“413. The very reverend father, Gaspar de San Agustin, an Augustinian and a native of Madrid, with the practical experience of forty years of life among those people, confesses, in a letter which he wrote concerning their characteristics—and which although in manuscript, deserves to be printed, for he understood those natives as far as it is possible to comprehend them—that it is so difficult to describe their characteristics that it would be more easy to define the formal object in logic; more feasible to compute the square of a circle; more discoverable to assign a fixed rule for the measurement of the degrees of longitude on the globe; and after the four knowledges of Solomon could be placed this fifth, as impossible.[19] In fact, after so many years, he says that he has only been able to understand that quadraginta annis proximus fui Generationi huic, & dixi: semper hi erant corde.[20] He speaks at length and from experience and with remarkable detail. Although the letter is worth printing, my lack of space does not allow me to copy it.[21]
“414. Granting, then, as true the experiences that he writes, and reducing them to a brief summary I assert that the character of these Indians is a maze of contradictions and oppositions; and I believe that this is not the worst of the descriptions. For they are at once proud and humble; bold in wickedness, and pusillanimous cowards; compassionate and cruel; negligent and lazy; but for their own affairs, whether evil or good, careful and watchful; easily credulous, but incapable of understanding, and fickle, after so oft repeated sacred teachings. They are very much inclined to attend the church, and its feasts and solemn rites, but it is necessary to oblige them by the rigor of the lash to attend mass on the prescribed days, and confession and communion when holy Church orders; and are very reverent toward the ministering fathers because of the superiority that they recognize in them, while at the same time they mock them, murmur against them, and even deceive them. Consequently, a religious called them jokingly ‘the schoolchildren of St. Casiano;’[22] for it is a fact that they go astray in all their resolutions without the government of the fathers, and it is necessary to treat them like schoolchildren in their instruction.”
[Here we resume the narrative of Le Gentil, who italicises the words, “It is necessary to employ the lash in order to get them to attend mass on the prescribed days when holy Church orders it, and to treat them as schoolchildren,” and continues:]
This is an abuse which reigns in the provinces. The religious give the lash to women and girls with a cat-o’-nine-tails, even in the presence of their husbands, and no one dares say a word. That is not practiced at Manila, and the religious are not so absolute there as they are in the provinces; and, besides, one is able at times not to attend mass on Sunday without that act of irreligion reaching the ears of the religious or the curés.
I was intimately acquainted at Manila with some army officers, with whom I had gone from the Île de France to that city on board the “Bon-conseil.” Although Spaniards, they dared to revolt publicly against that ridiculous custom; others approved it. Sometimes the religious or fathers have their own executioners, and the church is the place of the action. In this regard a singular chance procured me a knowledge of the following.
A short league [lieue] from Manila is a parish called Las Peñas (les Roches) [i.e., “the rocks”]. It is under the charge of a secular priest, and has a very small church, built of bamboo and thatched with straw. It is a charming place, and pleasure-parties often go there to dine, or walk there after dinner. I went there quite frequently with Father Melo. One Sunday, Don Andrés Roxo and Doña Ana Roxo, his wife, asked me to go there to dine with them. Don Andrés Roxo had married one of the daughters of the marquis of Villa-Mediana, a distinguished family of Spain. The marquis, who has died since my return to France, was then commandant of the troops in Manila, and was to come to join us in the afternoon. As I was walking with Monsieur and Madame Roxo in the country quite near the village, about four or five in the afternoon, we beheld a great concourse of people gathered about the entrance of that same village. We went in that direction, to ascertain what could be happening. It was a woman who had not attended mass that day, whom they were taking to the church to lash. She was led along by the executioner. He had a heavy cat-o’-nine-tails on his shoulder, which hung down to the middle of his back. The father, more black than white, went behind, and a crowd of Indians followed, especially of Indian women. Doubtless they were those of the village, who were obliged to witness the ceremony, in order to teach them not to stay away from mass. Madame Roxo, seeing this sight, was touched with compassion. She left us, forced her way through the crowd, and easily succeeded in reaching the father. She asked clemency for that woman, which was obtained.
At this juncture the marquis of Villa-Mediana arrived. From as far as we could see him we went to meet him. When he asked us whence we came, Madame Roxo told him what had just happened. But the marquis, far from approving the generosity of his daughter, put on a severe countenance, and scolded her for it roundly in my presence. He told her in express terms that she had performed a very wrong action, which would be the cause of a greater evil; that that woman would not fail to commit that sin again, and perhaps several times, and the blame and sin for it would rebound on her who had asked for the pardon.
[Le Gentil concludes this article by a further translation and synopsis of the same chapter of San Antonio, which relates entirely to the characteristics of the natives—matter which will, if space permit, be embodied in this series.]
[1] Teacher of philosophy and belles lettres in a cathedral school.