The writer says that the people of Acapulco (Mexico) were loth to part with their Holy Image, but the saintly Virgin herself, desirous of succouring the inhabitants of the Spanish Indies, smoothed all difficulties. During her first voyage, in the month of March, 1626, a tempest arose, which was calmed by the Virgin, and all arrived safely in the galleon at the shores of Manila. She was then carried in procession to the Cathedral, whilst the church bells tolled and the artillery thundered forth salutes of welcome. A solemn Mass was celebrated, which all the religious communities, civil authorities, and a multitude of people attended.
Six years afterwards the Gov.-General Juan Niño de Tabora died. By his will he intrusted the Virgin to the care of the Jesuits, whilst a church was being built under the direction of Father Juan Salazár for her special reception. During the erection of this church, the Virgin often descended from the altar and exhibited herself amongst the flowery branches of a tree, called by the natives Antipolo (Artocarpus incisa). The tree itself was thenceforth regarded as a precious relic by the natives, who, leaf by leaf and branch by branch, were gradually carrying it off. Then Father Salazar decreed that the tree-trunk should serve for a pedestal to the Divine Miraculous Image—hence the title “Virgin of Antipolo.”
In 1639 the Chinese rebelled against the Spanish authority (vide p. [115]). In their furious march through the ruins and the blood of their victims, and amidst the wailing of the crowd, they attacked the Sanctuary wherein reposed the Virgin. Seizing the Holy Image, they cast it into the flames, and when all around was reduced to ashes, there stood the Virgin of Antipolo, resplendent, with her hair, her lace, her ribbons and adornments intact, and her beautiful body of brass without wound or blemish! Passionate at seeing frustrated their designs to destroy the deified protectress of the Christians, a wanton infidel stabbed her in the face, and all the resources of art have ever failed to heal the lasting wound. Again the Virgin was enveloped in flames, which hid the appalling sight of her burning entrails. Now the Spanish troops arrived, and fell upon the heretical marauders with great slaughter; then, glancing with trembling anxiety upon the scene of the outrage, behold! with glad astonishment they descried the Holy Image upon a smouldering pile of ashes—unhurt! With renewed enthusiasm, the Spanish warriors bore away the Virgin on their shoulders in triumph, and Sebastian Hurtado de Corcuera, the Gov.-General at the time, had her conveyed to Cavite to be the patroness of the faithful upon the high seas.
A galleon arrived at Cavite, and being unable to go into port, the commander anchored off at a distance. Then the new Gov.-General, Diego Fajardo (1644–53), sent the Virgin on board, and, by her help, a passage was found for the vessel to enter.
Later on, twelve Dutch warships appeared off Marivéles, the northwestern extremity of Manila Bay. They had come to attack Cavite, and in their hour of danger the Spaniards appealed to the Virgin, who gave them a complete victory over the Dutchmen, causing them to flee, with their commander mortally wounded. During the affray, the Virgin had been taken away for safety on board the San Diego, commanded by Cépeda. In 1650 this vessel returned, and the pious prelate, José Millan Poblete,[11] thought he perceived clear indications of an eager desire on the part of the Virgin to retire to her Sanctuary. The people, too, clamoured for the Saint, attributing the many calamities with which they were afflicted at that period to her absence from their shores. Assailed by enemies, frequently threatened by the Dutch, lamenting the loss of several galleons, and distressed by a serious earthquake, their only hope reposed in the beneficent aid of the Virgin of Antipolo.
But the galleon San Francisco Xavier feared to make the journey to Mexico without the saintly support, and for the sixth time the Virgin crossed the Pacific Ocean. In Acapulco the galleon lay at anchor until March, 1653, when the newly-appointed Gov.-General, Sabiniano Manrique de Lara, Archbishop Miguel Poblete, Father Rodrigo Cárdenas, Bishop-elect of Cagayán, and many other passengers embarked and set sail for Manila. Their sufferings during the voyage were horrible. Almost overcome by a violent storm, the ship became unmanageable. Rain poured in torrents, whilst her decks were washed by the surging waves, and all was on the point of utter destruction. In this plight the Virgin was exhorted, and not in vain, for at her command the sea lessened its fury, the wind calmed, black threatening clouds dispersed, all the terrors of the voyage ceased, and under a beautiful blue sky a fair wind wafted the galleon safely to the port of Cavite.
These circumstances gained for the Saint the title of “Virgin of Good Voyage and Peace”; and the sailors,—who gratefully acknowledged that their lives were saved by her sublime intercession,—followed by the ecclesiastical dignitaries and military chiefs, carried the image to her retreat in Antipolo (September 8, 1653), where it was intended she should permanently remain. However, deprived of the succour of the Saint, misfortunes again overtook the galleons. Three of them were lost, and the writer of the brochure to which I refer supposes (Chap. [iv].) that perchance the sea, suffering from the number of furrows cut by the keels of the ships, had determined to take a fierce revenge by swallowing them up!
Once more, therefore, the Virgin condescended to accompany a galleon to Mexico, bringing her back safely to Philippine shores in 1672.
This was the Virginʼs last sea voyage. Again, and for ever, she was conveyed by the joyous multitude to her resting-place in Antipolo Church, and on her journey thither, there was not a flower, adds the chronicler, which did not greet her by opening a bud—not a mountain pigeon which remained in silence, whilst the breezes and the rivulets poured forth their silent murmurings of ecstasy. Saintly guardian of the soul, dispersing mundane evils!—no colours, the chronicler tells us, can paint the animation of the faithful; no discourse can describe the consolation of the pilgrims in their adoration at the Shrine of the Holy Virgin of Antipolo.
Yet the village of Antipolo and its neighbourhood was, in Spanish times, the centre of brigandage, the resort of murderous highwaymen, the focus of crime. What a strange contrast to the sublime virtues of the immortal divinity enclosed within its Sanctuary!