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S an unrecognized penalty of our great business success, and the self-centered absorption which it has entailed, we Americans find it difficult to see from the standpoint of other peoples, or to appreciate standards of civilization different from our own. We are the most potently aggressive nation of the West; it follows, therefore, that the essence of our institutions is most obviously out of sympathy with the somnolent, contemplative spirit of the East. Yet our political puzzles in the Philippines, and the industrial and social problems which are to come, have but one key: a comprehension of the native character. Again, the key to that comprehension lies in sympathetic study; without it we shall not gain this essential knowledge.

Here, then, is the new, sacred duty of the American citizen, an obligation under which his very patriotism lays him. In stinctively realizing this when I went to the Philippines, I lived among natives and Spaniards during my half year's stay there, and strove, as far as possible, to view the world with Filipino eyes.

A priest who labored half his life in the Philippine colony left a little monograph on the native character. He says "that the native is an incomprehensible phenomenon, the mainspring of whose line of thought and the guiding motive of whose actions have never yet been, and perhaps never will be, discovered." So speaks the West of the East; but the time has come when such an attitude of mind should be obsolete. Still, I do not believe that any one person, no matter what his qualifications, can successfully fathom the Filipino character, unless he does so at a time when he can gather the consensus of the opinion of many people through many years. It is a task to be undertaken with much humility.

I know of no part of the earth where the traveler is not apt to find meted out to him with interest the sort of treatment which he bestows upon the people whom he encounters. He who returns home with nothing but ill in his mouth of the native populations that he has visited is

himself largely to blame. While I believe this law to hold good in the Philippines, one point must be clearly recognized and held in mind when drawing inferences of native character that the people are already deeply prejudiced against us; the depth of this prejudice few Americans in the islands have realized. The effect produced has been the bristling towards us— like the quills of a porcupine of the natives' bad qualities. This fact would seem to be borne out by the enthusiastically favorable portrayal of Filipino character by L. R. Sargent, U.S.N., who traveled through the provinces before this prejudice had assumed great dimensions.

Let the American also remember that he goes to the Filipino out of a great world, a complex sphere of action, of which the "little brown man" is ignorant. We are inspired by the knowledge of a thousand things of which he has no cognizance. Ours is a breathless, bustling world; that of the Filipino is often bounded by the. limits of his "barrio," its chief elements the long street of a sleepy, palm-shaded village of brown huts, built from the nucleus of red-tiled "convento" and church which typify to him the acme of advancement and civilization.

In dealing with the characteristics of an alien race in a short article a writer can only emphasize a few points with which he is impressed. The complex and diverse character of the Filipinos makes such a task far more difficult, and it is possible to speak in general only of those-about five millions-who have become somewhat civilized by contact with the Spaniards, and with most direct reference to the middle class, the average native, rather than to the minority of highly educated people, or to the other extreme, those who are merely emerging from barbarism. It is necessary, further, to exclude the picturesque "Moros," the Mohammedans of the southern islands; they have little in common with the Tagal and Visayan.

Speaking in the broadest possible sense, every human being has a few characteristics common to every other human

being. To a greater extent the people of the East and the people of the West have similar traits. Narrowed down to races, we find still more. An experienced traveler should more clearly understand all humanity than the person who stays at home; and he who visits other Eastern countries certainly finds himself better qualified to comprehend the Filipinos; it will be seen that they possess some of their most salient characteristics in common with other Orientals. As an example, we may mention, as most obvious of all, the inertia of the East, as opposed to the aggressiveness of the West. It is exemplified by the Oriental's tremendous resist ance under a compliant exterior. The strength of this absolutely negative resist ance often overcomes, more often wears out, the positive, open force of the AngloSaxon. We may use the homely simile of a rubber ball: press it and it yields; remove the pressure and it resumes its former shape precisely. This is the most potent and significant feature of Eastern character; it is the snag on which the American in the islands comes to grief. He does not understand what he "is up against."

The muchacho (boy servant) of the officer, with seeming acquiescence, takes polite note of all his master's instructions as to what he shall do and how he shall do it; but as soon as the officer's back is turned he proceeds to carry out his own previously formed ideas as to the extent of his duties and the manner of perform ing the same.

A general's wife whom I knew spent a great deal of time and energy in the attempt to make her native laundress wash and iron the clothes according to Yankee precedent. The Filipino method consists in beating each article of clothing on stones in the nearest stream (or ditch), sometimes using soap which has a clinging odor of ham. If done in the house, a flat wooden basin is used on the floor, and the washer squats beside it. My friend imported, with great trouble and much satisfaction, an American wash-tub and scrubbing-board; after several weeks of zealous instruction her laundress had reached the point where she consented to perch, monkey-like, on the bench beside the tub and slowly seesaw the clothes up and down; the family wash dragged out

through the week, and the reform was finally abandoned. This is how the little people in the Philippines are apt to get ahead of the big, aggressive, impatient Americans.

The sooner we begin to understand this side of native character, the better. Such cases are not hopeless, on account of the underlying intelligence of the native. It is essential first of all to form some conception of how the people think and feel. To change their habits they must slowly and thoroughly understand why; and confidence in us, not prejudice against us, is the first essential. It is just as possible for a new and better way of doing and thinking to become an accepted fact as the old; but superior force alone will not do it. "The Philippine native is often more easily led than driven," says Mr. Dean C. Worcester; but it is hard even to lead him.

In the great establishment in which I lived (a Roman Catholic convent) there was detailed to my service a native servant, a muchacha, who came to be, in my eyes, the embodiment of the best in the middle-class Filipino. She was faithful and devoted to an extent rarely found in a servitor, very sensitive, always gentle and tender, self-conscious and eager for praise, willing to make great sacrifices for anybody that she loved, implacable in her dislikes, honest in material matters but lacking in an appreciation of the moral quality of truth, inquisitive to a fault, and opposing to any contrary force which was not intelligible to her that inanimate, rubber-like obstinacy. It was a struggle to make Matea abandon any of her traditions of service; but her intelligence was above the average, and, once convinced that my way was really the best, the innovation became sacred in her eyes, and she took great pride in it; still, I was always feeling the strain of her will against mine. I came to believe that this negative resistance that the Filipino offers because he is an Oriental is much augmented by an inherent strength of character which some Eastern races lack, while still others-like the Chinese-have to a greater extent.

While Matea, though industrious, accomplished in a day about one-third as much as an American servant, compared with the average Filipino her character

was quite ideal. She was acknowledged in the convent to be a trustworthy woman, whereas the usual attitude toward the native servant is that of perennial distrust. In order to keep one's possessions intact in the Philippines it is necessary to act as if every native was a thief-though this is very far from being the case. I do not mean that this should apply to the treatment of natives, but to the taking of precautions. The people in the convent, including my own servant, taught me this. Matea was horror-struck if I went a little way down the hall without locking my door. Mr. John Foreman, who ranks among the highest of Philippine authorities, says: "A native will serve a master satisfactorily for years, and then suddenly abscond, or commit some such hideous crime as conniving with a brigand band to murder the family and pillage the house." I am glad to think that these extreme cases of the cropping out of Malay treachery are rare; but such things have happened, and may happen again. Hardly a day passed while I was in the Philippines that I did not hear of some minor lapse from the narrow path of honesty on the part of native servants. Now

it would be the disappearance of loose change carelessly left in a blouse pocket, now of a small article of jewelry from an officer's wife. Dismissal rarely followed, for the chances were that the next muchacho would betray the same weakness. Once in a while some seemingly faithful servant would disappear with more substantial spoils. As a rule, the pilfering is cunningly done, and it must be admitted that the manner indicates a preconceived intention rather than the giving way to sudden temptation and impulse like the American negro.

On the other hand, it is possible to cite instances of unexpected honesty. At the time of the insurgent outbreak in Manila in February, 1899, many American families had given out their wash to natives. Most of these clothes were never seen again. One family, however, had a happier experience; they had intrusted their laundry to an honest soul who dwelt in Cavite. When the uprising took place, he gathered up the clothes and fled in terror to the country. In the course of several months he felt reassured, and ventured to return to his home, where he finished his

interrupted labors on the clothes, and then carried them back to the American family, who were overcome with astonishment.

There are hundreds of incidents to be cited of unexpected acts of native servants, involving all degrees of deceit. The cochero of one of the war correspondents was outwardly the embodiment of discretion and dignity, with the rare accomplishment of being a good driver. Often did the war correspondent boast of this paragon of virtue who squatted on the front seat of his carromata, and, in an outburst of generosity, he bought him an entire new outfit of clothes, including shoes. Immediately after this he was obliged to go out to the front for a few days, leaving his cochero in charge of his horses and outfit; thereupon the ungrateful native deserted his trust, and, for some reason best known to himself, probably because of a desire for a little change, entered the service of an army officer.

An officer's wife had in her service a most intelligent house boy named Pedro. Pedro was another paragon, apparently honest and faithful, and unobtrusive in the performance of his duties. He confessed to having an esposa (wife) in a distant part of the city. She kept a tobacco-stand. His kind mistress gave

him many hours off to visit this esposa. Finally, with Pedro's help, she secured the services of another servant, a girl; and now Pedro's absences to visit his esposa were more frequent and of longer duration. In the course of months his mistress found out in a roundabout way that this wife was none other than the girl whom Pedro had so kindly "found" for her to take into her service.

The Filipino cochero is the bane of the American's life in Manila. It is unusual for him to show any anxiety to secure a fare. This lack of business enterprise and indifference to his own interests on the part of the pure native is in sharp contrast to the extraordinary push and unfailing industry of the Chinese coolie and half-caste, or "mestizo-Chino,” as the latter is called. At noon the cochero prefers to curl up inside his quiles (two-wheeled cart with a cover) for the siesta, rather than take troublesome fares about the city. Again, he will often drive past a hailing pedestrian with a look of scowling refusal on his face.

Sometimes he has a reason for it, sometimes it is merely a reluctance to exert himself; in his mind the matter ends there, and the American who thinks otherwise encounters a sullen resistance which he can rarely overcome except by threats. If the cochero is finally coerced into driving a fare against his will, he does it sulkily and with intermittent spasms of revolt.

In his manner of driving, the Filipino betrays certain characteristics. A person who has been driven over the Bridge of Spain and along the "Escolta" in a quilez will never forget the experience. It is an unwritten law of the Philippine road that no individual has any right to be regarded except that of might. The only place on the crowded thoroughfare to which a driver is entitled is the place which he wins for himself by plunging his steed, snorting under the lash, into the horrible confusion of carabao teams, army wagons, native quilezes, carromatas, and calesas jammed together in a seething mass, out of the indistinct parts of which come the angry cries and imprecations of the cocheros. There is clashing of shafts, the sound of ripping wood, a scraping of wheels, and the unfortunate fare is thrown helplessly from one side to the other of the rattling carriage, fearful that at each fresh impact it will fall apart in splinters. The cochero, however, is absolutely indifferent to any injury received by his vehicle short of having a wheel lopped off—in which case he is obliged to stop! And when he has extricated himself, or, rather, strenuously bored a way through the surging, swearing throng, his threats die on his lips, his wrathful scowl fades, and he resumes his usual philosophic calm. But the observant fare has learned two things which will afterward be borne out by many such experiences that the native is, in spite of his outward appearance of inert lethargy, often aroused to excitement and anger, and that he shows an absolute disregard of the rights of others-an entire lack of that public spirit which is the foundation-stone of citizenship,

It is also a fact not to be denied that the cochero is cruel in the treatment of his horse. Here again is a lack of consideration. The poor little creature may be thin and weak, with each rib much in

evidence, yet the driver will lash his quivering sides until the fare interposes. The cochero will stop for the time, yes; but he will repeat the process with interest when he is rid of his foolish passenger. It probably rarely occurs to the native that his horse or his carabao may suffer physical pain in the same way that he does. Tell him this, and he will grin in acquiescence, show his poor little caballo much deference while you are in sight, and give him a good lick as soon as he is around the corner. The Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals formed in Manila among Americans, and the strict imposition of fines for this sort of cruelty, were having a noticeable effect when I left Manila. The native generally needs something more than "words, words, words" to enforce a new idea. Concerning the graver charge of wanton cruelty to his fellow-man, those who have lived in the Philippines during the campaign are obliged to admit that the native acts very often with little regard to his Christian training. I myself have seen indisputable evidence of the torture of American prisoners, and their mutilation after death; but the more enlightened Filipinos are opposed to such acts, and it is due to their constantly restraining efforts that more atrocities have not been perpetrated. The intelligent leaders have done their best to impose upon their men the understanding of the rules of civilized warfare.

It is never safe to leave any article of value in a hired carriage while you go into a store, or stop to make a call. Long is the list of cameras, umbrellas, wraps, and parcels of all kinds with which the cochero has "vamoosed" during the temporary absence of his fare. This is in sharp contrast to the jinrikisha man of Japan, with whom one can leave anything with perfect safety.

Finally, no matter how friendly you may get with your cochero during an hour or more of his company, and no matter how fondly you may imagine that nothing could possibly happen to mar the perfection of your friendship, there will be a sudden rupture of such relations when it comes to the question of fare. Somewhere about his thinly clad person he will have a printed tariff of what he can legally charge-and the charge is ample; he knows exactly what it says and so do you,

but it is generally necessary to make him produce it, reluctantly, from some unexpected place. At that juncture he will turn into a very Judas, and betray you on the question of time, though you may have flourished your watch in his face when you engaged him. After a while it will be realized that this is the usual formality, and that once in a while, when he gets hold of an irresolute passenger, he can make something out of it.

With all his shortcomings, I think that I prefer these little Filipino cocheros to the European or American Jehu, with his generally brazen and more terrifying effrontery.

It has been said that the Manila native does not represent the real native. I would say to those who lay too much stress upon this difference that the Manila native is the type of what every Tagal becomes, given certain associations and environment; just as in every Gaul there lurks the latent Parisian. In like manner we may say that the inhabitant of the city of Cebu differs from the native who lives in the country of that island, and that the urban population of Iloilo is different from the suburban Visayans. Manila is far larger, of course, and more cosmopolitan, and here, as in other great cities, people become sophisticated and learn the devious ways of large communities; but when I traveled in the country there was nothing to show me that there was any fundamental difference.

Like everybody who undertakes the task of explaining Filipino characteristics, I have already made statements in seeming contradiction. I have intimated that the native is more easily led than driven, and also that in dealing with his iniquities something more than mere verbal expostulation is necessary. I would say that where principle is involved it is impossible to be too firm with the Philippine native; but one must be at the same time absolutely just, and every effort should be made to enlighten the native as to the reason of his punishment. I do not think that the native is inclined to resent a punishment which he has been made to feel is just; but the administration of justice should be reserved as far as possible for the equable court of law. This brings us to the question of corporal punishment. In the Spanish days a stealing mucha

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cho, or one who had committed some other gross misdemeanor, was generally beaten by his master. There are Americans in the islands who think that that is still the most efficacious method. whipping a native you are speaking to him in terms which he can understand, and which have the sanction of precedent. Since the punishment is apparently the most effective, it is often the most tempting to the outraged master; but it is not the method of enlightenment, and brings demoralization in its train. In eschewing it we find the native laughing at us in his sleeve for our weakness, and we have a certain sympathy for the impulsive action of the American girl who finally slapped her mother's cochero in the face because he had learned some English swearwords and persisted in repeating them. every few minutes. Verbal commands had been of no avail, but after the slap the man desisted. The Filipino will learn in the course of time that our selfcontrol and clemency are rather the indications of moral strength than the signs of weakness.

The student of character who attends a native funeral finds himself confounded afresh. afresh. He will see a little gathering of natives in neat black and white, a mother in the throes of uncontrolled grief, the others whimpering somewhat in sympathy, until the little coffin is walled up, when the cries of sorrow cease and the party turns away, chatting with some indifference; a few minutes later, as they pass out of the cemetery gate, every tear is dry. How reconcile the sincere but brief and easily assuaged grief with the tenacity of the insurgent for his cause, of the laundress for her stones in the brook, with the stubborn clinging to custom, in fact, and the implacable memory of wrong which begets the lust for revenge? I should attempt to solve the problem by saying that the native-so often termed a child-really combines a certain childish simplicity, due to his lack of development, with natural cunning and with the tenacity--so closely allied to his inert and negative resistance-and the philosophy smacking of fatalism which are distinct Oriental traits. Let it clearly be seen that a disaster is absolutely inevitable, and the native's resistance immediately ceases and he displays such a philosophic resignation and