that is, kept by two straps on a strip of wood,
shaped like a scabbard. But all these were mere accessories; what
distinguished him was his free graceful carriage, the lightness and
ease of his motions, the frankness and openness of his countenance.
Our rest over, we pushed on through a beautiful forest, unlike any
other seen so far in that it was open. The trail was excellent,
and rose steadily, for we had to cross a sharp range before making
Kiangan. I shall make no attempt to describe this exquisite afternoon:
but there was a breeze, the forest tempered the sun's rays a good part
of the time; and, as we rose, range after range, peak on peak opened
on our view, valley after valley spread out under our feet until
I wearied of admiring. The others had gone over the trail before,
and looked on nature with a more matter-of-fact eye. At the top of
the range I noticed an outcrop of fossil coral. Bubud distinguished
himself to-day. Gallman, who was trotting immediately in front
(and who ought to know his own trails!), called "Ware hole!" just
as Bubud put one of his forefeet in it, pitched forward, and threw
me over his head, thus establishing a complete breach of continuity
between us. However, as long as the thing had to happen, it was a
good place to select, for the trail was four feet wide here, and,
in case of going over the side, the drop was only eighty or ninety
feet, with bushes conveniently arranged to catch hold of on the way
down. This was Bubud's solitary mishap, and it was not his fault.
Past the divide, the trail became a road over which one might have
marched a field battery, so broad and firm and good was it: we were
nearing Kiangan. Presently we turned a low spur to the left, and the
Ifugao town burst upon our view. It was the headquarters of a Spanish
_Comandancia_ in the old days, and here Padre Juan Villaverde lived
and worked, seeking to convert the people, and to teach them to grow
coffee and to plant European vegetables. The mission, however came to
naught, leaving behind no trace visible to the casual traveller, save
a few lone cabbages: the garrison maintained here was massacred to a
man, the native who surprised and cut down the sentry being pointed
out to us the next day. Kiangan was celebrated in Spanish times,
and even more recently, as the home of some of the most desperate
head-hunters of the Archipelago. But, thanks to Gallman, head-hunting
in the Ifugao country is now a thing of the past.
The town stands on the top of a bastion-like terrace, thrust
avalanche-wise and immense between its pinnacled mountain walls;
the site is not only of great beauty, but of great natural strength,
like nearly all the other considerable settlements we saw on this
journey. The two mountain walls approach somewhat like the branches
of the letter V, having between them, near their intersection, as it
were, the natural bastion mentioned rising from the bed of the Ibilao
River, hundreds of feet below, and some thousands of yards distant. The
whole position is on a large generous scale; it would have appealed
to the ancient Greeks. And so, of course, we yet had some distance
to go, and now made our way through rice-paddies, echeloned on the
flanks of the spurs that came down to meet us. These rice-terraces
(_sementeras_), the first I had seen, at once excited my interest,
to the scorn of Pack, who bade me wait until we had come upon the
real thing: these were nothing. It turned out he was entirely right;
but I thought them remarkable, and anyway they were most refreshing
and cooling to look at, after our long hot ride. The sound of running
waters, the sight of the little runlets bubbling away for dear life, of
the tall rice swaying to the breeze, the acropolis before us with its
clumps of waving bamboos, of nodding bananas, and the soft afternoon
light over all, the combination made a picture that, will live in my
recollection. The impression immediately formed was that of a scene
of quiet peace and beauty, more or less rudely shocked the following
day. As we drew nearer and nearer we were welcomed by arches of bamboo
decorated with native flowers and plants, and guarded by life-size
_anitos_ [21] of both sexes _in puris naturalibus_, cut out of the
tree fern, but with no connotation whatever of indecency. For these
statues are either an innocent expression of nature, or, what seems
more likely, an expression of Nature or phallic worship.
We had now got up to the parade of the _cuartel_ (quarters or
barracks) and were greeted by shouts from the people gathered to
welcome us. The chief who had met us at Payawan, and who, on foot,
had beaten us into Kiangan, appeared in all his bravery and with a
prolonged "Who-o-o-o-e-e!" commanded silence. He then mounted a bamboo
stand some twenty feet high, with a platform on top, and made us a
speech! Yes, a regular speech, with gestures, intonations, and all
the rest of it. For these Ifugaos are born orators, and love to show
their skill. Accordingly, thanks to Mr. Worcester's appreciation,
orators' tribunes have been put up at points like Kiangan; it is
strange that the Ifugaos had never thought of it themselves. This
tribune, by the way, was ornamented with tufts of leaves and grasses
at the corners. When the speaker had done, he clapped his hands over
his head, and all the people followed suit.
Later on Gallman, who speaks Ifugao like a native, interpreted for
us. The speaker told his people that a great honor had been done them
by this visit of the "Commission," and that, besides, the great _apo_
[22] of all had come, too. His arrival could not fail to be of good
luck for them, as it meant more rice, more chickens, more pigs, more
babies, more good in all ways than they ever had had before. As other
speeches began to threaten, on a hasty intimation from Mr. Forbes we
moved on to our quarters, preceded by the escort of Constabulary.
This detachment, composed entirely of Ifugaos, would have delighted
any soldier. They certainly excited my admiration by the precision
of their movements, their set-up, and their general appearance. A
Prussian Guardsman could not have been more erect. There are five
companies of Constabulary in the Mountain Province, each serving in
the part of the country from which recruited, and each retaining in
its uniform the colors and such other native features as could be
turned to account. Thus the only "civilized," so to say, elements
are the forage cap and khaki jacket worn directly over the skin;
otherwise the legs, feet, and body are bare; the local gee-string is
worn, with the free end hanging down in front. Here at Kiangan each
man has below the knee the native brass leglet, and on the left hip
the _bultong_, or native bag, a sporran, indeed, showing the local
influence in its blue and white stripes. Thus accoutered, the first
impression formed was that these troops were actually highlanders;
on reflection, this impression is correct, for they are highlanders
in every sense of the word. I obtained permission to inspect the
detachment after the honors were over, and found their equipment
and uniforms in admirable condition. Of their discipline, everyone
spoke in the highest terms; indeed, we had next day, as will soon
appear, an example of this quality. Their loyalty to the Government is
unquestioned. These mountaineers are all, as might be expected, hardy,
strong, able-bodied, and active; in fact, the physical qualities of
these mountain people are remarkable. But at Kiangan, as elsewhere,
it was noticeable that discipline, regular habits, regular food, had
improved the naturally good physical qualities of the people. The
Constabulary appeared to me to be physically better than the tribe
from which they were drawn. I noticed, too, that after protracted
wearing of the khaki the skin of the body was several shades lighter
than that of the legs.
We now entered our quarters, being those of Lieutenant Meimban,
the native officer in command. Here, too, we met Mr. Barton, the
local school superintendent. His predecessor had had to be relieved,
because one day, as he was going up the trail, an Ifugao threw a spear
"into" him, as they say in the mountains, and he consequently got a
sort of distaste for the place, although it was clearly established
in the investigation that followed, and carefully explained to him,
that it was all a mistake, and that the spear had been intended for
somebody else. Mr. Barton is doing a useful work here in devoting
his spare time and energy to a study of the Ifugao religion with
its myths and mythology. He told me that he had so far defined seven
hundred different spirits and was not sure that he had got to the end
of them. The publication of Mr. Barton's research is awaited with some
avidity by the Americans living in the Province, as enabling them to
have a better control of the people through their religious beliefs.
We had not long been seated in our quarters before a deputation of
chiefs with their _gansas_ and a large number of _bubud_ [23] jars
entered, and offered us _bubud_ to drink. Very soon our visitors
began to dance for us to the sound of the _gansa_, their dance being
different from that we had seen a few days before at Campote. As,
however, the next day was one dance from morning to night, I shall not
spend any more time upon this affair, except to say that, turn about
being fair play, Cootes got up and gave such a representation as he
was able of a _pas seul_. When he had done, our visitors started
anew, and the _gansas_ proving irresistible, Cootes and I joined
in. The steps, poise of body, motion of the arms and hands are so
marked and peculiar that a little observation and practice enabled
us in a short time to produce at least a fair imitation; indeed,
so successful were our efforts that we were informed we should be
invited to dance on the morrow before the multitudes! This brought
us up standing, and it was time anyway. So our chieftains took their
leave, their _bubud_ jars remaining in our charge. These jars are
worth more than a passing mention: the oldest ones come from China,
and are held in such high esteem by the Ifugaos that they will part
with them for neither love nor money. According to the experts, some
of them are examples of the earliest known forms of Chinese porcelain,
and are most highly prized by collectors and museums. [24]
We put up our mosquito-bars this night, the only time on the trip,
but I think without any necessity. So far we had not seen, heard or
felt a single fly or mosquito, and were to see none until we struck
civilization once more in the Cagayán Valley.
CHAPTER XII
Day opens badly.--Ifugao houses.--The people, assemble.--Dancing.
--Speeches.--White paper streamers.--Head hunter dance.--Cañao.
Needless to say we were up betimes the next morning, May 2d,
for the clans were to gather, and the day would hardly be long
enough for all it was to hold. The day began ominously. As Kiangan
is a sort of headquarters, it has a guard-house for the service of
short imprisonments, a post-and-rail affair made of bamboo under the
_cuartel_. For while our administration is kindly, these mountaineers
from the first have had to learn, if not to feel as yet, that they
must be punished if guilty of infringing such laws and discipline as
have so far been found applicable. Accordingly, our guard-house held
two men, sentenced for twenty days, for having threatened the life of
one of their head men. Short as was the sentence, these two men had
nevertheless dug a passage in the earthen floor of their quarters,
and had just the night before opened the outer end of it, but not
enough to admit the passage of a human body. A private of Constabulary,
passing by this morning, stooped to examine this hole new to him, when
one of the prisoners threw a spear at him, made of a stalk of _runo_
[25] the head being a small strip of iron which he had kept concealed
in his gee-string. So true was his aim that, although he had to throw
his improvised spear between the rails, he nevertheless struck the
private in the neck, cutting his jugular vein, so that in five minutes
he was dead. The pen was now entered for the purpose of shackling the
criminal, when he announced that he would kill any white man that laid
hands on him. Upon Lieutenant Meimban of the Constabulary advancing,
both of the prisoners rushed him. In the mellay that followed the
murderer was shot and killed and his companion badly beaten up; Strong
later had to put seventeen stitches in one scalp wound alone. Although
the _ranchería_ from which the murdered private came was two hours
off, so that it usually took four hours to send a message and get
an answer, yet an hour and a half after the man died a runner came
in to ask for his body so it could be suitably buried. Altogether,
this double killing damped our spirits considerably; for one thing,
there was no telling how it would be received, particularly if there
should be any excessive drinking of _buhud_; there were very few of
us, mostly unarmed, and the Ifugaos were coming in hundreds at a time,
so that long before the forenoon was well under way several thousands
had collected. However, on moving out, we could not find that the
cheerfulness of the people had been in the least disturbed.
Before beginning the business of the day we walked about the village
and examined one or two houses. These are all of one room, entered
by a ladder drawn up at night, and set up on stout posts seven or
eight feet high; the roof is thatched, and the walls, made of wattle
_(suali)_, flare out from the base determined by the tops of the
posts. In cutting the posts down to suitable size (say 10 inches in
diameter), a flange, or collar, is left near the top to keep rats
out; chicken-coops hang around, and formerly human skulls, too,
were set about. But the Ifugaos, thanks to Gallman, as already said,
have abandoned head-hunting, and the skulls in hand, if kept at all,
are now hidden inside their owner's houses, their places being taken
by carabao heads and horns. One house had a _tahibi_, or rest-couch;
only rich people can own these, cut out as they are of a single log,
in longitudinal cross-section like an inverted and very flat V with
suitable head- and foot-supports. The notable who wishes to own one
of these luxurious couches gets his friends to cut down the tree
(which is necessarily of very large size), to haul the log, and to
carve out the couch, feeding them the while. Considering the lack
of tools, trails, and animals, the labor must be incredible and the
cost enormous. However, wealth will have its way in Kiangan as well
as in Paris.
By the time we had done the village, the hour of business had come,
and we moved up to the little parade in front of the _cuartel_, where
an enormous crowd had already assembled. As at Campote, so here, and
for the same reasons, very few old women were present, but about as
many young ones and children as there were men. Our approach was the
signal for the dancing to begin, and once begun, it lasted all day,
the _gansas_ never ceasing their invitation. Apparently anybody could
join in, and many did, informal circles being formed here and there,
for the Ifugaos, like all the other highlanders, dance around in a
circle. Both men and women took part, eyes on a point of the ground
a yard or so ahead, the knees a little bent, left foot in front, body
slightly forward on the hips, left arm out in front, hand upstretched
with fingers joined, right arm akimbo, with hand behind right hip. The
musicians kneel, stick the forked-stick handle of the _gansa_ in their
gee-strings, with the _gansa_ convex side up on their thighs, and
use both hands, the right sounding the note with a downward stroke,
the left serving to damp the sound. The step is a very dignified,
slow shuffle, accompanied by slow turns and twists of the left hand,
and a peculiar and rapid up-and-down motion of the right.
True to what had been said the day before, a particularly large circle
was formed, and Cootes and I were invited to join, which we did; if
any conclusion may be drawn from the applause we got (for the Ifugaos
clap hands), why, modesty apart, we upheld the honor of the Service.
Every now and then the orators had their turn, for a resounding
"Whoo-o-ee!" would silence the multitudes, and some speaker would
mount the tribune and give vent to an impassioned discourse. One of
these bore on the killing of the prisoner that morning: the orator
declared that he was a bad man, and that he had met with a just end,
that the people must understand that they must behave themselves
properly, and so on. I forget how many speeches were made; but the
tribune was never long unoccupied. Another performance of the day
was the distribution of strips of white onion-skin paper. On one
of his previous trips Mr. Worcester had noticed that the people
had taken an old newspaper he had brought with him, cut it up into
strips, and tied them to the hair by way of ornament. Acting on
this hint, it is his habit to take with him on his trips to this
country thousands of strips, and everybody gets a share according
to rank, a chief five, his wife four, an ordinary person three, and
little children two. Accordingly, he spent hours this day handing
out these strips, for this was a duty that could not be delegated:
the strips must come from the hands of the "Commission" himself. By
afternoon, every man, woman, and child--and there were thousands of
them all told--was flying these white streamers from the head, the
combined resulting effect being pleasing and graceful. Meanwhile the
people kept on coming from their _rancherías_, one arrival creating
something of a stir, being that of the _Princesa_, wife of the orator
who had welcomed us the day before. She came in state, reclining in a
sort of bag hanging from a bamboo borne on the shoulders of some of
her followers. She had an umbrella, and, if I recollect aright, was
smoking a cigar. On emerging from her bag, a circle formed about her,
and she was graciously pleased to dance for us, no one venturing to
join her. As she was fat and scant o' breath, [26] her performance,
was characterized by portentous deliberation, precision, and dignity,
and was as palpably agreeable to her as it was curious to us.
The great performance of the morning, however, was a head-hunter dance,
arranged by Barton; that is, he had gone out a day or two before
and told a neighboring _ranchería_, that they must furnish a show
of the sort for the _apos_ whose visit was imminent. But, according
to the old women of the village, he had made a great mistake in that
he said it was not necessary to hold a _cañao_ in advance. A _cañao_
(_buni_ in Ifugao), as already explained, is a ceremonious occasion,
celebrated by dancing, much drinking of _bubud_, the killing of a
pig, speeches. Whenever an affair of moment is in hand, such as a
funeral or a head-hunting expedition, a _cañao_ is held. Our entire
stay at Kiangan might be called a _cañao_, or, rather, it was made up
of _cañaos_. Now when Barton, two or three days before, refused to
_cañao_, the old women shook their heads, declaring that something
would happen, and the killings of the morning were at once summoned
as proof that they were right and he was wrong. However this may be,
not long after the _Princesa's_ dance we heard below us a cadenced
sound and saw a long column in file slowly approaching. Its head was
formed of warriors armed with spears and shields stained black with
white zig-zags across; the leading warrior walked backward, continually
making thrusts at the next man with his spear. A pig had immediately
preceded, trussed by his feet to a bamboo, and interfering mightily
with the music that followed. This was percussive in character, and
was produced by twenty-five or thirty men beating curved instruments,
made of very hard, resonant wood, with sticks. These musicians marched
along almost doubled over, and would lean in unison first to the right
and then to the left, striking first one end, then the other of their
instruments, which they held in the middle by a _bejuco_ string from
a hole made for the purpose. The note was not unmusical. Many of the
men had their head-baskets on their backs, and one or two of them the
palm-leaf rain-coat. I had never imagined that it was possible for
human beings to advance as slowly as did these warriors; in respect
of speed, our most dignified funerals would suffer by comparison. The
truth is, they were dancing. They got up the hill at last, however;
laid the pig down in the middle of the vast circle that had instantly
formed, and then began the ceremonious head-dance. Two or three men,
after various words had been said, would march around in stately
fashion, winding up at the pig, across whose body they would lay their
spears. On this an old man would run out, and remove the spears, when
the thing would be repeated. At last, a tall, handsome young man,
splendidly turned out in all his native embellishments, on reaching
the pig, allowed his companions to retire while he himself stood,
and, facing his party with a smile, said a few words. Then, without
looking at his victim, and without ceasing to speak, he suddenly thrust
his spear into the pig's heart, withdrawing it so quickly that the
blade remained unstained with blood; as quick and accurate a thing
as ever seen! Of course, this entire _cañao_ was full of meaning to
the initiated. Barton said it was a failure, and he ought to know;
but it was very interesting to us. I was particularly struck by the
bearing of these men, their bold, free carriage and fearless expression
of countenance.
CHAPTER XIII
Dress of the people.--Butchery of carabao.--Prisoner runs
_amok_ and is killed.
It was now drawing near midday, and as though by common understanding
we all separated to get something to eat. Our head-dancers formed
up and resumed their slow march back down the hill; only this time,
Cootes and I borrowed instruments and joined the band, partly to see
how it felt to walk in so incredibly slow a procession, and partly
for me, at least, to try the music. A little of it went a long way.
The afternoon was, with two exceptions, much like the forenoon. Tiffin
over, Mr. Worcester and Gallman held councils with the head men of
the various _rancherías_ present; Pack inspected; and the rest of us
moved about, looking on at whatever interested us.
As elsewhere, but few clothes are seen: the women wear a short striped
skirt sarong-wise, but bare the bosom. However, they are beginning to
cover it, just as a few of them had regular umbrellas. They leave the
navel uncovered; to conceal it would be immodest. The men are naked
save the gee-string, unless a leglet of brass wire under the knee be
regarded as a garment; the bodies of many of them are tattooed in
a leaf-like pattern. A few men had the native blanket hanging from
their shoulders, but leaving the body bare in front. The prevailing
color is blue; at Campote it is red. The hair looked as though a
bowl had been clapped on the head at an angle of forty-five degrees,
and all projecting locks cut off. If the hair is long, it means
that the wearer has made a vow to let it grow until he has killed
someone or burnt an enemy's house. We saw such a long-haired man this
day. Some of the men wore over their gee-strings belts made of shell
(mother-of-pearl), with a long free end hanging down in front. These
belts are very costly and highly thought of. Earrings are common,
but apparently the lobe of the ear is not unduly distended. Here at
Kiangan, the earring consists of a spiral of very fine brass wire.
It is pertinent to remark that the Ifugaos treat their women well;
for example, the men do the heavy work, and there are no women
_cargadores_. In fact, the sexes seemed to me to be on terms of perfect
equality. The people in general appeared to be cheerful, good-humored,
and hospitable. Mr. Worcester pointed out that whereas most of the
men present were unarmed (at any rate, they had neither spears nor
shields), in his early trips through this country, as elsewhere,
every man came on fully armed, and the ground was stuck full of
spears, each with its shield leaning on it, the owner near by with
the rest of his _ranchería_, and all ready at a moment's notice to
kill and take heads. For although these people are all of the same
blood and speak nearly the same language, still there is no tribal
government; the people live in independent settlements (_rancherías_),
all as recently as five or six years ago hostile to one another,
and taking heads at every opportunity. This state of affairs was
undoubtedly partly due to the almost complete lack of communication
then prevailing, thus limiting the activities of each _ranchería_
to the growing of food, varied by an effort to take as many heads
as possible from the _ranchería_ across the valley, without undue
loss of its own. And what is said here of the Ifugao is true also
of the Ilongot, the Igorot, the Kalinga, the Apayao, and of all the
rest of the head-hunting highlanders of Northern Luzon. The results
accomplished by Mr. Worcester with all these people simply exceed
belief. But this subject, being worthy of more than passing mention,
will be considered later. The afternoon is wearing on, and we must
get at the two exceptions mentioned some little time ago.
Since these highlanders have but little meat to eat, it is the policy
of the Government, on the occasion of these annual progresses,
to furnish a few carabaos, so that some of the people, at least,
while they are the guests of the Government, may have what they
are fondest of and most infrequently get. And they have been until
recently allowed to slaughter the carabao, according to their own
custom, in competition, catch-as-catch-can, so to say. For the poor
beast, tethered and eating grass all unconscious of its fate, or
else directly led out, is surrounded by a mob of men and boys, each
with his bolo. At a signal given, the crowd rushes on the animal,
and each man hacks and cuts at the part nearest to him, the rule
of the game being that any part cut off must be carried out of the
rush and deposited on the ground before it can become the bearer's
property. Accordingly, no sooner is a piece separated and brought
out than it is pounced on by others who try to take it away; usually
a division takes place, subject to further sub-division, however, if
other claimants are at hand. The competition is not only tremendous,
but dangerous, for in their excitement the contestants frequently
wound one another. The Government (_i.e._, Mr. Worcester), while
at first necessarily allowing this sort of butchering, has steadily
discouraged and gradually reduced it, so that at Kiangan, for example,
the people were told that this was the last time they would ever
be allowed to kill beef in this fashion. It was pointed out to them
that the purpose being to furnish meat, their method of killing was
so uneconomical that the beef was really ruined, and nobody got what
he was really entitled to.
On this occasion, the carabao was tied to a stake in a small swale
and I nerved myself to look on. I saw the first cuts, the poor beast
look up from his grass in astonishment, totter, reel, and fall as blows
rained on him from all sides. The crowd, closing in, mercifully hid the
rest from view; the victim dying game without a sound. In this respect,
as well as in many others, the carabao is a very different animal
from the pig. But, while looking on at the mound of cutting, hacking,
sweating, and struggling butchers, the smell of fresh blood over all,
something occurred that completely shifted the center of interest. A
boy came up to us in great excitement to say that the prisoner had got
hold of a bayonet and was running _amok_. This was the prisoner of the
morning who had been so badly beaten; to make him more comfortable,
he had been laid on the veranda of the _cuartel_ (just behind us),
hobbled, but otherwise free. The boy spoke the truth; the prisoner had
snatched his bayonet from a passing Constabulary private, and, turning
into the _cuartel_, made for the provincial treasurer, who was busy
inside. Him he chased out, getting over the ground with extraordinary
rapidity, considering his wounds and hobbles; when we turned to look,
the prisoner had come out and was running for just anybody. There was
now but one thing to do, and done it was. Some one in authority called
out to the sentry on duty before the _cuartel_. "Kill him!" The sentry,
who up to this time had been walking up and down as a sentry should,
brought down his carbine, aimed at the running man, and dropped him
in his tracks by a bullet through the heart. He then ejected his
empty cartridge-case, shouldered his piece, and continued to walk his
post as unconcernedly as though he had shot a mad dog; as striking
an example of discipline as any soldier could wish to see. So far
as I could mark, this occurrence made no impression on the people
gathered together. The day went on as before. We should recollect,
however, that these highlanders have no nerves, have, in the the
past held human life cheap, and must have realized in this case that
the poor fellow who had been shot was himself trying to take human
life; according to mountain law, he had got his deserts. Hence no
astonishment should be felt that, while this human tragedy was being
played to a finish, the carabao-butchers had not turned a hair's
breadth from their business. For when I turned again to see how they
were getting on, I found that they had disappeared, and, walking to
the place, saw not a trace of the butchery save the trampled ground
and a small heap of undigested grass. Mr. Worcester had told me before
that I should find this to be the case; not a shred of hoof, hide,
or bone had been left behind.
The multitude had now begun to disperse, for the sun's rays were
growing level, and the day was over. We were glad ourselves to
find our quarters, for we had had some ten hours of _gansa_-beating,
dancing, and all the rest of it: the _cañao_ had been a great success,
and, although _bubud_ had passed vigorously, the people had made no
trouble. We wound up with a little bridge, and there was, as there
always is, some business to be dispatched before turning in. But
we were all soon sound asleep, for next morning we had to be up at
four. [27]
CHAPTER XIV
Barton's account of a native funeral.
Mr. Barton, already mentioned as in residence at Kiangan as local
Superintendent of Schools, went out to see the funeral of the
Constabulary private killed on the morning of the 2d. He was strongly
advised not to go, because these highlanders resent more or less the
presence of strangers at their funeral ceremonies. But this made him
only the more eager, as very few Americans, or any others for that
matter, have ever been present on these occasions.
Passing through Manila a month or two later, he very kindly dictated
for me an account of what he saw, and I give it here, with his
permission, in his own words:
The Funeral of Aliguyen.
"On the third day after the soldier was killed, the principal funeral
ceremonies took place. To these ceremonies came a great number of
people from their various _rancherías_, the party from each _ranchería_
being led by the relatives of the soldier, some of them very distant
relatives.
"Aliguyen, the dead soldier, lived in the _ranchería_ of Nagukaran,
a _ranchería_ until quite recently very unfriendly to Kiangan, where
I live. Aliguyen, however, had some kin in Kiangan, and this kin,
together with their friends, went to the funeral. Their shields,
as well as the shields of all who attended, were painted with white
markings, taking some the form of men, some of lizards, some were
zig-zags. All men who attended had a head-dress made of the leaf
petiole of the betel tree and the red leaves of the dongola plant. To
these leaves were attached pendant white feathers. Everybody was
dressed in his best clout, and the women in their best loin-cloths
and in all their finery of gold beads and agate necklaces.
"Nagukaran is one _ranchería_ of several in a very large valley. When
I reached a point in the trail commanding this valley, there could be
seen from various _rancherías_ in the valley a procession from each
of them wending their way slowly toward Aliguyen's home. From the time
that they came within sight of the house, which was sometimes when they
were a mile and a half or two miles from it, each procession danced
its way, beating on the striped shields with their drum-sticks and
on their _bangibang_. This last is a kind of wooden stick, made of
resonant hard wood, coated over with chicken blood. It is extremely
old. It is curved slightly and is about two feet long, and is held in
one hand suspended by a _bejuco_ string so that the vibrations are
not interfered with. It is beaten with a drum-stick, as is also the
shield. The _gansa_, or brass gong, the usual musical instrument of
the Ifugaos, is never used in the funeral of a beheaded man. The two
men who headed each procession carried two spears each. Behind came a
man carrying a spear and shield. The two in front faced the on-coming
procession, stepping most of the time backward, making thrusts toward
the two who bore the spears and shields. The bearers of spear and
shield made thrusts at them, the whole being a dance which in some
respects resembles one of the head-dances of the Bontoc Igorots. From
the high place on the trail where I was, they looked, in the distance,
like nothing so much as columns of centipedes or files of ants all
creeping slowly along the dikes of the rice-paddies toward the central
place. It usually takes an hour for such a procession to cover one
mile. The beating of shield and stick could easily be heard across
the wide valley on that still morning.
"Arriving at Aliguyen's house, we found him sitting on a block
facing the sun, lying against his shield, which was supported
by the side of the house. The body was in a terrible state of
decomposition. It was swollen to three times its living girth. Great
blisters had collected under the epidermis, which broke from time
to time, a brownish red fluid escaping. The spear wound in his
neck was plugged by a wooden spear-head. In each hand Aliguyen
held a wooden spear. No attempt whatever had been made to prevent
decomposition of the body or the entrance to it of flies. From the
mouth gas bubbled out continually. Two old women on each side with
penholder-shaped loom-sticks about two feet long continually poked
at Aliguyen's face and the wound to wake him up. From time to time
they caught the grewsome head by the hair and shook it violently,
shouting, Who-oo-oo! Aliguyen, wake up! Open your eyes! Look down
on Kurug. [Kurug being the _ranchería_ from which came Aliguyen's
murderer.] Take his father and his mother, his wife and his children,
and his first cousins and his second cousins, and his relatives by
marriage. They wanted him to kill you. All your kin are women. [They
say this in order to deceive Aliguyen into avenging himself.] They
can't avenge you. You will have to avenge yourself! There is _ordén_
[law]; no one can kill them but you! Take them all!
"This calling on Aliguyen's soul never ceased. When an old woman got
hoarse, another took her place. As the procession came to the house
it filed past Aliguyen and its leaders stopped and shouted words to
the same effect. The key-note of the whole ceremony was vengeance. It
is true that both persons who were involved in killing Aliguyen were
themselves killed, but the people of a _ranchería_ regard themselves
as being about the only real people in the world and hold that three,
four, or five men of another _ranchería_ are not equal to one of
theirs.
"Nagukaran being the _ranchería_ that speared and nearly killed my
predecessor, Mr.----, I explained my presence to the people there by
saying that the soldier, being an agent of our Government, was in a
way a relative of mine. The explanation was a perfectly natural one
to the people, and they treated me with the greatest courtesy and
helped me to see whatever was to be seen.
"Toward noon they told me that they were going to perform the feast
which looked towards securing vengeance for Aliguyen's death. They went
to where the people had built a shed to protect them from the sun's
fierce rays on a little hillock some distance from any house. Two
pigs were provided there, one being very small. Only the old men
were permitted to gather around the pigs and the rice-wine and the
other appurtenances of the feast. The feast began by a prayer to the
ancestors, followed by an invocation to the various deities. The most
interesting and the principal part of the feast was the invocation to
the celestial bodies, who are believed to be the deities of War and
Justice, Mánaháut (The Deceiver), a companion of the Sun God, was first
invoked. The people cried: Who-oo-oo! Mánaháut, look down! Come down
and drink the rice-wine and take the pig! Don't deceive us! Deceive
our enemies! Take them into the remotest quarters of the sky-world;
lock them up there forever so that they may not return! Vengeance
for him who has gone before!' Then an old man put his hands over
his forehead and called: 'Come down, Mánaháut.' Mánaháut came and
possessed him, causing him to call out: 'Sa-ay! sa-ay! I come down
Mánaháut; I drink the rice-wine; I will deceive your enemies, but
I will not deceive you,' The old man, possessed, jumps up and, with
characteristic Ifugao dance step, dances about the rice-wine jar and
about the pig. Quickly follows him a feaster who has called Umalgo,
the Spirit of the Sun, and was possessed by him. Mánaháut dances ahead
of Umalgo to show him the pig. Umalgo seizes a spear, dances about the
pig two or three times, when he steps over to it and with a thrust,
seemingly without effort, pierces its heart. The blood spurts out
of the pig's side and there quickly follows a feaster who has been
possessed by Umbulan, who throws himself on the pig and drinks its
blood. He would remain there forever, say the people, drinking the
pig's blood, were it not that one of the Stars, his son, possesses a
feaster, causing him to dance over to Umbulan, catch him by the hair
and lead him from the pig. Following these ceremonies, there came
feasters of various spirits of the Stars to cut the pig's feet and
his head off. Then comes the cutting up of the pig to cook in the
pots. The blood that has settled in its chest is carefully caught;
it is used to smear the _bangibang_ and the _jipag_. The _jipag_ are
interesting. They are little images of two or three of the deities
that help men to take heads. The images are of wood about six or
eight inches high. Sometimes there are images of dogs also. When an
Ifugao goes on a head-hunting expedition, he takes the images in his
head-basket, together with a stone to make the enemy's feet heavy so
that he cannot run away, and a little wooden stick in representation
of a spear, to the end of which is attached a stone--this to make the
enemy's spear strike the earth so that it might not strike him. [28]
"As the pig was being put in the pot to be cooked for the old men
who had performed the feast, some unmannerly young fellow started
to make away with one piece of the flesh. Immediately there was a
scramble which was joined by some three or four hundred Ifugaos of
all the different _rancherías_. Then the feasters (I think there were
about one thousand who attended the feast) leaped for their spears
and shields. The people who had come from Kiangan rushed to where I
was and took their stand in front of and around me, and told me to
stay there and that they would protect me from any harm; all of which,
as may well be supposed, produced no trifling amount of warmth in my
feelings toward them. Fortunately nothing came of the scramble.
"I have no hesitancy in saying that two or three years ago, before
Governor Gallman had performed his excellent and truly wonderful work
among the Ifugaos, this scramble would have become a fight in which
somebody would have lost his life. That such a thing could take place
without danger was incomprehensible to the old women of Kiangan, who
doubtless remembered sons or husbands, brothers or cousins, who had
lost their lives in such an affair. With the memory of these old times
in their minds they caught me by the arms and by the waist and said,
'Barton, come home; we don't know the mind of the people; they are
likely to kill you.' When I refused to miss seeing the rest of the
feast, they told me to keep my revolver ready.
"Looking back on this incident, I am sure that I was in little, I
believe _no_ danger, but must give credit to my Ifugao boy who attended
me in having the wisest head in the party. This boy immediately thought
of my horse, which was picketed near, and ran to it, taking with him
one or two responsible Kiangan men to help him watch and defend it. Had
he not done so, some meat-hungry, hot-headed Ifugao might easily have
stuck a bolo in his side during the scramble and its confusion; and
immediately some five hundred or more Ifugaos would have been right
on top of the carcase, hand-hacking at it with their long war-knives,
and it would probably have been impossible ever to find out who gave
the first thrust.
"The old men who had performed the feast, after things had quieted
down somewhat, began scolding and cursing those who had run away with
the meat. Finally they managed to prevail upon the meat-snatchers
to bring back three small pieces, about the size of their hands,
from which I concluded that Ifugao is a language which is admirably
adapted to making people ashamed of themselves. For I knew how hungry
for meat these Ifugao become.
"Three old men stuck their spears in a piece of meat and began a long
story whose text was the confusion of enemies in some past time. At
the conclusion of each story, they said: 'Not there, but here; not
then, but now.' By a sort of simple witchcraft, the mere telling of
these stories is believed to secure a like confusion and destruction
of the enemies of the present. When this ceremony had been completed,
each old man raised his spear quickly and so was enabled to secure
for himself the meat impaled. In one case, one of the old men just
missed ripping open the abdomen of the man who stood in front.
"The feast being finished, the people made an attempt to
assemble by _rancherías_. Then they filed along the trail to bury
Aliguyen. Nagukaran _ranchería_ took the lead. As the procession
came near the grave the men took off their head-dresses and strung
them on a long pole, which was laid across the trail. A Nagukaran
_ranchero_ went to where Aliguyen was sitting and picked him up,
carried him to the grave, and placed him in a sitting posture facing
Kurug, the _ranchería_ that killed him, Aliguyen was not wrapped in
a death-blanket, as corpses usually are. His body was neglected in
order to make him angry, so to incite him to vengeance.
"The grave was a kind of sepulchre dug out of a bank. It was walled up
with stones after Aliguyen was placed in it, and an egg thrown against
the tomb, whereupon the people yelled: '_Batna kana okukulan di bujolmi
ud Kurug!_ ('So may it happen to our enemies at Kurug!') The poles on
which were strung the head-dresses were taken and hung over the door of
Aliguyen's house. After this the people dispersed to their homes. On
the way home they stopped at a stream and washed themselves, praying
somewhat as follows: 'Wash, Water, but do not wash away our lives,
our pigs, our chickens, our rice, our children. Wash away death by
violence, death by the spear, death by sickness. Wash away pests,
hunger, and crop-failure, and our enemies. Wash away the visits of
the Spear-bearing Nightcomer, the Mountain Haunters, the Ghosts,
the Westcomers. Wash away our enemies. Wash as vengeance for him who
has gone before.'"
CHAPTER XV
Visit to the Silipan Ifugaos at Andangle.--The Ibilao
River.--Athletic feat.--Rest-house and stable at Sabig.
We set out the next day, May 3d, at dawn, our destination being
Andangle, selected as a rendezvous of the Silipan Ifugaos, another
branch of the great tribe under Gallman's domination. And, to my
great regret, we here parted from Connor, who had accompanied us thus
far, but now had to return to his post in Nueva Vizcaya. I have the
greatest pleasure in acknowledging here his many courtesies, the
good humor and patience with which he answered my many questions,
and I hated to see him turn back.
The trail we were to take to-day was most of it new, the Silipan
Ifugaos having finished it but a short time before our arrival. We
rode through the reddening dawn, down the great bastion of Kiangan,
with the Ibilao River, far below us, showing now and then on the turn
of a spur, till at last it uncovered so much of its length as lay in
the valley, and disappearing to the southeast through its tremendous
gates of rock. For the everlasting mountains, narrowing down on each
side, as though to halt the impetuous stream, nevertheless yield it
passage through smooth, vertical walls of solid rock, a gate never
closed, nor yet ever open. It would have been most interesting to
work our way down to this example of Nature's engineering, but we
had to content ourselves with a look from afar, and soon the trail
turned sharply to the left and shut out the view. The whole valley
was keen that morning with its fresh, cool air and sound of rushing
waters. It was a happiness to be alive, up, and riding.
In about half an hour we reached the right bank of the river, where
we off-saddled, crossing by a trolley platform; the horses were swum
over, and the kit carried by the _cargadores_ on their heads. My
_cargador_ must have gone down, for when I got my gear later it
was soaking wet. On the other side we began to climb, and sharply;
we now could look back on Kiangan. Rounding the nose of a gigantic,
buttress-like spur, covered with _camote_ patches, we descended to
a small affluent of the Ibilao, where we halted and rested, and,
crossing it, again began to climb, the trail being cut out of the
side of another gigantic spur. At last we reached the top, to find a
new deep, steep valley below us, and just across, only a few parasangs
away, Andangle. But it was far more than a few parasangs by the trail,
for we had to go completely around the head of the valley, mostly on
the same contour. Andangle itself is barely more than a name, but we
found here a house of bamboo and palm fresh built for us, tastefully
adorned with greens and plants, and protected by _anitos_, resembling
those of Kiangan. Like nearly all the other places visited by us,
it was finely situated, the mountains we had just ridden through
forming a great amphitheater to the north.
Our stay here was uneventful. There is really little to record or
report. This branch of the Ifugaos impressed me as being a quieter
[29] lot than the people we had just left and apparently fonder,
if possible, of speech-making. For speeches went on almost without
intermission, all breathing good-will and declaring the intention of
the people to behave in a lawful manner and promising to have done
with killing and stealing.
There were many women and children, the children very shy. Of
weapons there were none. Dancing went on uninterruptedly the whole
day and night of our stay, and Cootes and I had to dance again. Only
we had now arranged to simulate a boxing-match, which we presented
to the beat of the _gansa_, and to the applause of our gallery. A
runner came in while we were here, carrying a note in a cleft stick,
the native substitute for a pocket. In dress and appearance, the
Andangle people differed in no wise from those of Kiangan. Many of
them, however, have a silver jewel, of curious and original design,
worn chiefly as earring, but also on a string around the neck. Our
splendid chief at Payawan also wore many of these jewels, but his were
of gold. Mr. Worcester distributed his white slips to the ever-eager
multitudes, listened to reports, and held council with the head men;
the people were fed with rice and meat, appeared thoroughly to enjoy
themselves, and so the time passed.
The next morning, May 4th, we rode off. Shortly after leaving,
we came suddenly upon a party apparently wrangling over a piece
of meat, at a point where the trail was crossed by a small stream,
flowing in a thin sheet over a smooth face of rock, twenty or more
feet high, and tilted at about seventy degrees. The wranglers took
alarm on our approach and scattered in all directions. One of them,
a boy of perhaps sixteen, ran up the rock just described at full
speed on his toes, and disappeared in the bushes at the top. Even
if he had wished to use his hands, there was nothing to lay hold
on. If I had not seen it performed with my own eyes, I should have
declared the feat impossible: I mention it to mark the agility and
strength of these people. Bear in mind that this youngster ran up,
that the rock was not far from the vertical, and that the water-worn
face was smooth and slippery. The thing was simply amazing.
We stopped again at our rest-house of the day before, meeting a
few _cabecillas_, who showed us, with much pride, long ebony canes
with silver tops, and inscriptions showing that they had been given
by the Spanish Sovereign as rewards for faithful service, etc. One
of these canes had been given by Maria Cristina. Others produced,
from bamboo tubes, parchments of equally royal origin, setting forth
in grandiloquent Spanish the confidence reposed by the Sovereign in
such and such a _cabecilla_.
This day's journey was without incident of any sort. But, like all our
other rides, it took us through country that beggars one's powers of
description. We rode part of the way through an open forest, many of
whose trees were of great height. One of these had, on a single large
branch thrust out from the trunk at a height of sixty feet or so,
as many bird's-nest ferns as could crowd upon it, looking comically
like a row of hens roosting for the night. From the ground, about
fifteen feet from the root of this same tree, rose a single-stem
liana, joining the main trunk at the branch just mentioned; to this
liana a huge bird-nest fern had attached itself twenty feet or more
above the ground, completely surrounding the stem, a singular sight.
The day was fine, the trail good--like all the others of Gallman's
trails,--and the people glad to see us. From time to time, as we
neared Sabig, we were met by detachments, each with _gansas_ and
spears and our flag, and, besides, _bubud_ in bamboo tubes; for, as
must now be clear, the Ifugaos are a hospitable and courteous people,
and we were made welcome wherever we went.
At about three we reached Sabig, situated on a hog-back between the
trail on the left and a deep valley on the right. Here the people
had built us the finest rest-house seen on the trip. For this house
had separate rooms all opening on the same front, the roof being
continued over the front so as to form a sort of veranda, under
which a bamboo table had been set up. But, as though this were not
enough, there were hanging-baskets of plants, bamboo and other leaves
ornamenting the posts. Our cattle were as well off as we, having
a real stable with separate stalls. Just north of the house, where
the ground sloped, a platform had been excavated for dancing, which
went on all night. There was the customary distribution of slips and
the usual business of reports and interviews with the head men. Here
we first saw the rice-terraces for which these mountain people are
justly famous, that is, terraces climbing the mountain-side. But of
weapons we saw none.
CHAPTER XVI
Change in aspect of country.--Mount Amuyao and the native
legend of the flood.--Rice-terraces.--Banawe.--Mr. Worcester's
first visit to this region.--Sports.--Absence of
weapons.--Native arts and crafts.
We pushed on next morning early for Banawe, the capital of the
sub-province of Ifugao, and Gallman's headquarters. The cheers of
our late hosts accompanied us as we entered the trail and began
to climb. The country now took on a different aspect, due to our
increasing altitude. The valleys were sharper and narrower, and so of
the peaks. From time to time we could see the proud crest of Amuyao
ahead of us. Over 8,000 feet high, this mountain, whose name means
"father of all peaks," or "father of mountains," is the Ararat of
the Ifugaos. Their legend has it that, a flood overcoming the land,
a father and five sons took refuge on this topmost peak, coming down
with the waters as they fell. They even have their Cain, for one of
these five was killed by a brother. This family traditionally are
the ancestors of all the mountain people.
It took us some five hours to ride to Banawe, through a country of
imposing beauty. It was not that we were in the presence of mighty
ranges or peaks, so much as that the alternation of elevation with
depression offered a bewildering variety of aspect. At every turn,
turns as unnumbered this day as the woes of Greece, the landscape
changed its face. No sooner had one's appreciation become oriented,
than it had to give way to the necessity of a fresh orientation. Of
course there must be some orographic system; but to mark it, we
should have had to fly over the land. To us on the trail it was
not evident, mountain shouldering mountain, and valley swallowing
valley, in confusion. And wherever possible, rice-terraces! If we
posit the struggle for existence, then in this view alone these
Ifugaos, and other highlanders as well, are a gallant people. Not
every hillside will grow rice; if the soil be good, water will be
lacking; or else, having water, the soil is poor. But, wherever the
two conditions are combined, there will one find the slope terraced
to the top, and scientifically terraced, too, so that every drop of
water shall do its duty from top-side to bottom-side. The labor of
original construction, always severe, in some cases must have been
enormous, as we shall see later. Many of these terraces are hundreds
of years old; their maintenance has required and continues to require
constant watchfulness. Nearly every year the supply of rice runs
short and the people fall back on _camotes_ (sweet potatoes). And
yet, in marked contrast with their cousins of the plains, whom these
conditions would drive to helpless despair, we heard on this trip
not one word of complaint. Not once did they put up a poor mouth and
beg the Government to come to their help. On the contrary, they were
cheerful throughout, knowing though they did that before the year
was over they would probably all have to pull their gee-strings in
a little tighter. It is not too much, therefore, to say that these
highlanders are in a true sense a gallant people. Indeed, they are
the best people of the Archipelago, and with any sort of chance they
will prove it. This chance our Government, thanks to Mr. Worcester's
initiative and sustained interest, is giving them, the first and only
one they ever have had.
This digression brings us a little nearer to Banawe; we leave the
terraced hills behind us, after noting how free of all plants the
retaining-walls are kept, the sole exception here and there being
the dongola, with its brilliant leaf of lustrous scarlet.
In time we began to descend, and finally there burst on the view
the sharpest valley yet, as though some Almighty Power had split the
mountains apart with a titanic ax. Down one flank we went with Banawe
near the head, but farther off than we thought, because the trail
was now filled with men that had come out to welcome us, all of whom
insisted on shaking hands with all the _apos_. Our last three miles
were a triumphal procession--columns, _gansas, bubud_, spears, shouts,
escorts, flags. Every now and then a halt; a bamboo filled with _bubud_
would be handed up, and everybody had to take a pull. Once I noticed
Gallman in front hastily return the bamboo, and reach desperately
for his water-bottle; the next man did the same thing. It was now my
turn, and I understood; I tipped up the tube, and thought for the
moment that I had filled my mouth with liquid fire, so hot was the
stuff! If there had ever been any rice in the original composition,
it had completely lost its identity in the fearful excess of pepper
that characterized this particular vintage. It was hours and hours
before our throats forgave us.
But at last we threaded our way down, and, turning sharp to the
right, rode out on the small plateau that is Banawe, to be saluted
and escorted by the Constabulary Guard and to be received by the
shouts of thousands. They at once opened on us with speeches, but
these were markedly fewer here than farther south. The quarters of
the Constabulary officers were hospitably put at our disposition,
and our first enjoyment of them was the splendid shower.
Banawe stands at the head of a very deep valley, shut in by mountains
on three sides; the stream sweeping the base of the plateau breaks
through on the south. This plateau rises sharply from the floor of
the valley; in fact, it is a tongue thrust out by the neighboring
mountain, and forms a position of great natural strength against any
enemy unprovided with firearms. Across the stream on the east mount
the rice-terraces over a thousand feet above the level of the stream;
a stupendous piece of work, surpassed at only one or two other places
in Luzon. Elsewhere we saw terraces higher up, but none on so great
a scale, so completely enlacing the slope from base to crest. The
retaining walls here are all of stone, brought up by hand from the
stream below. This stream makes its way down to the Mayoyao country,
and I was told that the entire valley, thirty-five or forty miles,
was a continuity of terraces. Indeed, it requires some time and
reflection to realize how splendid this piece of work is: it is almost
overwhelming to think what these people have done to get their daily
bread. In contemplation of their successful labors, one is justified
in believing that, if given a chance, they will yet count, and that
heavily, in the destinies of the Archipelago.
Banawe was first visited by Mr. Worcester in 1903, coming down from the
north with a party of Igorots. At the head of the pass he was met by
an armed deputation of Ifugaos, who came to inquire the purpose of his
visit. Was it peace or was it war? He could have either! But he must
decide, and immediately. Assured as to the nature of the visit, the
head man then gave Mr. Worcester a white rooster, symbol of peace and
amity, and escorted him in. But the accompanying Igorots came very near
undoing all of Mr. Worcester's plans. Not only were they shut in during
their stay, an obvious and necessary condition of good order and the
preservation of peace, but, on Mr. Worcester's asking food for them,
they were told they could have _camotes_, but no rice; that rice was
the food of men and warriors, and _camotes_ that of women and children,
and that the Igorots were not men. This almost upset the apple-cart,
for the Igorots in a rage at once demanded to be released from their
confinement so as to show these Ifugaos who were the real men. But
counsels of peace prevailed. In fact, it is a matter of astonishment
that Mr. Worcester should be alive to-day, so great at the outset was
the danger of personal communication with the wild men of Luzon. [30]
It was not always a handsome white rooster, in token of peace, that
was handed him; sometimes spears were thrown instead. However, on
this trip of ours he got a whole poultry-yard of chickens, besides
eggs in every stage of development from new-laid to that in which
one could almost feel the pin-feathers sticking through the shell.
We spent two days here, and over 10,000 people were collected;
some of them apparently showed traces of Japanese blood. Gallman
allowed me to make an inspection of his Constabulary, their quarters
and hospital. The men were as fine and as well set-up as those we
saw at Kiangan. Everything was in immaculate condition, and ready
for service. From the circumstance of this inspection, I could not
afterward pass near the _cuartel_ that the guard was not turned out for
"the General"--a fact amusing to me, but which I carefully concealed
from the other members of the party. During these two days, nights too,
the _gansas_ never stopped, neither did the dancing. Mr. Worcester
distributed thousands of paper slips, and, besides, much serious
business was dispatched. Then we had sports and ceremonial formal
dances, much like those we saw at Kiangan, but better done. There was
the same slow advance with shields, the same sacrifice of a pig--only
this one was not speared, but had his insides mixed with a stick. He
proved obstinate, however, and refused to die, so a man sat down on
the ground, put his thumbs on the victim's throat, and choked him to
death. Before that the usual lances had been laid across his body,
and some _bubud_ poured (judiciously, not extravagantly) on him as
a libation. This was a head-dance, the taken head being simulated by
a ball of fern-tree pith stuck on a spear fixed in the ground.
But these formal dances were not the only ones. Everybody danced,
even Cootes and I again; but it was our last time. People kept
on arriving from miles around, columns in single file, headed by
men bearing _bubud_-jars on their heads. Every party, of course,
brought its _gansas_, and had to give an exhibition of dancing on
the parade. The arrival of the Mayoyao people on the 6th really
made a picture, because we could see the trail for a long distance,
occupied by men and women in single file, headed by Mr. Dorsey, of
the Constabulary, on his pony. What with the _budbud_-bearers, the
bright blue skirts of the women (color affected by these _rancherías_),
and the cadence of the _gansas_ to which they marched, it was a good
sight, received with cheers. [31]
In general, but few parties were armed; and, as elsewhere, there
were no old women. Some of the shyer people, coming from afar,
had brought their spears, and, squatted on the slopes round about,
apparently passed their time in silent contemplation of the great
game going on below. Everybody seemed to be in a good humor. This was
especially manifest in the great wrestling-match that took place on the
afternoon of the 6th, when _ranchería_ after _ranchería_ sent up its
best man to compete for the heads of the carabaos that had furnished
meat for the multitude. The wrestling itself was excellent. The
hold is taken with both hands on the gee-string in the small of
the back; and, as all these men have strong and powerful legs, the
events were hotly contested and never completed without a desperate
struggle. Defeat was invariably accepted in a good spirit. As before
remarked, however, when Mr. Worcester first organized these meetings,
the _rancherías_ came together armed to the teeth. Each would stick its
spears in the ground, with shields leaning on them, and then wait for
developments. Suspicion, hostility, defiance were the rule, and hostile
collisions were more than once only narrowly averted. But on these
occasions the native Constabulary proved its worth, by circulating in
the crowd, separating parties, and so asserting the authority of the
Government in favor of good order. Moreover, the highlanders soon
learned to respect the power of "the spear that shoots six times"
(the Krag magazine rifle, with which our Constabulary is armed);
but it can not be repeated too often that our hold on these people
is due almost entirely to the moral agencies we have employed.
Gradually Mr. Worcester satisfied some _rancherías_, at least, that
had been open enemies for generations, whose men, in Mr. Worcester's
graphic expression, had never seen one another except over the tops
of their shields, that nothing was to be gained in the long run by
this secular warfare; and his purpose in bringing the clans together
is to make them know one another on peaceful terms, to show them that
if rivalry exists, it can find a vent in wrestling, racing, throwing
the spear, in sports generally. And they take naturally to sports,
these highlanders. Success has crowned Mr. Worcester's efforts; in
witness whereof this very concourse of Banawe may be cited, where
over 10,000 persons, mostly unarmed, mingled freely with one another
without so much as a brawl to disturb the peace.
Two years ago people would not go to Mayoyao from Banawe, through
their own country, save in armed groups of ten to twelve; now women
go alone in safety. And it is a significant fact that the Ifugaos
are increasing in numbers. Of course, this particular sub-province is
fortunate in having as its governor a man of Gallman's stamp. But it
is generally true that village warfare is decreasing, and that travel
between villages is increasing. These Ifugaos ten years ago had the
reputation, and deserved it, of being the fiercest head-hunters of
Luzon. Gallman has tamed them so that to-day they have abandoned
the taking of heads. Now what has been done with them can be done
with others.
At Banawe we saw more examples of native arts and crafts than we
had heretofore. For example, the pipe is smoked, and we saw some
curious specimens in brass, much decorated with pendent chains;
others were of wood, some double-bowled on the same stem. Some of
the men wore helmets, or skull-caps, cut out of a single piece of
wood. Other carved objects were statuettes, sitting and standing;
these are _anitos_, frequently buried in the rice-paddies to make
the crop good; besides, there were wooden spoons with human figures
for handles, the bowls being symmetrical and well finished. Then
there were rice-bowls, double and single, some of them stained black
and varnished. Excellent baskets were seen, so solidly and strongly
made of _bejuco_ as to be well-nigh indestructible under ordinary
conditions. Mr. Maimban got me a pair of defensive spears (so-called
because never thrown, but used at close quarters) with hollow-ground
blades of tempered steel, the head of the shaft being wrapped with
_bejuco_, ornamentally stained and put on in geometrical patterns.
Our officials regarded this great meeting as entirely satisfactory. We
made ready for an early start the next morning, saying good-bye to
Browne, who had accompanied us from Bayombong, and who had shown me
personally many courtesies. His last act of kindness was to take back
with him the various things I had got together, and later to send
them on to me at Manila. Our column was to be increased by a party of
Ifugaos, whom, with a head man named Comhit, Gallman wished to take
through the Bontok into the Kalinga country. The fact that these men
returned safely unaccompanied by Gallman or any other American is
the best possible proof of the positive results already achieved by
our Government in civilizing the highlanders.
CHAPTER XVII
We ride to Bontok.--Bat-nets.--Character of the country.--
Ambawan.--Difficulties of the trail.--Bird-scarers.--Talubin.
--Bishop Carroll of Vigan.--We reach Bontok.--"The Star-Spangled
Banner."--Appearance of the Bontok Igorot.--Incidents.
From Banawe we rode to Bontok, thirty-five miles, in one day, May
7th. This day it rained, the only rain we had during the whole trip,
although the season was now on. But the disturbance in question was
due to a typhoon far to the southward; and as it passed off into the
China Sea, so did the day finally clear. Our first business this
morning was to cross the pass on Polis Mountain, some 6,400 feet
above sea-level, the highest elevation we reached. As we rode out of
Banawe we could see on the wooded sky-line to our right front a cut
as though of a road through the forest; it was not a road, of course,
but an opening normal to the crest of the ridge. Across this a net is
stretched, and the bats, flying in swarms by night to clear the top,
drop into the cut on reaching it, and so are caught in the net in
flying across. We saw several such bat-traps during our trip. In this
way these highlanders eke out their meager supply of meat. The bat in
question is not the animal we are familiar with, but the immensely
larger fruit bat, the flesh of which is readily eaten. Our trail
took us up, and sharply; by nine o'clock we had crowned the pass,
and stopped for chow and rest. In front of us, as we looked back,
plunged the deepest, sharpest valley yet seen, around the head
of which we had ridden and across which we could look down on the
Ifugao country we had just come from; down one side and up the other
could be traced the remains of the old Spanish trail, a miracle of
stupidity. To the right (west), but out of sight, lay Sapao, where the
rice-terraces have received their greatest development, rising from the
valley we were gazing into some 3,000 feet up the slope. Sapao, too,
is the seat of the Ifugao steel industry, so that for many reasons I
was sorry it was off our itinerary. The point where we were resting
has some interest from its associations, for our troops reached it
in their pursuit of Aguinaldo, at the end of a long day of rain,
and had to spend the night without food or fire or sleep. It was not
possible to light a pipe even, a _noche triste_ indeed. Most of the
men stood up all night, this being better than lying down in the mud;
to march on was impossible, as the country was then trailless, except
for the Spanish trail mentioned, to attempt which by night would have
been suicide. A tropical forest can be pretty dreary in bad weather,
almost as dreary as a Florida cypress swamp on a rainy Sunday.
We now made on, having crossed into Bontok sub-province, and by
midday had reached a point on the trail above an Igorot village
called Ambawan. Here we were met by a number of the officials of
the province, who gave us a sumptuous tiffin in the rest-house. And
here, too, we bought a number of baskets made in Ambawan, graceful
of design and well-woven, though small. Governor Evans offered an
escort of Constabulary through the next village, Talubin, the temper
of its inhabitants being uncertain, but Mr. Forbes declined it,
and ordered the escort sent back. We were riding as men of peace,
determined to mark our confidence in the good intentions and behavior
of the various _rancherías_ we passed through.
Immediately on leaving Ambawan, we had to drop from the new trail
(ours) to the old Spanish one for a short distance, for our trail
had run plump upon a rock, waiting before removal for a little money
to buy dynamite with. Having turned the rock, the climb back to the
new trail proved to be quite a serious affair, as such things go,
the path being so steep and so filled with loose sand and gravel
clattering down the slope at each step that only one man leading
his horse was allowed on it at a time, the next man not starting
till his predecessor was well clear at the top. A loss of footing
meant a tumble to the bottom, a matter of concern if we had all been
on the path together. But finally we all got up and moved on, this
time over the narrowest trail yet seen, a good part of the way not
more than eighteen or twenty inches wide, with a smooth, bare slope
of sixty to eighty degrees on the drop side, and the bottom of the
valley one thousand to fifteen hundred feet or more below us. Many
of us dismounted and walked, leading our horses for miles. With us
went an Igorot guide or policeman, who carried a spear in one hand,
and, although naked, held an umbrella over his head with the other,
and a civilized umbrella too, no native thing. However, it must be
admitted that it was raining.
The mists prevented any general view of the country; as a matter of
fact, we were at such an elevation as to be riding in the clouds,
which had come down by reason of the rain. However, the valleys below
us were occasionally in plain enough sight, showing some cultivation
here and there, rice and _camotes_, the latter occasionally in queer
spiral beds. The bird-scarers, too, were ingenious: a board hung
by a cord from another cord stretched between two long and highly
flexible bamboos on opposite banks of a stream, would be carried
down by the current until the tension of its cord became greater
than the thrust of the stream, when it would fly back and thus cause
the bamboo poles to shake. This motion was repeated without end,
and communicated by other cords suitably attached to other bamboo
poles set here and there in the adjacent rice-paddy. From these hung
rough representations of birds, and a system was thus provided in a
state of continious agitation over the area, frequently of many acres,
to be protected. The idea is simple and efficacious.
This long stretch terminated in a land-slide leading down into the dry,
rocky bed of a mountain stream. At the head of the slide we turned our
mounts loose, and all got down as best we could, except Mr. Forbes,
who rode down in state on his cow-pony. Once over, we crossed a
village along the edge of a rice-terrace, in which our horses sank
almost up to their knees. As the wall was fully fifteen feet high,
a fall here into the paddy below would have been most serious; it
would have been almost impossible to get one's horse out. However,
all things come to an end; we crossed the stream below by a bridge,
one at a time (for the bridge was uncertain), and found ourselves
in Talubin, where we were warmly greeted by Bishop Carroll of Vigan
and some of his priests. The Bishop, who was making the rounds of his
diocese, had only a few days before fallen off the very trail we had
just come over, and rolled down, pony and all, nearly two hundred feet,
a lucky bush catching him before he had gone the remaining fourteen
hundred or fifteen hundred.
Talubin somehow bears a poor reputation; its inhabitants have a
villainous look, owing, no doubt, in part to their being as black and
dirty as coal-heavers. This in turn is due to the habit of sleeping
in closed huts without a single exit for the smoke of the fire these
people invariably make at night, their cook-fire probably, for they
cook in their huts. However this may be, the people of this _ranchería_
showed neither pleasure nor curiosity on seeing us, and I noticed that
a Constabulary guard was present, patrolling up and down, as it were,
with bayonets fixed and never taking their eyes off the natives that
appeared. These Igorots lacked the cheerfulness and openness of our
recent friends, the Ifugaos. Their houses were not so good, built
on the ground itself, and soot-black inside. The whole village was
dirty and gloomy and depressing, and yet it stands on the bank of a
clean, cheerful stream. However, the inevitable _gansas_ were here,
but silent; one of them tied by its string to a human jaw-bone as a
handle. This, it seems, is the fashionable and correct way to carry
a _gansa_. At Talubin the sun came out, and so did some bottles of
excellent red wine which the Bishop and his priests were kind enough
to give us. But we did not tarry long, for Bontok was still some miles
away. So we said good-bye to the Bishop and his staff and continued
on our way. The country changed its aspect on leaving Talubin:
the hills are lower and more rounded, and many pines appeared. The
trail was decidedly better, but turned and twisted right and left,
up and down. The country began to take on an air of civilization--why
not? We were nearing the provincial capital; some paddies and fields
were even fenced. At last, it being now nearly five of the afternoon,
we struck a longish descent; at its foot was a broad stream, on the
other side of which we could see Bontok, with apparently the whole
of its population gathered on the bank to receive us. And so it was:
the grown-ups farther back, with marshalled throngs of children on the
margin itself. As we drew near, these began to sing; while fording,
the strains sounded familiar, and for cause: as we emerged, the
"Star-Spangled Banner" burst full upon us, the shock being somewhat
tempered by the _gansas_ we could hear a little ahead. We rode past,
got in, and went to our several quarters, Gallman and I to Governor
Evans's cool and comfortable bungalow.
I took advantage of the remaining hour or so of daylight to get a
general view of things. One's first impression of the Bontok Igorot
is that he is violent and turbulent; it is perhaps more correct to
say that, as compared with the Ifugao, he lacks discipline. It is
certain that he is taller, without being stronger or more active
or better built; in fact, as one goes north, the tribes increase in
height and in wildness. The women share in the qualities noted. Both
men and women were all over the place, and much vigorous dancing was
going on. Using the same _gansa_ as the Ifugao, the Igorot beats
it on the convex side with a regular padded drumstick, whereas
the Ifugao uses any casual stick on the concave side. Moreover,
the Bontok dancers went around their circle, beating their _gansas_
the while, in a sort of lope, the step being vigorous, long, easy,
and high; as in all the other dances seen, the motion was against
the sun. The _gansa_ beat seemed to be at uniform intervals, all full
notes. While our friends the Ifugaos were, on the whole, a quiet lot,
these Bontok people seemed to be fond of making a noise, of shouting,
of loud laughter. They appeared to be continually moving about, back
and forth, restlessly and rapidly as though excited. On the whole, the
impression produced by these people was not particularly agreeable;
you felt that, while you might like the Banawe, you would always be
on your guard against the Bontok. But it must be recollected that we
had no such opportunity to see these people as we enjoyed in the case
of Banawe and Andangle. The occasion was more exciting; they were
more on show. It is not maintained that these are characteristics,
simply that they appeared to be this afternoon and, indeed, during
the remainder of our stay.
Individuals appeared to be friendly enough, though these were
chiefly the older men. One of them, a total stranger to me, came up
and intimated very clearly that he would like the transfer of the
cigar I was smoking from my lips to his. In a case like this, it is
certainly more blessed to give than to receive, but in spite of this
Scriptural view of the matter, I nevertheless naturally hesitated to
be the party of even the second part in a liberty of such magnitude,
and on such short acquaintance, too. However I gave him the cigar;
he received it with graciousness. I found now that I must give cigars
to all the rest standing about, and, after emptying my pockets, sent
for two boxes. An expectant crowd had in the meantime collected below,
for we were standing on the upper veranda of Government House, and,
on the two hundred cigars being thrown out to them all at one time,
came together at the point of fall in the mightiest rush and crush
of human beings I ever saw in my life. A foot-ball scrimmage under
the old rules was nothing to it. Very few cigars came out unscathed,
but the scramble was perfectly good-humored.
Of weapons there was almost none visible, no shields or spears,
but here and there a head-ax. The usual fashion in clothes prevailed;
gee-string for the men, and short sarong-like skirt for the women. Hair
was worn long, many men gathering it up into a tiny brimless hat, for
all the world like Tommy Atkins's pill-box, only worn squarely on the
apex of the skull, and held on by a string passed through the hair in
front. In this hat the pipe and tobacco are frequently carried. Many
of these hats are beautifully made, and decorated; straw, dyed of
various colors, being combined in geometrical patterns. Ordinary ones
can be easily got; but, if ornamented with beads or shell, they command
very high prices, one hundred and fifty pesos or more. Many men were
elaborately tattooed, the pattern starting well down the chest on each
side and running up around the front of the shoulder and part way down
the arm. If, as is said, this elaborate tattoo indicates that its owner
has killed a human being, then Bontok during our stay was full of men
that had proved their valor in this particular way. Earrings were very
common in both sexes; frequently the lobe was distended by a plug of
wood, with no appreciable effect of ornament, and sometimes even torn
open. In that case the earring would be held on by a string over the
ear. One man came by with three earrings in the upper cartilage of
each ear, one above the other. Still another had actually succeeded in
persuading nature to form a socket of gristle just in front of each
ear, the socket being in relief and carrying a bunch of feathers. A
few men had even painted their faces scarlet or yellow. No one seemed
to know the significance of this habit (commoner farther north than at
Bontok), but the paint was put on much after the fashion prevailing
in Manchuria, and, if possibly for the same reason, certainly with
the same result. The pigment or color comes from a wild berry.
CHAPTER XVIII
Importance of Bontok.--Head-taking.--Atonement for
bloodshed.--Sports.--Slapping game.
Bontok is a place of importance, as becomes the capital of the
Mountain Province. Here are schools, both secular and religious; two
churches in building (1910), one of stone (Protestant Episcopal), the
other of brick (Roman Catholic), each with its priest in residence;
a Constabulary headquarters; a brick-kiln, worked by Bontoks; a
two-storied brick house, serving temporarily as Government House,
club and assembly; a fine provincial Government House in building;
streets laid off and some built up, these in the civilized town. This
list is not to be smiled at; a beginning has been made, a good strong
beginning, full of hope, if the unseen elements established and
forces developed are given a fair chance. The place was important
before we came in; the native part is ancient and has a municipal
organization of some interest. Spain first occupied the place in 1855
and garrisoned it with several hundred Hokanos and Tagalogs. She has
left behind a bad name; but the _insurrectos_ (Aguinaldo's people),
who drove the Spaniards out, have left a worse. Both took without
paying, both robbed and killed; the _insurrectos_ added lying.
Some four hundred Igorot warriors were persuaded by the _insurrectos_
to join in resisting the Americans and went as far south as Caloocan
just north of Manila, where, armed only with spears, axes, and shields,
they took their place in line of battle, only to run when fire was
opened. According to their own story, [32] which they relate with
a good deal of humor, they never stopped until they reached their
native heath, feeling that the _insurrectos_ had played a trick on
them. Accordingly, it is not surprising that when March went through
Bontok after Aguinaldo, the Igorot should have befriended him, nor
later that the way should have been easy for us when we came in to
stay, about seven or eight years ago.
The site is attractive, a circular dish-shaped valley, about a mile
and a half in diameter, bisected by the Rio [33] Chico de Cagayán,
with mountains forming a scarp all around. Bontok stands on the left
bank, and Samoki [34] on the right; separated only by a river easily
fordable in the dry season, these two Igorot centers manage to live in
tolerable peace with each other, but both have been steadily hostile
to Talubin, only two hours away. However, it can not be too often
said that this sort of hostility is diminishing, and perceptibly.
We spent two days at Bontok very quietly and agreeably. The first
day, the 8th, was Sunday, and somehow or other I got to church
(Father Clapp's, the Protestant Episcopal missionary's) only in
time to see through the open door an Igorot boy, stark naked save
gee-string and a little open coat, passing the plate. Father Clapp
has been here seven years, has compiled a Bontok-English Dictionary,
and translated the Gospel of Saint Mark into the vernacular. As already
said, he has a school, a sort of hospital; is building a stone church;
is full of his work, and deserves the warmest support. It must be
very hard to get at what is going on behind the eyes of his native
parishioners. For example, shortly before our arrival, a young Igorot
had been confirmed by Bishop Brent. Now this boy was attending school,
and in the school was another boy from a _ranchería_ that had taken
a head from the _ranchería_ of the recent convert. When the latter's
people learned of this, they sent for their boy, the recent convert,
the Monday after confirmation, held a _cañao_ (killing a pig, dancing,
and so on), and sent him back resolved to take vengeance by killing
the boy from the offending _ranchería_. Accordingly, on Thursday, at
night, the victim-to-be was lured behind the school-house under the
pretext of getting a piece of meat, and, while his attention was held
by an accomplice with the meat, the avenger came up behind, killed
him, and was about to take his head when people came up and arrested
him. This case illustrates the difficulties to be met in civilizing
these people. Legally, under our view, this boy was a murderer; under
his own customs and traditions, he had done a commendable thing. When
the boys' school was first opened, they used to take their spears and
shields into the room with them; this proving not only troublesome,
but dangerous, their arms are now taken away from them every morning,
and returned after school closes.
Many people came to see Governor Evans this day, among them a young man
begging for the release of a prisoner held for murder. He really could
not see why the man should not be set free, and sat patiently for two
hours on his haunches, every now and then holding up and presenting a
white rooster, which he was offering in exchange. The matter was not
one for discussion at all, but Evans was as patient as his visitor,
paying no attention to him whatever. Whenever the pleader could catch
Evans's eye, up would go the rooster and be appealingly held out. Only
two or three weeks before, a private of Constabulary had shot and
killed the head man of Tinglayan some miles north of Bontok. He was
arrested, of course, and when we came through was awaiting trial. But
a deputation had come in to wait on Mr. Forbes, and ask for the slayer,
so that they might kill him in turn, with proper ceremonies. Naturally
the request was refused; but these people could not understand why, and
went off in a state of sullen discontent. Here, again, was a conflict
between our laws, the application of which we are bound to uphold,
and native customs, having the force of law and so far regarded by the
highlanders as meeting all necessities. The practice of head-hunting
still exists in the Bontok country, though the steady discouragement
of the Government is beginning to tell. Here in Bontok itself, a boy,
employed as a servant in the Constabulary mess, dared not leave the
mess quarters at night; in fact, was forbidden to. For his father,
having a grudge against a man in Samoki across the river, had sent
a party over to kill him. By some mistake, the wrong man was killed,
and it was perfectly well understood in Bontok that the family of the
victim were going to take the son's head in revenge, and were only
waiting to catch him out before doing it. These homicides can, however,
be atoned without further bloodshed, if the parties interested will
agree to it. A more or less amusing instance in kind was recently
furnished by the village of Basao, which had in the most unprovoked
manner killed a citizen of a neighboring _ranchería_, the name of
which I have unfortunately forgotten. The injured village at once made
a _reclama_ (_i.e._, _reclamatión_, claim for compensatory damages),
and Basao agreed, the villages meeting to discuss the matter. When
the claim was presented, Basao, to the unspeakable astonishment and
indignation of the offended village, at once admitted the justice
of the _reclama_, and handed over the damages--to-wit, one chicken
and pesos six (three dollars). This was an insult to the claimant;
for on these occasions it seems that each party takes advantage
of the opportunity to tell the other what cowards they are, what
thieves and liars, how poor and miserable they are, that they live on
_camotes_--in short, to recite all the crimes and misdemeanors they
have been guilty of from a time whereof the memory of man runneth
not to the contrary, this recital being accompanied, of course, by an
account of their own virtues, qualities, and wealth. The claimants in
this case accordingly withdrew, held a consultation, and, returning,
declared that in consequence of the insult put upon them the damages
would have to be increased, and demanded one peso more! The body is
always returned, and the damages cited are for a body accompanied
by its head; if the head be lacking, the damages go up, no less than
two hundred pesos, a fabulous sum in the mountains.
The highlanders [35] believe in bird signs and omens drawn from animals
generally. A party sent out to arrest a criminal had been ordered to
cross the river at a designated point. Returning without their man,
the chief was asked where they had crossed, and, on answering at
so-and-so (a different point from the one ordered), was asked why he
had disobeyed orders. It seems that a crow had flown along the bank
a little way, and, flying over, had alighted in a tree and looked
fixedly at the party. This was enough: they simply had to cross at
this point. Sent out again the next day, a snake wriggled across the
trail, whereupon the chief exclaimed joyfully that he knew now they
would get their man at such a spot and by one o'clock, that the snake
showed this must happen. Unfortunately it did so happen!
The afternoon passed listening to stories and incidents like those just
given, until it was time to go and see the sports. [36] These, with one
exception, presented no peculiarity, races, jumping, tug-of-war, and
a wheelbarrow race by young women, most of whom tried to escape when
they learned what was in store for them. But the crowd laid hold on
them and the event came off; the first heat culminating in a helpless
mix-up, not ten yards from the starting-line, which was just what
the crowd wanted and expected. The exception mentioned was notable,
being a native game, played by two grown men. One of these sits on
a box or bench and, putting his right heel on it, with both hands
draws the skin on the outside of his right thigh tight and waits. The
other man, standing behind the first, with a round-arm blow and open
hand slaps the tightened part of the thigh of the man on the box, the
point being to draw the blood up under the skin. The blow delivered,
an umpire inspects, the American doctor officiating this afternoon,
and, if the tiny drops appear, a prize is given. If no blood shows,
the men change places, and the performance is repeated. The greatest
interest was taken in the performance this afternoon, many pairs
appearing to take and give the blow. The thing is not so easy as
it looks, the umpire frequently shaking has head to show that no
blood had been drawn. The prizes consisted of matches, which these
highlanders are most eager to get.
The day closed with a _baile_, given by the Ilokanos living in
Bontok. Many of these are leaving their narrow coastal plains on the
shores of the China Sea and making their way through the passes to
the interior, some of them going as far as the Cagayán country. It
is only a question of time when they will have spread over the whole
of Northern Luzon. This _baile_ was like all native balls, _rigodón_,
waltzes, and two-steps; remarkably well done too, these, considering
that the _señoritas_ wear the native slipper, the _chinela_, which
is nothing more or less than a heelless bed-room slipper. But one
_señorita_ danced the _jota_ for us, a graceful and charming dance,
with one cavalier as her partner, friend or enemy according to the
phase intended to be depicted.
CHAPTER XIX
The native village.--Houses.--Pitapit.--Native
institutions.--Lumawig.
The next day, the 9th, Father Clapp very kindly offered to show
Strong and me the native village, an invitation we made haste to
accept. This village, if village it be, marches with the Christian
town, so that we at once got into it, to find it a collection of huts
put down higgledy-piggledy, with almost no reference to convenience of
access. Streets, of course, there were none, nor even regular paths
from house to house; you just picked your way from one habitation to
the next as best you could, carefully avoiding the pig-sty which each
considerable hut seemed to have. I wish I could say that the Igorot
out of rude materials had built a simple but clean and commodious
house! He has done nothing of the sort: his materials are rude enough,
but his hut is small, low, black, and dirty, so far as one could tell
in walking through. The poorer houses have two rooms, an inner and an
outer, both very small (say 6 × 6 feet and 4 × 6 feet respectively,
inside measurement), cooking being done in the outer and the inner
serving as a sleeping-room. There is no flooring; although the fire
is under the roof (grass thatch), no smoke-hole has been thought
of, and as there are no window-openings, and the entrance is shut
up tight by night and the fire kept up if the weather be cold, the
interior is as black as one would expect from the constant deposit
of soot. The ridge-pole of the poorer houses is so low that a man
of even small stature could not stand up under it. The well-to-do
have better houses, not only larger, but having a sort of second
story; these are soot-black, too. We made no examination of these,
not even a cursory one. The pig-sty is usually next to the house,
and is nothing but a rock-lined pit, open to the sky, except where
the house is built directly over it.
It is astonishing that these people should not have evolved a better
house, seeing that the Ifugaos have done it, and the Kalinga houses,
which we were to see in a day or two, are really superior affairs.
Passing by a certain house, Father Clapp stopped and said, "Here is
where Pitapit was born," and stood expectant. Strong and I looked
furtively at each other; it was evident that we were supposed to
know who Pitapit was. But as we did not, the question was put:
"Who is Pitapit?" Father Clapp, gazing pityingly upon us, as though
we had asked who George Washington was, then enlightened us. Pitapit
is a Bontok boy of great natural qualities, so great, indeed, that he
was sent to the States to a church school, where he had recently won
a Greek prize in competition! Father Clapp was naturally very proud
of this, as he well might be. The fact of the matter is that Igorot
children are undeniably bright; given the chance, they will accomplish
something. And I repeat what I have said before: we are trying to
give them and their people a chance, the only one they have ever had.
We remarked, as we walked about this morning, that although Father
Clapp seemed to know some of the people we met and would speak to them,
they never returned his greeting. None of these highlanders have any
words or custom of salutation. In the Ifugao country, however, they
shake hands, and would frequently smile when on meeting them we would
say, "_Mapud!_"--_i.e._, "Good!"--the nearest thing to a greeting
that our very scanty stock of Ifugao words afforded. But the Igorot
never shook hands with us nor offered to: they have no smile for the
stranger, though they seem good-humored enough among themselves.
Poor as we found the village on the material side, it has nevertheless
some interesting institutional features. For example, it has sixteen
wards, or _atos_, and each _ato_ has its meeting-place, consisting
of a circle of small boulders, where the men assemble to discuss
matters affecting the _ato_, such as war and peace; for the _ato_
is the political unit, and not the village as a whole. A remarkable
thing is the family life, or lack of it rather: as soon as children
are three or four years old, they leave the roof under which they
were born and go to sleep, the boys in a sort of dormitory called
_pabajunan_, occupied as well by the unmarried men, [37] and the girls
in one called _olog_. And, as one may ask whether pearls are costly
because ladies like them or whether ladies like pearls because they
are costly, so here: Is the Igorot house so poor an affair because
of the _olog_, etc., or does the _olog_ exist because the house is
poor? Be this as it may, and to resume, the children go on sleeping
in their respective _pabajunan_ and _olog_ until they are grown up
and married. A sort of trial marriage seems to exist; the young men
freely visit the _olog_--indeed, are expected to. If results follow,
it is a marriage, and the couple go to housekeeping; otherwise all the
parties in interest are free. Marriage ties are respected, adultery
being punished with death; but a man may have more than one wife,
though usually that number is not exceeded. However, a man was pointed
out to us, who maintains in his desire for issue, but without avail,
a regular harem, having no fewer than fifteen wives in different
villages, he being a rich man.
Among other things shown us by Father Clapp was a circle of highly
polished boulders, said traditionally to be the foundation of the house
of Lumawig, the Deity of the Bontok. One stone was pierced by a round
hole, made by Lumawig's spear: on arriving, he decided he would remain
permanently in Bontok, and began by sticking the shaft of his spear
in the stone in question--a very minor example, by the way, of his
magical powers. More interesting, perhaps, than the ruins of Lumawig's
house was a sacred grove on a hill rising just back of the village,
in which, according to Father Clapp, certain rites and ceremonies
are held once a year. The matter is one for experts, but it appears
strange that this people should have a sacred grove, as being unusual.
We wound up our stay in Bontok by going to a grand dinner in Government
House, given by Pack. [38]
CHAPTER XX
We push on north.--Banana skirts.--Albino child.--Pine
uplands.-- Glorious view.
Our two days' stay had greatly refreshed our horses and ponies, and
they needed it, not only because of the work already done, but because
of the effort we were going to ask of them during the next forty-eight
hours, when the sum total of our ascents was to be 18,000 feet, and
of descents the same, and the distance to be travelled seventy miles.
We continued our journey on the 10th, leaving Van Schaick behind,
and also Cootes, both of whom had been taken ill, not seriously,
but enough to make it safer to fall out than to go on. On this day,
the relations between neighboring _rancherías_ being uncertain, we
changed _cargadoros_ at the outskirts of each village we came to. We
could undoubtedly have taken the same set of men through, but it
was thought best not to try it. At the same time, the mere fact of
our riding through unmolested, and still more the fact that Gallman
was taking a party of Ifugaos with him to show them the country, is
proof positive that peace is making its way in the North, just as it
has already done farther south.
Our first day the going was very hilly, and very hot; we dismounted
frequently so as to spare our cattle over the steepest ups and
downs. As before, not only was the scenery that unfolded itself,
as we rose from the valley of the Río Chico, of great beauty, but
it increased in beauty the farther north we travelled. And I can
not but regret again my inability to give some idea, however faint,
of these mountains and valleys and rivers, especially of those that
paraded themselves before us on the second day's ride.
About four hours out (the hour, and not the mile, being the unit of
the highlands), as we were nearing the top of a ridge, a party of
young women and girls came out of the wood on our left, each with a
banana-leaf skirt on, no less and no more. They had simply stripped off
one side of the leaf, and, after splitting the other into ribbons, had
wrapped the stem about their waists, and there they were, each with a
sufficient skirt. One of them had apparently never seen a horse before,
and showed so much interest that Pack gallantly offered to let her
mount his and take a ride. When the remainder of her party understood
from her motions that she was actually going to bestride that monster,
they set up a chorus of ear-piercing shrieks and screams and laid
hold on their insane sister, and besought her with lamentations not
to risk her life. During the struggle, Mr. Worcester came up and
produced a diversion by offering red cloth, and, moving to the top
of the ridge for the distribution, we found there some twenty-five
or thirty more damsels, of all ages from grandmother to mere tot,
and all banana-skirted. Mr. Worcester said that in all his experience
he had never seen the like before. Heiser, in the meantime, had got
out his camera and tried to form a group with the children in front
and the older ones back. But when they realized that the effect of
this would be to conceal all but the heads and shoulders of those
in rear, the group broke up almost automatically, giving way to a
line with arms linked, which no amount of effort on anyone's part
succeeded in breaking. Each one was resolved to be in the picture at
full length! In the crowd, looking on, was a man carrying an albino,
a child two or three years of age, with absolutely fair white skin
and yellow hair. It was sound asleep, and so I did not see its eyes,
but otherwise it was a perfect albino; even here at home and as
a normal child it would have been regarded as unusually fair. The
pack had now got up, and Mr. Worcester began his issue. At his feet
stood a little lassie, whom he overlooked, and whose countenance,
as she saw the red cloth diminishing and likewise her chances,
displayed the most vivid play of emotion. Finally, when the last
yard of the stuff had been given out and she had got none of it,
two large tears formed and ran down her cheeks. Poor little thing,
but ten minutes ago she had braved it with the best of them, but her
skirt had now suddenly gone out of style! The eternal feminine! I
neither saw nor heard any other child cry during the whole trip. As
we rode off, our banana-grove accompanied us part way, singing, and,
disappearing behind a hillock on our left,
"Unrobed and unabashed in Arcady,"
shifted from Nature's weave to man's.
From this point to the stream at its foot, the ridge on which
we found ourselves was completely bare of trees, and presented
a different appearance from any other so far seen or to be seen,
tremendous rounded masses. One of these had been split through the
middle by a recent earthquake: the right half, as we looked at it,
dropping down eight or ten feet below the other, a splendid example of
convulsive power. Across the stream and nearly at the top of the climb
that followed we halted for chow and sleep under some tall pines. Two
hours later we were off again, through a country from which all visible
suggestion of the tropics had disappeared. We were passing through
red soil uplands, grass and pines, with a clear view in all directions.
Passing on, we now faced one of the most disagreeable ascents of the
whole trip: a bare, mountainous hill facing south, so steep that we
had to switch-back it to the top, with the sun blazing down on our
backs, the hour being three of the afternoon, and not a breath of
wind going. It was too steep to ride, and our water-bottles were
empty. When we got to the top, Gallman and I, we could both have
exclaimed with Villon,
"_Je crache blanc comme coton._"
What wonder, then, that on finding a clear, cold spring at hand,
Gallman should have drunk his fill of the cool water, and that
he should have persuaded me, against my better judgment, to take a
swallow of it, just one swallow, no more? Who would have believed that
a mere taste of such innocent-looking, refreshing water could have
had such dire consequences? For it made me ill for six weeks, at times
all but disabling me. However, as water, it was irreproachable; and,
anyway, as though to compensate the tiresome climb just finished, we
had before us now one of the most glorious views imaginable. From far
to the south--indeed, from the blue mountains bounding the view miles
away, the silver ribbon of the Río Chico unrolled itself in a straight
line between green-sloped mountains, rising from its very banks and
towering into the clouds. At our feet, but far below, the river turned
square to the east in a boiling rapid between gigantic walls of rock,
the mountains here yielding to its sweep in a broadening valley only
to press on it beyond and thrust it back on its way northward. It
was all splendid and simple; if you please, nothing but a stream
filling the intersecting slopes of a wedge-shaped valley and turning
off because it had to. But the serenity of the whole composition:
gray rocks, shining waters, green slopes; white mists, enveloping the
crests, smiling in the afternoon sun! Jaded as were our faculties of
admiration by the many exquisite scenes we had already passed through,
this one held us. We had to leave it, though, making our halt later
for the night at a rest-house in a pine wood, near a good stream.
CHAPTER XXI
Deep valley.--A poor _ranchería_.--Escort of boys.--Descent of
Tinglayan Hill.--Sullen reception at Tinglayan.--Bangad.--First
view of the Kalingas.--Arrival at Lubuagan.
We were off early the next morning, the 11th, our destination
being Lubuagan, the capital of the Kalinga country. We had a long,
hard day before us. As I was about to mount, I noticed that Doyle,
Mr. Forbes's groom, looked seedy, and learned that Bubud had broken
loose in the night and gone the rounds of the herd, kicking every
animal in it before he could be caught, and so robbing poor Doyle
of a good part of his sleep. After riding a bit through the pines,
the ground apparently dropped off in front of us out of sight, rising
in a counter slope on the other side, in a great green wall from which
sprang a hogback; only this time it was a razor-back, so sharp was its
edge, up which back and forth ran the trail. It was another of those
deep knife-like valleys; this one, however, challenging our passage,
and justly, for it was more cañon than valley, and it took us nearly
two hours to cross it. But it was worth the trouble and time. For
imagine a cañon with forested sides and carpeted in green from the
stream in its bed to the highest bounding ridge! Near the top we came
upon a bank of pitcher-plants, the pitchers of some of them being fully
six inches long. A mile or so farther on, we halted and dismounted
near a little _ranchería_, Butbut by name, in a corner of the hills,
the people of which had been assembled for the "Commission." These
were the only physically degraded-looking people we saw on the trip;
small of stature, feeble-looking and spiritless. The reason was not
far to seek: it is probable that they live hungry, through lack of
suitable ground for rice-cultivation, and because their neighbors
are hostile. Now, I take it on myself to say that it is just this
sort of thing that will come to an end if Mr. Worcester is allowed to
carry out his policies. For, with free communication and diminishing
hostility, interchange of commodities must needs take place. Indeed,
the relations existing between _rancherías_ are nothing but our own
system of high protection carried to a logical extreme by imposing
a prohibitive tariff on heads! Fundamentally, granted an extremely
limited food-supply, every stranger is an enemy, and the shortest
way to be rid of the difficulty involved in his presence is to reduce
him to the impossibility of eating.
On reaching the top of Tinglayan Hill, which we did shortly after
leaving the poor people just mentioned, we saw a man coming towards us
accompanied by thirty or forty boys not more than ten or eleven years
of age, all gee-stringed, and eight of them carrying head-axes on their
hips. When the man got up, he handed Mr. Worcester a bamboo about a
yard long. Mr. Worcester drank and then passed it on back to us, the
best stuff, it seemed to us that hot morning, we had ever tasted. We
were now in the _basi_ country; this being a sort of fermented
sugar-cane juice, judiciously diluted with water. [39] The boys now
formed a sort of column with the ax-bearers immediately in front of
Mr. Worcester as a guard of honor, and we got a good look at them,
well-built, erect, of a light brown, with black flowing hair. They
were as healthy-looking as possible, and, what is more, intelligent of
countenance--by all odds the brightest, most cheerful lot of youngsters
we had yet seen. As we moved off they set up a chant, clear and wild,
beginning with a high note and concluding with as deep a one as their
young voices could compass. The thing was as beautiful as it was wild,
and astonishing from the number and range of notes used.
Marching thus, we came upon a large gathering of men, women, and
children, to whom various gifts of cloth, pins, beads, etc., were
made. Here Gallman found, to his amazement, that he could understand
the speech of these people. Not trusting his own ear in the matter,
he sent Comhit about to talk to them, and reported afterward that
both not only had understood what was said, but had made their own
selves understood. Neither of them could make out a word in the poor
village we had just passed through, nor anywhere else on the road in
the Bontok country.
We now began the long descent to Tinglayan, seven miles, most of us
walking and leading our ponies. At Tinglayan, instead of the usual
cheerful crowd waiting to welcome us, we found only a few extremely
sullen men and women, who held themselves persistently aloof. There
were no children, neither were chickens nor eggs offered--a bad
sign. This reception was due entirely to the refusal of the authorities
to give up the Constabulary private that had but recently shot and
killed the head man of the _ranchería_, as already explained. However,
in time, Mr. Worcester prevailed on the few present to accept gifts,
and we affected not to notice the character of our reception, not only
the best, but indeed the only thing to do. Here we had _chow_. We
were now directly on the left bank of the Chico, and, passing on,
found the country more open, and so better cultivated, the paddies
being broad, the retaining-walls low, and the countryside generally
wearing an air of peace and affluence. This impression deepened as
we reached Bangad, extremely well situated on a tongue running out
at right angles to the main course of hills. Here was a semblance
of a street, following the trail, or, rather, the trail, going
through, had followed the street. The houses were larger, cleaner,
better built; in short, substantial. One of them, unfinished, gave
us some idea of its construction: floor sills on posts to ground;
roof frame of planks, 1 × 6 inches, bent over to form the sides of
the house when completed, all hard wood, without a single nail, the
whole being held together by mortises and tenons and other joints,
accurately made and neatly fitted. We remained here an hour or so,
while the "Commission" was making gifts to the people. No weapons
whatever were visible, and the women and children moved about freely
without a trace of shyness or fear. Our way beyond the village now
took us by many turns back to the river, the trail finally rising
in the side of a vertical cliff, such that by leaning over a little
one could look past one's stirrup straight down to the water many
hundreds of feet below. At the highest point the trail turned sharp
to the left, almost back on itself. I am proud to say that I rode it
all, but was thankful when it was behind us. Heiser's horse this day
got three of his feet over the edge and rolled down eighty or ninety
feet, Heiser having jumped off in time to let his mount go alone. It
was fortunate for him that this particular cliff was not the scene of
this fall. Some three miles farther, on fording a stream, we passed
from Bontok into Kalinga, and were met by Mr. Hale, the Governor, with
two warriors, tall and slender, broad of chest and thin of flank, with
red and yellow gee-strings, tufts of brilliant feathers in their hair,
and highly polished head-axes on their hips. Greetings over, we went
on, and soon reached the river again, going down the left bank until
we came upon what seemed to me to be a most interesting geological
formation. For the bank of the river here rose sharply in a rounded,
elongated mass, the end of which toward us was cut off, as it were,
just as one cuts off the end of a loaf of bread, and showed alternate
thin black and white strata only three or four inches thick tilted
at an angle of sixty or seventy degrees and mounting several hundred
feet in the air. The trail itself had been cut out in the side of
the mass, and was so narrow that not only was everyone ordered to
dismount, but the American horses were all unsaddled, the inch or
two so gained being important in passing along. The black and white
strata showing on the path, there was an opportunity to examine them;
the black layers were so soft and friable that they could be gouged
out with ease with the hand, and appeared to be vegetable, while the
white stripes were most probably limestone. This bit of the trail
is regarded as dangerous, because the rock overhead is continually
breaking loose and tumbling down; for this reason it was unsafe to try
to dislodge pieces for later examination. One of our _cargadores_,
as it was, fell over, his pack getting knocked in, while he himself
escaped with a bruise or two. It was a bad place! At the end of it
a host of Kalingas acclaimed us, as picturesque as the warriors we
had met at the stream, and took over the pack. Leaving the river,
we began what appeared to be an interminable climb to Lubuagan. Up
ran the trail, disappearing far ahead above us, behind the shoulder
of the ridge; and we would all be hoping (those of us to whom the
country was new) that Lubuagan would be just around the turn, only to
find we had the same sort of climb to another shoulder; the fact being
that the ridge here thrust itself out in rising echeloned spurs, each
one of which had to be turned, so that we began to doubt if there was
such a place as the capital of the Kalinga province. In truth, we had
been up since 3:30 and were nearly spent from heat and thirst. But at
last we made the final turn, and entered upon a narrow green valley,
with a bold, clear stream rushing over and between the rocks that
filled its bed. Broad-leafed plants nodded a welcome from the waters,
as we rode through the grateful shadow of the overarching trees, and
shining pools smiled upon us. We crossed a bridge, came down a bit,
and, breaking through the fringe of trees and shrubs, saw before us
the place-of-arms of Lubuagan.
CHAPTER XXII
Splendid appearance of the Kalingas.--Dancing.--Lubuagan.--_Basi_.
--Councils.--Bustles and braids.--Jewels and weapons.--Excellent
houses.
The sight that greeted us was stirring, suggesting to the piously
minded Bishop Heber's unmatched lines:
"A noble army, men and boys,
The matron and the maid."
There must have been thousands of people, as many women as men, and
almost as many children as women, all of whom set up a mighty shout
as our little column emerged. But what especially and immediately
caught the eye was the brilliancy of the scene. For, whereas the
people so far encountered had impressed us by the sobriety of color
displayed, these Kalingas blazed out upon us in the most vivid reds
and yellows. Many of them, women as well as men, had on tight-fitting
Moro jackets of red and yellow stripes; but whatever it was--skirt,
jacket, or gee-string--only one pattern showed itself, the alternation
of red and yellow, well brought out by the clear brown of the skin. As
though this were not enough, some men had adorned their abundant
black hair with scarlet hibiscus flowers, and all, or nearly all,
wore plumes of feathers, one over each ear. Each _ranchería_ has its
distinctive plume; as, red with black tips, black with red, all red,
white with black, and so on, some with notched and others with natural
edges. Many men had axes on their hips. The whole effect was startling,
and all the more that these people, erect, sinewy, of excellent build
like their comrades farther south, were perceptibly taller, men five
feet ten inches tall not being uncommon. Add to this a stateliness of
walk and carriage, combined with a natural, wholly unconscious ease
and grace of motion, and it is easy to imagine the fine impression
made upon us by our first look upon these assembled people. It is
not too much to say that the whole sight was splendid; but, more than
this, under the surface of things, it was easy to catch at once the
possibility of a real development by these people under any sort of
opportunity whatever.
We had hardly dismounted before the dancing began, in general against
the sun, as elsewhere. Each _ranchería_ of the many present had its
dancers, and all made a display. One event, if the sporting term be
permissible, seemed to be a sort of "follow-my-leader"; the motions,
however, being confined to the circle, across which the file would go
from time to time, thus differing from any other dance seen. In some
cases, the step was bold and lively; in others, slow and stately, with
arms outstretched. The _gansa_ music was not nearly so well marked as
that of the Ifugaos; it seemed to lack definition (an opinion advanced
with some hesitation, and which a professional musician might not
agree with). Sometimes women only appeared; in fact, up here the
sexes did not mix in the dance. If we had remained longer in this
part of the country, perhaps the differences and characteristics of
this expression of native genius would have stood out more clearly;
but in our short time, with so much dancing going on, impressions
necessarily overlapped. And, in any case, shortly after our arrival,
night fell, putting an end to the show, and we betook ourselves
to our quarters; Captain Harris, of the local Constabulary forces,
most kindly receiving some of us in his house.
_Kalinga_ is neither a race nor a tribe name, but a word meaning
"enemy" or "outlaw," as though the hand of the people that bear
it had been against everybody's else. These people have been great
head-hunters, and have not yet entirely abandoned the practice, though
it is steadily diminishing. It should be recollected, however, that
it is only within the last three or four years that we have had any
relations with them, Mr. Worcester's first visit to Lubuagan having
occurred in 1907. On this occasion, immediately on arriving, he was
shut up with his party in a house; and all night a lively debate went
on outside as to whether the next morning his head should be taken or
not, his native interpreter informing him of the progress of opinion
as the night wore on.
In some respects these Kalingas differed from the tribes already
visited. Their superior height has already been noted. It may be noted
further that they are sloe-eyed, and their eyes are wide apart. It
is said that they have an infusion of Moro blood, brought in, many
years ago, by exiles from Moroland turned loose on the north coast of
Luzon by the Spaniards, with the expectation that the local tribes
would kill them; instead, they intermarried. Among themselves they
call their important men _dato_, a Moro title, and their Moro dress
has already been mentioned. They will not marry outside of their own
blood, and their women, so we were told, would not look at a white man.
Lubuagan itself is extremely well situated on a gigantic terrace-like
slope, as though, as at Kiangan, an avalanche of earth had burst
through the rim of encompassing mountains. Here live the Governor of
the province and the inspector of Constabulary with a detachment; their
houses, with the _cuartel_ and public offices, are disposed around a
sort of parade, divided into an upper and a lower terrace. Aguinaldo
marched through the place during his flight, and left behind seventeen
of his men, sick and wounded. He had no sooner gone than these were
all taken out and beheaded. The native town lies above and just back
of the parade, with its houses running well up on the slopes. These
are, everywhere possible, terraced for rice, and so successfully
that two crops are made every year, as against only one at Bontok
and elsewhere. It follows that the Kalingas have more to eat than
their relatives to the south, and that is perhaps one reason of their
greater stature.
The morning of the 12th, our one full day at Lubuagan, broke clear,
bright, and hot, and so the day remained. Events during the next few
hours had no particular axis. We looked on mostly, though, of course,
here as elsewhere, business there was to be dispatched. The upper
terrace was the scene of crowded activity, being packed with people
from sunrise to sunset. Dancing went on the whole day; the sound
of the _gansa_ never ceased. A particularly interesting dance was
that of a number of little girls, eight or ten years of age, who went
through their steps with the greatest seriousness and dignity, a very
pretty sight. In yet another the performers, nine all told, grown men,
attracted attention from the fact that the handles of their _gansas_
were human lower jaws, apparently new, in the teeth of two of which
gold fillings glistened. The Ifugaos, who, it will be recollected,
had accompanied us from Banawe, also danced, their steps, motions,
and music forming a sharp contrast. This dance over, Comhit could
not restrain himself, but made a speech, in which he declared that
"These people up here, the Kalingas, are very good people indeed,
but not so good as the Ifugaos." Fortunately, only his own people
understood him. He had noticed on the way that the people we passed
offered nothing to drink to the traveller, and had commented freely to
Gallman on this lack of hospitality, so different from his country's
habits. We had nothing to complain of, however, on this score at
Lubuagan, for _basi_ circulated freely the whole day, being passed
along sometimes in a tin cup, at others in a bamboo; everybody drank
out of one and the same vessel. On the whole, this _basi_ was poor
stuff, not nearly so good as _bubud_. Harris told me after the day
was over, and we had taken innumerable tastes, at least, of the brew
(for one must drink when it is passed), that in preparing _basi_ a
dog's heart, [40] cut up into bits, is added to the fermenting liquid
to give it body. One man amused us by going around with a bamboo six
inches or more in diameter and at least eight feet in length over
his shoulder, and obligingly stopping to let his friends bend down
the mouth and help themselves--a "long" drink if there ever was one!
But it was not all _basi_ and dancing: councils were held, the visiting
_rancherías_ profiting by the opportunity of enforced peace to clear up
issues. At these councils, which came off in the open, on the parade,
the people of the _rancherías_ interested would sit on the ground
in a circle, maintaining absolute silence, while their spokesmen, a
head man from each, walked around in the circle. The man who had the
floor, so to say, would remain behind and address his adversary in
the debate, who meantime kept on walking around with his back turned
squarely on the speaker. As soon as the argument in hand had been
made, both would countermarch, and the listener would now become the
speaker. A great part of the debate was taken up on both sides by a
recital of the crimes and misdemeanors of which the other party had
been guilty. In one of these councils, one debater--wearing civilized
dress, by the way--suddenly broke through the circle and disappeared,
much to our astonishment, until it was explained that his opponent
in the debate had charged him with having recently poisoned six
persons; as this was perilously near the truth, the criminal simply
ran away. The accuser was a fine-looking man, splendidly dressed, of
a haughty countenance, displaying the greatest contempt for all the
arguments addressed to him, his impatience being marked by "_Hás!_"
accompanied by stamping on the ground the while and striking it with
the butt of his spear. This chief was in confinement at Lubuagan,
but, to save his face, Governor Hale had enlarged him during our stay.
Naturally there was an opportunity during the day of observing many
things in some detail. Who shall say, for example, that the Kalingas
are not civilized? The women and girls all wear bustles, a continuous
affair made of _bejuco_, an endless roll, in short, of varying radius,
that over the small of the back being considerably the greatest. The
top of the skirt is tucked in all round, instead of being directly on
the skin, as farther south. In further proof of the local civilization,
the women wear false hair. One matron was obliging enough to undo her
coiffure for our benefit, and held out by its end, for our admiring
inspection, a mighty wisp nearly three feet long. She put it back on
for us after the manner, as I have since been informed, of a coronet
braid. The men gave fewer evidences of civilization, unless smoking
cigars in holders will serve. However, one man brought up his wife
and children and regularly introduced them to us, the woman doing
her part with great coolness, while the children gave every sign of
terror. This incident struck me as being very unusual. Everyone had on
at least one necklace, and some three or four necklaces, of dog-teeth,
of agate beads (these being immensely prized, agate not being native to
the Philippines), or of anything else the form, color, and hardness of
which could make it answer for purposes of ornament. One young woman
had on sleigh-bells, the tinkle of which we heard before we saw its
source, an incongruous sound in those parts. These bells must have
been brought down by Chinese trading from the plains of Manchuria. Two
or three young men displayed what looked like lapis lazuli around
their necks, but what turned out at closer quarters to be pieces of
a blue china dinner-plate. They had cut out the white interior and
then divided the rim radially, the jewels thus formed being all of the
same size and shape, with perfectly smooth edges. Here, too, were the
same pill-box hats as those seen at Bontok, some elaborately beaded
and costing from one to five carabaos apiece; in one case the lid of
a tomato tin had been pressed into service as a hat. But the finest
thing of all was the head-ax, a beautiful and cruel-looking weapon,
the head having on one side an edge curving back toward the shaft, and
on the other a point. To keep the weapon from slipping out of the hand,
a stud is left in the hard wood shaft, about two-thirds of the way from
the head, the shaft itself being protected by a steel sheathing half
way down; the remainder being ornamented with decorative brass plates
and strips, and the end shod in a ferrule of silver. The top of the ax
is not straight, but curved, both edge and point taking, as it were,
their origin in this curve; the edge is formed by a double chamfer,
the ax-blade being of uniform thickness. All together, this weapon is
perhaps more original and characteristic than any other native to the
Philippine Archipelago. With it goes the Kalinga shield of soft wood,
made in one piece, with the usual three horns or projections at the
top and two at the bottom. These projections, however, are cylindrical,
and the outside ones are continued down the edge of the shield and so
form ribs. In the ordinary Igorot shield the horns are flat, merely
prolonging the surface of the shield, or else presenting only a very
small relief. As usual, a lacing of _bejuco_ across top and bottom
protects the shield against a separation in the event of an unlucky
stroke splitting it in two.
We found the town unusually clean. Public latrines exist, and public
drinking-tanks, both put in by Governor Hale, and highly approved of
the people. The houses themselves were the best we had seen, some of
them hexagonal in ground plan, and built of hard woods. The pigs stay
underneath, to be sure, but their place is kept clean. Rich men have
rows of plates, the dinner-plates of civilization, all around their
houses, and take-up floors of split bamboo are common, being rolled up
and washed in the neighboring stream with commendable frequency. All
together, Lubuagan made the impression of an affluent, not to say
opulent, center, inhabitated by a brave, proud, and self-respecting
people.
CHAPTER XXIII
We leave the mountains.--Nanong.--Passage of the Chico.--The
Apayao.--Tabuk.--The party breaks up.--Desolate plain.--The
Cagayán Valley.--Enrile.
The morning of Friday, May 13th, broke clear after a night of hard
rain. We set off before sunrise, our way now taking us eastward for
the last stage of the mountain journey proper. The whole earth this
morning seemed to be a-drip: every stream was rushing, and banks of
cloud, fog, and mist crowned the heights and filled the valleys. To
describe even approximately our course as we descended from the great
terrace of Lubuagan is well-nigh impossible; but, as we came down,
scene after scene of the greatest beauty offered itself to our
admiration. The landscape softened too; we were leaving the high
mountain land behind us, not too suddenly, however; for example,
at one point a huge valley lay below us, bounded on the other side
by a tremendous vertical wall of rock, over which fell a powerful
stream. I estimated the fall at the time as at least four hundred feet.
In due course we came to an affluent of our old friend the Chico, and
had to ford. The stream was up, but we got over without mishap. Fording
is always a delicate operation in these, mountains after a hard rain,
since no one can ever tell what the nature of the footing will be,
because of the boulders swept down. On this occasion Evans's pony
stopped short in mid-stream, refusing either to move on or back. There
was nothing for it but dismount and investigate, Evans discovering
that his pony had put one foot down between two large stones close
together and so was simply caught fast. The country had now become
decidedly more open; the trail for long stretches was almost a road. As
a matter of fact, we were on the old main line of communication from
the highlands to the Cagayan Valley. We made our first halt at Nanong,
where everybody brought in gifts of chickens, eggs, and _camotes_
and received beads, red cloth, pins and needles in return. What made
a particular impression here was the number of children brought in,
all wide-eyed, sloe-eyed, and some of them extremely pretty. The
remainder of the day we spent going down the left bank of the Chico,
encountered again at Nanong. Shortly after leaving this point two
large monkeys, brown with white breasts, appeared on the edge of
the trail, apparently protesting with the utmost indignation against
our presence in those parts. Harris remarked that once passing this
point alone he had run into eighteen of them, and that for a time he
thought they were going to dispute his passage. These were the only
animals we saw on the whole trip, not counting a few birds. The valley
opened hereabouts, and on the other bank, the right, a sharp-edged
terrace came into view, fully three hundred feet above the river and
continuing for miles as far as the eye could see. This must be an
unusually good example of river terrace. On our side the trail was cut
out of the cliff, solid rock, with a straight drop to the river below,
a stretch of two of the hottest miles conceivable, what with the full
blaze of the sun and the heat radiated and reflected from the face
of the cliff. I was so weak from the water I had drunk the other day
that I dismounted and walked the whole way, so that, if knocked out
by the heat, I should at least not fall off my pony; a tumble on the
wrong side would have brought the journey to a very sudden end. But,
fortunately, nothing happened, and we at last got down to the level
of the river again, only to find it half in flood and fording out of
the question. We were on the upstream side of a huge dome of rock,
rising from the river itself, the only way around which was to
cross twice. The rest of the party coming up with the _cargadores_,
we had to wait until bamboo rafts could be built, the raft really
being nothing but a flat bundle lashed together with _bejuco_. In
this case our rafts were so small that under the weight of only one
man and his kit they immediately became submarines, so that one got
partially wet crossing. Our horses and ponies were swum over.
We were six hours making the two passages; still we were in luck,
for had the stream been really up, we should simply have had to camp
on its bank and wait for the waters to fall, a fate that sometimes
overtakes the traveller in a country where an innocent stream may
become a raging torrent almost while one is looking at it.
We slept that night in a rest-house just across the river from Tabuk,
and next morning the party divided, Mr. Worcester, Dr. Strong,
Governor Pack, and Lieutenant-Governor Villamor to continue the
mountain trip into Apayao, while the remainder of us, having been
invited to accompany Mr. Worcester only as far as Tabuk, went on to
the Cagayán River. It may be of interest, however, to say a few words
here about the Apayao country, my authority being the "Seventh Annual
Report of the Secretary of the Interior to the Philippine Commission"
for the fiscal year 1907-1908.
This country was first visited by Mr. Worcester in 1906. The Spanish
Government never having succeeded in gaining a foothold in it. "During
the insurrection Lieutenant Gilmore, of the United States Navy, and
his fellow-captives were taken into the southern part of it and there
abandoned." "So far as is known, no white man had ever penetrated
the southern and central portions of Apayao until" Mr. Worcester,
suitably accompanied and escorted, crossed the Cordillera, in 1906,
from North Ilokos. A later expedition, commanded by a Constabulary
officer, was attacked, not necessarily from any hostility to it
as such, but because it was accompanied by natives hostile to a
_ranchería_ (Guenned) approached on the way. A punitive expedition,
led by the same officer, afterward met with some success, but American
popularity suffered in consequence. The Apayao country is the only
sub-province under a native Governor, and its Governor, Señor Blas
Villamor, is the only Filipino that has ever shown any interest in
or sympathy for the highlanders. His task has been a difficult one;
for example, his only line of communication, the Abulug River, runs
through a territory inhabited by Negritos, who had been so abused
by the Christian natives on the one hand, and whose heads had been
so diligently sought by the wild Tinguians of the mountains, on the
other, that they had acquired the habit of greeting strangers with
poisoned arrows. His mountain region itself was inhabited by inveterate
head-hunters, most of whom had never even seen a white man. Conditions
are improving, however; the raids against the Christian and Negrito
inhabitants of the lowlands of Cagayán have been completely checked,
and Mr. Worcester hopes that head-hunting will diminish. It still
exists. Strong told me, on his return to Manila, that, looking into
a head-basket after leaving Tabuk, he found in it fresh fragments
of a human skull; for the Apayaos take the skull like the other
highlanders, but unlike them, break it into pieces. But with these
people head-hunting is a part of their religious belief, and so all
the harder to uproot. With the others it is a matter of vengeance,
or else even of sport. "On the other hand, the people of Apayao have
many good qualities. They are physically well-developed and are quite
cleanly. They erect beautifully constructed houses. Their women are
well clothed, and both men and women love handsome ornaments. They
are quite industrious agriculturists and are now begging for seed and
for domestic animals in order that they may emulate their Christian
neighbors in the raising of agricultural products."
Of course we should have been very glad to go on with Mr. Worcester
into the Apayao country if he had asked us; but it is practically
trailless as yet, and for a party as large as ours would have been,
questions of supply and transportation would have been difficult, to
say nothing of the impolicy of taking a large number into the country
at all. And so, on Saturday morning, May 14th, we shook hands with
Mr. Worcester and his companions. His progress so far had been an
unqualified success, unmarred by a single adverse incident, for the
deplorable loss of life at Kiangan could in no wise be attributed
to our presence or to the occasion. What the results of the visit
of 1910 will be, only time can tell; but experience shows that every
year marks an advance in the spread of friendly relations, not only
between the Government and the people, but between the subdivisions
of the people itself. [41]
The Chico being still up when we reached it, we crossed again on
submarines, climbed the bank, and found ourselves in Tabuk (or Talbok),
the most pestilential hole in the Archipelago. Nothing is left of it
now but a ruinous church and one or two houses. The first mass was said
here or hereabouts in 1689, by the Dominicans, who kept up the mission
until the monks all died of fever. Did an occasional officer in the old
days prove objectionable to the authorities in Manila, he got an order
to proceed to Tabuk for station; it was almost certain that he would
never return. The point is of unquestionable importance, commanding,
as it does, the main outlet, of the Kalinga country to the plains of
the Cagayán Valley; and so our own Government undertook to garrison
it with Constabulary as a check on raids. The garrison remained long
enough to be carried out on stretchers, and was removed to Lu-bagan,
where the check is just as complete and personal control possible.
We had a long and hard day before us, but we did not know it when we
set out from Tabuk at about seven in the morning. Gallman, Harris,
and I kept together; our first business was to cross a vast, roughly
circular plain fifteen miles in diameter, and densely overgrown with a
rough, reedy grass two feet and more high. A foot-path ran across the
plain, visible for only a very short distance ahead as long as one was
in it, but imperceptible twenty yards to the right or left. To lose
this path would have been a serious matter, as it would have been a
heart-breaking thing to force one's way through the undisturbed grass.
It would be hard to imagine anything else more wearisome than that
fifteen-mile stretch. The sun was riding high in the heavens, "shining
on both sides of the hill"; not a breath of wind was stirring nor
was there, barring a rare bird or two, a sign of life save the
thousands of flies which, as our ponies pushed aside the grass
overhanging the path, rose in clouds only to settle on our faces,
hands, necks, backs, everywhere. We began by brushing them off,
but it was of no use, and so we rode with our faces turned to a dim
haze of low mountains bounding the plain on the east, and themselves
dominated by still another range, the Sierra Madre, so distant as
to look like a bank of immovable blue cloud. For miles our plodding
seemed to bring them no nearer. If we could only get out of that sea
of olive-gray grass, on which the heavy, stifling air seemed to press,
and reach those nearer mountains! Twice the path led us into sinks or
depressions fully ninety or one hundred feet below the level of the
plain; why these could not have been avoided when the path was first
struck out is hard to imagine, unless it was to get to water. For
one of these sinks boasted of a clear, bold stream with all of its
course underground save the part in the depression. In both were
full-grown trees and grateful shade. Had we not been pressed to get
through, it would have been interesting to explore these huge sinks;
but we passed on, the flies, which had abandoned us on our descent,
rejoining us when we climbed out on the other side. In time we reached
our mountains, arid, bare, eroded, wind-bitten, and made our way
slowly and painfully up and through the pass, our trail hereabouts
being nothing but a trench so deep and narrow that part of the way we
could not keep our feet in the stirrups. As we neared the crest of
the range the pass disappeared, and for the last half-mile or so we
attacked the ridge directly. When we got to the top, we found a gallant
breeze blowing, and, spreading out before us, the vast plains of the
Cagayán Valley. Far over in the east, and apparently no nearer than
ever, rose the blue, cloud-like mountains of the Sierra Madre, now
showing like a wall, which indeed they are, and one which no man has
so far succeeded in scaling. But not a sign of life, of man or beast,
caught our eye. And yet this valley is an empire in itself; its axial
stream, the Rio Grande de Cagayán, or Ibanag, the "Philippine Tagus"
of the ancient chronicles, the longest river of the Archipelago, by
overflowing its banks every year, renews the fertility of the soil
wherever its waters can reach. We stood here on the ridge a long time,
resting and looking. Below us green ribbons, following the undulations
of the plain, marked the trail of various water-courses; but, apart
from this evidence of Nature's living forces, somehow or other the
entire landscape was silent and desolate. We now began the descent,
leading our ponies, for it was too steep to ride, and at last came to
a stream where we found shade and grass, and, better yet, the advance
guard of the party with food and drink ready. Our next stage was over
rolling country, covered with fine short grass; once over this, the
ground broke in our front, and we made the descent, finally coming
out on the lowest floor of the valley at Enrile, two or three miles
from the river. Night was falling as we made our way through its
grass-grown streets, finding the air heavy, the people dull-looking,
and everything commonplace: we had already begun to miss our mountains.
CHAPTER XXIV
Tobacco industry.--Tuguegarao.--Caves.--The Cagayán
River.--Barangayans.--Aparri.--Island of Fuga.--Sail for
Manila.--Stop at Vigan.--Arrival at Manila.
The great valley in which we now found ourselves really deserves more
notice than perhaps it is suitable to give it here. As everyone knows,
it furnishes the best tobacco of the Islands, tobacco that under proper
care would prove a dangerous rival to that of Cuba, though it can
never quite equal the product of the Vuelta Abajo. The cattle industry
should prosper here--in fact, did a few years ago; the broad savannas,
some of which we had crossed, furnishing excellent pasturage. It was
proved long ago that this region was naturally adapted to the culture
of silk and to the raising of indigo and sugar-cane. While tobacco
was a Government monopoly, [42] the valley was wealthy, traces of
wealth being still found in the hands of the people under the form
of jewels, some of them costly and beautiful.
The passage of the Payne bill has already brightened the prospects of
the people, and especially of the small growers, for prices paid on
the spot have already gone up very considerably. The valley is sure
to flourish before many years shall have passed, and nothing else
would so much hasten this end as the completion of the railway from
Manila. But when we passed through, a sort of general apathy seemed
to fill the air: the people were listless, and so much of the tobacco
crop as we could see looked neglected. A partial explanation is to be
found in the belief, wide-spread in these parts at this time, that the
comet had come to mark the end of all things, and that any work done
would be wasted. This belief, however, did not check the native and
courteous hospitality of the people; all of us were taken in for the
night, Evans and I going to Señor Cipriano Pagulayan's, where we found
an excellent dinner awaiting us--in particular, coffee of superlative
excellence. Don Cipriano was very modest about it, explaining that the
coffee had been roasted only after our arrival and ground just before
it was set on; but none the less it was admirable. Now, this coffee,
of course, was grown in the valley, and there is no reason why its
cultivation should not be taken up on a large scale for export.
Enrile held us only for the night. The next morning we all mounted,
alas! for the last time, and, escorted by a great number of local
magnates, took the road for the river. Here we left our mounts to
Doyle, who was to return with them to Baguío. It was with great regret
that I parted from Bubud: he had carried me faithfully and well, and
I shall not soon forget his saucy head, looking after us as we got
down the bank to go on board the motor-launch of the Tabacalera. [43]
In a few minutes we had crossed and landed at Tuguegarao, the
capital of the province, and still retaining traces of its wealth
and importance in the great days of the tobacco monopoly. It has an
imposing church built of brick, a hospital, and a Dominican college,
all of substantial construction; its streets are broad and well laid
out, but of the town itself not much can be said, as a fire swept off
most of it a few years ago. Still Filipino towns rise easily from the
ashes, and there is no reason why prosperity should not again smile
upon this ancient borough.
We tarried two or three days in Tuguegarao, waiting for river
transportation and meanwhile greatly enjoying the hospitality
so generously shown us. Major Knauber, of the Constabulary, and
Mr. Justice Campbell, of the Court of First Instance, invited me to
stay with them in a fine old Spanish house they had together. Every
evening Herr ----, of the ---- Company, had us to dinner in his
beautiful bungalow. At a grand _baile_ given us the day after our
arrival, Heiser asked me if I had not dined that day and the day before
at Herr ----'s; on my saying yes, he laughed and remarked that he had
just taken up his cook as a leper to be sent to the leper hospital
on the Island of Culion. But in the East nobody bothers about a thing
like that.
Tuguegarao is a point of departure for some interesting trips,
notably one to some limestone caves, larger than the Mammoth Cave
of Kentucky. In one of these caves, receiving light, air, and
moisture from fissures in the natural surface of the ground, palms
(cocoa and other), bamboos, and other plants and trees are growing
in natural miniature. I was told that this cave was fascinating and
that I ought to go and see it. But time was pressing; although the
commanding General had set no limit on my absence, I felt I ought now
to return. Accordingly, on the morning of the 18th, our transportation
being ready, Mr. Justice Campbell and I went aboard a motor-launch
and set out for Aparri, at the mouth of the river.
All river trips here in the East have an interest; this one proved no
exception to the general rule, though it presented nothing especially
worthy of record. But the Río Grande is the great road of the Valley,
to such an extent, indeed, that there are no land roads to speak of. We
passed between low, muddy banks, frequently of uncertain disposition,
as though wondering how much longer they could possibly resist the wash
of the current. The stream itself is shallow, uncharted, unbeaconed;
its navigation requires constant attention, which it certainly got this
day from our quartermaster, who remained on duty for ten consecutive
hours. We had the ill-luck not to see a single crocodile, although the
river is said to be full of them, all of ferocious temper. On the other
hand, we did see the oddest possible ferry: a bundle or raft of bamboo,
with chairs on top, towed across stream by a carabao regularly hitched
up to it and getting over himself by swimming. This he does on an
even keel, his backbone being entirely out of the water when under way.
There is nothing picturesque about the lower reaches of the Río Grande,
though its upper course, through hilly country, is different in
this respect. The remains of one or two old towns, cut in two by the
shift of the river-bed, excited our curiosity. So did, from to time,
the _barangayans_, or native river-boats, huge, clumsy, ill-built,
and generally with but four or five inches of free-board amidships
on full load. These craft look as though they ought to sink by mere
capillary attraction. However, people are born, live, and die aboard
of them, so they must be safe enough. In the afternoon the river
widened and its right bank, anyway, grew bolder and occasionally
more permanent-looking, and finally, about an hour before sunset, we
perceived the low white godowns of Aparri. We landed not at a wharf,
but at the outer edge of the huddle of craft crowding the water front,
and put up at the Fonda de Aparri, having done eighty-odd miles in
a little over ten hours.
All the tobacco of the Valley reaches the world through Aparri;
it is consequently a port of considerable importance. But it has no
safe anchorage and is frightfully exposed to typhoons, all of which,
if they do not pass over the place directly, somehow or other appear
to step aside to give this region a blow. There is a never-ending
conflict in the adjacent waters between the currents of the China Sea
and those of the Pacific, making navigation hazardous, and for small
boats perilous. On the day of our arrival, calm and fair as it was,
a tremendous surf was beating on the bar, the spray and foam mounting
in a regular wall many feet high, and driven up, not by the gradual
attack of an advancing wave, but by the tireless energy of angry
waters ceaselessly beating upon the same spot.
Of Aparri itself little can be said here: but, small as it is, it
has nevertheless the bustle of all seaports in activity. Many of its
streets are paved with cobble-stones, and some of its buildings are,
if not handsome, at least substantial. But it is cursed with flies:
in our inn, otherwise comfortable enough, the kitchen and the temple of
Venus Cloacina were side by side. The flies were all the more annoying
that we had seen none in the mountains, nor indeed do I recollect ever
having seen them in any number elsewhere in the Archipelago than at
Aparri and in the never-to-be-forgotten plain of Tabuk. However, we
survived the flies, and late in the afternoon of the third day went
on board a Spanish steamer bound for Manila. We used our cabin to
stow our kit, but lived and slept on the deck of the poop, the main
deck between which and the forecastle was crowded with natives. Poor
things! Each family appeared to have an area assigned to it, on which
were piled indiscriminately all its earthly possessions in the shape
of clothes, bags, pots and pans generally; the heap once formed,
its owners sat and slept on it, with the inevitable family rooster
at its highest point lording it over all. In fact, every spot on the
main deck not otherwise occupied was simply filled with roosters,
all challenging one another night and day by indefatigable crowing. As
illustrating the difficulties of navigation in these parts, our steamer
was two hours getting out of the river and across the bar, a matter
of not more than a mile. Once out, she began to roll and pitch in an
incomprehensible manner, seeing there was no wind and no sea. It was
simply the never-ending contest between the Pacific Ocean and the
China Sea. Once fairly in the latter, she behaved steadily enough.
Our journey was without incident; it did not, much to
my disappointment, include the side trip sometimes made to the
Babuyanes Islands for cattle. One of these islands, Fuga, is
especially interesting; urn-burial prevailed in it in the past, the
urns in some cases being arranged in a circle around a central urn
or altar. Moreover, there is in Fuga a stone building known as the
"Castle," with arched doorways, said not to be of Spanish origin,
and near by is a plain strewn with human skulls and other bones,
probably the scene of a battle. The skulls are remarkable from their
great size, some of them being reported as extraordinary in this
respect. The present inhabitants of these islands and of the Batanes
live in stone houses, much like those of North Ireland and the islands
west of Scotland. [44] And so we had hoped, Campbell and I, that
we might get at least a look at Fuga. For, although it lies near to
Aparri, it is hard to reach; small boats, even on calm, smooth days,
being occasionally caught in the wicked currents of these waters and
swamped out of hand. The next morning we made Kurrimao, which has a
shore-line strikingly picturesque in a land almost surfeited with the
picturesque. We stayed long enough to take on a number of carabaos,
which were swum out to the ship, and then hauled out of the water by
a sling passed around their horns.
Our next stop was at Vigan, a well-built town, many of whose houses
are of stone. We reached the town in a motor-car, passing through well
cultivated fields of maguey. The mountains, rising abruptly from the
coastal plain, are here cut by the famous Abra de Vigan, a conspicuous
gap serving as a land-mark to the mariner for miles. And it is the
custom to take a ride of many hours up the pass, and then come down
the rapids in two, on bamboo rafts built for the purpose. This is
a most exciting trip; alas! we had to be contented with an account
of it! But Vigan itself was worth the trouble of going ashore; its
churches and monasteries are extensive, dignified of appearance,
and far less dilapidated than is unfortunately so frequently the
case elsewhere in the Islands. Not the least interesting item of our
very short stay was a visit to a new house, built and owned by an
Ilokano, and equipped with the most recent American plumbing. The
house itself happily was after the old Spanish plan, the only one
really suited to this climate and latitude. But then the Ilokanos are
the most businesslike and thrifty of all the civilized inhabitants:
their migration to other parts, a movement encouraged of long date
by the Spanish authorities, is one of the most hopeful present-day
signs of the Archipelago, I was sorry to take my leave of Vigan;
the place and its environs seemed full of interest. One more stop we
made at San Fernando de Unión the following day, a clean-built town,
but otherwise of no special characteristics. Here we met an officer
of Constabulary that had been recently stationed at Lubuagan, who
told us of coming suddenly one day upon a fight between two bodies
of Kalingas, numbering twenty or twenty-five men each, and this in
Lubuagan itself. According to our ideas, it was no fight at all,
the champions of each side engaging in single combat, while the rest
looked on and shouted, waiting their turn. One man had already been
killed, his headless trunk lying on the ground. On the approach of the
officer they all ran. Here, too, we heard from another Constabulary
officer, that the _insurrectos_ in 1898-1899 forced the Igorots to
carry bells and other loot taken from the _conventos_ and churches,
and would shoot the _cargadores_ if they stumbled or fell, or could
go no farther under the weights they were carrying.
Twenty-four hours later we steamed up Manila Bay. The trip was over.
CHAPTER XXV
Future of the highlanders.--Origin of our effort to improve
their condition.--Impolicy of any change in present
administration.--Transfer of control of wild tribes to
Christianized Filipinos.--Comparison of our course with that
of the Japanese in Formosa.
The question now presents itself: What is to become of these
highlanders of Northern Luzon? And if the answer to be given is
here applied only to them, let it be distinctly understood that
logically the question may be put in respect of all the wild people
of the Philippines. Of these there are over one million in a total
population of perhaps eight millions. At once it appears that
any conclusions we may draw, any speculations we may cherish, in
respect of the Archipelago, as being inhabited by a Christian people
unjustly deprived of liberty by us, must be subject to a very large
and important correction. Limiting our inquiry to Luzon alone, let it
be recollected that of its 4,000,000 population nearly four hundred
thousand, or one-tenth, are highlanders, and that these highlanders,
in all probability, arrived in the Islands at an earlier date than
their Christianized cousins of the lowlands. Let us recollect further
that these people are ethnologically not savages at all; not only
are they workers in steel and wood, weavers of cloth, but hydraulic
agriculturists of the very highest merit. On the side of moral
qualities they invite our approving attention: they speak the truth,
they look one straight in the eye, they are hospitable, courageous,
and uncomplaining; their women are on a footing of equality, more
or less, with the men, and are respected by them. Where they have
had an opportunity, they have shown an aptitude to learn of no mean
quality. Physically they are the best people of the Archipelago, and
under this head would be remarkable anywhere else in the world. Now,
the Spaniards, with a few exceptions, made no systematic, continuous
attempt to civilize these peoples; or, if they did, no measurable
results have come down to our own day, even Villaverde's efforts,
genuine as they were, having left almost no trace. So far from having
done anything for the hillmen, the record of the Spanish at the
very few points garrisoned by them is one of injustice and robbery,
and worse. That of the Filipinos, [45] in imitation of their Spanish
masters, is no better. At any rate, when we took over the Archipelago
in 1898, a vast area of Luzon was held by a people who looked, and
justly, so far as their experience had gone, upon the white man and
his Filipino understudy as an enemy. The difficulty of guiding and
controlling these people undoubtedly had been (and still is) great,
and partly accounts for the state of affairs we encountered when
we first entered the country, but it was necessarily no greater
for our predecessors in the Islands than it has been for us. Now,
where they failed, we, it may be said without fear of contradiction,
are succeeding, and it is but the simplest act of justice to say that
the credit for our success belongs to the Secretary of the Interior of
the Philippine Islands, Mr. Dean C. Worcester. He would be the last
man on earth to say that his success is complete; on the contrary,
he would assert that a very great quantity of work yet remains to be
done, and that what he has done so far is but the beginning. But it is
nevertheless a successful beginning, and successful because it rests
on the solid foundation of honesty and fair dealing, and is inspired
by interest in and sympathy for a vast body of people universally
hated and feared by the Filipino, and until lately neglected and
misunderstood by almost everybody else.
The physical difficulty alone of reaching these various peoples was
not only very great, but mere presence in their country involved
great risk of one's life. Again, the absence of even the rudest
form of tribal organization made the way hard. Take the Ifugaos, for
example, about 120,000 in number, all speaking essentially the same
language, inhabiting the same country, and having the same origins
and traditions. Yet this large body was and is yet broken up into
separate _rancherías_, or settlements, each formerly hostile to all
the others, this hostility being so great that merely to walk into
a neighboring _ranchería_ in plain sight, not more than two miles
off across the valley, was a sure way to commit suicide. And what is
true of the Ifugaos is true of all the others. Could any other field
have been more unpromising, have offered more difficulties? There
were those thousands of savages shut up in their all but inaccessible
mountains. Why not leave them there, to take one another's heads when
occasion offered? They raised nothing but rice and sweet potatoes,
anyway, and not enough of those to keep from going hungry. Why
concern one's self about them, when there was already so much to be
done elsewhere?
To Mr. Worcester's everlasting honor, be it said, he took no
such view. On the contrary, he went to work, and that after a
simple fashion, but then, all great things are simple! The first
thing was to see the people himself; and then came the beginning
of the solution, to push practicable roads and trails through the
country. Once these established, communication and interchange
would follow, and the way would be cleared for the betterment of
relations and the removal of misunderstandings. Today an American may
ride through the country alone, unarmed and unmolested; [46] twenty
years ago a Spaniard trying the same thing would have lost his head
within the first five miles. And this difference is fundamentally
due to the fact, already mentioned, of the honesty of our relations
with these simple mountaineers. We have their confidence and their
esteem and their respect, and this in spite of the necessity under
which our authorities have constantly labored of punishing them when
necessary and of insisting upon law and order wherever our jurisdiction
prevails. The lesson has been hard to learn, but it has been driven
home. The truth of the matter is, that a great missionary work has
been begun; missionary not in the limited sense of forcing upon the
understanding of a yet circumscribed people a religion unintelligible
to them, but in the sense of teaching peace and harmony, respect for
order, obedience to law, regard for the rights of others.
A beginning accordingly has been made, but what is to be the end? We
should not stay for an answer, could we but feel sure that but one
answer were possible. But we can not feel sure on this head; the people
of the Islands, whether civilized or uncivilized, have not yet gone
far enough to proceed alone. To drop the work now, nay, to lessen
it, would merely be inviting a return to former evil conditions. No
greater disaster could befall these highlanders to-day than a change
entailing a diminution of the interest and sympathy felt for them at
the seat of government. It is best to be plain about this matter:
the Filipinos of the lowlands dislike the highlander as much as
they fear and dread him. They apparently can not bear the idea that
but three or four hundred years ago they too were barbarians; [47]
for this reason the consideration of the highlander is distasteful
and offensive to them. The appropriations of the Philippine Assembly
for the necessary administration of the Mountain Province are none
too great; they would cease entirely could the Assembly have its own
way in the matter. The system of communications, so well begun and
already so productive of happy results, would come to an end. To turn
the destiny of the highlander over to the lowlander is, figuratively
speaking, simply to write his sentence of death; to condemn as fair a
land as the sun shines on to renewed barbarism. We are shut up to this
conclusion, not by theoretical considerations, but by experience. The
matter is worth examining a little closely, covering, as it does,
not only the hill tribes, but non-Christians everywhere else.
Certain persons have demanded from time to time that the control
of non-Christian tribes shall be turned over to the Filipinos. Now,
pointing out in passing that the Filipinos and the non-Christians are
distinct peoples, fully as distinct as the Dutch and the Germans,
and that the Filipinos have no just claim to the ownership of the
territory occupied by the wild men, let us ask ourselves if the
Filipinos are able and fit to control the non-Christian tribes. [48]
Consider for a moment the facts set out in the
following extracts:
"With rare exceptions, the Filipinos are profoundly ignorant of the
wild men and their ways. They seem to have failed to grasp the fact
that the non-Christians, who have been contemptuously referred to in
the Filipino press as a 'few thousand savages asking only to be let
alone,' number approximately a million and constitute a full eighth
of the population of the Archipelago."
"The average hillman hates the Filipinos on account of the abuses which
his people have suffered at their hands, and despises them because of
their inferior physical development and their comparatively peaceful
disposition, while the average Filipino who has ever come in close
contact with wild men despises them on account of their low social
development, and, in the case of the more warlike tribes, fears them
because of their past record for taking sudden and bloody vengeance
for real or fancied wrongs."
"It is impossible to avoid plain speaking if this question is to
be intelligently discussed; and the hard fact is, that wherever
the Filipinos have come in close contact with the non-Christian
inhabitants, the latter have almost invariably suffered at their
hands grave wrongs, which the more warlike tribes, at least, have been
quick to avenge. Thus a wall of prejudice and hatred has been built up
between the Filipinos and the non-Christian tribes. It is a noteworthy
fact that hostile feeling toward the Filipinos is strong even among
people like the Tinguians who, barring their religious beliefs,
are in many ways as highly civilized as are their Ilocano neighbors,"
"The success of American rule over the non-Christian tribes of the
Philippines is chiefly due to the friendly feeling which has been
brought about."
"The wild man has now learned for the first time that he has rights
entitled to a respect other than that which he can enforce with
his lance and his head-axe. He has found justice in the courts. His
property and his life have been made safe, and the American governor,
who punishes him sternly when he kills, is his friend and protector
so long as he behaves himself."
"Finally, it should be clearly borne in mind that the Filipinos have
been given an excellent opportunity to demonstrate practically their
interest in the non-Christians, and their ability wisely to direct the
affairs of primitive peoples. While the inhabitants of the Mountain
Province, Nueva Vizcaya, Agusan, and the Moro Province are not now
subject to control by them, and the inhabitants of Mindoro and Palawan
are subject to their control only through the Philippine Legislature,
there are non-Christian inhabitants in the provinces of Cagayán,
Isabela [and eighteen others].
"At the outset, these governors and provincial boards [_i.e._, of
the provinces just mentioned] exercised over their non-Christian
constitutents precisely the same control they had over Filipinos. To
the best of my knowledge and belief, not one single important
measure looking to the betterment of the condition of these
non-Christian inhabitants was ever inaugurated by a Filipino during
this period. Indeed, the fact that no expense would be voluntarily
incurred for them became so evident as to render necessary the passage,
on December 16, 1905, of an act setting aside a portion of the public
revenues for the exclusive benefit of the non-Christians.
"After Apayao was established as a sub-province of Cagayán and the
duty of providing funds for the maintenance of its government was
explicitly imposed upon the provincial board of that province, the
governor stated to me that, in his opinion, it would be useless to
make the necessary expenditure, and that, in his opinion, it would be
better to kill all the savages in Apayao! As they number some 52,000,
this method of settling their affairs would have been open to practical
difficulties, apart from any humanitarian consideration!"
"Contrast with this record of inaction and lack of interest the record
of the special Government provinces [49] and the Moro Province,
where dwell really formidable tribes, which have until recently
engaged in piracy, head-hunting, and murder. Here very extensive
lines of communication have been opened up by the building of roads
and trails and the clearing of rivers. A good state of public order
has been established. Head-hunting, slavery, and piracy are now very
rare. The liquor traffic has been almost completely suppressed. Life
and property have been rendered comparatively safe, and in much
of the territory entirely so. In many instances, the wild men are
being successfully used to police their own country. Agriculture
is being developed. Unspeakably filthy towns have been made clean
and sanitary. The people are learning to abandon human sacrifices
and animal sacrifices and to come to the doctor when injured or
ill. Numerous schools have been established and are in successful
operation. The old sharply drawn tribal lines are disappearing. Bontoc
Igorots, Ifugaos, and Kalingas now visit each other's territory. At
the same time that all of this has been accomplished, the good-will
of the people themselves has been secured. They are outspoken
in their appreciation of what has been done for them and in their
expression of the wish that American rule should continue. They would
be horror-stricken at the thought of being turned over to Filipino
control," [50]
"So far as concerns the warlike tribes, the work for their advancement
thus far accomplished would promptly be lost; for they would instantly
offer armed resistance to Filipino control, and the old haphazard
intermittent warfare, profitless and worse than profitless for both
peoples, would be resumed."
"I say, in all kindness, but with deep conviction, that there is
no reason for believing that Filipino control of the more pacific
non-Christian tribes would not promptly result in the re-establishment
of the old system of oppression which Americans have found it necessary
to combat from the day when military rule was first established in
these islands until now. I speak whereof I know when I say that the
people of these tribes have been warned, over and over again, by
those interested in re-establishing the old régime, that American
control in the Philippines will be only temporary, and that when
the government is turned over to the Filipinos the tribesmen will be
punished for their present 'insubordination' and failure tamely to
submit to injustice and oppression, as many of them formerly did."
These extracts speak for themselves. So far as is known, the report
from which they are drawn has gone unchallenged. Is it necessary any
further to consider the question of a transfer of control from the
present authorities to the Filipinos or to any other authority? Would
not any change in the present administration be singularly unwise? Of
course, the views and arguments set forth here are extremely unpopular
among the politicians of the native ruling class. But then no Filipino
likes the plain, unvarnished truth, a fact that should receive full
weight in considering any demand or request of native or racial origin,
involving questions of government.
With our own treatment of the American Indian in mind, our people
should be the last to consent to any change in the relations or
administration of the wild men of the Philippine Islands not fully
justified by the amplest necessity, not warranted by well-grounded
hopes of greater improvement. These men, for the first time in their
history, are having a chance. That chance is fair to-day, and will
continue fair so long as its administration lies in American hands.,
competent, trained, and experienced.
In taking over the Philippines, we have incidentally become responsible
for a large number of wild men. Their fate is bound up in that of
the Islands. Now, these islands may remain under our control, or
they may not. Obviously, then, the question has its political side:
we may grant full international independence to the Philippines. In
the belief of some this would be merely a signal for civil war in the
Archipelago, the issue of which no man can guess. But whether or not,
in granting independence to the Philippines, we shall be signing the
death-warrant of the highlander. Let us repeat that, this people form
one-tenth of the population of Luzon: save as we arc helping him,
he can not as yet assert himself beyond the reach of his spear. Shall
we be the ones to mark this as the limit beyond which he shall never
go? Let us not deceive ourselves: a grant of independence means the
abandonment of hundreds of thousands of people to perpetual barbarism.
What would happen if the Islands fell into alien hands of course no
one can tell. But there is strong ground for believing that Japan
would enter a mighty bid for the sovereignty of the Archipelago, if
we ever contemplate parting with it. Now, Japan in Formosa has for
years been struggling, and without success, to control or subdue
the aborigines of the mountains, a people of the same blood as
the Igorots, of the same habits and traits, savage head-hunters,
the terror of all the plainsmen of no matter what origin. It is
interesting to read [51] that "among other measures taken by the
Japanese authorities to 'control' the aborigines was the erection of
barbed wire entanglements charged with electricity," the idea being,
after surrounding a savage position by these entanglements, to have
the troops drive the savages upon them. Many people have refused to
believe that this electrical process has ever been put into effect, but
the Kobe newspaper goes on to quote the correspondent of the _Times_
in confirmation. And a correspondent from Shanghai, writing [52] to
give the truth about the state of affairs in Formosa and to defend the
Japanese against the charge of ill-treating the savages, nevertheless
admits having been shown the entanglements, which, he says, are
"as harmless as any ordinary fence wire during the day, except in
cases of serious uprising on the part of the savages. At night it
is charged, but all the savages know this grave fact." According
to the _Times_ correspondent, some three hundred miles have already
been set up, and the work will be pushed until the aborigines "are
wholly caged." Lastly, the _Chronicle_ reports the Governor-General
of Formosa as fixing a term of three years for the suppression of
the bravest and fiercest tribe of all, numbering 50,000, at a cost of
17,000,000 yen. Now, we have no interest here or elsewhere in what is,
after all, a municipal affair of Japan's. She must and will settle her
own problems as seems best to her, and, if she is driven to "suppress"
her Formosan aborigines, it is none of our business. Moreover, before
pronouncing upon the matter, we should in all fairness hear the other
side, although it does look as though the electric wire fence must be
admitted. But there is enough in what is reported from Formosa to give
us pause when we consider the possibility of parting with the control
of the Philippine Islands, whether to Japan or to any other nation.
In so far as the wild tribes of the Archipelago are concerned, we have
made a happy beginning; we owe it to our self-respect to carry on the
work to a happy end. This we can do by heeding the simplest of rules:
Leave well alone.
The Independence of the Philippines.
"Am I my brother's keeper?" _Genesis iv. 9._
"If we lose sight of the welfare of the people in a creed or a phrase
or a doctrine, we have taken leave of our intelligence, and we have
proved ourselves unfit for leadership."--_A Letter to Uncle Sam._
Shall we give their independence to the Philippines? To this question
an answer is still to be made by the American people. Not only do
we not know whether we shall give this independence or not, but we
have not yet decided whether we ought to or not. Even if we could
suppose that the country had made up its mind on the subject, it
would still be true that no competent authority has considered the
manner in which our country would translate its desires into action,
whether in one direction or another.
The reason of this state of affairs is not far to seek: our people
neither know anything about these islands, nor do they care anything
about them. Perhaps it is more accurate to say that our ignorance is
the logical result of our indifference. The Islands are far away, as
it were, inhabited by a different race, busied, on the whole, about
things that form no part of our life, whether national or private. We
have, as a people, bestowed no serious thought upon them; we have
not yet raised the disposition to be made of them to the dignity of
a national question.
I.
The Philippines became ours by the fortune of war. On the subsidence
of the immediate questions raised by the war, we have continued
in the ownership of the Islands without concerning ourselves thus
far as to the ultimate place they are to occupy in our national
ecomony. Of this state of affairs, but one opinion can be expressed:
it is extraordinary. Even in a grossly material point of view,
our attitude is indefensible; if we regard ourselves as landlords,
we are indifferent to our tenants; if as mere owners, then are we
careless of the future of our property. We have not assumed the
responsibilities involved with any national sense of responsibility;
we have neither declared nor formed any policy. But in this fact
lies the extraordinariness of the situation. Of the soundness of our
title to the Islands at international law there is not the shadow of a
doubt; the Islands are ours. What do we intend to do with them? Why
have we not, after fourteen years' possession, found an answer
to the question, or, in other words, declared a policy? Nations,
no less than individuals, must take an interest in their property,
and society demands as a right that any property of whatever nature
shall be adjusted in respect of relations to all other property. We
have followed this course as regards Cuba and Porto Rico; but,
apart from taking the Philippines and continuing to own them, we
have made no adjustment of their case. The property, as such, has
been administered, and, on the whole, well administered; the amount
of work done, indeed, is astonishing. But that is not the issue:
however good has been the official administration of the Archipelago,
whatever the progress under our tutelage of its peoples as a whole,
no one knows to-day what relation will be permanently established
between the Archipelago and the United States, what our policy is, or
is to be, in respect of the Islands. And yet upon our declaration of a
policy hangs their future. The matter in its interest and importance is
national; equally national is the indifference we have displayed with
respect to its settlement. Both the United States and the Philippines
are entitled to a decision.
II.
At the outset of any consideration of the question in hand, it is
obvious that we are not shut up _à priori_ to any one solution. Thus,
we may decide, to keep the Islands, or we may grant them immediate
independence, or independence at some future date; we may establish a
protectorate, or give a qualified independence, or even turn them over
to some other power--for example, England or Japan; or, finally, we
may secure an international agreement to neutralize the Islands, thus
ostensibly guarding them against the ambitions of powerful neighbors
of colonizing disposition. All of these solutions have at one time
or another been mentioned; not one of them has ever been officially
announced by the Government, or ratified by the people. Although they
are all possible, yet a moment's thought shows that they are of very
different weight: it is hard to conceive, for example, of our turning
the Islands over to England. Excluding, then, cession to any foreign
power, we may roughly arrange the various possibilities in a scale,
as it were: (_a_) absolute retention; (_b_) qualified retention; (_c_)
protectorate; (_d_) neutralization; (_e_) international independence
at some future date; (_f_) immediate international independence. On
examining this list thus arranged, certain deductions appear. The
stated various possibilities are not all independent, nor are they
all exclusive one of the others. Thus (_a_) excludes all the rest, or,
better, implies (_b_), (_c_), and (_d_), and excludes (_a_) and (_f_);
(_b_) and (_c_) between them are not independent, since a qualified
retention may pass into a protectorate. Neutralization not impossibly
may ultimately call for a protectorate. Future, independence, so
long as unaccomplished, implies (_a_), (_b_), (_c_), and (_d_), while
(_f_) is completely exclusive. It may, however, not prevent foreign
absorption, if, once out, we stay out.
We shall not here take up all of these possibilities. Whatever other
conclusion may be reached, the American people must first pass, either
tacitly or explicitly, on retention or independence. If either of these
extreme be selected, the other possibilities go by the board. If both
are rejected, the remaining four will then have their day in court.
Our immediate purpose, then, is to discuss the question with which
this investigation opens, with the definite purpose of suggesting,
if not of reaching, conclusions that may help others in forming a
decision. It is only when individual decisions have so increased in
number as in some sort to form a body of public opinion that future
action, whether for or against independence, is to be expected.
III.
However unjustly the American people may treat its own self in respect
of tariffs and other issues deeply affecting its welfare, it may be
taken for granted, and is so taken here, that in foreign relations the
desire of the people is to do what is right. The right determined,
a duty is imposed. Clearly, then, we must first try to discover in
this case what is right--what is right for us, what is right for the
Islanders. It may be that what is theoretically right, or regarded
as theoretically right, shall turn out to be practically wrong; or
that what is right for the one shall be wrong for the other. Again,
some common standing-ground may be found, where the right of each,
converted into the rights of both, may so far overlap as substantially
to coincide.
The idea is held by a vigorous few, and incessantly expressed,
that the American people, through force of arms, is holding in
subjection and depriving of liberty another people; that this
state of affairs is wrong, bad for both sides, and should come to
an end by an immediate grant of full independence to the Filipino
people, because no one nation is good enough to hold any other
in subjection. It is pertinent to remark, that these ideas so far
have found no nation-wide expression: as already said, they are the
expression of only a few, but they may be the private opinions of
many. Taken together, they constitute what may be called the purely
abstract view of the case. This view takes no account of attendant
conditions; it asserts that the right is one and only one thing,
and can not be anything else; that is to say, it defines the right
and refuses to admit that any other definition will hold, or that
any elements can enter into the definition other than those which it
has seen fit to include. If no other aspect of the case be correct,
our duty is indeed plain. But it is conceivable that this view may
not be correct, or at least that so many other factors have to be
considered that what might be true in the abstract is subject to very
considerable modification when applied to things as they are.
Of this, no better illustration can be given here than the error
committed when it is asserted that we, one people, are holding another
people, the Filipino, in subjection. As a matter of fact, there is no
Filipino people. A certain number of persons, about eight millions,
inhabit, the Philippine Archipelago, but it is no more correct to call
these one people than it is to call the Europeans one people, because
they happen to inhabit the European continent. It is well to keep
this point in mind, because, unless a grave error is here committed,
the impression prevails that it is one single, homogeneous people
whom we are unjustly depriving of independence. At any rate, if not
categorically expressed, the connotation of the idea of homogeneity
exists. How far this is from the truth is so evident to any person
having the slightest real acquaintance with the Philippines, that
it would hardly be worth while to dwell upon the matter here, were
it not for the ignorance of our people at large. It is convenient
to speak of the Filipino people, just as it is convenient to speak
of the Danish people, or of the English; but whereas, when we say
"Danish" or "English" we mean one definite thing that exists as such,
when we say "Filipino" we should understand that the term stands
for a relatively great number of very different things. For example,
confining ourselves for the moment to the Christianized tribes, it
may be asserted that the inhabitants of the great Cagayan Valley, the
tobacco-growing country, are at least as different from those of the
Visayas, the great middle group of Islands, as are the Italians from
the Spanish. Precisely similar differences, increasing, roughly, with
the difference of latitude, may be drawn almost at random between any
other pairs of the elements constituting the Filipino population. The
Ilokanos, to give only one more illustration, have almost nothing more,
in common with the Bicols than the fact that they both probably come
from the same original stock, just as the English and the Germans have
the same ancestors. All these subdivisions speak different languages,
and the vast majority do not speak Spanish at all.
But this is not all. The Filipino peoples are divided into two
great classes, the Christian and the non-Christian. Now, these
non-Christians number over a million, and are themselves broken up into
many subdivisions, not only differing in language, customs, habits and
traditions, but until very recently bitterly hostile to one another,
and so low in the scale of political development that, unlike our
own Indians, they have never risen to any conception of even tribal
government or organization. Moreover, in Moroland, in the great island
of Mindanao with its neighbors, the situation is further complicated by
the fact that the dominant elements are Mohammedan. Over most of these
non-Christians the Spaniards had not even the shadow of control. The
appellation "Filipino people" is therefore wholly erroneous; more
than that, it is even dangerously fallacious, in that its use blinds
or tends to blind our own people to the real conditions existing in
the Archipelago. It is correct to speak of the Filipino _peoples_,
because this expression is, geographically, accurately descriptive;
but it is absolutely misleading to speak of the Filipino _people_,
because of the false political idea involved and conveyed by the use
of the singular number. Similarly, there is no objection to the term
"Filipino" or "Filipinos," so long as we understand it to mean merely
an inhabitant or the inhabitants of the Philippine Archipelago,
more narrowly the Christianized inhabitant or inhabitants; but it
is distinctly wrong to give to the term a political or national
color. It may be remarked now that the divisions, both Christian and
non-Christian, of which we have been speaking, determined as they are
by natural conditions, are likely to survive for many generations to
come. At any rate, the fact that many, and those the most important,
constituent elements of the proposed independent government are widely
separated by the seas, and that even those situated on the same islands
are confined by mountain ranges hitherto extremely difficult to cross,
makes it plain that the homogeneity necessary to the formation and
permanency of a strong government will be hard to secure, or, if ever
secured, to maintain.
When, therefore, it is proposed to grant independence to the
Philippine Islands, let it be recollected that this grant is to
be made not to a single homogeneous people, of one speech, of one
religion, of one state of civilization, of one degree of social and
political development, but to an aggregation of peoples, of different
speech, of different religions, of widely varying states of social
and political development, of little or no communication with one
another--to an aggregation, in short, whose elements, before 1898,
had had but one bond, the involuntary bond of inherited subjection
to Spanish authority, and all of which to-day are distinguished by
the characteristic trait of the Oriental, absence of the quality
of sympathy.
IV.
Since, at international law, our title to the Islands is unclouded,
it follows that our responsibility in the premises is complete. If,
therefore, in the administration of our responsibility, our wards
should make a request for independence, it is our duty to examine
this request, to inquire into its origin, and then to investigate
its reasonableness with the purpose of determining whether, in the
circumstances, our wards are able, prepared, or ready to undertake
the responsibilities which they pray us to discharge upon them.
That the request for independence is made, and frequently made, there
can be no doubt. It has been made in the past and it will continue
to be made in the future. One hears it in speeches, and the native
press echoes it. Regularly the Assembly closes, or used to close,
its sessions by a resolution calling upon the United States to
grant immediate independence to the Philippine Islands. Apparently
the request has some volume; in any case, it is more or less loudly
made. Now, if the demand is widespread, if it conies from all ranks of
society, from the humblest peasant in the rice-paddies to the richest
merchant of Manila, from the tobacco-planter of the Cagayán Valley
to the hemp-stripper of Dávao, if it is made in full recognition of
the responsibilities involved, then, whether we are disposed to grant
it or not. it is a serious matter. It becomes serious, objectively,
because so many people arc asking for it. Even if the demand come
but from a few, the matter is nevertheless, subjectively, one of
concern, because we are responsible, and no factor or element should
be overlooked in making up our minds.
Now, it is a fact that the chief demand for independence comes from
the Tagálogs, the subdivision or tribe of the Filipinos (we are using
the word here and elsewhere as a convenience merely) inhabiting Manila
and the adjacent provinces. We speak in all kindliness when we say that
they are distinguished by a certain restlessness of disposition, by a
considerable degree of vanity. They are not so given to labor as some
others--for example, the Ilokanos, to whom they are measurably inferior
in point of trustworthiness. More numerous than any other tribe except
the Visayans, they are also wealthier and better educated. Some of
them have therefore earned and achieved distinction, but these are
exceptions, for in general they are characterized by volatility and
superficiality. They are more mixed in blood than other tribes. It is
not without significance that it was these same Tagálogs who organized
in the past the chief insurrections against the domination of Spain,
principally, as is well known, because of the misrule of the friars. It
is also a fact that the farther one removes from Manila the feebler
becomes the cry for independence. If we consider the condition of the
loudest supporters of the movement, we find them all, or nearly all,
to be politicians, _políticos_. Some of these politicians are not
Tagálogs--for example, Señor Osmeña, the Speaker of the Assembly,
is a Visayan; so that it would perhaps be more accurate to say
of the entire propaganda that it is an affair of the politicians,
supported chiefly by Tagálogs. In other words, it is worth while to
ask ourselves if the demand for independence be real, arising out
of the necessities of the people, or artificial, exploited by the
politicians for ends not unfamiliar to us here in the States. It is
useless to appeal for a decision to public opinion in the Archipelago,
that shall include the whole population, for no such public opinion
exists or can exist. And if it be argued that lack of public opinion
is no disproof of the existence of a real desire for independence, the
rejoinder springs at once to the tongue, that independence would be
a sham where public opinion is impossible. There is cause to believe
that the true aspect of the case is to be found in a remark made
by a young Tagalog (to Mr. Taft himself, if we recollect aright),
that there was no reason why independence should not be established
at once, seeing that the two things needed already existed in the
Philippines, to-wit, the governed in the shape of the peasantry of
the fields, and the governors among the _gente fina,_ the _gente
ilustrada_ (the superior classes) of Manila. However this may be,
a native newspaper of Manila, distinguished by its hostility to all
things American, by its insistent demand for independence, did not
hesitate to accuse the wealthy Filipino class of being "refractory
to the spirit of association," of being "egotistical and disdainful
toward the middle and lower classes," and of refusing "to join their
interests with those of the lower classes." [53]
We do not go so far as do some, and believe that the whole agitation
is but a conspiracy to place the destinies of the Islands in the hands
of an oligarchy. But, in all probability, a Tagálog oligarchy would
be formed; for the capital, Manila, is Tagálog, the adjacent provinces
are Tagálog, the wealthy class of the Islands on the whole is Tagálog,
and there is no middle class anywhere. The mere fact that the capital
is situated in the Tagálog provinces would perhaps alone determine
the issue, apart from the fact that the Tagálogs are the dominant
element, of the native population. Before granting independence,
therefore, we should be reasonably sure that we are not in reality
placing supreme control in the hands of a few.
But let us suppose that in fact the populations of the Archipelago were
quite generally to ask for independence. We must again ask ourselves,
How genuine or real would this demand be? It is not very difficult to
answer this question. The Filipino is most easily led and influenced;
indeed, it is to be doubted if anywhere else in the world a being
can be found more easily led and influenced. [54] For example, it is
relatively not an uncommon thing, certainly in the Tagálog provinces,
for a man having a grudge against a neighbor to invite three or
four friends to join him in boloing his enemy. The invitation is
frequently accepted, although the guests may themselves have nothing
whatever against the victim-to-be. Early in 1909, a miscreant who had
been parading himself in women's clothes as a female Jesus Christ,
upon exposure by a native doctor, out of revenge got together a band
of nineteen men, and with their help proceeded to cut the doctor to
pieces. This occurred within a day's march of Manila. The example just
given suggests another Filipino trait, the readiness with which the
more ignorant will swallow any and all religious nostrums, and form
absurd sects, usually for the financial or other material benefit of
their leaders. In yet another case, a murderous bandit [55] of Tayabas
Province, a Tagálog province, whom we caught and very properly hanged,
used to promise as a reward for any deed of special villainy in which
he might be interested, a bit of _independencia_ (independence),
and then would show a box with the word painted on it, declaring that
it contained a supply sent down to him from Manila. He never failed
to find men to do his will. Our purpose in citing these examples,
whose number might be indefinitely multiplied, is not to show that
the poor, ignorant Filipino is especially criminal of disposition,
but to point out the ease with which he can be led by other men. If,
under evil influence, he will altruistically, as it were, consent to
almost any crime, obviously he can be induced to consent to almost
anything else. His consent or acquiescence can not be taken to indicate
appreciation of the issue.
If told, then, by his political leaders that he must ask for
independence, the Filipino most certainly will ask for it; and the fact
that in the majority of cases he has no idea of what he is asking for
will make no difference to him, just as this makes no difference to his
_cacique_, or boss. But it ought to make a great deal of difference
to us. We may be giving him edged tools to play with, only to find
when too late that the edge has been turned against him, a result
for which we should then be directly responsible. If a general or
universal request could be taken to show that lack of independence is
operating to deprive the Filipino of his liberty and to estop him in
the pursuit of happiness, the situation of affairs would be confessedly
acute. But it is a fact patent to all who know the country, that the
Filipino enjoys a freedom at least as great as that of the average
American citizen, and is at complete liberty to pursue happiness in
any way consistent with the law of the land and with the rights of
others. We must conclude that a request, even if universal, would not
necessarily be for us a safe guide of action. The universality shown
might prove merely that all had agreed to what had been proposed by
the leaders, and would leave untouched the merits of the case.
V.
Intimately allied with this question of reasonableness are those of
readiness, preparedness, capacity to assume the burdens as well as
the rights and privileges of independence.
On readiness, we need not dwell; it is the readiness of acquiescence,
not of preparation: the Filipinos are ready, just as children are
ready to play with matches. But preparedness and capacity call for
more consideration, however brief.
No one will pretend that the Filipinos have had any political
training. Before the arrival of the Spaniards, only 350 years ago,
they were all uncivilized. Many of them are still semi-savages; others
are savages pure and simple. These facts are indisputable. If, then,
we turn to history for assistance, we can not find a single instance
of any real political evolution in any of the various divisions of
the inhabitants of the Archipelago. The exception furnished by the
debased Mohammedan sultanates of the great Island of Mindanao is only
apparent. The germ of fruitful growth is everywhere missing. Now,
the Spaniards assuredly took no steps to teach their new subjects
the art and science of government; there was every reason, from their
point of view, why they should not teach this art and science. On the
other hand, our own course has been totally different. We have lost
no time in putting political power into the hands of the natives,
so that to-day, after fourteen years' possession, municipal and
provincial government are almost wholly native. To crown all,
we have given the Filipinos an elective legislature, an Assembly,
all the members of which are native. Students of the subject at
first hand, impartial observers on the spot, declare freely that
we have gone much too fast, and that we have granted a measure of
political administration and government beyond the native power of
assimilation and digestion. With this opinion, sound though it be,
we are not immediately concerned: the point we wish to bring out is
that the experiment we have made is not free; that the case is one
of constrained motion, since everyone knows that the mighty power of
the United States dominates the entire situation, and that under these
conditions the Filipinos have been exercising themselves in the form of
government, rather than in responsible government itself. The Filipino
government as such has faced no crisis: behind its treasury stands
that of the metropolis. Order is assured by the garrison maintained
by us, internal police by the Constabulary, another agency of American
origin. But, even if all this were not true, it is questionable if an
experience of only eight or nine years affords sufficient ground for
the belief that a nascent government could exist and advance under
its own power alone.
Our training, ample and generous though it may have been, as it has
not, for lack of time if for no other reason, prepared the native to
govern himself, so it furnishes no real test of his capacity to govern
himself. Self-government is not a function of the mere ability to fill
certain offices, to discharge certain routine duties of administration:
it depends for its existence and maintenance on the possession of
certain qualities, and still more, perhaps, on the possession of those
qualities by a majority of the people who practice or are to practice
self-government, on an educated and inherited interest of the citizen
in the questions affecting his welfare in so far as this is conditioned
by government. Tested in this wise, the Filipino breaks down locally;
to believe that anything else will happen internationally is to blind
one's self to the teaching of experience.
But there is yet another test. If political independence is to be of
value to those who have it, if it is to endure in any useful way,
it must rest on economic independence. The state must be able to
meet its obligations, and by this we do not mean merely its current
bills, its housekeeping bills, as it were, but its obligations of
all and whatever nature, interior police, finance, administration,
dispensation of justice, communications, sanitation, education,
defense. We do not find these things too easy in our own land, and
all of us can without effort bring to mind examples of independent
societies in tropical regions, where, these things being neglected,
the resultant government is a mockery. Have we any reason to believe
that the Filipino, untrained, inexperienced, occupying an undeveloped
area of special configuration in a region where continuous effort is
disagreeable and initiative distressing, will achieve success where
others of greater original fitness have made a failure?
Evidently the possibility of obtaining an answer to this question
depends on the possibility of determining, within allowable limits of
precision, the qualities and defects of the Filipino peoples. Now,
this is a difficult thing to do, but it is not an impossible thing;
at any rate, a first approximation may be derived from the authorities
quoted in the "Census of the Philippine Islands," 1903, pp 492 _et
seq._ In time, these authorities range from Legaspi, 1565, to our
own day, and include governors, prelates, travellers, engineers,
priests, etc., among whom are found Spaniards, Englishmen, Americans,
and Filipinos, As might be expected, all sorts of qualities and defects
are reported. Classifying these, and rejecting from consideration all,
whether quality or defect, not supported by at least five authorities,
it may be concluded, so far as this induction goes, that the Filipino
is, on the one hand, hospitable, courageous, fond of music, show,
and display; and, on the other, indolent, superstitious, dishonest,
and addicted to gambling. One quality, imitativeness, is possibly
neutral. It would appear that his virtues do not especially look toward
thrift--_i.e._, economic independence--and that his defects positively
look the other way. If the witnesses testifying be challenged on the
score of incompetency, let us turn to the reports of the supervisors
of the census, contained in the volume already cited; for these
cover the entire Archipelago, and set forth actual conditions at
one and the same epoch, 1903, the date of the census. Moreover,
these supervisors, as welt as the special agents and enumerators,
were nearly all natives. When, therefore, these supervisors report
the mass of the Christianized Filipinos as simple and superstitious,
we may be sure that we have the truth; but we are also inevitably
led to the conclusion of economic unfitness. As this matter of
economic independence is one of the first importance in determining
the future of the Islands, we must look for all the light possible
on the question. A flood is thrown on it by an article entitled
"_Nulla est Redemptio_," published in the (native) _La Democracia_,
of Manila, October 10, 1910, and believed to be the production of
perhaps the ablest Filipino alive to-day. Premising that agriculture is
the chief source of Philippine wealth, and that this source failing,
all others must fail, the author points out that, although taxes are
lighter in the Archipelago than in any other country, production is
much less, and that this is the chief cause of the prevailing economic
distress. He points out further that the Assembly is wholly native,
as are all municipal and nearly all provincial officers, and that
therefore they, and the constituencies that elected them, must assume
responsibility. Now, what has been achieved? The provinces have spent
money on buildings and parks, but, with one brilliant exception, none
on roads. Nothing has been done for agriculture. Of the municipalities,
the least said the better; they are a wreck in the full extension
of the word. And, as the hope of a people must rest in its youth,
what does he find to be the case? Thousands of candidates in pharmacy,
law, medicine; as regards the Civil Service, enough candidates to fill
all the posts in the Islands for generations to come. But of farmers,
young men willing to return to the fields, their own fields, and by the
sweat of their brow to work out the salvation of the country? None:
the development of this principal element of national existence is
left to the ignorant and indolent peasantry. He draws no less gloomy
a picture in respect of capital and property. Nine-tenths of Manila,
and all important provincial real estate, is mortgaged. Capital is
furnished at exorbitant rates of interest, and usury prevails. In the
country, no security is accepted save real property, and then only
when the lender is satisfied that his debtor will be unable to pay,
and that the security will pass.
Bad as the outlook is, no remedy suggests itself. For, returning
to the theme that agriculture is recognized as vital, much energy
is spent in discussion, discourses, lectures, in writing articles,
in discovering reasons why agriculture does not flourish, but nothing
else and nothing more. [56]
The picture may be overdrawn; but it is a Filipino picture, drawn by
a Filipino hand. Let us now permit, the native press to speak again
on the subject engaging our attention. Thus _Vanguardia_ [57] a bitter
anti-American sheet, arraigns its wealthy fellow-countrymen for lack of
initiative and fondness of routine. It accuses them of a willingness to
invest in city property, to deposit money in banks, "to make loans at
usurious rates, in which they take advantage of the urgent and pressing
necessities of their countrymen," but of unwillingness "to engage
in agriculture, marine or industrial enterprise"; and says they are
"generally lacking in the spirit of progression." According to another
native newspaper, the vice of gambling has infected all classes of
society, men and women alike, rich and poor, young and old. Mere it
is almost impossible to overdraw the picture, so widespread is the
vice. Let us now couple these statements, drawn from native sources,
with the fact that the Christianized tribes, all told, number some
7,000,000; that of these but one-tenth speak Spanish; and that of
this tenth only a very few are educated in any accepted sense of the
word. Repeating here a form of summation already employed in this
discussion, let us bear in mind that, if we decide to make a grant
of independence, we shall be deciding to grant it to a population,
composed, first, of a very few educated persons; next, of a small
fraction able, through the possession of Spanish, to communicate,
with one another; and, lastly, of a remainder--the vast, the immense
majority--not only unable so to communicate, but characterized by
qualities that, however commendable in themselves, do not constitute a
foundation on which popular self-government may safely rest. Further,
we mean to grant it to a population which contains no middle class,
to one in which the poor are peculiarly at the mercy of the rich, and
in which nearly all the elements that make for economic independence
are conspicuously lacking.
VI.
What would happen if we were to grant immediate independence to
the Islands? Without having the gift of prophecy, one runs no risk
in declaring that civil war would be almost unavoidable. At least
this is the belief of some well-informed Filipinos, a belief that
appears to have some ground when we take into account, the great
probability of a Tagálog oligarchy. But, without going so far as to
predict armed strife, it would seem that any government, not held
together by some strong external power, would soon begin to break
up. Its various elements, not only differentiated from one another
by speech, but physically separated, in many cases, by the seas,
would tend to fall apart. The Visayas, for example, would refuse
sooner or later to acknowledge the Tagalog supremacy of Luzon. If
we proceed farther south still, what practicable bond can be found
to exist between Mindanao, peopled by Mohammedans and savages,
and Luzon or Panay or Negros? The consequences of such a disruption
as is here predicted must occur to everyone. The gravest of these,
gravest in that it would defeat our purpose in granting independence,
would be foreign intervention. Japan would most certainly insist on
being heard. Now, the Filipinos, as a whole, prefer our sovereignty
to that of the Japanese. England, too, would have a right to interfere
for the protection of her commercial interests in the Archipelago. It
exercised this sort of right, in 1882, by seizing Egypt in behalf of
civilization in general. In the meantime, the Moros of Mindanao and
Jolo would have resumed their piratical excursions to the northward,
burning, killing, and carrying off slaves. If this be questioned,
then let us recollect that as recently as 1897 they carried off slaves
from the Visayas, a sporadic case, probably, but giving evidence that
the disease of piracy is to-day merely latent. Given an opportunity,
it will break out again. Under independence, the large, beautiful,
and fertile island of Mindanao would be left to its own devices,
would be lost to civilization. Upon this point we need have no doubt
whatever. The issue of Filipino control of Mindanao was very clearly
raised, when Mr. Dickinson, the late Secretary of War, visited Mindanao
in August of 1910. Upon this occasion Mr. Dickinson, in response to
a Filipino plea for immediate independence, with consequent control
of the Moros, made a speech in which he declared the unwillingness
of the Government to entrust to the 66,000 Filipinos living in
Mindanao the government of the 350,000 Moros of this province. At
the close of this speech, four _datus_ (chiefs), present with 2,000
of their people, and controlling the destinies of 40,000 souls,
swore allegiance to the United States; and, requesting that, if the
Americans ever withdrew from Mindanao, the Moros should be placed
in control, firmly announced, at the same time, their intention
to fight if the Americans should ever take their departure. One of
the _datus_, Mandi by name, was outspoken in praise of the present
Government, and both he and the other chiefs declared that they were
contented with things as they are. Such testimony as is afforded by
the foregoing incident is not lightly to be brushed aside to make
way for an abstraction. If disregarded, then the efforts that we have
made to better the condition of Mindanao, to introduce some idea of
law and order, some notion of the value of peace and of industry,
will come to a sudden end; for the Christianized Filipinos can never
hope to cope with the active, warlike pirates of Moroland. So far as
this part of the Archipelago is concerned, a grant of independence
means the re-establishment of slavery, the recrudescence of piracy,
[58] the reincarnation of barbarism. How great a pity this would be
may be inferred from the fact that Mindanao forms nearly one-third
of the Archipelago in area, and exceeds Java in arable land. Now,
Java supports a population of over 25,000,000.
If we turn our attention to the other non-Christian elements of the
Islands, the case is no better. The Christianized Filipino fears
and dreads the pagan mountaineers, the head-hunters who occupy so
large a part of Luzon, the largest and most important island of the
Archipelago. He grudges every _centavo_ spent under our direction
for the betterment of these truly admirable wild men The governor,
the Christian governor, of a province bordering on the wild men's
territory, had, indeed, no other idea of the way to treat his pagan
neighbors, about 50,000 in number, than to kill them all. His argument
was that they were worse than useless, why spend any money on them,
when, by exterminating them, all questions affecting them would be
forever answered? But, under our administration, some excellent work
has been done, and is growing, to turn these as yet unspoiled peoples
to account in the destinies of the Archipelago. Independence would
mean the _end_ of this work, the restoration of the old order of
rapine, murder, and all injustice as between Christians and pagans,
and of internecine strife and warfare as between the communities of
the pagans themselves. That this result would follow is not even
questioned by those who have acquired their knowledge at first
hand. Are we willing to shoulder the responsibility of such a result?
We have at our very doors an example of the danger of independence
to a people unfilled for the burdens and responsibilities of
self-government. We have already since 1900 been compelled once
to intervene in the affairs of Cuba: the possibility of a fresh
intervention continually stares our statesmen in the face. But Cuba,
let it be observed, in contrast with the Philippines, has but one
language, one religion; it has no wild tribes, no Mohammedans; its
provinces are not separated from one another by seas of difficult
navigation, are bound together by suitable communications. The curse
of Cuba is personal politics: have we any assurance that this same
curse in a worse form would not come to blast the Philippines?
VII.
Some of the conclusions reached or hinted at in the course of this
argument must have formed themselves in the minds of at least a few
Filipinos of independent character. Otherwise how shall we account
for the fact that some declare their disbelief in the possibility of
independence? How else shall we explain what is far more significant,
the silence under this head of the really first-rate men of the
Archipelago? Is it not worthy of note that Rizal himself, the
posthumous apostle of the Philippines, never advocated or contemplated
independence? In yet other cases, the belief held finds expression
in the assertion that the Islands must be declared independent,
but only under the protection of the United States. What that would
ultimately mean is so plain to those who know the country as to
require no consideration here. It may even be asserted on the best of
authority, so far as any authority is possible in such a case, that
not even those who shout the loudest for independence arc sincere in
their clamor the Assembly itself would be seriously disturbed if its
resolution to this end should suddenly be honored by the United States.
We make bold to quote here, in full, a short editorial that appeared
in the _Weekly Times of_ Manila, December 30, 1910:
"Mr. Perry Robinson, whose articles on the Philippines are now
being published by the London _Times_, makes one point that offers
a valuable, suggestion to our ardent friends of the Nationalist
party. [59] While here, Mr. Robinson interviewed a number of the
leaders of the party and discovered that they were all afraid of
immediate independence. They admitted that the country and people would
not be ready for it for years, and, when pressed for an explanation,
said they feared, if they did not press the question now, it would not
avail them to do so later on. The inconsistency of the present position
must strike every sensible person who examines it. Let us assume that
the United States Government decides at this time to give ear to the
plea of those who are politically active in the Philippines--what will
happen? It will dispatch a commission or committee to the Islands
to examine the representations of those who make the plea. It is
admitted by even the Nationalist leaders, when speaking privately on
this question, that the people are not ready to shift for themselves
and can not be made ready for some years. Surely it is not believed
that the investigators are going to be deceived about the real truth
as to conditions in the Islands, and we are unable to see what good
is to be accomplished by having this inquiry made.
"Would it not be infinitely better for the Nationalist and other
leaders in this country to squarely face the facts and base all their
future operations on the facing of those facts? One difficulty is
that they have made a lot of promises and professions to the people
that they are incapable of fulfilling, and another is that they have
largely aided in deceiving the people themselves as to where they
really stand and as to what they are really capable of under present
conditions. But to go on means discredit and failure in the end, and a
greater work could be done for the country at large by squarely facing
the facts. It must be admitted that neither position is especially
pleasant. There has been created among the people a vanity of ability
and power that will make the blow a hard one; but unless there are
Filipino leaders capable of making the people realize the truth about
their position, there is really not much hope for them in the future.
"The truth is, that the race must be built up physically and its
numbers be enormously increased before it may seriously assume the
obligations of statehood; and, for our part, we await the statesman
who is prepared to drive this and other important lessons home to
the minds and hearts of the people.
"Assurance and pretense serve their purposes on many occasions, but
they must be set aside when it comes to the test that will be applied
to the plea that Filipino leaders now make with such persistency."
It is maintained that the matter of this short editorial deserves to
be as deeply pondered by the people of the United States as by the
Filipinos to whom it is specially addressed.
That all this talk of independence, the motions to that end
occasionally made in Congress, the circulation of so-called
anti-imperialistic literature, have so far endangered the real
interests of the Philippines, there can be no reasonable doubt. The
independence propaganda prevents, or tends to prevent, recognition of
the fact that the Philippines will be greater with the United States
than they can ever hope to be standing alone, if so be that they can
stand alone at all. It has retarded the development of the Islands
and has checked progress. It forces into the background the fact that
with an infinitude of work lying before Americans and Filipinos alike,
if the Islands are to have their full value in the world's economy,
the best way to do this work is for Americans and Filipinos to labor
together, each contributing his share to the common result. Upon this
safe ground both may stand. "The law of life is labor; the joy of
life is accomplishment." But we can not labor if the fruits of our
toil may be torn from us; accomplishment is impossible in the face
of uncertainty and dissension. If our people have the welfare of
the Philippines genuinely at heart, it must thoroughly consider the
question of permanent retention; for this course, on the one hand,
would not only clear away all misunderstanding, but, on the other,
it would meet the real responsibilities of the case. There is no
disposition here to burke the fact that these responsibilities
are serious, if not onerous; that they call for administrative
statesmanship of a very high order. But we should also recognize the
fact that these responsibilities are ours, created by us, and that our
rejection of them is sure to be followed by consequences disastrous,
not to us, but to the Filipinos themselves. If, on the other hand,
we accept these responsibilities, then sooner or later Americans and
Filipinos together could bend their energies to the development of a
country in which they would now have the same interest. And if, under
the prevailing uncertainty, so much has already been accomplished in
preventing disease, abating epidemics, building roads and bridges,
erecting telegraphs and telephones, lighting the coasts, establishing
courts of law, equalizing taxation, conserving forests, founding
schools and colleges, encouraging commerce and agriculture, what may
not unreasonably be expected if all shall feel that the foundations
of order, system, and justice are permanent, that life is secure,
liberty assured, and the pursuit of happiness possible?
Surely there is significance in the effect at once produced in
the sugar-raising islands by the passage of the Payne Bill:
idle fields were planted to cane, and the elections took an
unmistakable _americanista_ trend. There is no better peacemaker
than the pay-master. The Assembly, it is true, fulminated against
the bill: success, prosperity, contentment under its operation
might mean the dissolution of a dream. So they might; but the bill
also categorically established the possibility, and more than the
possibility, of permanently profitable relations under the ægis of
the United States. It might even ultimately greatly reduce, if not
entirely destroy, the racial issue. Here is already common ground,
limited though it be, on which Americans and Filipinos may and do
stand together. If any doubt should exist on this score, we have but
to look at Porto Rico, whose total external commerce has grown, in
round numbers, from 17 1/2 million dollars in 1901 to 79 millions in
1911. During this same interval that of the Philippines has risen from
53 million to 90 million dollars, nearly 20 millions of the increase
being due to the Payne Bill. The population of Porto Rico (census of
1910) is 1,120,000; that of the Philippines, 8,200,000: the area of
Porto Rico is 3,606 square miles; that of the Philippines, 128,000
square miles. This comparison is frankly commercial; but thriving
commerce means prosperity, and prosperity spells content. After
eliminating certain natural and social advantages enjoyed by Porto
Rico, and not by the Philippines, the vast economic difference
between the two can be accounted for only by the different relation
they respectively bear to the United States, a conclusion confirmed
by the effect of the Payne Bill. In the case of one, this relation
is defined; in that of the other, undefined. We intend to remain in
Porto Rico; we do not know what we shall do with the Philippines.
VIII.
To conclude, and in part to repeat: when we took over the Philippines,
we unquestionally at the same time acquired a burden. Of this burden
we can rid ourselves by setting the Islands adrift; or we can declare
that we intend to keep the Islands, as we have kept Porto Rico. In the
light of the argument hereinbefore submitted, which of these courses
appeals to the people of the United States? May we, or may we not,
without incurring an accusation of injustice to a dependent population,
honestly ask ourselves if actual conditions should not sometimes limit
or control the application of an abstract principle? Does our duty in
the premises consist or not in merely satisfying such a principle? Is
it or is it not possible that practical considerations--and what
is practical is not always sordid--may outweigh an abstraction? Is
it or is it not conceivably our duty to use our superior knowledge,
power and experience to the best advantage of those chiefly concerned,
even if these should apparently for a time not agree with us in the
application we purpose to make of our knowledge, power, and experience?
NOTES
[1] See Retana's edition, p. 183, Madrid, 1909.
[2] It is interesting to note that as late as 1889 General Weyler,
then Governor-General of the Archipelago, in establishing various
_comandancias_, drew up regulations for the treatment of the natives,
etc., as remarkable for lenity and good sense as his later measures
in Cuba were, whether justly or not, distinguished for severity.
[3] For an account of the early missions of this order, see the Manila
_Libertas_ of May 23, 1910.
[4] Report of the Secretary of the Interior, Philippine Islands,
1910; Washington Government Printing Office, 1911.
[5] See "Census of the Philippine Islands," Vol. I., p. 453 _et seq.,_
for a discussion of the non-Christian tribes.
[6] Vol. I., p. 60 _et seq_.
[7] Mr. A.H. Savage Landor, in his "Gems of the East," protests against
our practice of boiling water before drinking it, but the experience
of others is against him. He was simply fortunate in not being made
ill by the natural water.
[8] An attempt has been made to stock this river with trout, but it
has proved a failure. The fish grew and throve, but did not breed.
[9] This happened on a large scale in the spring, of this year
(1912). Landslides having occurred on both banks of the cañon, and
as luck would have it, at the same point, the waters rose behind
the natural dam thus formed to a height of over one hundred feet,
and breaking through, scoured the valley in their sweep, completely
wiping out the road.
[10] For a fuller account of Padre Villaverde's labors, see the Manila
_Libertas_ of May 17, 1910. Villaverde remained at his post until his
health broke completely; he set out for Spain, but never reached it,
dying August 4, 1897, and being buried at sea a few hours only from
Barcelona. The great trail he built reduced the cost of transportation
by nine-tenths.
[11] According to the native legend, this mountain used to form part of
the Zambales range. It became, however, by reason of its quarrelsome
disposition, so objectionable to its neighbors of this range, that
they finally resolved no longer to endure its cantankerousness and
accordingly banished it to its present position in the plain of
Central Luzon, where it would have no neighbors to annoy, and where
it has stood ever since, rising solitary from the surrounding plain.
[12] Dr. Barrows, in the "Census of the Philippine Islands," Vol. I.,
p 471, says that the etymology of this word is unknown. As it seems
to mean "people of the mountains," it is not unlikely to be a form of
"Igolot," by metathesis, as it were.
[13] According to some accounts, the Highlanders, in throwing the
spear, give it a rotation around its longest axis, twirling it rapidly
in the hand as this is brought up before the throw. In other words,
they have discovered that a rotating spear has greater accuracy than
a non-rotating one. If this is true, this discovery is worthy to be
bracketed with the use of the fire-syringe by the Tinguians of the
North, and by certain other wild people of the Archipelago.
[14] These salt deposits are now (1912), to the great satisfaction
of the people of the province, being worked by the Government, and
salt has ceased to be a luxury within the reach of only the few rich.
[15] The Ilongots are so few in number and scattered over so vast
and rough a country that trail-making can never be as successful in
their territory as it has been farther north.
[16] Dampier's description of what he saw in Mindanao fits here:
"This Distemper runs with a dry Scurf all over their Bodies, and
causeth great itching in those that have it, making them frequently
scratch and scrub themselves, which raiseth the outer skin in small
whitish flakes, like the scales of little Fish, when they are raised
on end with a Knife. This makes their skin extraordinary rough,
and in some you shall see broad white spots in several parts of
their Body. I judge such have had it, but are cured; for their
skins were smooth, and I did not perceive them to scrub themselves:
yet I have learnt from their own mouths that these spots were from
this Distemper."--Dampier's "Voyages," Masefield's edition, p. 341;
New York, E. P. Dutton & Co., 1906.
[17] On one of his first expeditions elsewhere, however, when the
women realized that they were really to receive gifts of beads, etc.,
they rushed Mr. Worcester and his assistants, upsetting them all in
their eagerness to get at the stuff.
[18] So Strong said, himself an accomplished violinist.
[19] The straw mat covering the "split bottom" of the native
bed. There is no other mattress, and the "split bottom" constitutes
the springs. Once accustomed to it, the bed is cool and comfortable.
[20] Dampier's "Voyages," p. 319, Masefield's edition.
[21] According to De Morga (p. 196, Retana's edition), the _anito_
was a representation of the devil under horrible and frightful forms,
to which fruits and fowl and perfumes were offered. Each house had and
"made" (or performed) its _anitos_, there being no temples, without
ceremony or any special solemnity. "This word," says Retana, "is
ordinarily interpreted 'idol,' although it has other meanings. There
were _anitos_ of the mountains, of the fields, of the sea. The soul of
an ancestor, according to some, became embodied as a new _anito_, hence
the expression, 'to make _anitos_.' Even living beings, notably the
crocodile, were regarded as _anitos_ and worshiped. The _anito-figura_,
generally shortened to _anito_, ... was usually a figurine of wood,
though sometimes of gold." (Glossary to his edition of De Morga,
pp. 486-487.)
"The _anito_ of the Philippines is essentially a protecting
spirit." (F. Jagor, "Travels in the Philippines," p. 298. English
translation, London, Chapman & Hall, 1875; originally published in
Berlin. 1873, "Reisen in den Philippinen," Weidmannsche Buchhandlung.)
"The religion of the islands, what may be called the true religion of
Filipinos, consisted of the worship of the _anitos_. These were not
gods, but the souls of departed ancestors, and each family worshipped
its own, in order to obtain their favorable influence." (Pardo de
Tavera, "Reseña Histórica de Filipinas," Manila, 1906.)
[22] _Apo_ means "lord, master." In the mountains every American
is called _apo_. "Sir" in Tagalo is _po_, and the highest mountain
of the Archipelago is named Apo. The native word for fire in these
parts is something like _apo_. To distinguish Mr. Forbes from other
_apos_. he was called _apo apo_ in communicating with the natives.
[23] Now frequently called _ub-ub_, _i.e_., "spring," in the Ifugao
country; a change of name due to Gallman.
[24] See De Morga, "_Sucesos_," etc., p. 184, Retana's edition,
and Retana's note on the passage; see also Jagor, "Travels," etc.,
p. 162 _et seq_.
[25] _Runo_ is a stiff reed grass growing to several feet, the mountain
cousin of the _cogon_ of the plains.
[26] The _Princesa_ was the only fat person we saw in the mountains:
apparently these Highlanders all grow thin with age, and wrinkled
from head to foot.
[27] See _Philippine Journal of Science_, July, 1909, for Villaverde's
account of the Ifugaos of Kiangan, translated and edited by Worcester,
with notes and an addendum by Major Case, of the Constabulary.
[28] Gallman says they also carry their spears point down to cause
the enemy's spears to miss.--_C. De W.W._
[29] As a matter of fact, they were "the terror of the Spaniards"; they
"annihilated an entire garrison at Payoan," "exacted a heavy annual
toll of heads from the people of Ragábag, and ... made the main trail
from Nueva Vizcaya to Isabela so dangerous that three strong garrisons
were constantly maintained on it, and ... people were not allowed to
travel over it: except under military escort, and even so were often
attacked and killed." (Worcester, _The National Geographic Magazine_,
March, 1911.) Gallman's mere name now suffices to do what three strong
Spanish garrisons failed to do.
[30] This danger still exists in the case of the savages of the
Southern Islands of the Archipelago, but Mr. Worcester, if undisturbed,
will bring these in too, all in time. In the fall of this very year,
1910, his party was attacked in Palawan.
[31] Many years ago some Moros were brought to Mayoyao to work
tobacco. The Ifugaos deeply resenting this invasion, at the first
opportunity attacked and killed them all. Only one woman escaped,
covered with wounds, to Echagüe, where she was in 1910, still
alive. The fight was most desperate, three Ifugaos biting the dust
for every Moro killed.
[32] See a native account of the part played by the Igorots in this
battle, in Seidenadel's "The First Grammar of the Language Spoken by
the Bontoc Igorot"; Chicago, Open Court Publishing Company, 1909.
[33] Sometimes also called the Caicayán.
[34] Samoki is celebrated for its pottery, sold all through this
region, and of such quality that the Igorots use vessels made here
to reduce copper ore. The potter's wheel is unknown. In regard to the
skill of the highlanders in metallurgy, see Jagor, "Travels," p. 181.
[35] So do their cousins of Formosa. Pickering, "Pioneering in
Formosa," p. 150; London, Hurst & Blackett, 1898.
[36] For a full account of the way in which the Igorots have taken
to our sports, see Mr. Worcester's article in the March, 1911, number
of the _National Geographic Magazine_.
[37] A similiar institution exists among the aborigines of
Formosa. "... the unmarried men and boys slept in a shed raised from
the ground. This building was regarded as a kind of temple, in which
the vanquished heads were hung." (Pickering, "Pioneering in Formosa,"
p. 148.)
[38] For a more or less complete account of the Bontok Igorot,
see Jenks's "The Bontoc Igorot"; Manila, Bureau of Public Printing,
1905. For the language, consult "The First Grammar of the Language
Spoken by the Bontoc Igorot," by Doctor Carl Wilhelm Seidenadel;
Chicago, Open Court Publishing Company, 1909.
[39] Dampier mentions this drink in his "New Voyage Around the
World." He calls it _bashee_, and found it in the Batanes Islands,
just north of Luzon: "And indeed, from the plenty of this Liquor,
and their plentiful use of it, our Men call'd all these Islands,
the Bashee Islands." (Masefield's edition, p. 425.)
[40] De La Gironière, in his "Aventures d'un Gentilhomme Breton aux
Iles Philippines," describes (Chapter V.) a feast, at which he had,
while on a visit to the Tinguianes, to drink human brains mixed
with _basi_. Whatever De La Gironière says must be received with
considerable caution; but Pickering, a prosaic and matter-of-fact
Britisher, speaking of the Formosan savages, says that "they mixed the
brains of their enemies with wine." ("Pioneering in Formosa," p. 153).
[41] For example, this year (1912) more people "came in" to
meet Mr. Worcester then ever before. In Bontok every valley
of the sub-province was represented, and there was a time when
representatives of all the villages danced together on the plaza,
an event of importance in the history of these people as marking the
passing of old feuds and a determination to live at piece with one
another. A moving picture machine was taken along in a four-wheeled
wagon (showing incidentally that the main trails have become roads
since 1910), and created both enthusiasm and alarm: enthusiasm
when some familiar scene with known living persons was thrown upon
the screen, and alarm when a railway train, for example, was shown
advancing upon the spectators, causing many of them to flee for safety
to the neighboring hills and woods.
[42] For an account of what this Government monopoly really meant,
see Jagor, "Travels," etc., p. 324. A Spaniard of my acquaintance
told me that if a native's attention to his crop did not please
the inspectors, they would cause him to be publicly flogged on
Sunday before the church after mass; and if this course brought no
amendment, they would then cut his stand down. Jagor, who travelled
in the Philippines as long ago as 1859-60, could see no future for
them save under American control, and he predicted that this control
would come, an astonishing prophecy. "In proportion as the navigation
of the west coast of America extends the influence of the American
element over the South Sea, the captivating, magic power which the
great Republic exercises over the Spanish colonies will not fail to
make itself felt also in the Philippines. The Americans are evidently
destined to bring to a full development the germs originated by the
Spaniards." ("Travels in the Philippines," p. 369.) Jagor's work,
it may be remarked, will always remain an authority on the Philippines.
[43] The cable and popular name of the "Compañía General de Tabacos
de Filipinas"; it owns plantations up the Grande in Isabela Province.
[44] So do the aborigines of Formosa. "These aborigines of the hills
live in villages. Their houses are built, of stone, roofed with slate,
and have a remarkably clean, home-like appearance." (Pickering,
"Pioneering in Formosa," p. 69.)
[45] The word "Filipino" is taken to mean the civilized, Christianized
inhabitant of Malay origin of the Philippine Islands. As such, it is
convenient and useful. It should be recollected, however, that there
is no such thing as a _Filipino people_. There are Tagalogs, Visayans,
Bicols, Pampangans, Ilokanos, Cagayanes, etc., etc., to say nothing
of the wild people themselves, all speaking different languages;
but these can not be said to form one people.
[46] Retana, in his edition (1909) of De Morga remarks (p. 502):
"To-day there would not be many to dare go from Manila to Aparri by
the road taken by the Spaniards in 1591."
[47] Some Igorots brought down to the Manila carnival of 1912
were forced, at the request of Filipino authorities, to put on
trousers. This was not for comfort's sake, nor yet for decency's,
for the bare human skin is no uncommon sight in Manila. Apparently,
the Filipinos of Manila were unwilling to let the world note that
their cousins of the mountains were still in the naked state.
[48] For a full discussion of this entire matter, see the Report of the
Secretary of the Interior, Philippine Islands, for 1910, Washington
Government Printing Office, 1911, from which the quotations given
above are taken.
[49] E.g. the Mountain Province.--C. De W.W.
[50] It is interesting to note, that since the foregoing report was
published, Captain Harris, Philippine Constabulary, has persuaded
the Kalingas to turn in one hundred and eighty-seven firearms in
their possession, and this without firing a shot himself. What this
means may be inferred from the fact that all over the Islands, whether
among Christians or non-Christians, the desire to have firearms is of
the keenest. The great ambition of the Ifugao is to be a policeman,
and so be authorized to carry a gun. The Moros will give $400.00 for
an Army rifle and a belt of ammunition worth, say, $18.00.--C. De W.W.
[51] _Japan Chronicle_, weekly edition, Kobe, January 5, 1911.
[52] Ibid., same date.
[53] See the weekly Manila _Times_, October 21, 1910.
[54] According to a story current some years ago, a distinguished
officer of our Army serving in the Philippines once remarked to a
justly celebrated native judge of the highest character, that he
had no opinion of the native justice, and added, that for a thousand
pesos he could procure witnesses to prove that the judge had committed
a murder in such a place, although the judge had never been in the
place in his life. "Absurd," remarked the judge. "How absurd?" "You
misunderstand me," answered the judge; "it would be absurd to spend
a thousand pesos on such a purpose when two hundred would suffice."
[55] This worthy, Ruperto Rios by name, in succession promoted
himself to brigadier and major general, and then announced himself
as generalissimo. As though this were not enough, he next proclaimed
himself pope, "Papa Ríos," and then crowned his earthly glories by
calling himself Jesus Christ, and as such was hanged. Our pity for
such sell-delusion is tempered by the fact that the purpose in view
was crime.
[56] It is only fair to remark that the Government is doing every thing
in its power to develop native interest in agriculture. Of course it
is too early as yet to say whether its efforts will be rewarded.
[57] Quoted in the weekly Manila _Times_ of October 21, 1910.
[58] That piracy, even under our strong control is not dead is shown
by the following:
"_Manila_, April 15. A pirate raid is reported from Jolo, where a
Japanese pearl-fishing bout was found adrift and looted. The crew of
the pearler are missing, and are believed to be murdered. The Mataja
Lighthouse has also been attacked and robbed, presumably by the same
band. Gunboats have been sent to investigate." New York _Times_,
April 15, 1912.
[59] The party of immediate independence.
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