This is a tale of three cities, Paris, Washington, and Manila.

Article III. of the Peace Protocol signed at Washington, August 12, 1898, provided:

The “Papers relating to the Treaty with Spain” including the telegraphic correspondence between President McKinley and our Peace Commissioners pending the negotiations, were sent to the Senate, January 30, 1899, just one week before the final vote on the treaty, but the injunction of secrecy was not removed until January 31, 1901—after the presidential election of 1900. They then were published as Senate Document 148, 56th Congress, 2d Session. It was not until then that the veil was lifted. The instructions to the Peace Commissioners were dated September 16, 1898. The Commissioners were: William R. Day, of Ohio, Republican, just previously Secretary of State, now (1912) Associate Justice of the Supreme Court of the United States; Whitelaw Reid, Republican, then editor of the New York Tribune, now Ambassador to Great Britain, and three members of the United States Senate, Cushman K. Davis, of Minnesota, William P. Frye, of Maine, Republicans, and George Gray, of Delaware, Democrat. Senator Davis died in 1900, and Senator Frye in 1911. Senator Gray has been, since 1899, and is now, United States Circuit Judge for the 3d Judicial District. Among other things, the President’s instructions to the Commissioners said:

By elaborate rhetorical gradations, the instructions finally get down to this:

Though already noticed, we venture, in this connection, again to recall that in the month previous (August, 1898) a gentleman high in the councils of the Administration2 declared in one of the great reviews of the period: “We see with sudden clearness that some of the most revered of our political maxims have outlived their force.” Among these “revered maxims” thus suddenly fossilized by his ipse dixit, Mr. Vanderlip exuberantly includes the teachings of “Washington’s Farewell Address and the later crystallization of its main thought by President Monroe”—the Monroe Doctrine, adding that in lieu of these “A new mainspring * * * has become the directing force * * * the mainspring of commercialism.”

As permanent chairman of the Philadelphia convention which renominated Mr. McKinley for the Presidency thereafter, in 1900, Senator Lodge, speaking of the issues raised by the Treaty of Paris, said: “We make no hypocritical pretence of being interested in the Philippines solely on account of others. We believe in Trade Expansion.”

“Philanthropy and five per cent. go hand in hand,” said Mr. Vanderlip’s Chief, Secretary of the Treasury Lyman J. Gage, about the same time. Such was the temper of the times when the treaty was made.

The first meeting with the Spanish Commissioners took place at Paris, October 1st. The opening event of the meeting, the initial move of the Spaniards, is extremely interesting in the light of subsequent events, especially in connection with the Iloilo Fiasco, hereinafter described (Chapter IX.).

“Spanish communication represents,” says Judge Day’s cablegram to the President,3 “that status quo has been altered and continues to be altered to the prejudice of Spain by Tagalo rebels, whom it describes as an auxiliary force to the regular American troops.”

Even diplomacy, in a conciliatory communication limited to the obvious, called the Filipinos our allies.

The Spanish initial move was more immediately prompted by the fact that in point of absolute astronomical time Manila, though captured when it was morning of August 13th there, was captured when it was evening of August 12th, at Washington, and the protocol was signed at Washington in the evening of August 12th. While this point was material, because we had captured $900,000 in cash in the Spanish treasury at Manila and much other property, the title to which, under the laws of war between civilized nations, depended on just what time it was captured, the matter was finally swallowed up and lost sight of in the agreement to give Spain a lump $20,000,000 for the archipelago. But the initial move had other aspects. In the event we should take the Philippines off her hands, Spain was going to insist that we should get back from the Filipinos, our “allies,” and restore to her all the Spaniards they captured after August 12th. She knew that in all probability if we bought the Islands we would be buying an insurrection, and she was “taking care of her own” at our expense.

The next feature of the proceedings entitled to attention in a bird’s-eye view like this, concerns the question whether we should take only Luzon, or the whole archipelago. President McKinley cabled Admiral Dewey on August 13th, the day after the protocol was signed, asking as to “the desirability of the several islands,” “coal and other mineral deposits,” and “in a naval and commercial sense which (of the several islands) would be most advantageous.”4 Admiral Dewey had replied, of course, that Luzon was “the most desirable,” but volunteered no advice. He did state, “No coal of good quality can be procured in the Philippine Islands,” which is still true. Allusion is made to this telegram in the proceedings, but no copy of it is there set forth. On October 4th, our Commissioners wired President McKinley suggesting that he cable out to the Admiral and ask him “whether it would be better * * * to retain Luzon * * * or the whole group.” Mr. McKinley answered that he had asked Admiral Dewey before General Merritt left Manila to give the latter his views in writing “on general question of Philippines,” and that “his report is in your hands in response to both questions.” But the commission replied that Admiral Dewey had sent only a copy of a report of General Francis V. Greene’s and nothing else. There is no record of any further advice or opinion from Admiral Dewey on the point except that in General Otis’s Report (p. 67) we get glimpses of a telegram that has never yet, apparently, been published, sent by Dewey to Washington early in December, 1898, suggesting that we “interfere as little as possible in the internal affairs of the Islands.” No; Admiral Dewey must be acquitted of having ever counselled the McKinley Administration to buy the Philippines.

On October 7th the Commission telegraphed Washington that General Merritt attaches much weight to the opinion of the Belgian Consul at Manila, M. André, and that “Consul says United States must take all or nothing”; that “if southern islands remained with Spain they would be in constant revolt, and United States would have a second Cuba”; that “Spanish government would not improve,” and “would still protect monks in their extortion.”

To this advice there was absolutely no answer. It was a case of “all or nothing,” and it had already become a case of “all” when on September 16th previous Mr. McKinley signed his original instructions to the Commission stating “The United States cannot accept less than Luzon.”

The Commission’s telegram of October 7th goes on to quote from the Belgian Consul’s opinion that “Present rebellion represents only one half of one per cent. of the inhabitants.” The Consul was not before them in person. They were quoting from a memorandum submitted by him to General Merritt at Merritt’s request, made at Manila and dated August 29th, the day General Merritt sailed away from Manila bound for Paris via the Suez Canal. He had brought the memorandum along with him. From the previous chapters the reader will, of course, understand that Americans and Europeans at Manila in August, 1898, were paying very little attention to Aguinaldo and his claims as to the extent of his authority in the provinces. It is therefore not surprising that M. André’s memorandum of August 29th should have made the foolish statement, “Present rebellion represents only one half of one per cent. of inhabitants.” But it is eternally regrettable that his statement on this point had any weight with the Commissioners, for it was, or by that time at least (October 7th) had become, just about 99½ per cent. wide of the mark. As a matter of fact, by October 7th it would have been more accurate to have said, in lieu of the above, “Present rebellion represents practically whole people.” You see, we started an insurrection in May, in October it had become a full grown affair, and in December we bought it. The telegram of October 7th also quoted General Merritt as saying, “Insurgents would be victorious unless Spaniards did better in future than in past,” and as considering it “feasible for United States to take Luzon and perhaps some adjacent islands and hold them as England does her colonies.” These are about the only two sound suggestions General Merritt made to that Commission. In the next breath they quote him as saying, “Natives could not resist 5000 troops.” The fact that they did resist more than 120,000 troops, that it took more than that, all told, to put down the insurrection, is sufficient to show how much General Merritt’s advice was worth. He was right on two points, as indicated. Both Spanish fleets had been destroyed and Spain had but one left to protect her home coast cities. The death knell of her once proud colonial empire had sounded. Decrepit as she was, she could not possibly have sent any reinforcements to the Philippines. Besides the Filipinos would have “eaten them up.” General Merritt’s suggestion to “hold them as England does her colonies” was also sensible. In fact that was the only thoroughly honest thing to have done, if we were going to take them at all. England never acts the hypocrite with her colonies. She makes them behave. She does not let native people preach sedition in native newspapers, because of “sentimental bosh” about freedom of the press, until the whole country becomes a smouldering hot-bed of sedition. She has blown offending natives from the cannon’s mouth, when deemed necessary to cure them and their country of the desire for independence. If we are going to have colonies at all, we ought to govern them with the upright downright ruthless honesty of the British. It is more merciful in the long run. But we ought not to have colonies at all. For if there is one thing this republic stands for, above all other things, it is the righteousness of aversion to a foreign yoke.

In their telegram of October 7th,5 the Peace Commissioners, now squarely confronted with the question of forcible annexation, begin to let the Administration down easy. They say:

A despatch sent by Judge Day certainly comes from high authority. The word “compromising” is therefore important. To say that Admiral Dewey did not treat Aguinaldo as an ally is to raise a mere technical point. But Aguinaldo never did get anything from him in writing. What he got consisted more of deeds than words. And actions speak louder than words. We had an alliance with Aguinaldo, a most “compromising” alliance and afterwards repudiated it. Admiral Dewey made it and General Merritt repudiated it. Dewey did, without the President’s knowledge, exactly what the President and the American people would have had him do at the time. And Merritt did exactly what the President ordered him to do. But between the making of the alliance, and the repudiation of it, the President and the American people changed their minds. I say the American people, because they afterwards ratified all that Mr. McKinley did. You see the bitterness that lies away down in the secret recesses of the hearts of the Filipino people to-day has its source at this point. They had “a gentleman’s agreement,” as it were, with us, not in writing, made at a time when the thought of a colony had never entered our minds. They fought in a common cause with us on the faith of that agreement—drove the Spaniards into Manila in numerous victorious engagements involving much loss of life, on their part, keeping the Dons thereafter bottled up in Manila on the land side while their “ally” Admiral Dewey was doing the same on the sea side. The said Dons were living on horses and rats, and famine was imminent when our troops arrived and began to finish the work of taking the beleaguered city. And then, having changed our minds and decided to annex the islands, we repudiated our “gentleman’s agreement,” on the idea that the end justified the means. And the end, as it has turned out, did not even justify the means, seeing that the islands have proved a heavy financial liability instead of a profitable asset. Judge Day’s telegram to Secretary Hay of October 12th (p. 27) contains this curious and surprising passage as to Cuba:

The future of Cuba, however, trembled in the balance but for a moment. Before “the shell-burred cables” had had time to quit vibrating with the question thus propounded, there came back this splendidly clean-cut answer from the President:

In characterizing Judge Gray’s position, above indicated, as “surprising,” no reflection upon him is intended. On the contrary, such a position, assumed by a man of such conceded intellectual probity, is illuminating as to the attitude subsequently taken concerning the Philippines by the Democratic Senators who voted for the treaty. This attitude is stated by Senator Lodge, in his History of the War with Spain, with all the incisive forcefulness to which the country has so long been accustomed in the public utterances of that distinguished man, and, seeing that no promise had been made, as in the case of Cuba, Senator Lodge’s statement of the position of those who voted for the treaty should forever set at rest the stale injustice, still occasionally repeated, that Mr. Bryan, “played politics” in 1898–9 in urging his friends in the Senate to vote for its ratification. Says Senator Lodge (History of the War with Spain, p. 231):

October 14th, Washington wires the commission that Admiral Dewey has just cabled:

In this cablegram the Admiral most unfortunately repeated as true some wild rumors then currently accepted by the Europeans and Americans at Manila which of course were impossible of verification. I say “unfortunately” with some earnestness, because it does not appear on the face of his message that they were mere rumors. And, that they were wholly erroneous, in point of fact, has already been cleared up in previous chapters, wherein the real state of peace, order and tranquillity which prevailed throughout Luzon at that time has been, it is believed, put beyond all doubt. But what manna in the wilderness to the McKinley Administration, now that it was bent on taking the islands, was that Dewey message of October 14th, “The natives appear unable to govern”!

On October 17th, Mr. Day wires Mr. Hay that the Peace Commissioners feel the importance of preserving, so far as possible, the condition of things existing at the time of signing the protocol, to prevent any change in the status quo. He says:

How could we, when Aguinaldo and his people were in the saddle all over Luzon, had taken the status quo between their teeth and run away with it, and were prepared to fight if bidden to halt and dismount; and, which is more, were preserving order perfectly themselves?

On October 19th, Mr. Hay repeated by wire to Mr. Day a cablegram from General Otis which said: “Do not anticipate trouble with insurgents * * * Affairs progressing favorably.”

General Otis was making a desperate effort to humor Mr. McKinley’s “consent-of-the-governed” theory and programme. But it was a situation, not a theory, which confronted him.

The date of the high-water mark of the Paris peace negotiations is October 25th. On that day, Mr. Day wired Mr. Hay:

Messrs. Davis, Frye, and Reid, sent a joint signed statement. They urged taking over the whole archipelago, saying that, as their instructions provided for the retention at least of Luzon, “we do not consider the question of remaining in the Philippine Islands as at all now properly before us.” They also urged that as Spain governed and defended the islands from Manila, we became, with the destruction of her fleet and the surrender of her army, “as complete masters of the whole group as she had been, with nothing needed to complete the conquest save to proceed with the ample forces we had at hand to take unopposed possession.” The vice of this proposition, from the strategic as well as the ethical point of view, is of course clear enough now.

Spain’s government was already tottering in the Philippines when the Spanish-American war broke out. To be “as complete masters as she had been” was like becoming the recipient of a quit-claim deed. Also, ours was not a case of taking “unopposed possession.” An adverse claimant, relying on immemorial prescription, was in full possession; all the tenants on the land had attorned to him, and he and they were ready to defend their claim against all comers with their lives. They reminded one of the recurrent small farmer whom some great timber or other corporation seeks to oust, patrolling his land lines rifle in hand, on the lookout for the corporation’s agent and the sheriff with the dispossessory warrant.

Messrs. Davis, Frye, and Reid go on to say:

Hardly any one can fail to read with interest the following accurate and vivid picture which they give of the physical strategic unity of the Philippine Islands:

This explains also why the Filipino people are a people. Whenever the American people understand that, they will give them their independence, unless they get an idea that government of their people by their people for their people would be distasteful to them.

In the memorandum of their views telegraphed to Washington on October 25th, Messrs. Davis, Frye, and Reid also say:

Archbishop Chapelle was in Paris at the time of these negotiations. He afterwards told the writer in Manila that he got that $20,000,000 put in the Treaty of Paris. The Church preferred that our title should be a title by purchase rather than a title by conquest, and Mr. McKinley was vigorously urging the latter. Between the legal effects of the two, there is a world of difference. The Church outgeneralled the President—checkmated him with a bishop. Look at that part of the treaty which affects church property:

The Church of Rome, or at least some of the ecclesiastical bodies pertaining to it in the Philippines, owned the cream of the agricultural estates. By the treaty they have not lost a dollar. It might have been otherwise, had not Mr. McKinley’s original claim of title by conquest been overcome at Paris.

Judge Day’s memorandum of his own views, telegraphed on October 25th along with those of his colleagues, stated that he was unable to agree that we should peremptorily demand the entire Philippine group; that

Again, he says:

He also was of course unaware how thoroughly anxious the Spaniards then in the Philippines were to get away, and how completely they were at the mercy of the new Philippine Republic and its forces. “On all hands” says Judge Day, “it is agreed that the inhabitants of the islands are unfit for self-government.” Of course we knew absolutely nothing worth mentioning about the Filipinos at that time. Judge Day then proposes, for the reasons indicated, to accept Luzon and some adjacent islands, as being of “strategic advantage,” and to leave Spain the rest, with a “treaty stipulation for non-alienation without the consent of the United States.” It seems to me that Judge Day’s scheme was the least desirable of all.

Senator Gray’s memorandum of the same date is a red-hot argument against taking over any part of the archipelago. He begins thus:

The next day, October 26th, came this laconic answer:

Probably the one thing about the Paris Peace negotiations that is sure to interest the average American most at this late date is the matter of how we came to pay that twenty millions. It was this way. On October 27th, the Commission wired Washington:

It seems they talked long and earnestly far into the night, trying to find a way which would prevent the conference from resulting in sudden disruption, and consequent resumption of the war. Mr. Reid made plain the inflexible determination of the American people not to assume the Cuban debt. The Ambassador said: “Montero Rios6 could not return to Madrid now if known to have accepted entire Cuban indebtedness,” and asked delay to see “if some concessions elsewhere might not be found which would save Spanish Commissioners from utter repudiation at home.” There is no doubt that the talk we are now considering was a “heart-to-heart” affair, probably quite informal. Yet it is one of the most important talks that have occurred between any two men in this world in the last fifty years. Mr. Reid finally threw out a hint to the effect that as the preponderance of American public sentiment seemed rather inclined to retain the Philippines, “It was possible,” he said, “but not probable that out of these conditions the Spanish Commissioners might find something either in territory or debt7 which might seem to their people at least like a concession.!”8

It was the leaven of this hint that leavened the whole loaf. There was doubtless much informal parleying after that, but finally, the American Commissioners, having become satisfied that Spanish honor would not be offended by an offer having the substance, if not the form, of charity, and being very tired of Spain’s sparring for wind in the hope of a European coalition against us should war be resumed, submitted the following proposal:

This alluring offer was accompanied with the stern announcement that

Also, our Commissioners wired Washington:

This was very American and very final. Washington answered: “Your proposed action approved.”

November 29th, Mr. Day wired Mr. Hay:

And that is how that twenty millions found its way into the treaty—not forgetting the prayers and other contemporaneous activities of Archbishop Chapelle.

After the tremendous eight weeks’ tension had relaxed, and before the final reduction to writing of all the details, we see this dear little telegram, from Secretary of State Hay, himself a writer of note, come bravely paddling into port, where it was cordially received by both sides, taken in out of the wet, and put under the shelter of the treaty:

And here is the last act of the drama:

The ever-memorable Benevolent Assimilation Proclamation, the Pandora box of Philippine woes, was signed December 21, 1898, and its contents were let loose in the Philippines on January 1, 1899.

Let us consider for a moment the total misapprehension of conditions in the islands under which Mr. McKinley drafted and signed that famous document—a misapprehension due to General Otis’s curious blindness to the great vital fact of the situation, viz., that the Filipinos were bent on independence from the first, and preparing to fight for it to the last. Take the following Otis utterance, for example, concerning a date when practically everybody in the Eighth Army Corps, and every newspaper correspondent in the Philippines, recognized that war would be certain in the event the Paris Peace negotiations should result, as common rumor then said they would result, in our taking over the islands:

There can be no doubt that, at the date of that despatch, General Otis had been given to understand that under the Treaty of Paris we were going to keep the islands if the treaty should be ratified, and also that the if might give the Administration trouble, should trouble arise with the Filipinos before the if was disposed of at home. As heretofore intimated, in addition to his preference for legal and administrative work to the work of his profession, in the Philippines General Otis constituted himself from the beginning a political henchman. Ample evidence will be introduced later on to show beyond all doubt that all through the early difficulties, when the American people should have been frankly dealt with and given the facts, General Otis would, in the exercise of his military powers as press censor, always say to the war correspondents, “I will let nothing go that will hurt the Administration.”

Let us see what the real facts of the Philippine situation were at the date of the Treaty of Paris, December 10th, or, which is the same thing, when General Otis sent his despatch of December 7th. When the Treaty of Paris was signed, General Otis was in possession of Manila and Cavite, with less than 20,000 men under his command, and Aguinaldo was in possession of practically all the rest of the archipelago, with between 35,000 and 40,000 men under his command, armed with guns, and the whole Filipino population were in sympathy with the army of their country. We have already seen the conditions in the various provinces at that time and also the inauguration of the native central government. Let us now examine the military figures.

Ten thousand American soldiers were on hand when Manila was captured, August 13th, and 5000 more had arrived under command of Major-General Elwell S. Otis a week or so after the fall of the city.2 They had 13,000 Spanish soldiers to guard. In addition to this, by the terms of the capitulation, the city (population say 300,000), its inhabitants, its churches and educational establishments, and its private property of all descriptions had been placed “under the special safeguard of the faith and honor of the American army.”3 Some 4500 to 5000 more troops began to swarm out of San Francisco bound for Manila in the latter part of October, 1898, the last of them reaching Manila December 11th, the day after the Treaty of Paris was signed. After that there were no further additions to General Otis’s command prior to the outbreak of war with the Filipinos, February 4, 1899.3 Of these (approximately) 20,000 men, only 1500 to 2000 were regulars, having the Krag-Jorgensen smokeless gun. The rest were State volunteers, armed with the antiquated Springfield rifles, the same the 71st New York and the 2d Massachusetts had been permitted to carry into the Santiago campaign the summer before. Aguinaldo’s people were equipped entirely with Mausers captured from the Spaniards, and other rifles, bought in Hong Kong mostly, using smokeless ammunition. Major (now Major-General) J. F. Bell, who is, in the judgment of many, one of the best all-round soldiers in the American army to-day, was in charge of the “Division of Military Information” at Manila both before and after the taking of the city. General Bell has done many fine things, in the way of reckless bravery in battle at the critical moment and of bold reconnoitring in campaign, and what he fails to find out about an enemy, or a prospective enemy, is not apt to be ascertainable. In a report bearing date August 29, 1898,4 prepared in anticipation of possible trouble with the Filipinos, he estimated the number of men under arms that Aguinaldo had at between 35,000 and 40,000. This estimate is based by General Bell in his report on the number of guns out in the hands of the Filipinos, which he figures thus:

From this number General Bell deducts several thousands as having been recaptured by the Spaniards, or bought in. I at once hear some former comrade-in-arms of the Philippine insurrection say: “Oh, no. They couldn’t have had as many as 40,000 guns, or near that.” I thought the same thing when I first read General Bell’s report on the matter. But he removes the doubt thus: “They are being continually sent away to other provinces.”

We did not understand Aguinaldo’s movements then. All his troops were not around Manila. From what I learned from General Lawton and his staff in 1899, my belief is that Aguinaldo had perhaps 30,000 men with guns around Manila, and out along the railroad, at the time of the outbreak of February 4th. It is idle, of course, at this late date, to claim that the Filipinos were not bent on independence from the first. The matured plans of their leaders, formulated at Hong Kong May 4, 1898, before they ever started the insurrection, preserved in the captured minutes of the meeting already noticed,5 provide the programme to be adopted in the event we should be tempted to keep the islands. In that event, they were prepared against surprise, or any necessity for making new plans, and were agreed to accept war as inevitable. From the first, they made ready for it.

Governmentally and strategically, the Philippine Islands, except Mohammedan Mindanao, which is a separate and distinct problem, may be described very simply and sufficiently as consisting of the great island of Luzon, on which Manila is situated, and the Visayan group.6 We are already familiar with the conditions in Luzon in December, 1898. You hear a great deal about the Philippine archipelago consisting of a thousand and one islands, but there are only eight that are, broadly speaking, worth considering here. The moment a jagged submarine ledge peeps out of the water it becomes an island. And even before that it may wreck a ship. But we are talking about islands that need to be charted on the sea of world politics. The Visayan Islands that really count at all in a great problem such as that we are now considering, are but six in number: Panay, capital Iloilo; Cebu, capital Cebu; Bohol, Negros, Samar, and Leyte.7 Iloilo is some three hundred and odd miles south of Manila, and, besides being the capital of Panay, is the chief port of the Visayas and the second city of the archipelago, Cebu being the third. Under the Spaniards, as now under us, a vessel might clear from either of these places for any part of the world. As we saw in the chapter preceding this, as early as November 18th, Admiral Dewey had cabled Washington that the entire island of Panay was in possession of insurgents, except Iloilo. By the end of December, all the Spanish garrisons in the Visayan Islands had surrendered to the insurgents. (Otis’s Report, p. 61.) Iloilo did not surrender to the insurgents until the day before Christmas. But let us not anticipate.

December 13th, General Otis received a petition for protection signed by the business men and firms of Iloilo (p. 54), sent of course with the approval of the general commanding the imperilled Spanish garrison. December 14th, he wired Washington for instructions as to what action he should take on this petition, saying, among other things, “Spanish authorities are still holding out, but will receive American troops”; and adding one of his inevitable notes of optimism as to the tameness of Filipino aspirations (at Iloilo) for independence: “Insurgents reported favorable to American annexation.”

General Otis knew the Spanish troops were hard pressed by the insurgents down at Iloilo, and eagerly awaited a reply. President McKinley was then away from Washington, on a southern trip, to Atlanta and Macon, Georgia, and other points, and nobody at home was giving any thought to the Filipinos, while they were knocking successively at the gates of the various Visayan capitals, and receiving the surrender of their Spanish defenders. It was getting toward the yuletide season. President McKinley was engaged, quite seasonably, in putting the finishing touches to the great work of his life, which was welding the North and the South together forever by wise and kindly manipulation of the countless opportunities to do so presented by the latest war. It was a season of general peace and rejoicing in a thrice-blessed land, and nobody in the United States was looking for trouble with the Filipinos. With our people it was a case of ignorance being bliss, so far as the Philippine Islands and their inhabitants were concerned. In his Autobiography of Seventy Years, Senator Hoar tells of an interview with President McKinley concerning his (the Senator’s) attitude toward the Treaty of Paris, early in December, 1898.8 “He greeted me with the delightful and affectionate cordiality which I always found in him. He took me by the hand, and said: ‘How are you feeling this winter, Mr. Senator?’ I was determined there should be no misunderstanding. I replied at once: ‘Pretty pugnacious, I confess, Mr. President.’ The tears came into his eyes and he said, grasping my hand again: ‘I shall always love you whatever you do.’”

It behooves this nation, and all nations, to consider those tears. They explain all the subsequent history of the Philippines to date. Mr. McKinley had proved himself a gallant soldier in his youth, and he knew something of the horrors of war. He was also one of the most amiable gentlemen that ever lived. But it is no disrespect to his memory to say that while Mr. McKinley was a good man, Senator Hoar was his superior in moral fibre, and he knew it, and he knew the country knew it. He knew that Senator Hoar was going to fight the ratification of the treaty to the last ditch, speaking for the Rights of Man and such old “worn out formulæ,” and that his only defence before the bar of history would have to rest on “Trade Expansion,” alias the “Almighty Dollar.” Those tears were harbingers of the coming strife in the Philippines. They were shed for such lives as that strife might cost. They were an assumption of responsibility for such shedding of blood as the treaty might entail. The President returned to Washington from his southern trip on December 21st, and on December 23d (p. 55) cabled General Otis the following reply to his request of December 14th for instructions:

Senator Hoar had put Mr. McKinley on notice that he was going to present the ethics of the case in the debate on the treaty. Congress had gone home for the holidays, and after it re-assembled in January the treaty would come up. The vote was sure to be close, and a too vigorous manifestation of belief on the part of the Filipinos that this nation was not closing the war with Spain animated by “the same high rule of conduct which guided it in facing war” (Mr. McKinley’s instructions to the Peace Commissioners) might defeat the ratification of the treaty. Indeed, the final vote of February 6th, was so close that the Administration had but one vote to spare. The final vote was fifty-seven to twenty-seven—just one over the necessary two-thirds. The smoke of a battle to subjugate the Filipinos might “dim the lustre and the moral strength,” as Mr. McKinley had expressed it in his instructions to the Peace Commissioners, of a war to free the Cubans. Therefore there must be no trouble, at least until after the ratification of the treaty. President McKinley had invented in the case of Cuba a very catchy phrase, “Forcible annexation would be criminal aggression,” and every time anybody now quoted it on him it tended to take the wind out of his sails. So benevolently eager was that truly kind-hearted and Christian gentleman to avoid the appearance of “criminal aggression” that he evidently got to thinking about that telegram of December 23d in which he had authorized General Otis to send troops to the relief of the beleaguered Spanish garrison at Iloilo, and also about the message from Admiral Dewey received November 18th previous, to the effect that the entire island of Panay except Iloilo was then already in the hands of the insurgents. The result was that he decided not to let his conciliatory proclamation of December 21st await the slow process of the mails, and therefore, though it consisted of something like one thousand words, he had it cabled out to General Otis in full on December 27th. It is now here reproduced in full because it precipitated the war in the Philippines, and is the key to all our subsequent dealings with them9:

The words used in the foregoing proclamation which were regarded by the Filipinos as “fighting words,” i. e., as making certain the long anticipated probability of a war for independence, are those which appear in italics. The rest of the proclamation counted for nothing with them. They had been used to the hollow rhetoric and flowery promises of equally eloquent Spanish proclamations all their lives, they and their fathers before them.

In suing to President McKinley for peace on July 22d, previous, the Prime Minister of Spain had justified all the atrocities committed and permitted by his government in Cuba during the thirty years’ struggle for independence there which preceded the Spanish-American War by saying that what Spain had done had been prompted only by a “desire to spare the great island from the dangers of premature independence.”10

Clearly, from the Filipino point of view, the United States was now determined “to spare them from the dangers of premature independence,” using such force as might be necessary for the accomplishment of that pious purpose.

The truth is that, Prometheus-like, we stole the sacred fire from the altar of Freedom whereupon the flames of the Spanish War were kindled, and gave it to the Filipinos, justifying the means by the end; and “the links of the lame Lemnian” have been festering in our flesh ever since. The Benevolent Assimilation Proclamation was a kind of Pandora Box, supposed to contain all the blessings of Liberty, but when the lid was taken off, woes innumerable befell the intended beneficiaries, and left them only the Hope of Freedom—from us. Verily there is nothing new under the sun. It is written: “Thou shalt not steal” anything—not even “sacred fire.” There is no such thing as nimble morality. The lesson of the old Greek poet fits our case. So also, indeed, do those of the modern sage, Maeterlinck, for the Filipinos could have found their own Bluebird for happiness. The record of our experience in the Philippines is full of reminders, which will multiply as the years go by, that, after all, every people have an “unalienable right” to pursue happiness in their own way as opposed to somebody else’s way. That is the law of God, as God gives me to see the right. Conceived during the Christmas holiday season and in the spirit of that blessed season and presented to the Filipino people on New Year’s Day, received by them practically as a declaration of war and baptized in the blood of thousands of them in the battle of February 4th thereafter, the manner of the reception of this famous document, the initial reversal and subsequent evolution of its policies, and all the lights and shadows of Benevolent Assimilation will be traced in the chapters which follow.