There is also in the Calle de Hospicio a Military Hospital, somewhat better kept, and not like the former under the charge of a brotherhood, but of a medical staff. Unfortunately the arrangements here leave very much to be desired. The rooms, insufficiently ventilated, are in the immediate vicinity of the kitchen, the smoke and odours from which cannot but be very prejudicial to the patients. In the various wards there were about 150 to 200 sick, whose lot called for redoubled sympathy, considering the little attention paid them.
Unfortunately no opportunity presented itself during our stay at Manila of witnessing any of those processions of the Church, which are necessarily so frequent in the course of the year. This was the more to be regretted, as we were told of many peculiarities of these costly processions. Here apparently, as in the earlier dependencies of Spain, in Central and Southern America, the Roman Catholic ritual has become mingled in the most extraordinary manner with ceremonies borrowed from paganism. The earliest Spanish missionaries were especially prone to believe that by retaining some of
the former ceremonies they would facilitate the work of conversion, and increase the number of neophytes. They saw no scandal in the native, attired sometimes as a giant twelve feet high, sometimes as a Malay warrior, sometimes as an aboriginal savage, fantastically painted, and accoutred with bow and arrow, in a word, in all sorts of masquerading costume, frolicking in the very midst of the sacred procession, and performing all manner of buffoonery in front of the life-sized and gaily-adorned images of saints; but appeared rather to contemplate with pleasure that these wild beings, who had resisted the Spaniards on their first arrival on the island, were now subjected to the Holy Church, and rejoiced in her service! There are also numbers of natives dressed up as animals, and girls gaily decorated with flowers and in robes of spotless white, as also a fantastically-attired jester, who from time to time gives national dances and sings national songs, to the best of his ability, all in one long procession, accompanied by monks singing chorals and carrying wax tapers, while a promiscuous crowd of the faithful bring up the rear.
The sight of such processions have anything but an edifying influence upon a European, but on the mind of the masses they seem to make a deep impression, and for weeks after, when smoking a cigarette in the privacy of the family circle, they will talk of the splendour of such solemnities, and the motley episodes that accompanied it. If it were admissible to judge of the religious mind of a people by their outward
observances, the Tagalese would be the most devout race in the world. Wherever the natives come in contact with the Church, they put on an extraordinary stern and reverential deportment, and even in the most trivial matters the great influence of the priesthood upon the masses becomes abundantly apparent. This is the most conspicuous every evening as the clock tolls for the Ave Maria. The tones work like enchantment upon the people at whatever distance they may be audible, and for a few moments a profound silence succeeds to the noise and bustle. The labourer and the promenader, the ladies and gentlemen of the upper ranks in their elegant carriages, as well as the poor Tagale returning homeward from his hard day's work, and driving his laden mule before him, are for the space of an instant awed by the solemn sounds. All vehicles stop suddenly short, the gentlemen and servants uncover their heads, the restless masses stand as though nailed to the ground, and then sink gradually on their knees in prayer, their heads bared and their cigars extinguished; no one would venture to break in upon the universal stillness so long as the bell continues to toll. But as soon as it is silent, each jumps to his feet, and proceeds on again, believing he may now in safety give way to his frolicsomeness and pursue his pleasures.
Life in Manila during the dry season was described to us as exceedingly agreeable and gay. Then almost every evening joyous groups thread the city singing and joking, while from every hut resounds some snatch of melody
accompanied by the guitar. We had a slight foretaste of the joviality which must prevail in Manila during the delicious summer evenings from the joyous disposition manifested by the various Tagal families, even during the wet season, when the almost incessant rain, and the swampy state of the streets, compelled the natives to remain crowded in the narrow rooms of their poor little huts. In St. Miguel, a hamlet in the immediate neighbourhood of Manila, with a number of country-seats of wealthy foreigners and natives, we repeatedly heard the sweet plaintive notes of the native women singing Tagal ditties, which for pathos and thrilling tenderness surpassed all we had hitherto heard or read of the talents of the coloured races for song and melody. We shall be able in the Appendix to give the notes of a very characteristic melody, the words of which form a very favourite popular song (Condiman), which we ultimately succeeded in taking down through the kindness of Señor Balthasar Girandier of Manila.
It was at San Miguel that we had not alone the most agreeable, but also the most melancholy, experience of our entire stay in the capital of the Philippines. On an island opposite the handsome, beautifully situate residence of our hospitable friend Mr. Steffan, the Bremen Consul, is the Poorhouse, in which the insane as well as the sick are confined together, the whole being, like all the other humane institutions of Manila, under the superintendence of an ecclesiastic, in the present case a Mestizo. It appeared there was no proper or
regular medical attendance. Without assistance, or any one responsible for their proper care, these miserable beings, left in an indescribably desolate and neglected condition, cower down upon the bare stone floor in the damp, filthy rooms, staring vacantly before them, or slink about among the cool corridors, murmuring unintelligibly to themselves. The padre, habituated to such a state of matters, seems never to give it a moment's thought, but rather to make it his amusement to conduct strangers through the dismal, horrible wards, where at each step one encounters some fresh form of misery. We felt most pity at the sight of a female, whose features and whole appearance spoke of a happier lot in by-gone days. It seemed a mystery crying aloud for reparation, that this unhappy being, an orphan, worthy of all compassion, should for a slight attack of melancholy be liable to be sent to the asylum for the insane by her unscrupulous relations, that they might with the greater security possess themselves of her property. So deep and so permanent was the impression made by this melancholy spectacle, that even now, after the lapse of years of varied experience, since our visit to the lunatic asylum of Manila, the ill-fated being, with her wan yet striking features, her large, melancholy black eyes, and her wavy, shining black hair, her dress neglected and half torn into pieces, stands out life-like before us, as an embodiment of misery.
Early on the day on which we bade adieu to Manila we found an opportunity of seeing a live boa-constrictor, said