The suburbs of the city are extensive, and contain many stone houses, in which some of the principal inhabitants reside, and generally all the foreigners, the vicinity of the river, and its many branches, rendering it more convenient for business.
The custom-house is a plain octagonal building of considerable extent, and contains a fine courtyard surrounded with an arcade, and extensive magazines for warehousing goods. These, from neglect and the ravages of the white ants, are fast falling to decay, and in a few years the building will be a ruin; it is now very dirty and ill-arranged, the entrance not being convenient to the river, and wanting quays and a crane. The officers of this establishment are in general attentive, civil, and indulgent to foreigners, though the length of their siestas does not contribute to the dispatch of business. There is no interpreter attached to this establishment, nor is the king responsible for goods or money deposited in it, this being solely at the merchant’s risk.
The “Calzada,” or public drive, is a broad neat carriage road, leading round the outer face of the outer ditch, from the bridge, round the land and sea faces of the fortifications to the river. It is planted with trees, and forms a good drive, having roads leading from it into the country, whose rich and cultivated appearance gives the stranger a high opinion of its fertility. The roads are however much in want of waterings in dry weather, the dust of the principal one being at these times insufferable.
On the road leading to the village of Santa Anna is the cemetery,[117] a building well worth the attention of strangers both as a novelty in itself, and as in some measure redeeming the character of the architecture of this country from its general want of interest and symmetry.
It consists of two concentric circular walls, about ten feet apart and fourteen in height, both surmounted with a balustrade. The inner wall forms the periphery of a circle of about 250 feet in diameter, and is pierced with three rows of small semicircular arches, which form the entrances to as many arched, oven-like receptacles, formed in the space betwixt the walls, and of a size just calculated to receive a coffin, to which purpose they are appropriated.
There are from two to three hundred of those receptacles; and when occupied, the entrances are walled up. The plot of ground in the centre is crossed by two broad stone walks, the borders of which are planted with flowers and shrubs; the remaining space is used for interments.
On the further side from the gate, and joined to the wall, is a handsome chapel of an oval shape, the roof being a dome. The interior of this chapel is remarkably neat; and the altar, which is white, and gold, is particularly so, from its elegant simplicity and chasteness of ornament: on each side of it are repositories for the remains of governors and bishops.
Without are flights of steps leading to the terrace joining the walls, and two passages leading to a smaller building at the back of the chapel, and in the same style as the large one. This is called the “Angelorio” and a recess in it the “Ossario.” The first is appropriated to the remains of infants and children, and the last to the bones which may in time accumulate. This purpose suggests the only objection which is apt to arise in viewing the building, which is, that, as in the course of time the receptacles must be filled up, those which have been first occupied must be opened, and the bones displaced to make room for others. To many this is a most revolting objection, and would appear to indicate a dulness of feeling and want of sentiment, which, though far from being uncommon at Manila, by no means accords with the spirit and style in which the building is executed, or with the reflections it is apt to excite.
There are no other buildings in the neighbourhood of Manila worthy the attention of the stranger. The appearance of the surrounding country is rich, and in some parts highly cultivated; but an air of neglect and dilapidation is visible throughout, which strikingly marks the apathetic character of both classes of its inhabitants. It is remarkable, too, that the neatness of the native villages, and the apparent comfort of the people, increase in direct proportion to their distance from the capital, as the influence of government is less felt, and the Indian, knowing no other authority than the “Padre,” retains more of his original character.
The vices of Spanish colonies have been often the theme of those who have visited them; and when speaking of Manila, they have seldom exaggerated.[118] It has been observed, and with some justice, that “to know the education of the children, is to know the character of a people.” If this be true, but little can be said for Manila, where this highly important duty is more neglected than perhaps in any civilized part of the globe.