In Yloilo, on December 23, 1898, General Diego de los Rios, in the presence of his staff, the naval commanders and the foreign consuls, formally surrendered the town to the native mayor, prior to his evacuation of Panay Island on the following day. On December 27 an American military force (finally about 3,000 strong) arrived in the roadstead in transports under the command of General Miller in co-operation with two American warships, afterwards supplemented by two others. The Spanish troops having departed, the Filipinos who had assumed control of public affairs made their formal entry into Yloilo to the strains of music and the waving of banners and constituted a government whose effective jurisdiction does not appear to have extended beyond the town and a dayʼs march therefrom. On January 17 an election was held, Raymundo Melliza,[1] an excellent man, being chosen president for the term of two years. Business was resumed; sugar was being brought from Negros Island, and ships were laden with produce. During the civil administration, which lasted for seven weeks, the absorbing topic was the demand made by General Miller for the surrender of the town. General Millerʼs force had been despatched to Yloilo waters, after the signing of the Treaty of Paris, simply to make a demonstration in view of possible anarchy resulting from the Spanish evacuation. The ratification of that Treaty by a two-thirds Senate majority was not an accomplished fact until February 6 following. There was no certainty that the Senate would confirm the acquisition of the Islands, and in the interval it was not politic to pass from a formal demand for the surrender of Yloilo to open hostilities for its possession. These matters of political exigency were undoubtedly beyond the comprehension of the Ylongos. They attributed to fear the fact that a large fighting-force remained inactive within sight of the town, whereas General Miller was merely awaiting instructions from the capital which the Manila authorities, in turn, were delaying, pending the decision in Washington. Intervening circumstances, however, precipitated military action. On the night of February 4 hostilities had broken out between Aguinaldoʼs troops and the American forces. Insurgent emissaries had brought Aguinaldoʼs messages to the Ylongos to hold the town against the invaders, and on February 7 General Miller received orders from Maj.-General Otis to take Yloilo by force if necessary. General Miller thereupon renewed his demand for the surrender of the place, coupled this time with a declaration that he would bombard it if his demand were refused. Later on he notified the consular body that the bombardment would commence on the 12th of the month. During the seven weeks of native government, petty thefts were frequent; an armed insurgent would enter a store and carry off the article selected by him without paying for it; but there was no riotous open violence committed against the townspeople or foreign traders. The squabbles between the armed natives and their leaders, however, were several times on the point of producing bloodshed.

According to ex-insurgent General Pablo Araneta, the insurgent army, at the time, in Panay Island was as follows, viz.[2]:—

Under the leadership of Stationed at Tagálogs Visayos
Fulion Yloilo 250 150
Ananias Diócno Yloilo 400 —
Pablo Araneta Yloilo 250 —
Martin Delgado Yloilo — 150
Pablo Araneta Molo — 100
Silvestre Silvio Antique 150 —
Detachment of Diócnoʼs forces Cápiz 200 —
Total all armed with guns 1,250 400

The commander-in-chief of the whole army of 1,650 men was Martin Delgado. The Tagálog contingent was under the leadership of Ananias Diócno, a native of Taal, whose severity in his Cápiz and Yloilo campaigns has left a lasting remembrance. The headquarters of the Visayos was in the parish-house (convento), whilst the Tagálogs were located in the Fine Arts Institute. Their stipulated remuneration was 4 pesos a month and food, but as they had received only 1 peso per month on account, and moreover claimed a rise in pay to 5 pesos, the Visayos, on February 3, assembled on the central plaza of the town and menaced their general officers, who were quartered together in a corner house over a barberʼs shop. They yelled out to their leaders that if they did not give them their pay they would kill them all, sack the town, and then burn it. Thereupon the generals hastened round the town to procure funds, and appeased the Visayos with a distribution of 1,800 pesos. The Tagálogs then broke out in much the same way, and were likewise restrained by a payment on account of arrears due. But thenceforth the insurgent troops became quite uncontrollable and insolent to their officers. The fact that white officers should have solicited their permission to come ashore unarmed could only be interpreted by the Oriental, soldier or civilian, in a way highly detrimental to the white manʼs prestige. The Americansʼ good and honest intentions were only equalled by their nescience of the Malay character. The officers came ashore; the townsfolk marvelled, and the fighting-men, convinced of their own invincibility, disdainfully left them unmolested. After the insurgent generals had doled out their pay, the men went round to the shops and braggingly avowed that it was lucky for the shopkeepers that they had got money, otherwise they would have looted their goods. The Chinese shut up their shops from the beginning of the troubles, leaving only a hole in the closed door to do a little business, as they were in constant fear for the safety of their lives and their stocks. A great many families packed up their belongings and went over to Negros Island in small schooners. The little passenger-steamers plying between Yloilo and Negros were running as usual, crowded to the brim, and flying the Philippine flag without interruption from the Americans. Amongst the better classes opinions on the situation were much divided. The best Philippine and Spanish families expressed their astonishment that the Americans made no attempt to take the town immediately after the Spanish evacuation. There were foreign merchants anxious to delay the American investment because, meanwhile, they were doing a brisk trade, and there were others longing to see the town in the hands of any civilized and responsible Power. Delegates from one party or the other, including the native civil government, went off in boats almost daily to parley with General Miller in the roadstead, each with a different line of real or sophistic argument. The best native families, the foreigners of all classes—those who desired a speedy entry of the Americans and those who sought to delay it—were agreed as to the needlessness and the mistaken policy of announcing a bombardment. Yloilo is a straggling, open town. The well-to-do people asked, “Why bombard?” There were no fortifications or anything to destroy but their house property. Plans were voluntarily offered showing how and at which points a midnight landing of 400 or 500 troops could be secretly effected for a sunrise surprise which would have cleared the town in an hour of every armed insurgent. The officers ashore declared they were ready; and as to the men, they were simply longing for the fray, but the word of command rested with General Miller.

In the evening of February 10 the native civil government held an extraordinary session in the Town Hall to discuss the course to be adopted in view of the announced bombardment. The public, Filipinos and foreigners, were invited to this meeting to take part in the debate if they wished, Raymundo Melliza, Victorino Mapa, Martin Delgado, and Pablo Araneta, being amongst those who were present. It was proposed to burn the town. Melliza vehemently protested against such a barbarous act, and asked why they should destroy their own property? What could they gain by pillage and flames?[3] But a certain V—— and his party clamoured for the destruction of the place, and being supported by an influential lawyer (native of another province) and by one of the insurgent generals, Melliza exclaimed, “If you insist on plunder and devastation, I shall retire altogether,” whereupon a tremendous hubbub ensued, in the midst of which Melliza withdrew and went over to Guimarás Island. But there were touches of humour in the speeches, especially when a fire-eating demagogue gravely proposed to surround an American warship with canoes and seize her; and again when Quintin Salas declared that the Americans would have to pass over his corpse before the town surrendered! Incendiaries and thieves were in overwhelming majority at the meeting; naturally (to the common people in these Islands) an invitation to despoil, lay waste and slay, bolstered up by apparent authority, found a ready response, especially among the Tagálog mercenaries who had no local attachment here. The instigators of this barbarity sought no share of the spoils; they had no property interests in Yloilo, but they were jealous of those who had. The animosity of Jaro and Molo against Yloilo had existed for years, the formersʼ townspeople being envious of the prosperous development of Yloilo (once a mere fishing-village), which obscured the significance of the episcopal city of Jaro and detracted from the social importance of the rich Chinese half-caste residential town of Molo.[4] Chiefly from these towns came the advocates of anarchy, whose hearts swelled with fiendish delight at the prospect of witnessing the utter ruin and humiliation of their rivals in municipal prestige. Yloilo, from that moment, was abandoned to the armed rabble, who raided the small shops for petroleum to throw on to the woodwork of the houses prior to the coming onslaught. The bombardment having been announced for the 12th, they reckoned on a full day for burning and sacking the town. But early in the morning of the 11th the steam-launch Pitt, whilst reconnoitring the harbour, was fired upon; the launch replied and withdrew. Natives were observed to be busy digging a trench and hastening to and from the cotta at the harbour entrance; there was every indication of their warlike intentions. Therefore suddenly, at 9 oʼclock that morning, without further notification, the Americans opened fire. The natives in the cotta fled along the quayway towards the centre of the town under a shower of bullets hurled from the quick-firing guns. The attack on Yloilo was hardly a bombardment proper; shells were intentionally thrown over the houses as a warning and burst in suburban open spaces, but comparatively few buildings were damaged by the missiles. In the meantime, from early morn, the native soldiery, followed by a riff-raff mob, rushed hither and thither, throwing firebrands on to the petroleum-washed houses, looting stores, and cutting down whomsoever checked them in their wild career. The Chinese barricaded themselves, but the flames devoured their well-stocked bazaars; panic-stricken townsfolk ran helter-skelter, escaping from the yelling bands of bloodthirsty looters. Europeans, revolver in hand, guarded their properties against the murderous rabble; an acquaintance of mine was hastening to the bank to deposit ₱3,000 when he was met by the leader S——, who demanded his money or his life; one foreign business house was defended by 15 armed Europeans, whilst others threw out handfuls of pesos to stay the work of the pétroleur. The German Vice-Consul, an old friend of mine, went mad at the sight of his total loss; a Swiss merchant, my friend for over 20 years, had his fine corner premises burnt down to the stone walls, and is now in comparative poverty. Even Spanish half-castes were menaced and contemptuously called Cachilas[5]; and the women escaped for their lives on board the schooners in the harbour. Half the town was blazing, and the despairing cries of some, the yells of exultant joy of others, mingled with the booming of the invadersʼ cannon.

Two British warships lying in the roadstead sent boats ashore to receive British subjects, and landed a party of marines, who made gallant efforts to save foreign property. A few British subjects were, however, unable to get away from the town on account of the premature attack of the Americans, which took place on the 11th instead of February 12, as previously announced.

The American assault on the town, which lasted until 1 oʼclock in the afternoon, was immediately followed up by the landing of about 1,000 volunteers, and General Miller found that the prognostications of the townspeople were perfectly just, for the insurgents fled in all directions. There was not a fighting-man left in the town. Some of them continued their hurried flight as far as Santa Barbara and Janiuay. It was evident that a sudden night-landing, without a word about bombardment, would have been just as effective, and would have prevented much misery and loss of life and property. Indeed, the arrival of the American volunteers under these distressing circumstances produced a fresh commotion in Yloilo. Without any warrant private premises were entered, and property saved from the nativesʼ grasp vanished before the eyes of the owners. Finally order was restored through the energetic intervention of American officials, who stationed sentinels here and there to protect what still remained of the townspeopleʼs goods. In due course indemnity claims were forwarded to the military authorities, who rejected them all.

The insurgents still lingered outside the town on the road to Jaro, and General Miller marched his troops, in battle array, against them. A couple of miles out of the town, in the neighbourhood of La Paz, the entrenched enemy was routed after a slight skirmish. The booming of cannon was heard in Yloilo for some hours as the American troops continued their march to Jaro, only molested by a few occasional shots from the enemy in ambush. The rebel chief Fulion and another, Quintin Salas, held out for a short while, gradually beating a retreat before the advancing column. The Tagálogs, once under the command of the semi-civilized Diócno, disappeared in all directions, and finally escaped from the province in small parties in canoes or as best they could. The handful of braves who still thought fit to resist decided to make a stand at Santa Bárbara, but on the arrival of the American troops they dispersed like chaff before the wind. General Miller then relinquished the pursuit and returned to Yloilo to await reinforcements for a campaign through the Island. In the meantime military government was established in Yloilo, the town was policed, trade resumed its normal aspect, the insurgents in the Island gradually increased, but the Philippine Republic in Panay was no more. It was clear to all the most sober-minded and best-educated Ylongos that Aguinaldoʼs government was a failure in Panay at least. The hope of agreement on any policy was remote from its very initiation. Visayos of position, with property and interests at stake, were convinced that absolute independence without any control or protection from some established Power was premature and doomed to disaster. Visayan jealousy of Tagálog predominance had also its influence, but the ruling factor was the Tagálog troopsʼ dictatorial air and brutal conduct, which destroyed the theory of fraternal unity. Self-government at this stage would have certainly led to civil war.

Reinforcements arrived from Manila and the Americans entered upon the pacification of the Island, which needed two years for its accomplishment. The full record of the Panay campaign would be a monotonous recital of scores of petty encounters of analogous character. Pablo Araneta, in co-operation with a Spanish deserter named Mariano Perez, met the Americans several times, and gave better proof of his generalship in retreat than in advance. He operated only in the province of Yloilo, and at Sambang, near Pavía, his party was severely defeated and the “general” fled. Quintin Salas, over whose dead body, he himself declared, the Americans would have to pass before Yloilo surrendered, appeared and disappeared, from time to time, around Dumangas. There was an encounter at Potian with Jolandoni which ended badly for his party. The native priests not only sympathized with the insurgents, but took an active part in their operations. Father Santiago Pamplona, afterwards ecclesiastical-governor of the Visayas (Aglipayan), held a command under Martin Delgado. Father Agustin Piña, the parish priest of Molo and the active adviser in the operations around Pavía—Jaro district, was caught by the Americans and died of “water-cure.”[6] The firebrand Pascual Macbanua was killed at Pototan; and finally came the most decisive engagement at Monte Sin͠git, between Janiuay and Lambunao. The insurgent generalissimo, Martin Delgado, took the field in person; but after a bold stand, with a slight loss on the American side, the insurgents were completely routed and their leader fled. Pablo Araneta, tired of generalship without glory, surrendered to the Americans on December 31, 1899. The war still continued for another year, Martin Delgado being one of the last to declare his defeat. Early in December, 1900, overtures for peace were made to General Miller, the delegates on the insurgent side being Pablo Araneta, Jovito Yusay, and Father Silvestre Apura, whilst Captain Noble represented the Americans. Martin Delgado and his co-leaders soon surrendered. There was no question of conditions but that of convincing the natives of the futility of further resistance and the benefits to them of peace under American rule. With this end in view, delegates went in commission to the several districts. Pablo Araneta, Father Silvestre Apura, Father Práxedes Magálon and Nicolás Roses visited the district of Concepcion (East Panay) in January 1901 and obtained the submission of the people there. Peace was at length agreed upon; but the Filipinos were not disposed silently to draw the veil over the past without glamour and pomp, even in the hour of defeat. Therefore, on February 2, 1901, in agreement between the parties, the remnant of the little Panay army made a formal surrender, marching under triumphal arches into the episcopal city of Jaro to stack their arms, between lines of American troops drawn up on either side of their passage, to the strains of peaceful melody, whilst the banners of the Stars and Stripes floated victoriously in the sultry air. Jaro was crowded with visitors to witness this interesting ceremonial. The booths did a bustling trade; the whole city was en féte, and the vanquished heroes, far from evincing humiliation, mingled with the mob and seemed as merry as though the occasion were the marriage-feast of the headmanʼs daughter.