Not long after the arrival of our party at Bacalod we received an invitation to a “baile” given in our honor by the inhabitants of Silay, a town some ten or twelve miles up the northern coast and one noted for its social life. The invitation was accepted with pleasure, and about the middle of the afternoon on the day appointed we were clad in the immaculate white of the tropics and steaming away up the coast on board a launch sent for our conveyance. Twilight was still lingering on the path of day when we anchored just off shore at the town. A row-boat containing the officials of the city came out to meet us and, in due season, we were ushered into a spacious drawing-room filled almost to overflowing with the Élite of the town. The Élite of towns in the Philippines speak Spanish, and, as only one or two of our party could at that time boast of more than a formal acquaintance with the Castilian tongue, the exchange of ideas that evening between us and the Filipinos was of necessity not very rapid.
The necessity of easy communication between us was rendered somewhat less indispensable by the announcement of supper as soon as we were rested from our trip. When we had taken our places at the table a young Filipino about twenty-five years of age arose and gave a lengthy toast to the recent union of the Philippines with the United States. But as we Americans were unable to scale the dizzy heights of his climaxes or sink to the depths of his pathos, we forewent the pleasures of his oratory and turned our attention to the savory odor of lamb, chicken, and roast pig that came slyly stealing up our nostrils to send us nerve dispatches about the gastronomic delights of our not far distant future.At last the toast was ended and the world-wide soup ushered in a long train of things good to eat, served in a style better fitted to the delights of the appetite than to the formalities of dinners, for, as soon as the pleasant task of one dish was completed by any one, the next was served him at once regardless of the progress made by the others at the table.
The last course was dulce. The new-comers to the Philippines will not be long in making the acquaintance of this dish, and at all meetings, both public and private, where eatables are served, it performs an important part. It is anything sweet, and it may vary all the way from an india-rubber-like black mixture of cocoanut milk and dirty sugar to a really toothsome and respectable confection. No matter of what materials a dish is composed, just so long as it is sweet, it is dulce.
After paying our respects to this last course, we arose from the table and entered a great rectangular room from the center of whose ceiling hung a large glass chandelier, a mass of shimmering crystals. In the chairs around the room were the wealth, the youth, and the beauty of the town.
The first and also the last number of every Filipino dance of any formality is the “rigodon.” The dancers are arranged in a square, or quadrangle according to the number participating, and are then led through a tangled maze of figures that so utterly bewilders the novice that he sinks into his chair at the end of the dance wondering how it all came to pass.
We Americans breathed a sigh of relief when the “rigodon” ended, and mustered fresh courage for social conquests in the waltz that was now breathing forth from the trembling strings. My companion in the first dance had been the young lady by whose side I had sat at dinner. But it now became necessary to search for another, so I prudently waited to see how partners were chosen, and made no mistake when a few moments later I faced one of the most luscious looking seÑoritas on the opposite side of the room and offered her my arm. My eyes must have told the story that my lips could not utter in Spanish, for she smiled upon me sweetly, arose, and put her hand upon my shoulder. My arm encircled her waist and I began to waltz. Unfortunately my companion did not follow, but began to hop up and down in a manner most distressing. Supposing the attack to be only temporary, I paused and, much to my relief, she soon showed signs of recovery; and in the course of time she came to a standstill looking up into my face in an inquiring sort of way, apparently wondering why St. Vitus had not paid his respects to me also. A second attempt to follow the music met with results similar to the first, and during the third attempt, which seemed to be trembling on the verge of a failure, St. Vitus let go my companion and seized me with such vigor that she, who was small even for a Filipino, was gathered up bodily and taken around the room at such a pace that her toes touched the floor only at far distant intervals.
At this point my devotion to the shrine of Terpsichore ceased from force of circumstances and I seated myself in one of the most comfortable chairs in sight that I might carry out a previously formed plan to study the Filipino somewhat critically as he appears in society.
The first thing that impressed me as the dancers passed up and down the room was the flash of diamonds. Nearly every woman in the room had on a brooch that flashed the colors of the rainbow at every turn. Almost all of them wore one or more rings that showed up brilliantly under the chandelier. Many of the men too, especially the young men, wore gems that appeared to be exquisite. A closer inspection showed that some of the gems had flaws and others were of a poor color, but no one would have denied that, taken as a whole, it was a really beautiful display.
The dress of the ladies was richly colored. Many of their skirts were of silk covered with hand embroidered flowers, and their filmy pina waists and broad collar pieces were rich with needle-work. They all wore a kind of heelless velvet slipper, very common as a dress shoe in the Philippines, or high-heeled patent leather shoes with neatly fitting black stockings.
The men were dressed in white coats and white pantaloons or black coats and white pantaloons. White shirts and collars, together with all sorts and styles of cravats and low-cut patent leather shoes with highly colored socks completed their dress.
It was easy to see that the Filipinos really had a good deal of money; that they liked to dress was apparent; and that they believed in a table loaded with good things was a fact to which all of us were enthusiastic witnesses.
