Mr. Taft was repeatedly warned by the allies of Rome that the movement was nothing but a cloak for the worst insurrection against the government that the Filipinos had yet attempted, and this suspicion was somewhat strengthened by the fact that many of the least tractable insurrecto leaders were among its directors, but in the main the schismatics evinced every desire to obey the injunction laid upon them not to resort to incendiary methods. And it was thought that the treatment they received in return would probably do more than all the preaching in the world to convince them that under American sovereignty they were actually to enjoy complete religious freedom.
Liberty to take possession of property by force was denied them, but liberty to think and worship as they pleased was not only given them, but in the peaceful exercise of this liberty they even enjoyed police protection, and this was a never-before-heard-of thing which gave them food for very serious thought. Under Spanish dominion Aglipay would have been taken to the Luneta and shot as José Rizal was shot, and his followers would have met and mourned in secret, but the American authorities held, according to American beliefs, that an Aglipayan, or independent Catholic organisation, had as much right to parade in the streets with candles and images as had the Roman Catholic or any other religious body.
Mr. Taft had vaguely suggested the possibility of some such development as this during his visit to the Vatican, but it made no impression. However, now that it had come, it gave the American Commission some advantage in the Friars and Friars’ lands negotiations because it was sure to convince the Vatican that the case of the Friars was hopeless and so inspire speedier action than might otherwise be hoped for.
In the midst of it all the Apostolic Delegate, Archbishop Guidi of Stauropoli, arrived from Rome! He was an Italian, very friendly and tolerant, with neither fanatic nor ascetic tendencies. He was by no means adverse to taking part in any kind of social gaiety and I remember that at one of our first entertainments after his arrival he expressed great regret that he could not join in the Rigodon. I came to enjoy association with him exceedingly.
At one of my first receptions that season quite a dramatic scene occurred in the ballroom. A thousand or more people, perhaps, had passed the receiving line. Monsignor Guidi came in all his stately regalia, and shortly afterward Aglipay put in an appearance. The people wandered around all over the place, circulating through the spacious gardens and around the verandahs, so there was a possibility that these two would not meet even though they were both very conspicuous figures. But it was not long before the Papal Delegate hurried up to Mr. Taft and, in a state of visible excitement, inquired who the stranger in the striking religious garb might be.
“That,” said Mr. Taft, “is Aglipay.”
“But, you know,” said the Monsignor, “it is impossible for you to receive him here when I am present!”
Then Mr. Taft once more laboriously explained the standpoint of the American government, saying that Aglipay was in his house in his private capacity as a citizen, that he had as much right there as any other citizen, and that it would not be possible to ask him to leave as long as he conducted himself as a guest should.
“Then, I shall have to go,” said Monsignor Guidi.
“I am very sorry,” said Mr. Taft. “I understand your position perfectly and I trust you understand mine as well.”
So the highest of insular Church dignitaries got his hat and hastened away while the “renegade and impious impostor” remained—in serene unconsciousness of the disturbance he had created? Perhaps not. At least he was serene.
But our relations with Monsignor Guidi continued most agreeable during our entire stay in the Islands. Mr. Taft thought very highly of him as a man and an ecclesiastical statesman and diplomat and greatly regretted his death which occurred after we left the Islands. Through him, the question of the Friars’ lands was settled as Pope Leo had told Mr. Taft it would be, satisfactorily to the United States. To bring that story, which was distractingly long drawn out in reality, to a close, I will merely add that the government succeeded in purchasing the Friars’ lands for the sum of $7,000,000; they were turned into a public domain to be sold under most encouraging conditions, to their tenants and others who wished to acquire homesteads. The Friars were not sent back to the parishes and many left the Islands.
However this was not brought about without the protracted exercise of patience and diplomacy in the very midst of which the long arm of Washington reached out and touched my busy husband on the shoulder. He came home one day with a puzzled air and a cablegram from President Roosevelt. This cablegram read, in part:
Taft, Manila. On January first there will be a vacancy on the Supreme Court to which I earnestly desire to appoint you. … I feel that your duty is on the Court unless you have decided not to adopt a judicial career. I greatly hope you will accept. Would appreciate early answer.
This came before I had been in the Islands a month and when Mr. Taft was so deep in the complications of his work that he was almost a stranger to his friends.
There was an accompanying cablegram from Secretary Root strongly urging acceptance on the score of my husband’s impaired health. Mr. Root declared that he was most unwilling to lose his services in the Philippines, but thought it better for
