Recollections of full years

by Helen Herron Taft

Our course took us by way of Shanghai and we stopped there for just one busy day. In the morning Mr. Taft dedicated a Young Men’s Christian Association building which had just been constructed and to the cost of which a number of Chinese Mandarins, though not Christians, had made substantial contribution. The afternoon was devoted to shopping and to a most elaborate and picturesque reception and tea which was given for us by the Chinese guilds of the city. At this tea I was presented with a very curious and interesting bowl of Chinese silver which is among my most valued possessions. In the evening a great banquet was given by the leading citizens of Shanghai at the Astor Hotel, where provision was made for the ladies to hear the speaking from a platform erected at one end of the room. Mr. Taft made a speech on the subject of the relations of the United States to the development of China, which was long remembered as a succinct and forcible presentation of the policy of the United States toward that country, then in an interesting stage of its awakening from a long lethargy.

In Manila, at the formal opening of the first Assembly, Mr. Taft laid down the purposes of the Administration in the passage of the Philippine Act, plainly saying to the Philippine people that independence was not near at hand, and that it could only come after a period of earnest effort on their part to fit themselves for complete self-government. His candour and frankness did not please many of the Assembly, but his view has always been that the only way in which to deal with the Filipino people is to tell them the exact truth, unpalatable though it may be, and to fulfil promises with the greatest care. Filipinos may be very lax in discharging the full measure of their own assurances, but the way to maintain influence over them is to pursue a policy of clear and candid statement, full performance and exact justice. They are prone to accept every declaration in the same sense in which they would like to construe it, and the utmost care must be taken to prevent their being misled. Demagoguery with them is likely to be most pernicious in its ultimate results.

During this visit we were the guests of Governor-General Smith at Malacañan Palace and I experienced a pleasant renewal of old impressions and sensations. Mr. W. Cameron Forbes, who succeeded Governor Smith, was then Secretary of Commerce and Police and, in this capacity, was in charge of Public Works. He had built for himself at Baguio a fine country residence which he called “Topside,” a name which fits it exactly, since it stands, literally, at the “topside” of the island of Luzon, at an elevation of more than five thousand feet, and overlooks the broadest and most colourful stretch of mountain scenery imaginable. We visited Mr. Forbes at “Topside” and were able to see for the first time the splendid achievements in the development of the summer capital which I anticipated in Chapter IX. Mr. Taft assured an enthusiastic enquirer that he was not surprised at the magnificence of the Benguet Road because he had authorised the expenditure of a sufficient amount to produce something unusual, and that he would, indeed, have been surprised if it hadn’t been done. But he had to confess to a little surprise at the improvement of the town of Baguio. The difference was so great that it was almost impossible to recognise the place as the site of the ragged little Igorrote village where I had spent such pleasant and “uncivilised” days just before my husband’s inauguration as the first governor of the Philippines.

It would be useless for me to attempt to detail the thousand and one events of this visit to Manila. Upon our arrival we were handed a printed schedule of dinners, luncheons, teas, receptions, balls, meetings, celebrations, trips of inspection, and business conferences which we had to do our best to carry out. Fortunately provision was made for a few hours of rest which could be used for other things when we got behind with the programme.

On a day in November, when blue Manila Bay lay sparkling in the sun, we set sail for Vladivostok on the U. S. S. Rainbow, flying the flag of Admiral Hemphill, and convoyed by two other naval vessels. The most amusing incident of this trip, which was quite a tempestuous one, was the gradual freezing up of our Filipino orchestra. They left Manila clad in natty white uniforms, responding with enthusiasm to the strains of the many bands on shore and on the fleet of harbor launches which accompanied us down the bay. They played for us at dinner that night and gave a concert on deck the next day, but then began the rapid descent of the mercury in the thermometers and the consequent undoing of our tropical musicians. They first changed into heavy blue uniforms and tried their best to look comfortable. Then they put on their overcoats and kept them on. Finally they deserted the deck altogether and their rather disconnected strains came up to us through a partly open hatch just over the engine room. When we reached the forbidding harbour of Vladivostok, where the temperature stood below zero, the poor bugler was so thoroughly cold that he couldn’t adjust his lips to his bugle to pipe distinguished visitors aboard. Our party on this trip around the world was small, including only my son Charlie, Mr. Taft’s secretary, Mr. Fred C. Carpenter, General Clarence R. Edwards, Mr. and Mrs. Martin Egan and two other newspaper correspondents.

Shortly before we reached Vladivostok there had been a mutiny on one of the torpedo boats in the harbour, and a woman anarchist had induced the crew to take the boat out into the stream and raise the red flag. This outbreak was suppressed with a heavy hand, and a number of those suspected of complicity in the plot were arrested. As the Governor had power of life and death over them it was assumed that the extreme penalty was visited on some of them at least, but no publicity was given to the proceedings. The effect of the tragedy upon our arrival, however, was marked. The town was in a most unquiet state and there were vague rumours of danger to be met on every hand. We were not permitted to go ashore without a heavy guard of bristling Cossacks, and everywhere we went we were under the closest and most careful protection. It was most exciting, though in the midst of the cordial hospitality of our Russian hosts we could not feel that there was the slightest cause for apprehension. As soon as we dropped anchor in the harbour we were welcomed to Vladivostok by the Governor and General Commanding. He assigned Prince Bariatinski, Colonel of a regiment stationed at Vladivostok, to act as Mr. Taft’s aide during our stay, and from Saturday until Tuesday he and the Princess, both of whom spoke English, were with us constantly, adding much to our enjoyment. Our visit concluded with a dinner and ball given by the Governor, and the next morning we bade good-bye to the Rainbow and Admiral Hemphill and made our way, surrounded by Cossack guards, to the railway station where the train waited to start on its twelve days’ trip across Siberia. The government provided us with a large private car of the armoured variety which contained a number of compartments that were fully as spacious and comfortable as an average steamship cabin and we settled ourselves in them quite as we would have done on a trans-Pacific liner.

The trip across Siberia is exceedingly interesting. One anticipates endless monotony, but only the landscape lacks variety. For days together the train runs along through a country which looks exactly like South Dakota or Nebraska and which is interesting only in its wonderful possibilities. It is one of the world’s open spaces, undeveloped but capable of producing anything. I had always imagined Siberia as a country filled with sadness and I expected it to depress me, but it arouses no such feeling. We met trainload after trainload of happy Russian colonists on their way to the new settlements, and at all the well built stations along the way we saw a great number of sturdy peasant farmers and their families who looked thoroughly comfortable and contented. We whiled away the hours with bridge and books, and, though the train never made more than two or three stops a day, the time passed quickly. Throughout the journey our car was guarded by stalwart Russian soldiers in most picturesque uniforms, stationed on both platforms, and each time the train stopped this guard was changed with considerable ceremony. Also at every station near an army post Mr. Taft was greeted by the Commander of the District with strict military form, all of which added colour and interest to the journey.

Mr. Willard D. Straight, then United States Consul at Mukden, met us at Vladivostok with plans for our reception at Mukden. When we arrived there we were welcomed by a company of Chinese soldiers dressed in the old Mongolian custom, and by a squadron of Cossacks. We were hurried in a carriage behind two fast trotting Orloff horses to a hotel where all the consuls assembled greeted us with cakes, champagne and very short speeches. There was considerable excitement among the consuls with regard to the toasts to be drunk and the order of precedence in which the rulers of the different countries were to be named, but Mr. Straight was diplomatic enough to mention every proper name in right order and the result was a round of congratulation and merriment. In the meantime the leisurely and accommodating train was waiting, so we hurried back to the station at the terrific pace usual to the Russian with his beautiful horses. No people not inherently fine could ever produce the kind of horses one sees in Russia. And the Russians love them. I can think of nothing more pleasing than the picture of a great, shaggy, gruff-voiced Russian coachman on the box of his carriage or droshky, gently urging his well-kept horse on to his best speed in terms of endearment. “On, Little Brother!” says he.

At Moscow we were right royally entertained by the Governor-General of the city who did everything possible to make our visit memorable. We arrived late Saturday night and on Sunday the Kremlin was opened for our especial benefit and we were given full opportunity to see every part of that ancient and interesting home of Russian autocracy with all its collections of priceless treasures. A hurried round of entertainments, which included a special ballet performance at the Opera, ended with a dinner given by the Governor-General, and we left on the midnight train for St. Petersburg. We had not been there more than an hour or so the next morning when we received a telegram announcing that a woman Nihilist had thrown a bomb at the Governor’s sleigh which had exploded under the horses, killing them and the coachman and throwing the Governor and his aide backward into the snow unharmed. As these gentlemen had both been very kind to us it brought home in a startling way the danger that attends high position in Russia.

In St. Petersburg we dined with the Minister of Foreign Affairs, M. Iswolski and Madame Iswolski, and with them received the Diplomatic Corps. Mr. Taft and General Edwards had an audience with the Czar and attended the annual Saint’s day celebration of a famous regiment numbering about 3,200, no man of which measures less than six feet two. They were also present at a luncheon which the Czar gave to the officers of this regiment at the Czar-KoeSelo Palace. In the Czar’s suite there were two or three gentlemen who remembered Mr. Taft’s father as Minister to Russia, so he very greatly enjoyed the experience of meeting them.