There are few things more beautiful than a well-ordered coffee estate in full bloom. Straight and stately avenues cross each other in every direction. The plant has long glossy leaves, like the laurel; the blossoms are snowy-white, and in shape resemble the jasmine, and their fragrance is exquisite; while overhead the madre foliage grows dense, protecting the more delicate plant from too much sun, too pelting a storm, too wild a blast. The fruit, when ripe, is of a dark scarlet color, and the ordinary berry contains two seeds, glued together and covered with a membrane. The mocha of Arabia and the caracolillo of Manila are richer in flavor than the other varieties, and, as already stated, have but one bean, thus differing in shape from those of the ordinary berry.
The neighborhood of Lipa is noted for its wealth and for many coffee estates round about. A number of the planters there have sedulously done all in their power to attain perfection in the growing, dressing, sorting, and marketing of the bean. Along their own lines, too, they have overcome obstacles, and have effected certain success. And some of the estates are beautiful and most prosperously ordered. I have driven through them and ridden over them, and have invariably admired them, and, admiring, I have marveled at the landscape-gardening effects produced on what was seemingly so commercial a basis. Ruskin’s own ideas of beauty in every-day life and in lowly occupation can not find a more delightful and satisfying illustration than in the environment in which masses of laborers delve and toil upon some of the Lipa coffee estates.
In the Philippines the coffee berries are gathered by hand from the trees,—men, women, and children assisting in the process. The fruit is then put aside in heaps, and in a few days is washed. In this way much of the pulp is detached and discarded. The remainder is placed in a mortar and pounded until the clean bean emerges, which, in the bulk, forms the coffee of commerce. This is sent, in coarse bags of hemp, to Manila for sale.
The ripe berries, when sun-dried, lose over 50 per cent. of moisture.
Harsh Methods of the Government.
The Government at Madrid, with its usual heavy, tyrannous policy, has imposed extra licenses on the planting of coffee, and laid a heavy import duty on the machinery lately introduced and used to prepare the bean for market.
The formation of the Philippine Archipelago is peculiarly adapted to the cultivation of coffee and hemp. To say it once more: Both need high altitudes, and to be grown on the sides of hills or mountains. On most of the islands a range runs north and south, rising sometimes to the height of nine thousand feet.
The laborers on a coffee estate expect to receive one-half the produce for their work in caring for the crop, which includes ploughing,—something essential to the health of the tree,—cultivating, picking, and drying the fruit, and preparing the bean for transport to Manila.
The hard methods of the Government regarding the coffee bean, the difficulties of the grower in obtaining reliable assistance, and the fluctuations of the trade will probably account for the small quantity produced under Spanish auspices. The island of Negros alone is so accessible that the coffee production there ought to be enormous. In 1897 the exportation amounted to about $250,000. Under almost any other government it would have reached $3,000,000.