The Promise of the Future.
Under new control I expect to see, in the twentieth century, a new destiny for this noble group of islands. Whether the people be given their freedom under the protection and influence of the United States, or the islands become a direct appanage of that or of some other enterprising nation of the West, a turn in the tide of Philippine affairs can hardly fail to set in, and the possibilities of the land be developed to an extent undreamed of under the effete rule of Spain.
I expect to see an invasion of this island-realm by three classes of modern enterprise. The scientist is sure to find his way there, and tell the world of the new and the strange in the animal, vegetable, and mineral kingdoms. With him will come the engineer, opening up roads right and left, laying a network of iron rails, where now only the buffalo-cart drags along, introducing the latest machinery for mining and farming-industries, and starting a hum of activity in every quarter of the long-slumbering land. With these also will enter the practical economist, in search, not of the new, but of the useful, prospecting the forests for plants of economic value, seeking for new mines of coal and iron, tracing the gold placer-beds up to their mother-veins, seeking everywhere for what the Philippines have to add to the useful productions of the world.
These will be the twentieth century pioneers of this promising Archipelago, the results of their labors being exploited by the merchant and the manufacturer. The seas shall teem with ships carrying the products of the islands to foreign shores, and bringing back full cargoes to supply the demands of the islanders, commerce steadily growing in amount as civilization awakens the natives to the perception of new wants.
Examples of a similar rejuvenation could easily be pointed out, and there is no conceivable reason why the Philippines should not be added to the list. These islands have been lavishly dealt with by nature; they have an industrious population; yet they have been allowed to remain for centuries in a semi-savage industrial condition; they still await the touch of the magic hand of modern enterprise to arouse them from their state of decadence, and swing them into the tide of human progress. Under this influence prosperity and activity must come to them, as it has come to other lands, and those long-neglected and abused islands be made to “bud and blossom like the rose.”
A Mestiza Flower-girl.
Certainty of conviction and opinion, too, leads me to affirm that, with sanitary arrangements in all the cities, with hygienic living, and American enterprise, philanthropy, and valor in the islands, and free educational facilities eventually,—all will manifestly increase the morale of the islanders and develop a just appreciation of the natural beauties of their bounteous realm; hence, what is now confusedly enjoyed and but vaguely beheld in nature, will, in a comparatively brief period, become simple, clear, sympathetic, and clearly formulated to their apprehension.
And all this, as well as many other allied benefits co-existent with a permanent American occupation, will come with personal education, personal elevation; and without lessening the labor-producing quality of the native, or the outward physical radiation that constitutes his health and vigor. Health, like knowledge, will come to him in ever-widening circles, and Nature, in full festival—as she is during the greater part of the Philippine year—will also appeal to him as she has never appealed before.
All this may be hazardous prophecy; it may appear optimistic, æsthetic, and fanciful, but I have talked with many rude untutored natives, that, frankly, astonished me with the unwitting revelation of latent poetry, love of imagery, and spiritual longings in their nature.
Knowing all this, and also the adaptability of the cultured native, hence the rosy view of the possible development of the Philippine Islands’ native population.
The vivid contrasts, the checkered scenery, and the pulchritudinous beauty of the islands would ravish the soul of the impressionistic painter, and inspire his brush to masterpieces. There forest and plain, sky and sea, unroll in unexpected beauty or marvelous grandeur at every turn; until, after visiting the interior or skirting the shores of many islands, one has a kind of kaleidoscopic memory, yet none the less brilliant, perfectly formed, and orderly—each in harmonious sequence—of long lines of shadowy hills, majestic mountain-ranges, with forest-clad slopes verging toward the sea; pretty rambling creeks and gurgling rivulets, cliff-bound coasts, cultivated plain and rugged hill; here and there shaded dells with mountain torrents roaring, unseen; a glorious sunset, or a splendid sunrise present in the memory-pictures of mountain, sea, and plain.
