Character of the Natives.
To judge of the character of one’s own people is extremely difficult. One is likely to be either too severe or too complimentary. However, I believe, that—after a residence of many years in England and on the Continent, and a subsequent stay of eleven years in America, with frequent visits to the Philippines—I am able to judge in the abstract, and, in fact, comparatively to look upon my own countrymen with the eye of a thorough cosmopolitan.
The natives of the islands are a branch of the Malay race, and may be divided into three large groups,—the Tagalogs, the Visayos, and the Sulus,—each group subject to modifications and exceptions. The Tagalogs inhabit Luzon, the northern islands of the Archipelago, and it is with these that we have mainly to deal, as they are by far the most numerous and the most intelligent part of the population, forming, as they do, also the majority of the inhabitants in Manila and in the largest ports.
The first thing that in the native character impresses the traveler is his impassive demeanor and imperturbable bearing. He is a born stoic, a fatalist by nature. This accounts for his coolness in moments of danger, and his intrepid daring against overwhelming odds. This feature of the Malay character has often been displayed in the conflicts of the race with the Europeans in the East Indies. Under competent leadership the native, though strongly averse to discipline, can be made a splendid soldier. As sailors, too, I do not believe they can be equalled. For, lithe, active, and fond of the water, the Malays have ever shown their inclination for the sea. Their pirates, coursing in their prahus, have, till a few years ago, for centuries infested the bays and inlets of the eastern Archipelagos, looting the towns and villages on shore and taking as booty such foreign merchantmen as they were able to overcome. On account of the ravages of these fierce eastern Vikings, Europeans have come to regard the whole Malay race as cruel and bloodthirsty. But these were pirates in their own waters, and preyed upon their own countrymen, by whom they were feared no less than were the Spanish and English freebooters of old by their countrymen. Why, then, should their outrages and rapacity be taken as indicative of the Malay character any more than are the atrocities of the Caucasian corsair of their race?
Negritos of Pampanga.
The natives are all excellent swimmers, and are absolutely fearless in the water. I have seen groups of boys diving thirty or forty feet for pennies, dropped into the sea by foreign officers on ships anchored in the bay. Many swim miles with the greatest ease; and it is no uncommon sight in the outlying districts to see groups of naked men plunging with drawn dagger among a shoal of sharks, with whom they fight with a fierceness that always results in the victory of the native.
Along the beach at Manila, on a summer evening, at the close of the day’s labor, hundreds of hands from the various tobacco factories—men, women, and children, of all ages and sizes, married and unmarried—may be seen disporting themselves, with peals of laughter and squeals of delight, in the cool surf.
The Igorrotes.
As a result of the stoicism of the native character, he never bewails a misfortune, and has no fear of death. When anything happens he merely says, It is fate, and calmly goes about his business as if nothing had happened.
Europeans often seem to notice in them what they deem a lack of sympathy for the misfortunes of others; but it is not this so much as resignation to the inevitable. This, it must be confessed, saves them many a bitter pang. The educated native, however, impregnated with the bitter philosophy of the civilized world, is by no means so imperturbable. While more keenly alive to the sufferings of others, he is also more sensitive to his own sorrows. After all, whether he is any happier for his wisdom, is a question.
Incomprehensible inconsistencies obtain in nearly every native. Students of character may, therefore, study the Filipinos for years, and yet, at last, have no definite impression of their mental or moral status. Of course those living in the cities are less baffling to the physiognomist and the ethnologist; for endemic peculiarities have been rubbed off or so modified, that the racial traits are not obvious.
But observe the natives in the wilds, in their primitive abodes, where civilizing forces have not penetrated! You will then be amazed at the extraordinary mingling and clashing of antithetical characteristics in one and the same person; uncertain as to when the good or the bad may be manifested. Like the wind, the mood comes and goes,—and no one can tell why.
I myself, with all the inherited feelings, tastes, and tendencies of my countrymen,—modified and transmuted, happily,—have stood aghast or amused at some hitherto unknown characteristic suddenly manifesting itself in an intimate acquaintance; and after I had been for years, too, wholly ignorant of his being so possessed or obsessed. And after that, the same mental or moral squint would be displayed at irregular intervals.
It is said by some that the native is shiftless and improvident.
It is true that he is not noted for foresight and energy, as are the peoples of the temperate zones; but his indolence is the result of generations of tropical ancestors. Even the most energetic Europeans yield, in a few years, to the enervating effects of the climate, and are unable to shake off the lassitude bred by the heat. Besides, deprived by the Spaniards from all active participation in affairs of the Government, and robbed of the fruits of industry, all incentive to advancement and progress was taken away. He, therefore, yields with composure to the crushing conditions of his environment, preferring the lazy joys of indolence rather than labor for the benefit of his oppressors. Naturally. Recent events, however, show that, given the stimulant of hope, even the “indolent natives” of the Philippines can achieve and nobly dare.
Some Spaniards also have asserted that the Filipinos are naturally disloyal and treacherous, and that their word is not to be depended on.
Now, the whole world knows that they have every reason to be disloyal to the Spaniard, who has for centuries so cruelly oppressed them. The devotion to the cause of freedom, however, which has recently made Rizal and hundreds of others martyrs to Spanish cruelty, shows that they also have the stuff that heroes are made of, and that they can be loyal to an animating principle.
In many places the natives are unwilling to work without pay in advance, and this has been a great drawback to investors. For, after receiving their money, they frequently refuse to perform a stroke of work, knowing that their employer has no remedy except in the dilatory process of the courts, which would only increase his expense and exaggerate his troubles. This has no terrors for the native. While, of course, this is to be deprecated, it may be remedied by gaining the confidence of the natives; for it is undoubtedly the result of generations of Spanish robbery, where these people were forced to labor for their employers,—frequently the priests,—having no reward save the lash or promises of a golden crown in heaven. They, therefore, naturally look upon investors with some suspicion. However, in the more civilized districts, where modern and humane business methods prevail, hundreds of thousands are employed, to the profit both of themselves and their employers.
Though calm, the native is not secretive, but often loquacious. He is naturally curious and inquisitive, but always polite, and respectful withal—especially to his superiors. He is passionate, and, in common with all half-civilized races, is cruel to his foes. The quality of mercy, like the sentiment—as distinguished from the passion—of love, is perhaps more the product of the philosophy of civilization than a natural attribute of the human heart. The romantic history of Mediæval Europe, as compared with the placid present, is proof of this.
All travelers unite in attributing to the natives extreme family affection. They are very fond of their children, who, as a rule, are respectful and well-behaved. The noisy little hoodlums of European and American cities are utterly unknown. The old are tenderly cared for, and are venerated; while in almost every well-to-do household are one or two poor relatives who, while mere hangers-on, are, nevertheless, always made welcome to the table of their host. Indeed, the hospitality of the Filipinos is proverbial. A guest is always welcome, and welcome to the best. The better class, too, gladly embrace every opportunity to feast their neighbors or the stranger within their gates.
Interior of a Native Hut.
As a rule, the people are superstitious and very credulous; but how could they be otherwise? For three hundred years they have been denied even the liberty of investigation; when no light, save the dim glimmer of priestcraft pierced the utter darkness of their lot. Those that have been educated, however, have proved apt converts—only too apt say the priests and the Spaniards—to the conclusions of Science and of modern research.
A High-born Filipina: Upper Garment of Costly Piña.
The native is rarely humorous and seldom witty. He is not easily moved to anger, and when angry does not often show it. When he does, like the Malay of Java, he is prone to lose all control of himself, and, with destructive energy, slays all in his path. This is infrequent, however, but is a contingency that may occur at any time.
If a native has been unjustly punished, he will never forget it, and will treasure the memory of his wrong until a good opportunity for revenge presents itself.
Like all courageous people, he despises cowardice and pusillanimity. He has, therefore, but little regard for the meek and humble Chinaman, who will pocket an insult rather than avenge himself. He greatly esteems the European, who is possessed of the qualities that he admires, and will follow him into the very jaws of death. He is easily awed by a demonstration of superior force, and is ruled best by mild but firm coercion,—based upon justice. He is not often ambitious, save socially, and to make some display, being fond of ceremony and of the pomp and glitter of a procession. He is sober, patient, and always clean. This can be said of few peoples. He easily adjusts himself to new conditions, and will soon make the best of his surroundings. As servants they are honest, obedient, and will do as they are told.
It must be said that they enjoy litigation more than is good for them or for the best interests of the colony. There must be some psychological reason for this. It doubtless gives some play to the subtlety of the Oriental mind. It is said that he lacks the sense of initiative; and to some extent this may be true. The recent conduct of Aguinaldo—a full-blooded native—proves, notwithstanding, that he is not wholly deficient in aggressiveness nor in organizing power.
Though not as artistic as the Japanese, the Filipinos have shown many evidences of art talent. This is seen in the embroidery of the women, as well as in the work of the native painters and sculptors. Some of these have been honored with high prizes at the Art Exhibition in Madrid. I remember particularly the brothers Luna: one educated in Spain, and there distinguished by his remarkable talent with the brush; the other known for his wonderful virtuosity.
Moreover, in nothing are the Filipinos so proficient as in music. Every village has its orchestra, and in the evening the whole district turns out to enjoy its playing.
All the people are, in fact, born musicians; even little boys and girls of five or six years of age play the harp, the guitar, or the piano as if by instinct; while their elders show a proficiency that, when their opportunities are considered, is truly astonishing. The clergy, appreciating that music is the foe of vice and a promoter of virtue, have wisely encouraged the natives in this art. It is now taught in all the higher schools in the colony.
At the many feasts, religious and secular, which are the delight of the natives, music is always the most enjoyable feature, the bands playing for hours together, both performers and listeners being so engrossed as to be wholly unconscious of the lapse of time.