Each missionary in Bisayas (or Pintados) has the care of two to five thousand souls, and even more. These commonly are divided among two or three villages, quite far apart; and throughout the year the minister is sailing from one to another, to preach to them and aid them. Among the Subanos there are not so many people [in each mission], but their little villages are more numerous. Formerly each minister had ten or twelve villages of Subanos, [each] divided on as many rivers, in the form of hamlets. There were houses round about the church or pavilion [camarin], and the rest [of the people] lived scattered in the hills, forests, and thickets. I have seen some native huts [buhios] on the peaks of the mountains, [so far away] that they could hardly be reached in half an hour from the river. Others I saw placed among the branches of the trees, in the same manner as nests. Their houses regularly are very high, with a bamboo for a ladder, which they remove at night. All this they do in order to hide themselves and be free from the frequent invasions of the Moros; and from the stratagems and treacheries of their own countrymen, who are inclined to vengeance and perfidy. Among these people we live. The rivers are full of ferocious and blood-thirsty crocodiles, which kill many persons. When I was in Dapitan there was one of these beasts in the river of Iraya, so sanguinary and fierce that no one dared to pass that river by night, on account of the ravages that it committed—leaping into the boats, and taking people out of them. In the books of those villages, I read with horror and pity: “On such a day was buried the head of N., which was all that was found, because the crocodile had torn him to pieces.” The bars of the rivers are dangerous, and with the freshets and the waves some channels are easily closed and others opened, to the great risk of those who are sailing. The seas are rough, and so restless that the continual lashing of the waves on the shores, rocks, and reefs makes a sound which causes fear even in those who live inland. On that coast are headlands so difficult to double that sometimes the caracoas spend twenty or thirty days in voyages which in favorable weather require half an hour. As a result, the ministers live in great loneliness, without being able to communicate with one another—save that, when the monsoons blow, in order to make one’s confession a voyage is necessary; and therefore this consolation is attained by some but few times in the year. If a fatal accident occurs to one, it is not possible to assist him with the holy sacraments—which is the greatest affliction that can be endured in the hour of death; and their only recourse is to place themselves in the hands of that Lord for whom they expose themselves to these sufferings. Even greater are the fatigues endured by the soul in the frequent occasions which disturb its patience. The feeling of indifference which is native to the country tends to undermine gradually the wall of poverty, weaken the spirit of obedience, and cool the most fervent spiritual ardor and strictness of observance. Even the blood which animates us and gives us life is mutinous, and stirs up the passions against their own master; and, aided by the noxious air of the country, the extreme solitude, and the common enemy, wages a war that is cruel, obstinate, bloody, and so pertinacious that it does not yield until the last breath of life....
The soil is very poor, and the greater part of the provisions and clothing must be carried from Manila; and consequently a thousand miseries are suffered during the year without recourse. The feeling of loneliness is very great; we are in this world, which, besides being a vale of tears, for us is as it were, a limbo,[18] separated by thousands of leguas from the rest of the world; it is exceedingly seldom that the missionary meets any person through whom he can obtain any alleviation of his troubles, or any assistance or consolation. Few Spaniards traverse those regions, and those who do pass through are usually of such character that merely the knowledge that they are going about through the country causes grief, anxiety, and vigilance to the minister. During the entire week the Indians are on the sea, in the mountains, or in their grain-fields, and on Sundays they come together in the village—but usually little to the comfort of the missionary. Rather, they increase his annoyances, in [having to] settle their lawsuits, quarrels, misunderstandings, and accounts; in defending them from the alcaldes and petty officials, and from one another; and in the minister’s defending himself from all—for there are a thousand entanglements, snares, and deceits. Hardly do they set foot in the missionary’s house, except when they go to ask for something; they are like the cat, and only look the father in the face when they are expecting some scrap of meat; and when this is seized, friendship, homage, and gratitude are at an end. Would to God that these qualities were left in the Indians! But it cannot be said that all are of this sort, but that there are enough of them for exercising the patience of the minister, although others serve for his comfort and consolation. If the minister is sick, he has no physician or apothecary to resort to; and his only resource is an Indian medicaster who applies some herbs, and whose prescriptions are quickly exhausted. If the sickness be a distressing one, it is necessary to go to Zebu, to which place [Ours] make a voyage of thirty or forty leguas, with the risk of not finding [there] a blood-letter. If radical treatment is needed, there is no other remedy than to sail a hundred or two hundred leguas to Manila, where there is not an over-supply of Galens. Fortunate is he who, without failing in his obligations, can preserve his health unimpaired; for in this land certain diseases quickly take root [in one’s system] which are a slow and most grievous martyrdom through life. And there is, almost peculiar to these countries, a sort of profound melancholy, which, like a corrupt root, renders all that he can do either insipid or repulsive. Sometimes it disorders the mind,[19] and even life itself becomes abhorrent. It persistently oppresses the mind, which needs great courage, and aid from above, in order that one may not faint in the ministry. All this is the effect of solitude, and of one’s nature becoming suffocated under the continual annoyances and troubles which administration [of these missions] involves. Nor is it easy to explain, without actual eyewitness, the various modes of suffering which here present themselves, so unusual, extraordinary, and acute. In these workshops patience is wrought, purified, and assayed until it becomes heroic, with the heavy hammer of mortifications, troubles, and petty details, which chance each day arranges and disarranges.
To this must be added the continual dread of invasions by the Moros, of whose barbarous and inhuman cruelty alone the missionaries are assured, fleeing to the mountains amid thorns, woods, miry places, and precipices. On the coast from Yligan to Samboangan, I saw with great sorrow various churches and villages that had been burned. The ministers saw themselves in the greatest danger of being captured or slain, and in their flight they suffered unspeakable hardships. Nor are dangers wanting among even the Indians themselves; they were very near putting to death by treachery Father Joseph Lamberti at Hagna, and Father Gaspar de Morales at Ynabangan, in the year 1746. For others they have laid ambushes, others have been wounded, and even some have been injured by witchcraft—so that in all directions there is danger.
Finally, let him who wishes to survey the missions which the Society has in these islands, open the map of Asia; and in the western part, in the Ægean archipelago, he will see the Apostle of the Gentiles journeying from Jerusalem to Tarsus, to Ephesus, to Jerusalem, to Seleucia, to Cyprus, to Pergamos in Pamphylia, to Antioch in Pisidia, to Iconium, to Macedonia, and to other cities, islands, and provinces, in continual movement from one place to another. Let him now look at the Eastern part of the same Asia, and he will see in the Philippine archipelago the Jesuits, journeying [in like manner] in Tagalos, in Bisayas, in Mindanao, in Jolo, in Marianas, in Palaos, in Borney, in Ternate, in Siao, in Macazar, in Japon, in China, and in other islands, kingdoms, and provinces of the Orient, preaching the gospel to these nations. To these laborers it is a fitting command: Euntes in mundum universum, prædicate Evangelium omni creaturæ.[20] I do not know whether in any other region there is a concourse of so many peoples as in Philipinas, or where this mandate of Christ to His apostles is so literally carried out. There is not in the entire universe a journey more extensive or dangerous, by land or by sea. There is preaching and ministration in the Spanish tongue and in the Tagal; and in those of Samar and Bohol, and of Marianas; of the Lutaos, of Mindanao, and of the Subanos; and in that of the Sangleys or Chinese. The study of the language is difficult, dry, and insipid, but it is necessary; it is a thorn causing many scruples, a bitterness for many years, and a labor for one’s whole life.
In Tagalos there are not so many navigations or journeys, although these are not wanting; but this advantage is strictly compensated by other difficulties, for on the ministers falls the entire burden of sermons, missions, Lenten services, novenaries, and other functions, and usually the professorships [in the college] of Manila. In the villages, the solitude and the lack of various conveniences are almost the same [as in Bisayas]; and although the Indians are as simple as the rest they are not so artless, but are cunning and deceitful. They do not use lances or daggers against the ministers, but they employ gossip, misrepresentations, and calumnies. In almost all the villages there are some Indians who have been clerks to the Spaniards in Manila, and accustomed to petitions and lawsuits, they influence the Indians to innumerable quarrels; for through frequent communication with the Spaniards stamped paper has become a favorite with them. And if the father calls them to account [les va á los alcanzes], a crowd of them get together, and draw up a writing against the minister, which is quickly filled with signatures and crosses. Often that happens which is told by the lord bishop of Montenegro: how a visitor, considering as impossible a complaint that was presented to him by some Indians against their cura, began to examine one of those who had signed it; and, seeing that the Indian said “Amen” to everything, without stopping for reflection, the visitor suspected that the complaint was a calumny. He then said, very sagaciously: “Man, in this petition it is stated that one Sunday, after prayers, your cura killed King David.” “Yes, sir,” said the Indian, “I saw that done;” and thus the prudent judge recognized the falsity of the charges. When the Indians wish to accuse the minister, they resort to the clerk, who has certain bundles and old papers, carefully kept, of accusations and complaints; and according to the amount they pay him the accusation amplifies—as when one prepares a good purgative medicine, and augments the dose in order to secure its operation. A number of the Indians affix their signatures, without knowing what they are signing; for the heat of wine takes the place of all these formalities of law. They carry this document, full of sprawling signatures and cross-marks [letrones y cruzes], to those who, as they know, have least good-will to the minister—and in this [sort of knowledge] the Indians are eminent, nor is there a pilot who follows more closely the winds by which he must navigate; and just so these Indians know where their complaint will be received with approval. If he to whom the accusation is presented be credulous, innocence suffers much until the truth is made clear. Great strength of mind is required to endure these calumnies, and it is one of the kinds of martyrdom (and not the least cruel) in Indias. In the other matters of administration there are hardships, on account of the great number of people [for whom the father must care], and their scattered mode of life, since they are distant from the church sometimes three or four leguas. The roads are wretched, the heat of the sun burning, and the rainstorms very heavy, with innumerable other inclemencies and annoyances, which have disabled many, and killed others. The variety of duties which the minister has to exercise is very great, for he has to be preacher, teacher of the doctrine, and confessor; adjuster and umpire of their petty quarrels; physician and apothecary, to treat them in their sicknesses; schoolmaster, and teacher of music; architect and builder, and competent for everything [un todo para todo]; for if the minister does not take care of everything, all will soon be lost. Enough of [this] parenthetical explanation;[21] although it is long, a knowledge of it is very necessary for the completeness of history, in order that it may be known what the gospel ministers are doing and suffering, which is more than what superficial persons suppose.
[Fol. 183 b:] In the conversion of Basilan, fervent were the labors of Father Francisco Angel and Father Nicolas Deñe; and both suffered great dangers to their lives and liberty. They were succeeded by Father Francisco Lado, who by his persistence in enduring innumerable fatigues subdued the entire island; went through all of it, on foot, alone, and without escort; made his way through its thickets, forests, mountains, and hamlets; and did this in such peace that he could build a very neat church and substantial house—for he was much loved by the Lutaos; and he had, with the aid of the governors of Samboangan, cleared the island from all the panditas, and from mischievous and suspicious persons, who might disturb the people with evil doctrines or with immoral practices. Only one remained there, who by his malice was disturbing even the peaceful natives; this was Tabaco, who had incited to rebellion the Sameacas, who are the natives of the island. [This man is finally slain by a daring young Spanish officer, Alonso Tenorio; see our Vol. XXXVIII, pp. 134–136.]
With similar success the religion of Jesus Christ was published along the coast which extends toward the kingdom of Mindanao. Father Pedro Tellez zealously traveled through those shores, where he formed several villages, erected more than sixteen churches, and established Christian living; and he made his abode in Tungavan. Notable aid was given to this enterprise by Don Antonio Ampi, the lord of the river, who always promoted the Christian religion with extraordinary constancy—although he had in Jolo a brother named Libot, a renegade and a cruel pirate—and he gave to the college at Samboangan some fertile and productive lands. At the cost of toils and privations, Father Tellez reduced the barbarous Subanos to rational and Christian customs, drawing them out of their caves and huts, and from under the cruel tyrannical yoke of the demon—who made apparent the great resentment that was roused in him by the loss of those his long-time slaves; for at various times the horrible howls that he uttered were heard at Curuan. For ministration on the coast of La Caldera and Siocon, which was left deserted by the death of Father Juan del Campo, the father provincial Francisco de Roa assigned Father Francisco Combés, who gladly went to instruct the Subanos. Most earnestly he applied himself to bringing those wild and timid creatures into closer social relations, and in doing this he was able to forward their instruction in the mysteries of the faith; and gradually they became accustomed to a more rational and Christian mode of life. On the river of Sibuco there was an Indian named Ondol; this man and his brother, worse than Moors, were married to several wives; and Ondol was so cruel that he slew whomsoever he chose, without further cause than his own whim. He tried to kill Father Adolfo de Pedrosa, greatly applauded the killing of Father Juan del Campo, and threatened that he would kill Father Combés; but the latter pretended to take no notice of it, and was cautious, and concealed his intentions; and Ondol went on confidently, so that, when he least thought of such a thing, he found himself a prisoner, and was sent to Samboangan where he was received by the Spaniards and by the fathers with great pleasure at seeing removed from the midst [of the mission] so great an obstacle to the Christian faith. His brothel continued to stir up the people, and an armed fleet was sent against him, but without any result; for the noise [of their coming] warned him so that he could avoid the blow, among woods, hills, miry places, and thickets. The escort of the father [i.e., Combés] continued to make arrests, with cunning devices, until they seized fifteen of this man’s relatives; and the father sent them to Samboangan. Love for his kindred brought that wild man to the church, to ask mercy from the father. He was admitted to favor, and all the past forgotten, with one condition: that he and all his people, since they were Lutaos, must live under the artillery of the fort, and serve in the [Spanish] armada. With this arrangement that coast remained peaceable, for the insurgents of Siocon had also been seized by craft. Father Combés went to that place, and encountered very heavy seas, not only at entering but on leaving that village; and arguing [from this] that God was not allowing them to go until they interred the bones of the companions of Father Campo, they all lauded on the shore, and searched for the bodies among the thorny thickets. Having interred all of them together, and said a mass for them, the Spaniards placed a cross over the sepulcher; and immediately the weather became calm, so that the caracoas were able to set out. At that time Father Combés carried away a hermit, who, clothed as a woman, strictly observed the law of nature, and professed celibacy. He was called “the Labia of Malandi;” and he was converted to the religion of Christ, in which he lived as a faithful servant.
In La Caldera was introduced the devotion to the blessed souls in purgatory, and suffrages for the deceased, which never had been publicly performed among any Subanos. To render this service more solemn, the musicians were carried thither from Samboangan; and this, joined with the father’s exhortations, introduced in their hearts pious solicitude for their dead—so well begun that, in the midst of their native poverty and the dulness of their minds, they carried with them many candles, with rice and other offerings. From that place this holy devotion was gradually communicated through all those villages, following the example of La Caldera—which then was the principal village, in which the minister resided; and to it were annexed Bocot, Malandi, and Baldasan. Besides the above-mentioned cases, others occurred with which the Lord consoled the ministers, in recompense for the misery, hardships, and forlorn condition of those arduous and remote missions.
[Fol. 229 b:] About this time dissoluteness was reigning in these islands, with as unrestrained and despotic dominion as if there were no law superior to it, which could repress it. Fraud in trade and commerce, hatred, falsehood, and malice prevailed everywhere, and without restraint. Above all, sensuality was, so to speak, the prince and master vice; and so general that, unrestricted in time, sex, rank, or age, it kept these regions aflame with an infernal and inextinguishable fire. These crimes were aggravated by the scandalous publicity with which they were committed, almost without punishment; and they had so filled the country with iniquity and abomination that they had to a certain extent corrupted the land itself, filling it with malediction, as Scripture tells us of the time of Noe: Corrupta est autem terra coram Deo, & repleta est iniquitate.[22] This provoked the wrath of God so much that in those times were experienced such calamities, wars, misfortunes, earthquakes, deaths, factions, shipwrecks, imprisonments, and so great disturbances, that the citizens themselves, obliged to begin to reflect on these things, believed that the sword of divine indignation was unsheathed among them; and those who with prosperity seemed to be losing their senses came to themselves, as did the prodigal son with his coming to want. They had recourse to the holy Pope, the vicar of Christ on earth; and at his feet, submitting themselves with humble repentances, they explained to him the cause of their affliction. He who then presided over the Church of God was his Holiness Innocent X, who as a benign father despatched an apostolic brief to the archbishop of Manila directing him to absolve all the inhabitants and citizens of these islands from whatever crime or transgression they might have committed, or excommunication that they might have incurred. He sent them his apostolic benediction, and granted a plenary indulgence to those who should worthily prepare to receive it.
On the first day of March, 1654, the archbishop made publication of these favors conferred by the pontiff; and all the people prepared with great fervor to obtain them—so universally that the many confessors of the clergy and the religious orders were hardly sufficient for the numbers who resorted to them; and it was estimated that within the city more than forty thousand persons made their confessions. The result was very excellent, for many confessions were made anew that had been for many years faultily made—either to conceal sins, or for lack of sorrow for them—and of their own accord. Many general confessions were made, and the grace of God was made apparent in the excellent results which were experienced. Restitution was made of honors and property, inveterate hatreds were uprooted, immoral associations of many years’ standing were broken up, and occasions for continual stumbling were removed. On the twenty-second day a solemn mass was sung in the cathedral, the blessed sacrament was exposed, and the archbishop preached with the fervor that the case demanded. At twelve o’clock the bells began to ring for prayers in all the churches, the sound of the bells being a fresh awakener of consciences. In the afternoon the archbishop went to the main plaza, where a stage had been erected, of sufficient size, almost, for a court from above; on it was an altar, with a crucifix for devotion, under a canopy. On this stage sat the archbishop, with the ecclesiastical cabildo; and the royal Audiencia were there with their president, the governor and captain-general, also the regidors and the holy religious orders; while there was an innumerable assembly from every sort of nation and people, for whom there was not room in the plaza or in the streets, or on the roofs. The archbishop put on his pontifical robes, and, when the psalms were sung and the usual prayers offered, he publicly uttered the blessing on the land and all its inhabitants in the name of the supreme pontiff; and afterward the Te Deum was intoned, and the chimes were rung by all the bells.