During the three centuries and a quarter of more or less effective Spanish dominion, this Archipelago never ranked above the most primitive of colonial possessions.

That powerful nation which in centuries gone by was built up by Iberians, Celts, Phoenicians, Carthaginians, Visigoths, Romans, and Arabs was in its zenith of glory when the conquering spirit and dauntless energy of its people led them to gallant enterprises of discovery which astonished the civilized world. Whatever may have been the incentive which impelled the Spanish monarchs to encourage the conquest of these Islands, there can, at least, be no doubt as to the earnestness of the individuals entrusted to carry out the royal will. The nerve and muscle of chivalrous Spain ploughing through a wide unknown ocean in quest of glory and adventure, the unswerving devotion of the ecclesiastics to the cause of Catholic supremacy, each bearing intense privations, cannot fail to excite the wonder of succeeding generations. But they were satisfied with conquering and leaving unimproved their conquests, for whilst only a small fraction of this Archipelago was subdued, millions of dollars and hundreds of lives were expended in futile attempts at conquest in Gamboge, Siam, Pegu, Moluccas, Borneo, Japan, etc.—and for all these toils there came no reward, not even the sterile laurels of victory. The Manila seat of government had not been founded five years when the Governor-General solicited royal permission to conquer China!

Extension of dominion seized them like a mania. Had they followed up their discoveries by progressive social enlightenment, by encouragement to commerce, by the concentration of their efforts in the development of the territory and the new resources already under their sway, half the money and energy squandered on fruitless and inglorious expeditions would have sufficed to make high roads crossing and recrossing the Islands; tenfold wealth would have accrued; civilization would have followed as a natural consequence; and they would, perhaps even to this day, have preserved the loyalty of those who struggled for and obtained freer institutions. But they had elected to follow the principles of that religious age, and all we can credit them with is the conversion of millions to Christianity and the consequent civility at the expense of cherished liberty, for ever on the track of that fearless band of warriors followed the monk, ready to pass the breach opened for him by the sword, to conclude the conquest by the persuasive influence of the Holy Cross.

The civilization of the world is but the outcome of wars, and probably as long as the world lasts the ultimate appeal in all questions will be made to force, notwithstanding Peace Conferences. The hope of ever extinguishing warfare is as meagre as the advantage such a state of things would be. The idea of totally suppressing martial instinct in the whole civilized community is as hopeless as the effort to convert all the human race to one religious system. Moreover, the common good derived from war generally exceeds the losses it inflicts on individuals; nor is war an isolated instance of the few suffering for the good of the many. “Salus populi suprema lex.” “Nearly every step in the world's progress has been reached by warfare. In modern times the peace of Europe is only maintained by the equality of power to coerce by force. Liberty in England, gained first by an exhibition of force, would have been lost but for bloodshed. The great American Republic owes its existence and the preservation of its unity to this inevitable means, and neither arbitration, moral persuasion, nor sentimental argument would ever have exchanged Philippine monastic oppression for freedom of thought and liberal institutions.

The right of conquest is admissible when it is exercised for the advancement of civilization, and the conqueror not only takes upon himself, but carries out, the moral obligation to improve the condition of the subjected peoples and render them happier. How far the Spaniards of each generation fulfilled that obligation may be judged from these pages, the works of Mr. W.H. Prescott, the writings of Padre de las Casas, and other chroniclers of Spanish colonial achievements. The happiest colony is that which yearns for nothing at the hands of the mother country; the most durable bonds are those engendered by gratitude and contentment. Such bonds can never be created by religious teaching alone, unaccompanied by the twofold inseparable conditions of moral and material improvement. There are colonies wherein equal justice, moral example, and constant care for the welfare of the people have riveted European dominion without the dispensable adjunct of an enforced State religion. The reader will judge the merits of that civilization which the Spaniards engrafted on the races they subdued; for as mankind has no philosophical criterion of truth, it is a matter of opinion where the unpolluted fountain of the truest modern civilization is to be found. It is claimed by China and by Europe, and the whole universe is schismatic on the subject. When Japan was only known to the world as a nation of artists, Europe called her barbarous; when she had killed fifty thousand Russians in Manchuria, she was proclaimed to be highly civilized. There are even some who regard the adoption of European dress and the utterance of a few phrases in a foreign tongue as signs of civilization. And there is a Continental nation, proud of its culture, whose sense of military honour, dignity, and discipline involves inhuman brutality of the lowest degree.

Juan de la Concepcion,1 who wrote in the eighteenth century, bases the Spaniards' right to conquest solely on the religious theory. He affirms that the Spanish kings inherited a divine right to these Islands, their dominion being directly prophesied in Isaiah xviii. He assures us that this title from Heaven was confirmed by apostolic authority,2 and by “the many manifest miracles with which God, the Virgin, and the Saints, as auxiliaries of our arms, demonstrated its unquestionable justice.” Saint Augustine, he states, considered it a sin to doubt the justice of war which God determines; but, let it be remembered, the same savant insisted that the world was flat, and that the sun hid every night behind a mountain!

An apology for conquest cannot be rightly based upon the sole desire to spread any particular religion, more especially when we treat of Christianity, the benign radiance of which was overshadowed by that debasing institution the Inquisition, which sought out the brightest intellects only to destroy them. But whether conversion by coercion be justifiable or not, one is bound to acknowledge that all the urbanity of the Filipinos of to-day is due to Spanish training, which has raised millions from obscurity to a relative condition of culture. The fatal defect in the Spanish system was the futile endeavour to stem the tide of modern methods and influences.

The government of the Archipelago alone was no mean task.

A group of islands inhabited by several heathen races—surrounded by a sea exposed to typhoons, pirates, and Christian-hating Mussulmans—had to be ruled by a handful of Europeans with inadequate funds, bad ships, and scant war material. For nearly two centuries the financial administration was a chaos, and military organization hardly existed. Local enterprise was disregarded and discouraged so long as abundance of silver dollars came from across the Pacific. Such a short-sighted, unstable dependence left the Colony resourceless when bold foreign traders stamped out monopoly and brought commerce to its natural level by competition. In the meantime the astute ecclesiastics quietly took possession of rich arable lands in many places, the most valuable being within easy reach of the Capital and the Arsenal of Cavite. Landed property was undefined. It all nominally belonged to the State, which, however, granted no titles; “squatters” took up land where they chose without determined limits, and the embroilment continues, in a measure, to the present day.

About the year 1885 the question was brought forward of granting Government titles to all who could establish claims to land. Indeed, for about a year, there was a certain enthusiasm displayed both by the applicants and the officials in the matter of “Titulos Reales.” But the large majority of landholders—among whom the monastic element conspicuously figured—could only show their title by actual possession.3 It might have been sufficient, but the fact is that the clergy favoured neither the granting of “Titulos Reales” nor the establishment of the projected Real Estate Registration Offices.

Agrarian disputes had been the cause of so many armed risings against themselves in particular, during the nineteenth century, that they opposed an investigation of the land question, which would only have revived old animosities, without giving satisfaction to either native or friar, seeing that both parties were intransigent.4

The fundamental laws, considered as a whole, were the wisest devisable to suit the peculiar circumstances of the Colony; but whilst many of them were disregarded or treated as a dead letter, so many loopholes were invented by the dispensers of those in operation as to render the whole system a wearisome, dilatory process. Up to the last every possible impediment was placed in the way of trade expansion; and in former times, when worldly majesty and sanctity were a joint idea, the struggle with the King and his councillors for the right of legitimate traffic was fierce.

So long as the Archipelago was a dependency of Mexico (up to 1819) not one Spanish colonist in a thousand brought any cash capital to this colony with which to develop its resources. During the first two centuries and a quarter Spain's exclusive policy forbade the establishment of any foreigner in the Islands; but after they did settle there they were treated with such courteous consideration by the Spanish officials that they could often secure favours with greater ease than the Spanish colonists themselves.

Everywhere the white race urged activity like one who sits behind a horse and goads it with the whip. But good advice without example was lost to an ignorant class more apt to learn through the eye than through the ear. The rougher class of colonist either forgot, or did not know, that, to civilize a people, every act one performs, or intelligible word one utters, carries an influence which pervades and gives a colour to the future life and thoughts of the native, and makes it felt upon the whole frame of the society in embryo. On the other hand, the value of prestige was perfectly well understood by the higher officials, and the rigid maintenance of their dignity, both in private life and in their public offices, played an important part in the moral conquest of the Filipinos. Equality of races was never dreamed of, either by the conquerors or the conquered; and the latter, up to the last days of Spanish rule, truly believed in the superiority of the white man. This belief was a moral force which considerably aided the Spaniards in their task of civilization, and has left its impression on the character of polite Philippine society to this day.

Christianity was not only the basis of education, but the symbol of civilization; and that the Government should have left education to the care of the missionaries during the proselytizing period was undoubtedly the most natural course to take. It was desirable that conversion from paganism should precede any kind of secular tuition. But the friars, to the last, held tenaciously to their old monopoly; hence the University, the High Schools, and the Colleges (except the Jesuit Schools) were in their hands, and they remained as stumbling-blocks in the intellectual advancement of the Colony. Instead of the State holding the fountains of knowledge within its direct control, it yielded them to the exclusive manipulation of those who eked out the measure as it suited their own interests.

Successful government by that sublime ethical essence called “moral philosophy” has fallen away before a more practical rÉgime. Liberty to think, to speak, to write, to trade, to travel, was only partially and reluctantly yielded under extraneous pressure. The venality of the conqueror's administration, the judicial complicacy, want of public works, weak imperial government, and arrogant local rule tended to dismember the once powerful Spanish Empire. The same causes have produced the same effects in all Spain's distant colonies, and to-day the mother country is almost childless. Criticism, physical discovery of the age, and contact with foreigners shook the ancient belief in the fabulous and the supernatural; the rising generation began to inquire about more certain scientific theses. The immutability of Theology is inharmonious to Science—the School of Progress; and long before they had finished their course in these Islands the friars quaked at the possible consequences. The dogmatical affirmation “qui non credit anathema sit,” so indiscriminately used, had lost its power. Public opinion protested against an order of things which checked the social and material onward movement of the Colony. And, strange as it may seem, Spain was absolutely impotent, even though it cost her the whole territory (as indeed happened) to remedy the evil. In these Islands what was known to the world as the Government of Spain was virtually the Executive of the Religious Corporations, who constituted the real Government, the members of which never understood patriotism as men of the world understand it. Every interest was made subservient to the welfare of the Orders. If, one day, the Colony must be lost to them, it was a matter of perfect indifference into whose hands it passed. It was their happy hunting-ground and last refuge. But the real Government could not exist without its Executive; and when that Executive was attacked and expelled by America, the real Government fell as a consequence. If the Executive had been strong enough to emancipate itself from the dominion of the friars only two decades ago, the Philippines might have remained a Spanish colony to-day. But the wealth in hard cash and the moral religious influence of the Monastic Orders were factors too powerful for any number of executive ministers, who would have fallen like ninepins if they had attempted to extricate themselves from the thraldom of sacerdotalism. Outside political circles there was, and still is in Spain, a class who shrink from the abandonment of ideas of centuries' duration. Whatever the fallacy may be, not a few are beguiled into thinking that its antiquity should command respect.

The conquest of this Colony was decidedly far more a religious achievement than a military one, and to the friars of old their nation's gratitude is fairly due for having contributed to her glory, but that gratitude is not an inheritance.

Prosperity began to dawn upon the Philippines when restrictions on trade were gradually relaxed since the second decade of last century. As each year came round reforms were introduced, but so clumsily that no distinction was made between those who were educationally or intellectually prepared to receive them and those who were not; hence the small minority of natives, who had acquired the habits and necessities of their conquerors, sought to acquire for all an equal status, for which the masses were unprepared. The abolition of tribute in 1884 obliterated caste distinction; the university graduate and the herder were on a legal equality if they each carried a cÉdula personal, whilst certain Spanish legislators exercised a rare effort to persuade themselves and their partisans that the Colony was ripe for the impossible combination of liberal administration and monastic rule.

It will be shown in these pages that the government of these Islands was practically as theocratic as it was civil. Upon the principle of religious pre-eminence all its statutes were founded, and the reader will now understand whence the innumerable Church and State contentions originated. Historical facts lead one to inquire: How far was Spain ever a moral potential factor in the world's progress? Spanish colonization seems to have been only a colonizing mission preparatory to the attainment, by her colonists, of more congenial conditions under other rÉgimes; for the repeated struggles for liberty, generation after generation, in all her colonies, tend to show that Spain's sovereignty was maintained through the inspiration of fear rather than love and sympathy, and that she entirely failed to render her colonial subjects happier than they were before.

One cannot help feeling pity for the Spanish nation, which has let the Pearl of the Orient slip out of its fingers through culpable and stubborn mismanagement, after repeated warnings and similar experiences in other quarters of the globe. Yet although Spain's lethargic, petrified conservatism has had to yield to the progressive spirit of the times, the loss to her is more sentimental than real, and Spaniards of the next century will probably care as little about it as Britons do about the secession of their transatlantic colonies.

Happiness is merely comparative: with a lovely climate—a continual summer—and all the absolute requirements of life at hand, there is not one-tenth of the misery in the Philippines that there is in Europe, and none of that forlorn wretchedness facing the public gaze. Beggary—that constant attribute of the highest civilization—hardly exists, and suicide is extremely rare. There are no ferocious animals, insects, or reptiles that one cannot reasonably guard against; it is essentially one of those countries where “man's greatest enemy is man.” There is ample room for double the population, and yet a million acres of virgin soil only awaiting the co-operation of husbandman and capitalist to turn it to lucrative account. A humdrum life is incompatible here with the constant emotion kept up by typhoons, shipwrecks, earthquakes, tidal waves, volcanic eruptions, brigands, epidemics, devastating fires, etc.

It is a beautiful country, copiously endowed by Nature, where the effulgent morning sun contributes to a happy frame of mind—where the colonist's rural life passes pleasantly enough to soothe the longing for “home, sweet home.”

Such is America's new possession, wherein she has assumed the moral responsibility of establishing a form of government on principles quite opposite to those of the defunct Spanish rÉgime: whether it will be for better or for worse cannot be determined at this tentative stage. Without venturing on the prophetic, one may not only draw conclusions from accomplished facts, but also reasonably assume, in the light of past events, what might have happened under other circumstances. There is scarcely a Power which has not, in the zenith of its prosperity, consciously or unconsciously felt the “divine right” impulse, and claimed that Providence has singled it out to engraft upon an unwilling people its particular conception of human progress. The venture assumes, in time, the more dignified name of “mission”; and when the consequent torrents of blood recede from memory with the ebbing tide of forgetfulness, the conqueror soothes his conscience with a profession of “moral duty,” which the conquered seldom appreciate in the first generation. No unforeseen circumstances whatever caused the United States to drift unwillingly into Philippine affairs. The war in Cuba had not the remotest connexion with these Islands. The adversary's army and navy were too busy with the task of quelling the TagÁlog rebellion for any one to imagine they could be sent to the Atlantic. It was hardly possible to believe that the defective Spanish-Philippine squadron could have accomplished the voyage to the Antilles, in time of war, with every neutral port en route closed against it. In any case, so far as the ostensible motive of the Spanish-American War was concerned, American operations in the Philippines might have ended with the Battle of Cavite. The TagÁlog rebels were neither seeking nor desiring a change of masters, but the state of war with Spain afforded America the opportunity, internationally recognized as legitimate, to seize any of the enemy's possessions; hence the acquisition of the Philippines by conquest. Up to this point there is nothing to criticize, in face of the universal tacit recognition, from time immemorial, of the right of might.

American dominion has never been welcomed by the Filipinos. All the principal Christianized islands, practically representing the whole Archipelago, except Moroland, resisted it by force of arms, until, after two years of warfare, they were so far vanquished that those still remaining in the field, claiming to be warriors, were, judged by their exploits, undistinguishable from the brigand gangs which have infested the Islands for a century and a half. The general desire was, and is, for sovereign independence; and although a pro-American party now exists, it is only in the hope of gaining peacefully that which they despaired of securing by armed resistance to superior force. The question as to how much nearer they are to the goal of their ambition belongs to the future; but there is nothing to show, by a review of accomplished facts, that, without foreign intervention, the Filipinos would have prospered in their rebellion against Spain. Even if they had expelled the Spaniards their independence would have been of short duration, for they would have lost it again in the struggle with some colony-grabbing nation. A united Archipelago under the Malolos Government would have been simply untenable; for, apart from the possible secessions of one or more islands, like Negros, for instance, no Christian Philippine Government could ever have conquered Mindanao and the Sulu Sultanate; indeed, the attempt might have brought about their own ruin, by exhaustion of funds, want of unity in the hopeless contest with the Moro, and foreign intervention to terminate the internecine war. Seeing that Emilio Aguinaldo had to suppress two rivals, even in the midst of the bloody struggle when union was most essential for the attainment of a common end, how many more would have risen up against him in the period of peaceful victory? The expulsion of the friars and the confiscation of their lands would have surprised no one cognizant of Philippine history. But what would have become of religion? Would the predominant religion in the Philippines, fifty years hence, have been Christian? Recent events lead one to conjecture that liberty of cult, under native rule, would have been a misnomer, and Roman Catholicism a persecuted cause, with the civilizing labours of generations ceasing to bear fruit.

No generous, high-minded man, enjoying the glorious privilege of liberty, would withhold from his fellow-men the fullest measure of independence which they were capable of maintaining. If America's intentions be as the world understands them, she is endeavouring to break down the obstacles which the Filipinos, desiring a lasting independence, would have found insuperable. America claims (as other colonizing nations have done) to have a “mission” to perform, which, in the present case, includes teaching the Filipinos the art of self-government. Did one not reflect that America, from her birth as an independent state, has never pretended to follow on the beaten tracts of the Old World, her brand-new method of colonization would surprise her older contemporaries in a similar task. She has been the first to teach Asiatics the doctrine of equality of races—a theory which the proletariat has interpreted by a self-assertion hitherto unknown, and a gradual relinquishment of that courteous deference towards the white man formerly observable by every European. This democratic doctrine, suddenly launched upon the masses, is changing their character. The polite and submissive native of yore is developing into an ill-bred, up-to-date, wrangling politician. Hence rule by coercion, instead of sentiment, is forced upon America, for up to the present she has made no progress in winning the hearts of the people. Outside the high-salaried circle of Filipinos one never hears a spontaneous utterance of gratitude for the boon of individual liberty or for the suppression of monastic tyranny. The Filipinos craving for immediate independence, regard the United States only in the light of a useful medium for its attainment, and there are indications that their future attachment to their stepmother country will be limited to an unsentimental acceptance of her protection as a material necessity.

Measures of practical utility and of immediate need have been set aside for the pursuit of costly fantastic ideals, which excite more the wonder than the enthusiasm of the people, who see left in abeyance the reforms they most desire. The system of civilizing the natives on a curriculum of higher mathematics, literature, and history, without concurrent material improvement to an equal extent, is like feeding the mind at the expense of the body. No harbour improvements have been made, except at Manila; no canals have been cut; few new provincial roads have been constructed, except for military purposes; no rivers are deepened for navigation, and not a mile of railway opened. The enormous sums of money expended on such unnecessary works as the Benguet road and the creation of multifarious bureaux, with a superfluity of public servants, might have been better employed in the development of agriculture and cognate wealth-producing public works. The excessive salaries paid to high officials seem to be out of all proportion to those of the subordinate assistants. Extravagance in public expenditure necessarily brings increasing taxation to meet it; the luxuries introduced for the sake of American trade are gradually, and unfortunately, becoming necessities, whereas it would be more considerate to reduce them if it were possible. It is no blessing to create a desire in the common people for that which they can very well dispense with and feel just as happy without the knowledge of. The deliberate forcing up of the cost of living has converted a cheap country into an expensive one, and an income which was once a modest competence is now a miserable pittance. The infinite vexatious regulations and complicated restrictions affecting trade and traffic are irritating to every class of business men, whilst the Colony's indebtedness is increasing, the budget shows a deficit, and agriculture—the only local source of wealth—is languishing.

Innovations, costing immense sums to introduce, are forced upon the people, not at all in harmony with their real wants, their instincts, or their character. What is good for America is not necessarily good for the Philippines. One could more readily conceive the feasibility of “assimilation” with the Japanese than with the Anglo-Saxon. To rule and to assimilate are two very different propositions: the latter requires the existence of much in common between the parties. No legislation, example, or tuition will remould a people's life in direct opposition to their natural environment. Even the descendants of whites in the Philippines tend to merge into, rather than alter, the conditions of the surrounding race, and vice versa. It is quite impossible for a race born and living in the Tropics to adopt the characteristics and thought of a Temperate Zone people. The Filipinos are not an industrious, thrifty people, or lovers of work, and no power on earth will make them so. The Colony's resources are, consequently, not a quarter developed, and are not likely to be by a strict application of the theory of the “Philippines for the Filipinos.” But why worry about their lethargy, if, with it, they are on the way to “perfect contentment”?—that summit of human happiness which no one attains. Ideal government may reach a point where its exactions tend to make life a burden; practical government stops this side of that point. White men will not be found willing to develop a policy which offers them no hope of bettering themselves; and as to labour—other willing Asiatics are always close at hand. Uncertainty of legislation, constantly changing laws, new regulations, the fear of a tax on capital, and general prospective insecurity make large investors pause.

Democratic principles have been too suddenly sprung upon the masses. The autonomy granted to the provinces needs more control than the civil government originally intended, and ends in an appeal on almost every conceivable question being made to one man—the Gov.-General: this excessive concentration makes efficient administration too dependent on the abilities of one person. There are many who still think, and not without reason, that ten years of military rule would have been better for the people themselves. Even now military government might be advantageously re-established in SÁmar Island, where the common people are not anxious for the franchise, or care much about political rights. A reasonable amount of personal freedom, with justice, would suffice for them; whilst the trading class would welcome any effective and continuous protection, rather than have to shift for themselves with the risk of being persecuted for having given succour to the pulajanes to save their own lives and property.

Civil government, prematurely inaugurated, without sufficient preparation, has had a disastrous effect, and the present state of many provinces is that of a wilderness overrun by brigand bands too strong for the civil authority to deal with. But one cannot fail to recognize and appreciate the humane motives which urged the premature establishment of civil administration. Scores of nobodies before the rebellion became somebodies during the four or five years of social turmoil. Some of them influenced the final issue, others were mere show-figures, really not more important than the beau sabreur in comic opera. Yet one and all claimed compensation for laying aside their weapons, and in changing the play from anarchy to civil life these actors had to be included in the new cast to keep them from further mischief.

The moral conquest of the Philippines has hardly commenced. The benevolent intentions of the Washington Government, and the irreproachable character and purpose of its eminent members who wield the destiny of these islanders, are unknown to the untutored masses, who judge their new masters by the individuals with whom they come into close contact. The hearts of the people cannot be won without moral prestige, which is blighted by the presence of that undesirable class of immigrants to whom Maj.-General Leonard Wood refers so forcibly in his “First Report of the Moro Province.” In this particular region, which is ruled semi-independently of the Philippine Commission, the peculiar conditions require a special legislation. But, apart from this, the common policy of its enlightened Gov.-General would serve as a pattern of what it might be, with advantage, throughout the Archipelago.

So much United States money and energy have been already expended in these Islands, and so far-reaching are the pledges made to their inhabitants, that American and Philippine interests are indissolubly associated for many a generation to come. It does not necessarily follow that the fullest measure of national liberty will create real personal liberty. Such an idea does not at all appeal to Asiatics, according to whose instinct every man dominates over, or is dominated by, another. If America should succeed in establishing a permanently peaceful independent Asiatic government on democratic principles, it will be one of the unparalleled achievements of the age.