An Englishwoman in the Philippines

by Mrs. Campbell Dauncey

I think the Americans must be a very patriotic people, for out here they keep up these anniversaries with even more fervour, I am told, than they do at home, where they are a tradition of the soil. The cult of the national flag, too, is a perfect passion with them, and I have yet to see an American house out here where the Stars and Stripes do not appear in some part or other. In very many houses the flag is used as window-curtains, as ceiling-draperies, as portières, as tablecloths, besides little extra sort of Christmas-cake flags being stuck about wherever an ornament is wanted. One does not see this sort of thing in colonies of other countries, but the American flag devotion is really so sincere that one cannot cavil at its excess. Nevertheless we should consider it odd if the houses of high officials, and of everyone, in fact, in one of our colonies were decorated with Union Jacks in this fashion! Of course the Spaniards laugh at it very much; but then they are, very naturally, rather critical of all things American. One of them was holding forth bitterly to me on this flag question a day or two ago, and when I said that I thought it very nice to see so much patriotic feeling, he waved his hands and replied, very hotly: “It is not patriotism! It is farce! We, who have been born and bred for hundreds of generations on our native soil and love our country as a mother—we hold our flag sacred! We do not use it as furniture!”

I was much amused at his vehemence, but did not dare to smile for fear of hurting his feelings. Instead, I tried to soothe him down by saying that I thought the flag cult was perhaps a benefit as a direct appeal to the elementary natures of the Filipinos. This move of mine was a failure, however, for he burst out with renewed fury: “The Filipinos! What they think of it! Ha! You should hear them!” So I gave him up as a bad job!

To get back to the Declaration Day. The popping of pistols and throwing of crackers into the streets went on intermittently till about eight o’clock, when a procession began marching about the town, and luckily the day is extremely fine, though it is very hot indeed, as, though the thermometer is as low as 84°, there is not a breath of wind stirring, and all nature is very still and bright and shining.

The procession began to pass our house at about nine, so we had no more trouble to see it than just to lean over the balcony with some friends who had come round to profit by our position. C—— tried to get some snap-shots, but I am afraid they may not come out very well, as the camera is damp, like everything else in the house, and has a good coating of the prevailing blue mould.

The first spectacle that came along was a number of American officers on horseback, in khaki, with sashes of any colour they seemed to fancy—pale blue, pink, scarlet—slung round one shoulder and tied in a large bow on the hip. They rode the big army horses, which are no larger than ordinary horses at home; but, as I told you before, they look like pantomime animals after one’s eye is used to the Filipino ponies.

There was some hitch, out of sight, as the procession reached us, and all the officers pulled up their horses and turned round to look back. I don’t know what it was, but they halted a long time, trying all the time to get into the shade of the houses, for the heat was already very great. The men’s khaki suits were dark with perspiration, quite a different colour! Their horses dripped puddles of sweat when they halted, and one white horse was gradually turning purple!

The Americans rode in the style which I notice they all adopt. It does not look well according to our ideas, for they slouch in the saddle and flap their elbows, sitting with their legs sticking out straight as if the horse had tar or something on its ribs which the rider wanted to keep clear of. They seem to hold their reins in any sort of way, in each hand and up to their chins being the favourite method, which looks awkward, to say the least of it. After them came one or two Filipinos, who all ride very well by instinct, sitting their horses firmly and gracefully, with flat thighs, and moving as if they were part of their mount, so that it is a pleasure to look at them. The little ponies and horses of the Filipinos pranced and curvetted about in a most engaging manner, which desirable result is brought about by means of an ingenious contrivance, borrowed from the Spaniards, of a sharp iron spike which runs into the roof of the horse’s mouth when the rein is pulled, causing the animal to fret and foam and sidle to the admiration of beholders, who wonder how the rider can be so brave and cool with such a spirited steed.

After this little cavalcade had got past, the procession proper came along, headed by a military band from Guimaras, playing extremely well, and a long column of American soldiers, all in khaki and wearing khaki felt sombreros, such as our troops adopted in the Boer War, turned up at one side and with a narrow blue cord knotted in front, the ends finished off with two small blue acorns. They marched very well, all looking as exactly alike as so many toy soldiers on an expanding frame—you know the things? All very tall men, with long, handsome faces, narrow shoulders, and long, thin legs, not at all a robust type, no wiriness and no depth about them.

After the soldiers came a dozen or so of ordinary civilians in white linen suits and sombreros, with stars and medals on their breasts. They were followed by a similar group of men on foot, and these two little bands represented the Veteran Army of the Philippines, which includes anyone who volunteered in any capacity during the War. We told C—— he ought to be in that company, or at least to have a medal, as he was once made a temporary “lootenant,” and fought for the Americans in Samar. I think, however, that the V.A.P., as they call it, confines itself to American volunteers. With the American craze for societies and so forth, the V.A.P. are a sort of brotherhood, and have lodges and badges and meetings, and all that sort of thing. They gave a dance when we first came here, to which we went, and were awfully disgusted when we arrived to find that we had come too late for a solemn Lodge Meeting at which some ceremony had been performed.