John Bowring - A Visit to the Philippine Islands

The palacio in which I was so kindly accommodated was originally built by an opulent but unfortunate protégé of one of the captains-general; it was reconstructed in 1690 by Governor Gongora. It fills a considerable space, and on the south-west side has a beautiful view of the bay and the surrounding headlands. There is a handsome Hall of Audience, and many of the departments of the government have their principal offices within its walls. The patio forms a pretty garden, and is crowded with tropical plants. It has two principal stone staircases, one leading to the private apartments, and the other to the public offices. Like all the houses at Manila, it has for windows sliding frames fitted with concha , or plates of semi-transparent oysters, which admit an imperfect light, but are impervious to the sunbeams. I do not recollect to have seen any glass windows in the Philippines. Many of the apartments are large and well furnished, but not, as often in England, over-crowded with superfluities. The courtesy of the Governor provided every day at his table seats for two officers of the Magicienne at dinner, after retiring from which there was a tertulia , or evening reception, where the notabilities of the capital afforded me many opportunities for enjoying that agreeable and lively conversation in which Spanish ladies excel. A few mestizos are among the visitors. Nothing, however, is seen but the Parisian costume; no vestiges of the recollections of my youth – the velo , the saya , and the basquiña ; nor the tortoiseshell combs, high towering over the beautiful black cabellera ; the fan alone remains, then, as now, the dexterously displayed weapon of womanhood. After a few complimentary salutations, most of the gentlemen gather round the card-tables.

The Calzada , a broad road a little beyond the walls of the fortress, is to Manila what Hyde Park is to London, the Champs Elysées to Paris, and the Meidan to Calcutta. It is the gathering place of the opulent classes, and from five o’clock P.M. to the nightfall is crowded with carriages, equestrians and pedestrians, whose mutual salutations seem principally to occupy their attention: the taking off hats and the responses to greetings and recognitions are sufficiently wearisome. Twice a week a band of music plays on a raised way near the extremity of the patio . Soon after sunset there is a sudden and general stoppage. Every one uncovers his head; it is the time of the oracion announced by the church bells: universal silence prevails for a few minutes, after which the promenades are resumed. There is a good deal of solemnity in the instant and accordant suspension of all locomotion, and it reminded me of the prostration of the Mussulmans when the voice of the Muezzim calls, “To prayer, to prayer.” A fine evening walk which is found on the esplanade of the fortifications, is only frequented on Sundays. It has an extensive view of the harbour and the river, and its freedom from the dust and dirt of the Calzada gives it an additional recommendation; but fashion despotically decides all such matters, and the crowds will assemble where everybody expects to meet with everybody. In visiting the fine scenery of the rivers, roads, and villages in the neighbourhood of Manila, we seldom met with a carriage, or a traveller seeking to enjoy these beauties. And in a harbour so magnificent as that of Manila one would expect to see skiffs and pleasure-boats without number, and yachts and other craft ministering to the enjoyment and adding to the variety of life; but there are none. Nobody seems to like sporting with the elements. There are no yacht regattas on the sea, as there are no horseraces on the shore. I have heard the life of Manila called intolerably monotonous; in my short stay it appeared to me full of interest and animation, but I was perhaps privileged. The city is certainly not lively, and the Spaniard is generally grave, but he is warm-hearted and hospitable, and must not be studied at a distance, nor condemned with precipitancy. He is, no doubt, susceptible and pundonoroso , but is rich in noble qualities. Confined as is the population of Manila within the fortification walls, the neighbouring country is full of attractions. To me the villages, the beautiful tropical vegetation, the banks of the rivers, and the streams adorned with scenery so picturesque and pleasing, were more inviting than the gaiety of the public parade. Every day afforded some variety, and most of the pueblos have their characteristic distinctions. Malate is filled with public offices, and women employed in ornamenting slippers with gold and silver embroidery. Santa Ana is a favourite Villagiatura for the merchants and opulent inhabitants. Near Paco is the cemetery, “where dwell the multitude,” in which are interred the remains of many of the once distinguished who have ceased to be. Guadalupe is illustrious for its miraculous image, and Paco for that of the Saviour. The Lake of Arroceros (as its name implies) is one of the principal gathering places for boats loaded with rice; near it, too, are large manufactories of paper cigars. Sampaloc is the paradise of washermen and washerwomen. La Ermita and other villages are remarkable for their bordadoras , who produce those exquisite piña handkerchiefs for which such large sums are paid. Pasay is renowned for its cultivation of the betel. Almost every house has a garden with its bamboos, plantains and cocoa-nut trees, and some with a greater variety of fruits. Nature has decorated them with spontaneous flowers, which hang from the branches or the fences, or creep up around the simple dwellings of the Indians. Edifices of superior construction are generally the abodes of the mestizos, or of the gobernadorcillos belonging to the different pueblos.

Philip the Third gave armorial bearings to the capital, and conferred on it the title of the “Very Noble City of Manila” ( La mui noble Ciudad ), and attached the dignity of Excellency to the Ayuntamiento (municipality).

During my stay at Manila, every afternoon, at five or six o’clock, the Governor-General called for me in my apartments, and escorted by cavalry lancers we were conveyed in a carriage and four to different parts of the neighbourhood, the rides lasting from one to two hours. We seldom took the same road, and thus visited not only nearly all the villages in the vicinity, but passed through much beautiful country in which the attention was constantly arrested by the groups of graceful bamboos, the tall cocoa-nut trees, the large-leafed plantains, the sugar-cane, the papaya, the green paddy fields (in which many people were fishing – and who knows, when the fields are dry, what becomes of the fish, for they never fail to appear again when irrigation has taken place?), and that wonderful variety and magnificence of tropical vegetation, – leaves and flowers so rich and gorgeous, on which one is never tired to gaze. Much of the river scenery is such as a Claude would revel in, and high indeed would be the artist’s merit who could give perpetuity to such colouring. And then the sunset skies – such as are never seen in temperate zones, – so grand, so glowing, and at times so awful! Almost every pueblo has some dwellings larger and better than the rest, occupied by the native authorities or the mixed races (mostly, however, of Chinese descent), who link the Indian to the European population. The first floor of the house is generally raised from the ground and reached by a ladder. Bamboos form the scaffolding, the floors, and principal wood-work; the nipa palm makes the walls and covers the roof. A few mats, a table, a rude chair or two, some pots and crockery, pictures of saints, a lamp, and some trifling utensils, comprise the domestic belongings, and while the children are crawling about the house or garden, and the women engaged in household cares, the master will most probably be seen with his game-cock under his arm, or meditating on the prowess of the gallo while in attendance on the gallinas .