On November 26, 1904, this miraculous Image was temporarily removed from Antipolo to Manila for the celebration of the feast of the Immaculate Conception. Carried by willing hands to the place of embarkation, it made the voyage to the capital, down the Pasig River, in a gorgeously decorated barge, towed by a steam launch, escorted by hundreds of floating craft and over 20,000 natives, marching along the river banks in respectful accompaniment. The next day a procession of about 35,000 persons followed the Virgin to the Cathedral of Manila, where she was enshrined, awaiting the great event of December 8. Subsequently she was restored to her shrine at Antipolo.
The most lucrative undertaking in the Colony is that of a shrine. It yields all gain, without possible loss. Among the most popular of these “Miraculous Saint Shows” was that of Gusi, belonging to the late parish priest of Ilug, in Negros Island. At Gusi, half an hourʼs walk from the Fatherʼs parish church, was enthroned San Joaquin, who, for a small consideration, consoled the faithful or relieved them of iheir sufferings. His spouse, Santa Ana, having taken up her residence in the town of Molo (Yloilo Province), was said to have been visited by San Joaquin once a year. He was absent on the journey at least a fortnight, but the waters in the neighbourhood of the Shrine being sanctified the clientèle was not dispersed. Some sceptics have dared to doubt whether San Joaquin really paid this visit to his saintly wife, and alleged that his absence was feigned, firstly to make his presence longed for, and secondly to remove the cobwebs from his hallowed brow, and give him a wash and brush up for the year. The Shrine paid well for years—every devotee leaving his mite. At the time of my pilgrimage there, the holy Fatherʼs son was the petty-governor of the same town of Ilug.
Shrine-owners are apparently no friends of free trade. In 1888 there was a great commotion amongst them when it was discovered that a would-be competitor and a gownsman had conspired, in Pampanga Province, to establish a Miraculous Saint, by concealing an image in a field in order that it should “make itself manifest to the faithful,” and thenceforth become a source of income.
It is notorious that in a church near Manila, a few years ago, an image was made to move the parts of its body as the reverend preacher exhorted it in the course of his sermon. When he appealed to the Saint, it wagged its head or extended its arms, whilst the female audience wept and wailed. Such a scandalous disturbance did it provoke that the exhibition was even too monstrous for the clergy themselves, and the Archbishop prohibited it. But religion has many wealth-producing branches. In January, 1889, a friend of mine showed me an account rendered by the Superior of the Jesuitsʼ School for the education of his sons, each of whom was charged with one peso as a gratuity to the Pope, to induce him to canonize a deceased member of their Order. I have been most positively assured by friends, whose good faith I ought not to doubt, that San Pascual Bailón really has, on many occasions, had compassion on barren women (their friends) and given them offspring. Jose Rizal, in his “Noli me tangere” hints that the real Pascual was a friar.
Trading upon the credulity of devout enthusiasts by fetishism and shrine quackery is not altogether confined to the ecclesiastics. A Spanish layman in Yloilo, some few years ago, when he was an official of the prison, known as the “Cotta,” conceived the idea of declaring that the Blessed Virgin and Child Jesus had appeared in the prison well, where they took a bath and disappeared. When, at length, the belief became popular, hundreds of natives went there to get water from the well, and the official imposed a tax on the pilgrims, whereby he became possessed of a modest fortune, and owned two of the best houses in the Square of Yloilo.
The Feast of Tigbáuang (near Yloilo), which takes place in January, is also much frequented on account of the miracles performed by the patron Saint of the town. The faith in the power of this minor divinity to dispel bodily suffering is so deeply rooted that members of the most enlightened families of Yloilo and the neighbouring towns go to Tigbáuang simply to attend High Mass, and return at once. I have seen steamers entering Yloilo from this feast so crowded with passengers that there was only standing room for them.
An opprobrious form of religious imposture—perhaps the most contemptible—which frequently offended the public eye, before the American advent, was the practice of prowling about with doll-saints in the streets and public highways. A vagrant, too lazy to earn an honest subsistence, procured a licence from the monks to hawk about a wooden box containing a doll or print covered by a pane of glass. This he offered to hold before the nose of any ignorant passer-by who was willing to pay for the boon of kissing the glass!
During Holy Week, a few years ago, the captain of the Civil Guard in Tayabas Province went to the town of Atimonan, and saw natives in the streets almost in a state of nudity doing penance “for the wounds of Our Lord.” They were actually beating themselves with flails, some of which were made of iron chain, and others of rope with thongs of rattan-cane. Having confiscated the flails—one of which he gave to me—he effectually assisted the fanatics in their penitent castigation. Alas! to what excesses will faith, unrestrained by reason, bring one!
The result of tuition in mystic influences is sometimes manifested in the appearance of native Santones—indolent scamps who roam about in remote villages, feigning the possession of supernatural gifts, the faculty of saving souls, and the healing art, with the object of living at the expense of the ignorant. I never happened to meet more than one of these creatures—an escaped convict named Apolonio, a native of Cabuyao (Laguna), who, assuming the character of a prophet and worker of miracles, had fled to the neighbourhood of San Pablo village. I have often heard of them in other places, notably in Cápis Province, where the Santones were vigorously pursued by the Civil Guard, and as recently as May, 1904, a notorious humbug of this class, styling himself Pope Isio, alias Nazarenong Gala, was arrested in West Negros and punished under American authority.