THE FRIAR'S DAUGHTER
A Story of the American Occupation of the Philippines.
By CHARLES LINCOLN PHIFER
Author of "The White Sea," "The Giant Hand," "Diaz the Dictator," Etc., Etc.
40 Cents Each. 10 for $3.00. 100 for $22.00.
1909: Published by C. L. PHIFER Girard, Kansas
CHARACTERS.
Judge Benjamin Daft, American Governor. Admiral Rainey, Conqueror of the Philippines. Camillo Saguanaldo, Insurgent General and President. Bishop Lonzello, the Friar. Ambrosia Lonzello, the Friar's Daughter. Rodriguez Violeta, the Papal Nuncio. Mrs. Rizal, widow of a Filipino Patriot. Maximo Voliva, Leader of a Schism.
Time--1898-1899. Place--Manila and Vicinity.
JUST A WORD.
This is a story founded on truth. Practically every incident toldabout really happened; yet some liberty has been taken with thearrangements of these incidents into a story. Events are sometimesgrouped outside of their natural order and place of occurrence,and the time of action is shortened. Conversation is necessarilyinvented, and is used to bring out the setting of the story and giveit life. Another thing: Every writer recognizes that it is desirableto not have too many characters in a story, and to not drag it throughunimportant incidents. Therefore, I have omitted many incidents ofthe occupation of the Philippines, and have in places ascribed to oneperson, in an effort to keep down the number of characters, acts whichproperly belonged to other persons, so that some of the charactersare representative and composite. To illustrate my meaning--that alove story in the simplest form might run through the tale I havemade Saguanaldo appear as a lover as well as a general, though thisis acknowledged to be fiction. In other places I have one characterdoing a work that was really done by a different person; but itwould have been difficult and confusing to use all the actors in thestirring drama or to refer to all the many incidents. This shorteningof the period of action, and this combining in one person the deeds ofseveral, is something which Shakespeare did in his historical dramas;so that this is historical in the same sense that some of his playsare historical--not as to the truth of every word and the time andplace of every act, but in spirit and in incident. The truth is there,but the grouping is made to meet the author's need.
There is no personal bias in this work. It is nothing to the authorthat in this case the center of the plot hinges about churchmen. Itis no more than if it should center around secular affairs. It is theold story of personal ambition which has appeared in a thousand formsand has influenced all conditions of people. It is not a matter ofreligion or irreligion, but a picture of what ambition will do foreven the best of aims and men.
C. L. P.
THE FRIAR'S DAUGHTER.
I.
"AND THE SUN COMES UP LIKE THUNDER."
Up till midnight Manila was at play. In medi?val Luzon they had notthen lost the sportive instinct of the healthy animal or been lostin the chase of the dollar. The shops were closed, but the places ofamusement were open. The Lunita, outside the city wall, was throngedwith carriages, and at each end of the Plaza de Gotta a band wasplaying. Spanish grandees and beautiful donnas were driving orpromenading there. Inside the wall churches and theatres were open,the churches being first visited and then the play houses. In theamphitheater, built up of bamboo, a crowd of the poorer people weregathered, and while the braver battles were not in progress at thistime, cock fighting was attracting the attention of many. Under thewalls of the old city, the city that best represented the ancientorder, the city of this story, in cloisters arched over where stockwas being housed, groups of men were throwing dice or playing cards. Itwas like a picture of the middle ages projected into the closing daysof April, 1898.
What an anomaly it was! Walls of the middle ages, surrounded by agreat moat, and within a cosmopolitan group, including Spaniards,Chinese and natives of the Northern islands; yet adjoining it tothe east lay a modern city; and Cavite, eight miles to the west,was a fort manned by modern guns. Yellow clay houses of one and twostories roofed with red tile, some with courts in the center, herein old Manila, and to the east modern places of business and houseswell plumbed, lighted with electricity. Churches and cathedrals,conventos and nunneries everywhere here, and beyond the Passig rivermodern amusement places and Protestant churches.
In the magnificent harbor that lay north of Manila, small craftsof many kinds were grouped at the piers, and in the distance themodern fleet of Spain lay at anchor. It was the one portion of theold order that yet remained; and the world was pressing upon it,and change was near.
Ambrosia Lonzello, the Friar's Daughter, stood at the gate in frontof her mother's home, gazing down the street, dreaming the dreams oforiental maidenhood. She had inherited the symmetry of proportion thatbelonged to her mother's tribe in Cebu, and from her father, BishopLonzello, had the Spaniard's dark eyes and charming vivacity. It hadbeen twenty years since Friar Lonzello, a young priest then locatedin Cebu, had met the young native woman who became Ambrosia's mother;and though it was forbidden priests to marry, Lonzello yet supportedthe woman he had then loved and the daughter that had been born tothem. If it was a strange thing to a European, it was rather therule than the exception in that oriental, mediaeval country, and asthe daughter of the Bishop, Ambrosia was one of the prominent youngwomen of the walled city. She stood, gazing down the street and upat the stars, dreaming her own dreams, a girl without experience inthe ways of the world, when she heard a voice at her side:
"Ambrosia! Buenos dias!" [1]
Ambrosia started. She knew the voice. But she supposed the possessor,Camillo Saguanaldo, was across the bay in China. A few months beforehe had been banished because of leading an insurrection against thefriars, who were practically the rulers of the Philippines, and hisreturn involved great danger for him. So Ambrosia said:
"I thought you were in China, Camillo. Do you not know it is dangerousfor you to be in Luzon?"
"My duty calls me here, Ambrosia, and here I must be," replied theyouth. "It is not so dangerous now as it has been in the past. Atlast our prayers are to be answered and America, the great land thatloves liberty, is to give us a chance to secure our freedom. If we doour part we shall be free. When I was in China I talked with AdmiralRainey, of the American fleet that was anchored there, and he toldme that the United States was about to go to war with Spain solelyto secure liberty for the Cubans; and when I told him how it was inthe Philippines, that we had been struggling for liberty for threehundred years, he said that it might be that Uncle Sam would do forus what he meant to do for the reconcentrados of Cuba. So I came overin advance to help when the only chance the Filipinos ever had shallcome to them."
"I wish it might be, Camillo," replied the girl. "But if my fatherhears you have returned, he will kill you, and nothing can appeasehis wrath now."
It might be mentioned that when the insurrection led by Saguanaldohad failed and his banishment was decreed, Bishop Lonzello, at theintercession of Ambrosia, had procured for him an allowance of $20,000on which to live in China. Ambrosia had intended it as a kindnessto him, and the bishop regarded it as a bribe, but now that he hadreturned there was no doubt that Lonzello would prosecute him and ifpossible secure his death.
"I s
hall be safe." replied the youth. "I used that $20,000 in buyingguns and ammunition, and have already a stronger force than I everhad. My troops are near at hand even now, and Manila is not so peacefulas she seems."
"You do not know. The heavy guns of the battleships have been mountedat Corregidor and Caney, and the 160,000 Spanish troops in the citylaugh at the idea of America ever being able to take it."
"Yet America will take it. The American fleet will be here andwill win, and then they will give us freedom. Within a few monthsthe Filipinos will be free, and then Ambrosia Lonzello will becomeAmbrosia de Saguanaldo."
The young girl flushed with combined embarrassment and pleasure.
"It can not be," she said. "I am not worthy of you. I shall seek withyou the freedom of the Filipinos and then I shall die and leave youfree to marry a woman who has a name."
"Fie, Ambrosia. I will give you my name, and there will be none inLuzon more honored than that. Many have tried for the good that nowwe shall attain. It must come. The very fact that we have waited forit so long proves that it must be near. Luz de mi vida [2], it is so."
"I wish," the girl began wistfully, then stopped abruptly. "Fatheris so bitter against you. I always wish you with me, yet you nevercome but I am anxious you should go, lest staying mean your death."
"Fear not, Ambrosia," said the youth. "They call me the Fox of Luzon,and I find my way where they do not suspect. I was with your fatheryesterday and he never knew."
"Oh, take no risk," plead the girl, throwing herself in his arms. "Teamo con todo el corazon. [3] You must, you must be careful. Oh, itis sad, so sad. If they would only let us have a chance the peoplemight be so happy. Luzon is a beautiful island. It seems to me likeParadise, the garden of the Lord; and yet for us it is purgatory."
"Some day we shall be released from purgatory, chuleta [4]. Theprayers of our forefathers will prevail."
"Camillo, come inside, or they will see you."
She drew the young man into the shadows, and into the house. Therethe lovers talked undisturbed. They talked of things that to themwere the most momentous--their own loves and their individual plans,the hope and future of the island which had been their home all theirlives. Little did they know that time was working for them and throughthem more momentous changes that should affect continents and endcompletely the feudal in the capitalistic.
On the following morning Manila was awakened by the roar ofartillery. It was still dark save for the star light, yet quickly thestreets were in turmoil. Some grasped the things they most valued andrushed to most ridiculous places for safety. One man took to the woodswith a fighting cock under his arm. A few of the bravest mounted tothe roofs of the dwellings and the towers of the churches in order toview the fight that had been anticipated, but which had come soonerthan expected. From these vantage points they looked on a scene suchas falls to the lot of man to observe only once in a thousand lives.
In answer to the challenge of Cavite the American fleet was forming inbattle array. In single file, as if in gala parade, they came, likeactors entering from the wings of a great stage or circus performersfrom the dressing room, crawling over the white bay like livingthings. The dawn had come, suddenly as in the tropics, come with theroar of artillery. For once it had literally realized Kipling's line--
"Dawn comes up like thunder outer China 'crost the bay."
At last the fleet, the tool of the new order of capitalism, wasready. The command had gone forth from Admiral Rainey: "You mayfire when you are ready." The American flag ship shot a line offire, and from the smoke that arose a great roar resounded. Boom,boom! Fire and shell and smoke and action swept from consciousnessthe peace of nature and thought of the world of life. Now and thenthe white veil of smoke would lift, and the watcher on the towerscould see in those intervals splintered masts and laboring vessels,specks that were men struggling in the waves, and wrecks that linedthe shore. It did not seem possible that all those specks were men,with hopes and plans and families, and hearts and bodies that suffered;the watchers on the towers could not know that decks of vessels wereslippery from blood, and that nerves were racked with pain and heartswere sore from loss. The American vessels, crawling like water mitesover the white mirror spread below them, circled together about firstone and then another of the Spanish ships; and ever as they movedflashes like fiery legs stretched from their sides. This red venom ofdeath touched the Spanish ships that appeared to wither and consumebefore it. Here a Spanish ship ran to shore, as though a living,wounded thing, seeking a place to die, and, trembling, sank beneaththe waves. There a vessel lay under the pitiless pelting of fire,till there was a heavy explosion, and the ship was torn to shredsthat sprinkled the water, while dots that represented men struggledin the waves. Yonder a vessel was on fire, and as it bore to shorespecks that were men dived into the water to save themselves, andthe red flames licked life from the redder decks.
With what precision the stranger ships came on, circling, andpouring death into the helpless vessels whose wooden hulks grafthad left exposed to shell! How aimlessly and helplessly the Spanishvessels floundered, unable to fight, and finding no escape! It waswar, glorious and terrible. In Spain a thousand widows and orphanswould weep and miss forever that which had been taken from them in aquarrel in which the fighters had no interest. In America a millionwould scream for joy and tingle with the glory of slaughter and thethought of being splendid fighters. Within half an hour nearly fourhundred able-bodied men perished and twenty million dollars' worth ofproperty that should have been used to make life happier and betterwas destroyed. It was a great drama, in a splendid amphitheatre,with the lifting curtains of night to show it forth, enacted for thefew in the towers. Ambrosia had seen and understood and was silencedby the grandeur and horror of it. She felt for the dying, and couldhardly restrain herself from crying out in agony when the Americanfleet ceased firing and calmly moved away to prepare, within sight ofthe wrecks and the sacrifice, breakfast for the living, after theirhour's toil.
"Oh, God, but this is horrible," she muttered, faint with herfeelings. As she spoke, once again she was startled with a voice ather side. She turned to behold an old man with a long beard, but sheknew the voice, the voice of Saguanaldo, and it said:
"Ambrosia, chuleta, it is the dawn, not only of a new day, but alsoof a new era."
II.
LIBERTY'S CENTURY-OLD LOVER.
"A beautiful city, Admiral Rainey--from a distance. Stronglyfortified--for the fifteenth century. But you can sweep away thefortifications as easily as you sank the Spanish war vessels. Whatis a walled city with a moat to guns that will carry for miles?"
"I do not doubt, General Saguanaldo," returned the American admiral ashe sat on deck of his flag ship in the harbor of Manila, faultlesslygarbed as though for a party, talking to the Filipino insurgentafter the battle that had spread his name around the globe, "I donot doubt my ability to reduce the Spanish works, but I was lookingto the future. Should I destroy so much private property as would beinvolved in bombarding Manila I would make enemies of the owners,who would give us trouble in days to come. I dare not take such aserious step until I am instructed from America."
"But consider, admiral," plead the insurgent, "Manila sits there,fair to see, but she has drawn the very life from the people of theinterior for centuries. The private property of which you speak wasgotten from labor by the sorrow of others."
"You are doubtless right, general, and I would not blame you ifyou should seek revenge from them, for your people have sufferedgreatly. But with me it is a different proposition. I am not actingfor myself alone."
"Nor am I. It may be you do not know the sorrows of Luzon, Se?orAdmiral!"
"It may be I do not, General Saguanaldo."
"May I tell you of them, Admiral Rainey?"
"I shall be pleased to know more of this land that I have just come tocommand until my country tells me what to do, or ends the unhappy war."
"When Spaniards from Mexico first landed in Maynila, centurie
s ago,"continued General Saguanaldo, "the simple-minded natives bowed to thewhite people as to gods; and they have been on their knees renderingtribute of Luzon's products ever since. It did not take the nativeslong to learn the nature of the Spaniards, who were inflamed by thelust of gold, both by their experience with the Incas and Aztecs inAmerica and by the hard terms of the Spanish rulers, for we have hadto pay tribute to Rome, to Spain and to Mexico--all."
"I am told the people of the interior are primitive--half nakedIgorrotes, or Negritos, wearing only breech clouts."
"Those live chiefly in the Southern islands. The body of the peopleof the Northern islands are of the Malayan stock, loving liberty,but kept poor by tributes exacted. They were a people of simple waysand homely virtues. Because of being of Malayan descent they worecalled Moros by the Spaniards. The two tribes of Moros, the Tagals ofNorthern Luzon, and the Viscayans of Southern Luzon and North Mindoro,yielded to Legaspi, to whom the king of Spain gave all the land hemight conquer. He was not a hard master, leaving the olden, nativechiefs in charge; but when, after this, the friars came from Spain,they began the work of oppression. When the great earthquake destroyedMaynila in 1645, and over 600 perished in the catastrophe, the nativeswere forced to work without pay on the arsenal at Ca Vite, and when,because of harsh treatment, they rebelled, burning towns and churches,the friars dispatched soldiers for the head of Sumoroy, the rebel. Hisfollowers sent in the head of a pig instead. The enraged friars andsoldiers tortured to death the mother of Sumoroy, and afterward,when the rebel was betrayed to them, struck off his head and mountedit on a pole for the people to look upon."