blessed himself he decided that so long as she was still there the world was a wonderful place. Outside the gloom of the church there was bright sunshine and the sense of sin, shame, and degradation that had dogged him all morning was gone, his whole being almost throbbed with love and anticipation.
He was happy.
The afternoon passed its usual course. After his meal, served by his housekeeper and eaten alone, he had gone to his study and dealt with whatever paperwork was necessary, then to his own private room where tried to read the newspaper which came two days late from Manila. Normally he enjoyed keeping up with the news. He still regarded himself as Spanish rather than Filipino and had never been in the least interested in the political situation but he prided himself on taking an intelligent interest in all the more important aspects of the national life of his adopted country if only to be able to join in intelligently in any conversation that moved in that direction. A priest should not take sides but should be able to give advice and guidance to those who chose to do so. As a priest he had no particular position on whether the Philippines should be independent of American rule or not. As a Spaniard he accepted the validity of the treaty Spain had signed with the United States at the end of the Spanish-American war. He had felt the defeat keenly â what Spaniard could not â but his grandfather had been Irish and from both grandfather and his father he had learned that it was the duty of any free man to oppose tyranny. In their case the tyrant had always been the English Crown but he could quite understand how the Filipinos had wanted and fought for independence from Spain. And he could equally understand how those who now opposed the Americans felt themselves betrayed when they had come within touching distance of overthrowing Spanish rule only to have their victory snatched from them at the last moment. He, like everyone else, was aware that the so called Battle of Manila â after which the Philippines were surrendered by the Spanish to the Americans rather than to the besieging Filipino army â had been no more than a piece of elaborate, political play-acting.
Well, such things happened in international affairs. So be it. That was now history. What mattered was the situation as it was being played out today and as a priest and a man of consequence and education, his views and opinions on matters secular as well as spiritual were sought and heeded. It was his duty to understand both sides of the political divide.
He sat in his room and tried, with difficulty, to bend his mind to the latest news. The revolutionaries from the mountains had been busy again. They had raided an American outpost, killed three soldiers and four Filipino police, then taken arms and ammunition. The American governor in Manila, Henry Clay Ide, had condemned the raid as a despicable act of lawless banditry, as he always did when commenting on any revolutionary activity. He had promised that the culprits would be found, tried, and punished, as he always did when the American military suffered any kind of loss. But, despite the considerable forces deployed against him, the revolutionary army commanded by General Macario Sakay seemed to Father Enrique just as strong and active as they had been for the last few years, perhaps stronger. In fact they were strong and secure enough to have announced a Philippine Republic and formed a functioning government. Of course the newspapers in Manila could never report such a story openly: the Americans would never allow it. Father Enrique knew of it only because his housekeeper seemed particularly well informed of the situation and would repeat all the latest news to Father Enrique while he ate his meal. In fact, whenever the revolutionaries achieved some success or victory she talked at length about it and seemed to know all about it before anyone else. One might almost think she had her
He was happy.
The afternoon passed its usual course. After his meal, served by his housekeeper and eaten alone, he had gone to his study and dealt with whatever paperwork was necessary, then to his own private room where tried to read the newspaper which came two days late from Manila. Normally he enjoyed keeping up with the news. He still regarded himself as Spanish rather than Filipino and had never been in the least interested in the political situation but he prided himself on taking an intelligent interest in all the more important aspects of the national life of his adopted country if only to be able to join in intelligently in any conversation that moved in that direction. A priest should not take sides but should be able to give advice and guidance to those who chose to do so. As a priest he had no particular position on whether the Philippines should be independent of American rule or not. As a Spaniard he accepted the validity of the treaty Spain had signed with the United States at the end of the Spanish-American war. He had felt the defeat keenly â what Spaniard could not â but his grandfather had been Irish and from both grandfather and his father he had learned that it was the duty of any free man to oppose tyranny. In their case the tyrant had always been the English Crown but he could quite understand how the Filipinos had wanted and fought for independence from Spain. And he could equally understand how those who now opposed the Americans felt themselves betrayed when they had come within touching distance of overthrowing Spanish rule only to have their victory snatched from them at the last moment. He, like everyone else, was aware that the so called Battle of Manila â after which the Philippines were surrendered by the Spanish to the Americans rather than to the besieging Filipino army â had been no more than a piece of elaborate, political play-acting.
Well, such things happened in international affairs. So be it. That was now history. What mattered was the situation as it was being played out today and as a priest and a man of consequence and education, his views and opinions on matters secular as well as spiritual were sought and heeded. It was his duty to understand both sides of the political divide.
He sat in his room and tried, with difficulty, to bend his mind to the latest news. The revolutionaries from the mountains had been busy again. They had raided an American outpost, killed three soldiers and four Filipino police, then taken arms and ammunition. The American governor in Manila, Henry Clay Ide, had condemned the raid as a despicable act of lawless banditry, as he always did when commenting on any revolutionary activity. He had promised that the culprits would be found, tried, and punished, as he always did when the American military suffered any kind of loss. But, despite the considerable forces deployed against him, the revolutionary army commanded by General Macario Sakay seemed to Father Enrique just as strong and active as they had been for the last few years, perhaps stronger. In fact they were strong and secure enough to have announced a Philippine Republic and formed a functioning government. Of course the newspapers in Manila could never report such a story openly: the Americans would never allow it. Father Enrique knew of it only because his housekeeper seemed particularly well informed of the situation and would repeat all the latest news to Father Enrique while he ate his meal. In fact, whenever the revolutionaries achieved some success or victory she talked at length about it and seemed to know all about it before anyone else. One might almost think she had her
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