But let us on to our list of works of general reading. Sifting the treasure-stores of authorities named in Retana and others, I find the following books of most value and service, whereof, though some few among them, and for that matter the highest in their respective classes, are no longer in print, yet these very masterpieces, if not obtainable by purchase, like many another priceless blessing, still are worth knowing by title to book-lover and scholar, who, if perchance he cannot have these repertories of human lore on his shelves, will know at least by what title to seek them on others.

Of the Philippines and their neighboring archipelagos these works rank of the highest worth:

The history of Mindanao, Jolo, and their adjacent islands (Madrid, 1667), written by the Jesuit, Francisco Combés—the most ancient detailed account of that region of Polynesia, known as the Archipelago del Sur, and invaluable beyond other guides to the ethnologist especially.

Then an account of the establishment of Christianity in the Marianas Islands (Madrid, 1670?) similarly the oldest and at the same time most reliable history of these Ladrones, or robber, islands, so styled by early Spanish voyagers because of the thievish proclivities of the natives, every one of them in theory and practice an annexationist and protectionist to the back-bone, till the Jesuit missionary and scholar, Diego Luis de Sanvitores, author of this history, rechristened them Marianas, in honor (according to some chroniclers) of Doña Mariana of Austria, Queen of Spain, in loving and tenderest-hearted homage (according to others) of the Blessed Virgin, whose rosary that savant was wont to recite every day.1

Then the story of the various religious missions in the Philippines entrusted to members of his Society by another Jesuit, Pedro Murillo [10]Velarde (Manila, 1749), a rare and valuable work, whereof an accompanying chart, drawn in 1734, should, strictly speaking, be styled the earliest detailed topographical map of the Philippines. From the pen of the same scholar issued, too, an historical geography of that archipelago (Madrid, 1752), of much worth, the same as his chart, for its scientific details—albeit little known, it seems, to Philippinologists.

Then we have the rare and deeply interesting history (Madrid, 1756) of some tribes in Luzon, hardest to convert—the Igorrotes, Tinguianes, Apayaos and Adanes, four races of Indians in the hill-country of Ilocos and Pangasinán, in spiritual charge of the Augustinians, a member of which brotherhood, Manuel Carillo, is the author.

Another book, that because of its manifold literary merit, of historical accuracy and statistical detail, is styled by Retana “an historical work par excellence,” is the general history of the Philippines (Sampaloc, 1788–1792), by the Recoleto missionary, Juan de la Concepción, copious source of varied and valuable information, wherein—albeit somewhat prolix in style, at times, too, rather digressive—the author may fairly be said to be without rival.

Then comes the descriptive and historical account of the Marianas Islands (Madrid, 1875), by Felipe La Corte y Ruano Calderón, the best work on that little-known archipelago, and a rich source of general information anent these Malaysian islands.

On the botany of the Philippines, a monumental work of the highest character is the Philippine Flora (classified according to the sexual system of Linnæus), by the Augustinian, Manuel Blanco, printed at Manila, first in 1837, again in 1845, and finally republished a third time in 1877–1883, in superb style, in four folio volumes of text in Spanish and Latin, embellished with two volumes of colored lithographed plates descriptive of the plants, flowers and fruits of those islands. One of the co-laborers on the third edition of this Flora was Ignacio Mercado, a Philippine botanist himself, and professed member of the Augustinian brotherhood.

The same Father Blanco also translated into Tagal the French physician Tissot’s work on medicine, enriched with his own life-long observations on Philippine plant-lore.

Along with Blanco’s Flora should be named the catalogue of fauna of the Philippines (Manila, 1895–1896), by the Dominican zoologist, Casto de Elera, an expert in that line of biological science,—a work in folio (in three volumes) of two thousand three hundred pages and upwards, [11]termed by Retana not only a monumental work—easily to be believed—but one unique of its character.

The geology of the islands (Madrid, 1840?), treated by Isidro Sainz de Baranda, government inspector of mines, besides being well worth reading, is the earliest study on this topic made on strictly scientific lines.

Two works, sole representatives of their kind, are named by Retana as of singular value to the physician not only, but to ethnologist and scholar especially,—one the Embriologia Sagrada (Manila, 1856), by the Recoleto missionary Gregorio Sanz, written in aid of his fellow caretakers of souls, whose services in behalf of suffering humanity in out-of-the-way districts were often called upon by the natives, whose practice of the curing art, based on their own traditional formulas, especially in cases of child-bearing, was, despite the efforts of the missionary to uproot their unnatural and utterly heathen disregard for human life, attended too often with destruction of progeny and mother.

The other repository of singular and very curious information is a treatise in Visaya-Cebuano and Spanish by another Recoleto evangelist, Manuel Vilches (Manila, 1877), written similarly in benefit of Indian sick, the Manual, that is, of the Visaya Physician, or native doctor—mediquillo, as in the Philippines these votaries of Hippocrates are styled, a work praised by Retana as replete with Indian plant-lore.

The richest and most valuable collection of statistics relating to the Philippines, so at least acknowledged by experts, more reliable too than the Spanish government’s own work, is the Estado general of all the pueblos—Christianized settlements—in the islands, drawn up by the Dominican archbishop of Manila, Pedro Payo (Manila, 1886), whereof the data were gathered by his vicars-forane and parochial-cures throughout the archipelago. While the most artistic map of Luzon, so styled by Retana, is the chart of that island (Madrid, 1883), published in four sheets by Enrique D’Almonte y Muriel.

With mention of two other authors I close this section of Philippina,—one the history of the islands, or rather a detailed account of his travels therein, by the Augustinian scholar and voyager Joaquín Martínez de Zúñiga (Sampaloc, 1803), a work known by its Spanish title as Estadismo de las Filipinas o mis viajes, which, translated into English by John Maver, was published in London in 1814; and lately edited by Retana himself at Madrid in 1893.

As will be easily apparent to even the most cursory reader, Zúñiga’s [12]travels, critical throughout in spirit, display on well nigh every page the results of keen observation of affairs during his wanderings, combined moreover with sober reflections on the character and condition of the various races of people of the chief Philippine islands.

In acknowledgment of its scientific worth, Retana has enriched Zúñiga’s history (in the edition just noted) with twelve scholarly appendices replete with copious erudition, among other topics on the ethnography and geography of the islands; on animals, plants, and minerals. In these appendices, too, will be found copious bibliographies on special topics, as trade, commerce, the não de Acapulco, taxation, finance, and the like.

And,—I feel that attention shall be called thereto, first because the subject itself is deeply interesting to lovers especially of folk-lore, then again, because commonly much misunderstood,—in one of his appendices to Zúñiga (ii *66–*83), Retana has reproduced some twenty-five pages of a Pangasinán Charm Book, covered with strange words—jumbles, most of them, of mutilated Church Latin, with crosses and queer-looking symbols. This charm-book in MS. (as are all its fellows), whereof copies without count are circulated among the lowest, most superstitious classes of islanders—Indians and meztizos, that is, Spaniard, or Chinese, mixed with native,—is wont to be worn around the neck, in the disguise of a Catholic scapular, as safeguard to the wearer against perils of any kind, chiefly the knife, or bullet, of his enemy. Again,—I am quoting Retana, who gives his own personal experiences in Luzon,—so jealously and closely (he says) do these Indian charm-bearers guard their secret heathenish practice from their missionaries, who, for ages, albeit not always with good result, have been striving to detach their wards from such superstitious usages, that the same scholar and curio-hunter, despite his keenest research in Luzon, has never been able to catch even a glimpse but of three of these pagan scapularies, the ones shown to him by a Dominican missionary, Father Casimiro Lafuente, for many years cure at the pueblo of Santa Barbara, in Pangasinán, now (1893) a member of the house of his brotherhood at Avila, in Spain. Moreover, it appears, from the same Retana, that Father Lafuente, so many years resident in the islands, had never succeeded in unearthing other scapularies than these self-same three.

Many other forms of heathenism, some of them not even yet wholly banned from the Philippines, the reader will find described in another of Retana’s works—de Aniterías (Madrid, 1894). [13]

Zúñiga also tells all worth knowing of the abominable rites practised among Luzonians,—of their Nonos, Duendes, the Pag-Papasipin, Tigbalag, Patianac, Bongsol, and Bilao. Much of what he says regarding the attachment of these peoples to unclean and impious ceremonies he has gathered from that rarest of books—one copy only believed to be extant, at the colonial museum of the Augustinians at Valladolid (in Spain), the Práctica (Manila, 1731), of Father Tomás Ortiz, one-time missionary of that brotherhood in China, then for thirty years resident in Luzon, where he died in 1742.

Better, however, consult Zúñiga himself,2 and the notes thereon by Retana, who singularly has failed to insert Ortiz’ Práctica in his Biblioteca, and you will find much of interest;—among other things about tattooing, common practice at one time among all Polynesians, the same as among our own aborigines, until taught more refined ways by Christian missionaries; and about wakes too,—solemn ceremonials of grief, with banquetting and chants—on the occasion of the death of kindred.3

Anent these and similar breaches of the Divine commands against Satanism, it is surprising (I would observe) to reflect how many forms of spirit and idol-worship4 are (to their degradation be it said) common with Malaysian and Caucasian. (See in our own periodicals, published presumably by bright-minded, clean-souled Christian philosophers, yes, see in these oracles of our fireside, advertisements of magicians, diviners, fortune-tellers, charm-workers, not to speak of other law breakers, whose mere self-interest seems to have dulled all true intellective sense.)

The last authority on general topics I name here as invaluable as well as deeply interesting to the scholar is the Encyclopedia (in two volumes) of the Augustinian travelers, Manuel Buzeta and Felipe Bravo (Madrid, 1851)—a work replete with most varied information along with statistics, now, of course, out of date, on the ethnology, geography, topography, dialects, customs and rites of the aborigines in the Philippine archipelago.

Barring, as is only fair, any eulogy on the antiquated features of this Encyclopedia, which yet will be recognized of much service to the historian, the writer himself, who herein is supported among others by [14]Retana, would style this monument of varied scholarship and research a masterpiece of all-round learning; within its lines an indispensable guide to every Philippinologist.

Such, then, are the books most trustworthy and serviceable in their respective fields of history, antiquities, ethnology, and other sciences relating to Philippina.

Before leaving this subject to dwell on Philippinian linguistics, I venture a brief digression on a class of works of general historic character—repertories of all ethnic science, little known, however, albeit to their serious disadvantage, to most students, and prized only by your true-hearted book-lover, who has sense to value what he reads for its own worth mainly, not because stamped with popular approval.

These are annals of the religious brotherhoods in the East, to be recognized in Retana and other catalogues under the various titles of chronicles—sometimes as Conquistas, a by no means unfamiliar term—stories, that is, of the conquest of heathendom, woven oftentimes, no doubt, as recreation by the missionary amid his cares; sometimes as relief from thoughts of his far-away native land—journals, as it were, drawn up by the wanderer, who, besides being traveler, usually was a more or less keen-eyed observer, at home wherever Providence sent him; where, too, he studied (for self-interest was also at stake) whatever regarded the natives in his care—the lands they dwelt in, the skies above them, the waters around them.

Scholars such as these on life-long service in their foreign homes were wont to make themselves conversant with every characteristic of the natives—with the language first of all, then the legends, poetry, chants; with the traditions and customs of the people, the industries and sports of their dusky-hued friends and brothers.

As a rule, these plain, simply-told recitals of matters of fact, chronicle among other curios of literature, all kinds of even the most out-of-the-way learning anent the races of men; of plants and animals, of the various oftentimes most singular phenomena of air, earth, and water—subjects, all of them, of eagerest quest on the part of scientist, ethnologist, linguist, philosopher, naturalist.

These stories, albeit at times verbose, at others digressive, will be acknowledged by the honest-minded critic as rich, indeed, in many-sided lore, enough to repay amply whatever time or trouble you have spent in their reading.

With the exception of one collection of missionary annals—the Relations [15]of the Jesuits in North America; now being edited by Reuben Gold Thwaites, Secretary of the State Historical Society of Wisconsin—I know of no exact counterpart in the field of English literature to these delightful narratives of old-time missionary travelers, Maver’s translation of Zúñiga’s Estadismo, in 1814, being not only out of print, but I suppose unpurchasable.

With the aid of such monuments as these—all original records of old-time conquistadores and their fellow-missionaries in the Americas, it has resulted (to the delight and blessing of students) that the cyclopedias of Americana (thirty nine volumes of them), wherein you will find enshrined whatever is worthy of preservation in the various chequered cycles of aboriginal and Spanish polity and art, massed together by the Western historian Bancroft, are veritably invaluable to the antiquarian, besides being wholesome and refreshing food for men of intellective genius, as therein, along with abundant matter for romance and epic, you will see unraveled and laid bare many a drama of life. [16]

Now a few words anent the chief authorities on Philippine linguistics—treatises, namely, bearing on the various dialects employed in that archipelago, twenty-seven in number, as observed ahead, all, however, akin in their common stock—Malay, of which these idioms, or patois, are daughters, yet with countless, sharply-marked differences between one another.

A working knowledge of the many fashions of speech so much needed as obvious, nay, indispensable to traveler or missionary, will be gained most quickly and thoroughly, it should be premised, from books of two-fold character,—(1) namely, from grammars and dictionaries of the several idioms, based on scientific rules of philology; then (2) from devotional works—books of Christian piety, very numerous in the Philippines, as are religious manuals, prayer-, sermon-, and confession-books, whereof titles abound in Retana, all pretty much from the busy pen of missionaries themselves, to whose zeal and ability in the instruction of their brown and black many-tongued wards is due largely, nay, wholly, whatever of humanizing, Christian character is found in Malaysia, as in fact is true also in other countries now civilized and enlightened, albeit once barbarian.

In his latest bibliography,1 where the number of published works in each of the twenty-seven dialects of the Philippines is set down by Retana, you will observe from a study of his lists, that though in many dialects there are no grammars so entitled, or other scientific aids to learning a given idiom, yet there are many works of religious cast printed therein,—hand-books of practical religion, which you will find useful beyond measure to linguists. Since from these prayer-books, wherein are set down plainly the simplest and commonest rules of Christian ethical conduct, you can easily gather a working knowledge [17]of the language itself, as the missionary who composed them was careful to put matters of every-day interest in the plain, every-day speech of the islanders. Before closing this brief digression on manuals of piety, I must observe what will prove very useful, I judge, to the scholar, that with works of the first class, as grammars and dictionaries, is to be associated on shelf and desk a goodly number of works of another class—books and treatises that bear the name Arte = Aids to Learning, whereof you will encounter very many in Retana.

The Arte of a given dialect, as will be found true also in a measure for grammars and other school-manuals, will be recognized as a compendium of not only literary rules, but of many practical maxims of daily life, whereby the pupils are urged not only to correct speech, but to upright conduct as well through sobriety, piety to the Supreme Being, obedience to rulers, respect for parents and fellows, according to the noblest ideals of refined Christian manhood and womanhood. Thus, with grammar were taught ethics; with politics, religion.

Referring here to class-books in the Philippines, where from the earliest years of the conquest every pueblo had its school of primary instruction, it will not be irrelevant to point out the fact very stoutly that though education (as admitted by well-nigh every chronicler) was primitive in character,—and in the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries where was it not? yet the course of instruction given in the common schools of bamboo-thatch was (as results amply testify) deep and solid enough for the intellectual calibre of the people. Since, so far as known, Malaysia, however saintly, heroic, innocent, the same as our own aborigines, albeit now civilized for three centuries and upwards, has, despite the heartiest aid in teachers and funds, fairly lavished on them by Church and state, turned out no man of shining mark, no scholar, no artist, no genius in statecraft or commerce. The first college-institution with pretensions to higher courses of intellectual training was opened (formally at least) by the Jesuits in 1601, less than half a century, that is, after the arrival of Europeans in Luzon.

In regard to common Indian schools, so zealously guarded by the Leyes de las Indias, I have picked up here and there from old-time chroniclers scraps of many ordinances passed by the crown relative to their foundation and conduct. Among them the following bits of quaint old-fashioned oversight of the dominies in charge. Thus, in 1754, I have read that each maestro of a mission-school was to get, in lieu of support, “a peso and one caban—a measure—of rice a month.” (A [18]caban was equal to 75 litres, about the same number of quarts, English.) Again, every mission-priest was called upon to supply (free to his pupils) “paper and ink.” Moreover, as early as the beginning of the century just closing, in 1817, it was ordained that boys’ schools were to be kept on the ground-floor of the mission-house; while the girls were to be taught at their mistress’ home. (Malaysia—thus it was ordained—was not to experiment with the “co-educational theory.”)

Now for the promised works of chief authority on Philippine linguistics,—monuments of the various dialects of that archipelago, that, along with their purely technical value to the student of idioms, will be acknowledged as useful to scholars in even far different lines of intellectual play.

Of the best works for the study of Visaya, or Bisaya, first dialect in the islands acquired by missionary and conquistador, wherein he gives 352 titles (p. xxix), Retana has the following: “Up to a few years ago the dictionary held in highest repute by linguists was the work of the Augustinian scholar Alonso de Méntrida,” a vocabulary of the Hiligueina, or Hiligayno, and Haraya tongues—two of the three chief dialects spoken in Panay, not very different from the Visaya of Cebú, used, however, by the less cultured tribes of hillsmen in that island. This vocabulary, first printed in 1637, and in 1841 republished at Manila, with diagrams of Indian alphabets, enlarged in another edition in 1842, by a brother missionary, Julián Martín, has now been supplanted by the Visaya-Spanish dictionary (in two volumes), of another Augustinian scholar, Juan Félix de la Encarnación, printed at Manila, first, in 1851–1852, then in 1866 and again in 1885.

Another work deserving of praise is the Arte of the Visaya idiom in use in the islands of Sámar and Leite (Binondo, 1872), composed by the Franciscan traveler, Antonio Figuerroa, in which latter language—Leite, that with slight changes is similar to Cebuano, the first grammar was published by the Jesuit missionary, Domingo Ezquerra, in 1662.

Helpful, too, as much as the former Arte in philology is the Christian Doctrine translated into Visaya-Cebuano by the Recoleto scholar and orator, Tomás de San Jerónimo, known to his contemporaries as “the Cicero of Cebú.” His school-book re-issued at Binondo in 1876 is a reprint of his edition of 1731.

Of the Tagal dialect,—a form of speech so hard to acquire with nicety that, according to a Spanish saying, one needs therefor “un [19]año de arte y dos de bahaque,”2 that is to say, unless I am wrong in my interpretation of the last word—“bahaque” which likely is Aeta, the scholar needs “a year of study and two of practice.”

The earliest Tagal Arte, so styled in chronicles, for what with the universal destructive touch of time, and in Luzon especially, the voracity of that pest of librarians, the anay,—an ant that in a few hours, it is said, will devour a library,—cases as well as books, not a sole copy, apparently, has survived, was composed in 1580 by the Augustinian voyager and missionary, Agustín de Albuquerque, fourth superior of his brotherhood in the Philippines, and printed at Manila in 1637.

In Tagal the works most highly praised are the following: The Critical Treatise on Tagalisms (Mexico, 1742), by the Franciscan linguist, Melchior Oyanguren, the only work known wherein that tongue is contrasted on scientific lines with the classic Latin, Greek, and Hebrew, and Mandarin Chinese. The author was moved to prepare his manual for the instruction of his brother missionaries prior to their entrance into their field of work in Luzon.

The Tagal dictionary, by the Jesuit missionary, Juan de Noceda, and others of his society (Manila, 1754), a lexicographical treasure, was reprinted at Valladolid in 1836, and (in its most highly-prized form) again, in 1860, at Manila, with valuable additions by some Augustinian experts.

For the scholar unacquainted with Latin, the most serviceable work for learning Tagal is the Essay on Tagal Grammar (Manila, 1878), composed by the Recoleto missionary and linguist, Toribio Minguella de la Merced, whose Grammar (in the same language) for the use of children (Manila, 1886) was adopted for schools by the Spanish government.

While another helpful work for the study of that same dialect is the Tagal catechism, by the Augustinian, Luis de Amezquita, a popular booklet, first printed in 1666, and (in its thirteenth edition) in 1880, at Manila.

A rare and precious treatise, praised for its critical spirit, is the study on Tagal poetry—a compendium of that dialect reprinted at Sampaloc [20]in 1787, from the first edition of 1703; and again at Manila, in 1879, by another member of the same brotherhood, Gaspar de San Agustín, author, besides, of one of the most valued Conquistas, or histories of the islands.

For the study of Tagal refrains—for this people is ballad-lover to the core—and similar turns of speech, an excellent work, one unique of its kind, is the Colección (Guadalupe, 1890), by two well-known Franciscan linguists, Gregorio Martín and Mariano Martínez Cuadrado.

The Tagal Arte (Sampaloc, 1745), along with a manual (also in Tagal) for the administration of the Sacraments, composed by the Franciscan missionary, Sebastián de Totanes, “is” (according to our bibliographer) “the best edition of the best grammar” written by missionaries of that order.

In Ilocano, another of the unnumbered dialects of Luzon, there is a good dictionary (Manila, 1849), by the Augustinian scholar, Andrés Carro (aided by others of his brotherhood)—the first work of its kind, reprinted only a few years ago, in 1888. Serviceable, too, for the study of the same dialect—Ilocano—as doubtless easy to obtain, is the Catecismo, by another member of that same order, Francisco López (Manila, 1877), whereof editions fairly without number have issued.

In Batanes, or Vatanes, a dialect used in the islets north of Luzon, mission-field of the Dominicans, hard to reach, nor easy at best to live in, is composed the Catechism of the Christian Doctrine (Manila, 1834), by a missionary of that order—the only work, perhaps, printed in that language, wherein Retana states he is about to edit a grammar and dictionary. In his Biblioteca (p. 51) he gives the Ave Maria in Batanes, Ibanag and Ilocano, in order to show (he says) the diversities between these idioms.

The Pampanga Arte (Manila, 1729), by the Augustinian, Diego Bergaño, an estimable aid to the would-be learner of that language, was reissued at Sampaloc in 1736. By the same author is a dictionary of Pampanga—the only work of its class, printed at Manila, first in 1732, and again in 1860.

In the Ibanag tongue, otherwise Ibanay or Cagayan, the dictionary by the Dominican linguist, José Bugarín, and companions (Manila, 1854), we have what Retana styles a masterpiece of philological craft, “the first and (in fact) only vocabulary of that dialect” whereof of all Philippine tongues “the orthography is the most difficult to manage.” In another place, however (p. 102), he has named another Ibanag dictionary [21](Manila, 1867), constructed from Dominican MSS., to which similarly (by error I suppose) he has awarded seniority of press. Prior to the above date—1854—in that vast region of Cagayan, where, by the way, is grown the choicest tobacco in the Philippines, the missionaries, for generation and generation of island-pupils had relied wholly on MS. copies of Padre Bugarín’s dictionary.

In Pangasinán, or Caboalan, dialect used in the province of the same name in Luzon, we have another linguistic treasure—the Arte of Mariano Pellicer, of the same brotherhood, reprinted at Manila, in 1862, from the edition of 1690, whereof in the course of time, as writers tell us, it came to pass that up to about the middle of the present century only one copy survived. Then re-cast by Pellicer, in 1840, it was re-published by him some twenty years later.

Of the Cuyona dialect I note two works of merit,—one (p. 113) an explanation of the Christian Doctrine (Manila, 1871), by the Recoleto missionary, Pedro Gibert de Santa Eulalia, edited by the Dominican Mariano Cuartero, first bishop of St. Isabel, or Elizabeth, of Jaro, in the island of Panay, one of the four suffragans of Manila, an industrious scholar, editor of many works in Indian dialects, whom the reader, however, is not to confound with another prelate of the same name, Recoleto bishop of Nueva Segovia, in Luzon, nephew of the former, who, in this one respect, was like his uncle—author of no book: while the other Cuyona treasure, whereof there are very few in that language, (“poquisimos libros,” says Retana, p. 230), seven titles in all comprising the bibliography of that tongue, is the Plan of Religion (Manila, 1886), by the same industrious and scholarly Gibert.

In the Gaddan idiom, wherein only two books have been printed, both very devotional in character, is a Catechism (Manila, 1833), and the Pathway to Heaven (ib., 1873), by Dominican missionaries in the provinces of Nueva Vizcaya and Isabela, in Luzon.

In the Aeta language of the Negritos, or little black men, perhaps the primitive race of the Philippines—whose name I have encountered in many forms of spelling, as Ata, Ataa, Aeta, Agta, Aita, Ita, Itaa,3 there are similarly, only two works known to Retana, whose bibliographical notices have been of so much value,—one a Report on the Philippine Islands (Paris, 1885), addressed to the French Minister of Public Instruction by J. Montano, a book of over two hundred and nine pages, illumined with numerous phototypes, and, what [22]renders it of exceptional value, enriched with vocabularies, “the first,” Retana declares, in Aeta, Bilaan, Manobo (of the natives of Mindanao), Sámal and Tagacaolo dialects.

As companion volume to the above, though far smaller in bulk, is a little treatise (Dresden, 1893), of double authorship, the German A. B. Meyer giving therein a very interesting Aeta vocabulary, and his Dutch co-laborer, H. Kern, a comparative study of the same tongue, which he traces to Malay ancestry.

For the study of Chamorro, idiom of the Marianas Islands, one will find serviceable the little book of devotions (Manila, 1887), with counsels for the worthy reception of the Sacraments of God, (p. 248)—the only work, in fact, we have in this dialect, by the Recoleto linguist and traveler, Aniceto Ibáñez del Carmen.

Finally, with three other samples of the Philippine press as proofs of the variety of its polyglot fonts, and I shall have done with this digression on the many languages used in this part of Polynesia,—one a grammar in the dialect of Yap or Guap (p. 248), in the western Caroline archipelago (Manila, 1888), composed apparently by the Capuchin missionary, Ambrosio de Valencia; the second (p. 332) a Hispano-Kanaka dictionary (Tambóbong, 1892), by another Capuchin wanderer, according to Retana, Agustín María de Ariñez. While the last, a work, as will readily be acknowledged, of interest as well as importance to ethnologists, linguists, Americanists especially, is the list of Nahuatlisms of Costa Rica (San José de Costa Rica, 1892), by Juan Fernández Ferraz, a goodly-sized volume of over two hundred pages, wherein, on purely linguistic grounds, the author has maintained the kinship of our own Central Americans and the Philippinians, from the fact especially that in the respective countries of these two antipodal peoples, abound very many terms of every-day use, with identical spelling and meaning. In his Biblioteca (p. 340), Retana has gathered a few of these homonyms and synonyms.

Such, then, are the chief authorities on language among our Philippina that, while entertaining, nay instructing the philologist, will delight also the general student, the writers whereof, as the reader will not be slow to observe, were in far larger number all churchmen and missionaries.

In fact, of the 1142 authors, whose works he has enumerated (Biblioteca, xxxv–xxxvi), Retana states that four hundred and sixty-six are ecclesiastics, that is, ninety-eight secular clergymen and three hundred and sixty-eight members of religious brotherhoods, whereof the Augustinians[23]—the writer’s own order—numbering one hundred and forty-one authors, inclusive of thirty-seven Recoletos—the bare-footed branch of that fraternity—figure highest. Next in rank, we have one hundred Dominicans, then fifty-seven Jesuits, fifty-six Franciscans, and fourteen authors of orders not specified.

Of these brotherhoods, who thus in Malaysia, as in other quarters of the globe, brought forth so brilliant an array of scholars and philanthropists, the first-named, the Augustinians, with Legazpi, crossing two oceans and one continent therefore, found a home in the Philippines at the conquest of that archipelago in 1565; in 1577 the first Franciscans reached the isles; in 1581, the Dominicans, with the first bishop of Manila (by actual possession), Domingo Salazar, member of the same brotherhood, accompanied too by some Jesuits, while the Recoletos first crossed the Pacific in 1611.

These churchmen, with very few exceptions Spanish, with later on a sprinkling of Portuguese, Dutchmen, Germans, Italians and Irishmen, scholars, as a rule, of fair repute, some even of European eminence, from their advent into Polynesia, besides their care in implanting Christian altruism, wherewith only (as history attests) thrive science and art, have toiled ever since to imbue these islanders, whom they found heathen—without letters, laws, or settled abode—with learning, the arts of husbandry, building, carving, painting, weaving, and the like graces of intellectual grandeur—in brief, with whatever of civilization now marks Malaysian genius.

From Manila, as centre of intellectual enlightenment for all eastern Asiatic and Polynesian lands in the sixteenth century, were transplanted the germs of philanthropy—of wisdom and charity—to Borneo, the Carolines, Moluccas, as well as the mainland of Asia, to China and Japan, while in India the Portuguese, with headquarters at Goa, fulfilled the same destiny as their Iberian brothers.

Speaking of the heroism of these self-exiled churchmen and worshipers of the Christian Minerva in Asiatic tropics, I quote the words of the famed French savant, Elisée Reclus, a witness, by the way, in no measure partial to cloister life. In his Universal Geography4 he declares that “Los Filipinos son de los pueblos mas civilizados del Extremo Oriente. Los han civilizado los frailes”—that is, “The Philippines are one of the most civilized people of the Far East. The friars have civilized them.” [24]

Among the curios of artistic and literary cast, your bright-minded reader, if on the alert to spy anything deserving of notice, will find here and there in Retana’s pages enshrined many a bit of out-of-the-way information. The following half dozen or so of oddities will probably be acknowledged, not unworthy of mention among these Philippina:

They are La Razon: A Plea Against Certain Vexatious Encroachments of the Crown on Mexican and Manila Trade, by José Nuño de Villavicencio (Sampaloc, 1737), which bears on its cover the most tasty design by Philippine burin—a plate illustrative of the contents of the Plea, engraved by Francisco Suárez, a Tagal artist.

El Cosmopolita—The Cosmopolitan—(Manila, 1895–1896), the first periodical (p. 458), with phototypes, published in the islands.

The first Almanac and Guide-Book for strangers and travelers, with a Map of the Archipelago, was issued at Manila for the year 1834.

The newspaper—El Ilocano—a bi-weekly, published in Spanish and Ilocano at Manila (p. 464), from 1889 to 1896 (?) was the first periodical written in Indian dialect.

Again, another periodical—El Hogar (p. 464), The Fireside—a weekly, of 16 pages, started at Manila in 1892, under the direction of Madam Amparo Gómez de la Serna, was the first paper devoted to science, letters, beaux-arts, and useful information published almost exclusively in the interests of women, while the Revista de Filipinas (p. 132), a bi-weekly, that, starting at Manila in 1875, lived only two years, is the worthiest of Philippine periodicals, noticeable chiefly for the deeply scientific cast of its papers.

The Romancero Filipino, a work of fancy (Manila, 1892), by Manuel Romero Aquino, is styled (p. 554) by Retana the neatest and best piece of work by Philippine pen.

While The American Soldier, a four-page daily newspaper, whereof the opening number is dated Manila, September 10, 1898, is the first [25]periodical, maybe print of any sort, in the English language, published in the islands.

With the foregoing extravaganzas of literature we note that the series of Philippine periodicals, which in Retana’s own collection number (he says) one hundred and twelve, in their entirety do not surpass one hundred and sixty. Of his own he gives the titles (Biblioteca, xxiii–xxviii) from Del Superior Gobierno, the first newspaper issued in the islands, with the imprint of Manila, August 8, 1811, down to the latest—Thé Kon Leche (Tea and Milk)—a four-page weekly satirical periodical, with illustrations (in two colors), published at Manila in 1898.

The oldest piece of what we may style distinctively Philippine literature, whereof, moreover, only one copy is believed to be extant, albeit printed abroad in Europe, is an Account of Legazpi’s Expedition from Mexico to Cebú in 1565, sent from Seville to one Miguel Salvador, of Valencia, and printed one year later at Barcelona. This Copia—thus entitled in Retana—heads his list of Philippina, a study of which, with the supplement (p. 505 et seq.), discloses the fact that of the books that head his Biblioteca, the first nineteen were printed abroad—eighteen in Europe; that is, nine in Spain, at Barcelona, Madrid, Burgos, Valencia and Seville; seven in Italy, at Rome, Genoa and Venice; one each in France, at Paris, and in Flanders, at Antwerp (“Amberes” in the Spanish), where a Mendoza’s History of China was printed in 1596, by Bellero; and the nineteenth in Mexico.

The first fruit itself of the Philippine press—thus styled by Retana, though mistakenly, we judge—was the Spanish-Japanese Dictionary of 1630, on which I will make some remarks when treating of the early Philippine press.

Moreover, it is noticeable that of these earliest Philippina not one of them treats distinctively of religious matters, but—with the exception of two, Fragoso’s and Acosta’s Botanies, or works on Eastern flora—are wholly historical in character, embracing, as they do, along with the Copia of 1566, eleven editions of the still estimable history of China and other Asiatic lands, by the Augustinian traveler, Juan González de Mendoza, whereof the Roman edition (by Vincenzo Acolti in 1585) gives plates illustrative of Chinese typographical symbols—the first shown to Europeans. Of this history, it may be observed, thirty-eight editions have appeared in all—in Latin, Spanish, Italian, French, German, Dutch, and English. Among these early Philippina—to continue our [26]analysis—is a history of that archipelago, by the Franciscan chronicler, Marcelo de Ribadeneyra; a report on the same islands, by the Jesuit scholar, Pedro Chirino—the first work of its kind published in Europe (Rome, 1604), with diagrams of Philippine characters—signs, namely, employed by the natives in writing, whereof, says Retana, “a miserable edition” was printed at Manila in 1890. Then follow other works, among them a story of the conquest of the Moluccas, one of the sixteenth century names of the Philippines, a work of utmost value to the historical writer, composed by the presbyter, Bartolomé Leonardo de Argensola (Madrid, 1609); then a trustworthy account of the triumph of Spanish arms in the Philippines, by Antonio de Morga, auditor-general of the crown in those colonies, printed in Mexico in 1609; and lastly the report of Governor Francisco Guzman de Tello, eleventh captain-general of those islands (Seville, 1598?).

The two merely scientific works, alluded to ahead, are “Discourses on Aromatic Things—Plants, Fruit, and the like simple Medicines employed in the East Indies,” composed by Juan Fragoso, a rare and curious work (Madrid, 1572); and a Treatise on the Drugs and Medicines used in the East Indies, with plates representing various plants, by Cristóbal Acosta, published first in Spanish at Burgos in 1578; in Latin (in two editions) in 1582 and 1593; in French (also in two editions) in 1602 and 1619; lastly in English in 1604. [27]

Now for a description of the different printing-presses—or, rather, places—in the Philippines, from the earliest named by Retana in his Biblioteca, in all fourteen distinct localities, where printing was carried on in the three islands of Luzon, Panay and Cebú.

1.—From an analysis of the titles I find that Manila ranks earliest, where (with limitations to be set later) a printing-press was established in 1630, in which year, at the Dominican College of St. Thomas, a Spanish-Japanese dictionary, the work of Portuguese Jesuit missionaries and scholars, now translated into Spanish, was printed by Tomás Pinpin, a native Tagal, and Jacinto Magaurlua. This dictionary (now extremely rare), even though not the first book printed in the islands, as stated by Retana, must yet be ranked among the earliest specimens of Philippine literature.

In his Bibliography three different titles (we may observe) bear the imprint of Manila, with the name of this city spelled according to the ancient aboriginal form, albeit but slightly varied from the present—“Maynila”—otherwise, as I have read it, “Mainilla,” a variant in orthography one encounters in old chronicles—a Tagal word (it seems) signifying a species of shrub or bush, in the Spanish rendered arbusto, that in 1571 was found to cover the site of the new city projected by the conquistadores, under the leadership of Miguel López de Legazpi.

In this same year, it may be added, the site of the future metropolis of Malaysia was taken possession of by Spanish arms, with due observance of ceremonial, sealed with the three local chieftains,1 Lacandola, Matandá and Soliman, by blood-bargain—pacto de sangre.2 Here, too, [28]at Manila, the second church in Malaysia devoted to the Supreme Being, the first having been founded at Cebú, was dedicated the same year (1571) to God, under the most fitting title of the Conversion of St. Paul the Apostle, first great missionary to heathendom. At Cebú, by agreement with Chief Tupas, the standard of Christian comity—the Cross—had been reared in 1565, and its church dedicated in honor of St. Michael Archangel, name-saint of Legazpi, though shortly after rechristened El Santo Niño—the Holy Child—its title to-day.

The three works then printed at “Maynila,” or Bush Town, in Luzon, are a Manual of Devotions to St. Roch, translated into Tagal by the Augustinian missionary, Esteban Diez, a skilled Tagalist, in 1820; a periodical—the Revista Católica—whereof the first and only number (p. 309) was issued in 1890; and lastly, a weekly paper (the same as the former) in Tagal, published in 1896.

2.—The second place to witness the establishment of a press was Sampaloc, in Zambales province, in Luzon, where, in 1736, at the Franciscan convent of Our Lady of Loreto, was printed the Augustinian Diego Bergaño’s Arte, in Pampanga—first fruit, it seems, of typographical genius in that pueblo. While the last imprint with the name of Sampaloc is an almanac, or church calendar, for the year 1838 (more probably, however, printed the year ahead), when the old press, founded by Franciscan friars a hundred years before, disappears.

3.—At Tayabas, in the province of the same name, in Luzon (p. 31), was printed a Tagal dictionary, by the Franciscan, Totanes, now supplanted, however, by Noceda’s far superior work on philological score, especially with the additions made thereto by the Augustinians in the Manila edition of 1860. This Tayabas imprint is the only work I have encountered with the name of that pueblo.

4.—The first Cavite imprint (p. 38) dates (it seems) from 1815—a church calendar for the following year; while the last, with the name of this Manila suburb written, however, with a K—“Kavite”—is an appeal of the revolutionary party in 1898 (p. 451), under the official seal of the Gobierno Dictatorial de Filipinas.

5.—Binondo is the fifth place, whereof the first work—statistical reports of Franciscan missionaries—was printed in 1865; the last, José Patricio Clemente’s Moral Lectures for Youth (p. 540), in 1872. In regard, however, to this town, it should be observed that in his earlier bibliography (ed. 1893) Retana names a work printed by Pinpin in the Hospital of St. Gabriel, at Binondo, in 1623. [29]

6.—At Vigan, the old Villa Fernandina of the Ilocos, known also to Spaniards as Nueva Segovia, a city founded in the sixteenth century by Juan Salcedo, one of the captains under Legazpi, and so christened by him in memory of his native place in Spain, but now known as Lalo, or Lal-lo,—here was started a Sunday newspaper, El Eco de Vigan, published in Ilocano in 1883, that died, however, a year after birth.

7.—In Iloilo (on the island of Panay) was printed, in 1885, the pastoral letter of Alejandro Arrué, Recoleto bishop of St. Isabel, or Elizabeth, of Jaro.

8.—Then comes Guadalupe, eighth place on our list, a sanctuary village on the left bank of the river Tasig, a couple of leagues from Manila, a shrine founded by Augustinians in 1601, in honor of St. Nicholas, the wonder-worker of Tolentino, a place visited yearly by great numbers of Chinese Confucians, as well as Christians, who hold that saint in highest and most singular veneration. At Guadalupe, in 1886, issued two works from the orphanage press—An Abridgment of the Christian Doctrine of Pouguet and Fleuri, drawn up in Bisaya by Father Mateo Pérez, Augustinian cure of Argao; and Lozano’s Novena to St. Thomas of Villanova. The last imprint of Guadalupe—a Tagal Catechism, by Luis de Amezquita, a brother missionary of Pérez—bears the date 1890.

9.—The earliest sample of Cebú print—the island where, under Legazpi, three centuries earlier, civilization first found a footing in Malaysia—is a work that elicits from Retana remarkable praise, in view of the difficulties that attended its printing; the paper—such was the dearth in the Visayas of proper material for good press-work—being of five or six different qualities in body, make, color. This work, that I think we may style a triumph of adaptive art, is the Ensayo para una Galería de Asturianos ilustres, a genealogical monument (in three volumes), by the Augustinian antiquary, Fabiáno Rodríguez, begun in 1888 and completed in 1893. While the last Cebú imprint, a government statistical report on crime and the like, is dated 1892.

10.—Tambóbong, a pueblo near the coast, in Tondo province, about three miles from Manila, comes tenth in our list, where, at the orphan asylum of Our Lady of Consolation, in 1889, was printed a weekly newspaper—the Revista Católica de Filipinas—discontinued in 1896. While the last imprint from this press—An Abridgment of the History of Spain (of only eight pages)—was issued, presumably, in 1897.

11.—At Nueva Caceres, or Camarines, in Luzon, a town founded in [30]the sixteenth century by Governor Francisco Sande, in memory of his birthplace in Estremadura, but now known even officially as Naga, the first work bearing the name of that pueblo—a hand-book of devotions—issued from the press of the Sagrada Familia, in 1893; and two years later (in 1895) the last—A Life of St. Monica and her son, St. Augustine—written, the same as the former, in Bícol dialect.

12.—In 1895, we read the earliest printed samples of Malabón art—a poetical tribute of gratitude to Our Lady of Welcome—Bien-Venida, one of the many titles of the Mother of God, so dear to Philippine soul, by Fructuoso Arias Camisón, from the orphan-press of Our Lady of Consolation (in care of Augustinians). Only once, it may be noted, is the name of this pueblo—encountered quite frequently in Retana, the same (he says) as Tambóbong, written “Malabóng,” a somewhat unusual form of spelling—employed by Manuel Sastrón, in his description of Batangas, printed in 1895.

From several specimens of Malabón press-work, now before me, I may observe that, for accuracy in composition, neatness—in brief, of general excellence in workmanship—these samples of the orphanage establishment at Malabón would not fail to honor even a Philadelphia craftsman.

Two years ago (in 1898), just prior to the siege of Manila, under the care of two Fathers and four lay-brothers of the Augustinians, resident at this orphan asylum, one hundred and one lads were being taught the following trades: 13 compositors, 12 press-workers, 30 bookbinders, 3 gilders, 43 candlemakers, while 44 other youngsters, too small for hard work, were, the same as their seniors, given food, clothing, and shelter;3 while similarly, at Mandaloya orphan asylum for girls, conducted by twenty-two sisters (of the same order), a hundred and twenty-two lassies were taught music (piano), painting, drawing, embroidery, flower-, lace- and dress-making, hair-dressing, laundry-work, and sewing.4

But alas! it is feared that through the grim fate of war a like disaster, as has wrecked many another fair shrine of learning and art in countries even nearer our own, has befallen our studios and laboratories at Malabón and Mandaloya, that therefrom their inmates—orphans, instructors and care-takers are now wanderers, with their treasures ravished, their homes destroyed. [31]

13.—Then we meet with a work printed in 1896, at the revolutionary press at Imus, in Cavite province, in Luzon,—a proclamation (in Tagal)—the only imprint bearing the name of this pueblo.

14.—Finally, in 1898, at Mandaloyon, or Mandaloya (named ahead), an old hacienda of the Augustinians in Tondo province, in Luzon, the morning-paper—La República Filipina—began publication with the flag of the new-born republic in colors for heading,—the first journal of the Tagal insurgents, that had so much to do in bringing about the downfall of Spanish rule in the Philippines.

Before concluding this section on early presses, we may add the references made by Retana to other Philippine prints than the ones given in his Biblioteca. In a former work5 he states that by certain writers, whom he names, presses were said to have been established on the isle of Luzon, viz: at Bacolor in 1619; Macabebe in 1621; and Tayabas in 1703. Similarly, he cites two works, named by the Franciscan antiquarian Huerta as having been printed at Manila earlier than the Bugarín dictionary—the Devocion Tagalog in 1610; and a Diccionario in 1613, both (according to Huerta) from the press of Tomás Pinpin, the Tagal printer. Moreover, under the heading of “Manila” and “Pinpin,” Retana gives the dates of several still older imprints than the Japanese dictionary of 1630, which in his Biblioteca has been accorded the honor of senior of the Philippine press.

The reason for the omission of these titles in Retana’s later bibliography, that otherwise would seem unaccountable, is perhaps a doubt as to their genuinity. But why he should fail to mention this flaw in their line of ancestral title, is like many another perplexing problem that the scholar is apt to encounter in his wanderings through the shadowy, albeit delightful and fascinating realm of letters.

We now pass on to the question of the introduction of the press into the Philippines. [32]

As regards the introduction of printing itself into that archipelago, wherein (as writers agree) the first press was set to work in the opening years of the seventeenth century, yet there is dispute as to two points,—the precise date, namely, when the printing-press was first established there, and the country whence it was carried to those islands.

Though in his Biblioteca Retana inferentially states that the Spanish-Japanese Dictionary of 1630 was the earliest Philippine imprint, yet in another work of a few years ahead, one of his numerous valuable appendices to Zúñiga’s Travels,1 the same author has maintained, rightly and soundly enough it would seem, a wholly different opinion. There he reproduces the title-page of a work printed twenty years earlier, in 1610, which he himself saw in the Museo Biblioteca de Ultramar, whereof the title (he declares) is as follows:

Arte y Reglas | de la Lengua | Tagala. | Por el Padre. F. Fray Francisco de. S. Joseph de la | Ordē de. S. Domingo Predicador General en la Prouincia | de. N. Señora del Rosario de las Islas Filipinas. |

[Here the Grand Seal of the Dominican Order (in wood) with this legend:]

| Mihi avtem ab | sit glorianisi incruce Dñi Ñri IESVXPIAD—| GAL. 6. |

| En el Partido de Bataan | galo, Año de 1610. |

Substantially the aforesaid title means that the book—a Tagal grammar—was composed by Father Francisco de S. Joseph (whose family-name (as otherwise known) was Blancas), of the Dominican Order, preacher-general of his province of Our Lady of the Rosary in the Philippines, and printed at Bataan, A.D. 1610.2 [33]

In one of his Appendices to Zúñiga,3 Retana affirms that the printer of this Arte was the Tagal Tomás Pinpin.

Why, then, with this sample of early Philippine typography before his eyes, presumably yet extant on the shelves of the Museo de Ultramar, Retana (whose interesting description of Blancas’ Arte of 1610 will shortly follow) should have deemed it right to omit all mention of it in his latest bibliography, wherein, so far as I can read, there is not the slightest reference to it, seems truly a literary conundrum—one that, for me at least, baffles all power of solution.

However, accepting facts in the world of letters, as in the objective universe of God’s creation, as they stand, as we see them and know them, with the guidance of Retana himself, we now proceed (as promised) to a description of this Tagal grammar, the earliest specimen of Philippine typography known at least to be extant.

Blancas’ Arte is a book printed on rice paper—papel de arroz—with a preface of sixteen unnumbered pages and three hundred and eleven (of text) numbered, that is, three hundred and twenty-seven in all, yet in one instance wrongly paged, since the observant eye of our bibliographer has detected that what really is page 157 in the Arte has been printed “156,” the body of the grammar thus comprising, not 311 pages, as the printer has made it, but in reality 312.

On the verso of the title (that is, page 2) are given various licenses to print, issued among other officials by Miguel Ruiz of Binondoc (an old form apparently for the town now known as Binondo), this permit being dated February 6, 1609. Then follow the licenses of Father Blancas’ own provincial superior, dated Manila, June 3, and another official’s, whose name (Retana says) is missing by reason of the page having been torn, dated from Quiapo, on (month too wanting) 24, of the same year—1609—with the former.

On the third page, with the date July 28, 1609, we read the names of several Manila church-officers, eight in all, licensing Father Blancas’ Arte, among them the dean of the cathedral-chapter of Manila, the archdeacon Arellano, and Pedro de Rojas, who, as secretary apparently of that body, adds his attestation to the chapter-action above.

From pages 4 to part of 7 is a Tagal Hymn to the Holy Virgin, Mother of Our Lord; then following the finale of this hymn, a prayer to God, Almighty Giver of all intellectual light, for power to be granted His servants to learn of His wisdom and ability to tell it to the Tagals. [34]

Then, following some ancient Tagal characters, comes the grammar in chief, which has been printed (as is obvious)4 from type, bearing distinct marks of use. Wherefore, since we have now concluded Retana’s description of this Arte, we, in turn, may observe—the inference seems lawful—that our Bataan press of 1610 had been at work before that year, and Father Blancas’ Arte is not the earliest Philippine imprint.

A point made by Retana with reference to Bataan, place of imprint on the title thereof, is to this effect that instead of Bataan, name (he says) of a province, and in olden time of a very unimportant pueblo (known, however, more correctly as “Batan”),5 one should read Abucay, capital of the province of Bataan, a far likelier place for the establishment of a printing-office.6

So much, then, for the still more ancient work than Bugarín’s dictionary of 1630.

But how much earlier than 1610, date of the Tagal Arte, or in what part of the Philippine archipelago, the press was at work, is a puzzle, that relying on the only authorities bearing in any manner on the priority of the press, we shall now seek to unravel.

When referring to this question of early typography7 Retana declares that there are only two authors that treat of the introduction of the press into the Philippines,—one the history of his province (of the Holy Rosary), which with the Philippines embraced also China and Japan, by the Dominican traveler and missionary, Father Diego Aduarte, whose work, published at Manila, in 1640, is the second title in our Biblioteca, bearing the name of that city as place of imprint, and the only old-time authority (in print) treating of ancient Malaysian typography.

The other is a history (published a few years ago) entitled La Orden de Predicadores, of the Dominicans (Madrid, 1884), by a member of that brotherhood, Father Martínez-Vigil, at one time resident at Manila, where he held a chair in the university of that city, and now (1900) bishop of Oviedo in Spain.

We shall, therefore, summon these two witnesses in the question in point of primeval Philippina.

Aduarte’s reference to early typography8 contains substantially the [35]following statements: that living with the Fathers of his Order (at Binondo) was a Christian Chinese, named Juan de Vera, a most worthy man, printer by trade, who had learned his art at home, and “the first printer” in the Philippines; that moreover he was employed by Father Blancas in getting out divers hand-books of devotion for the Indians, as well as for the missionaries themselves; and that as the said Juan was a good worker, always busy at his trade, he printed very many books, among them a Memorial of the Christian life; book on the postrimerias—that is, the Four Great Last Truths—Death, Judgment, Heaven, Hell; Preparation for Communion; Confession-Book; the Mysteries of the Rosary; an Arte for the Tagals, or Aid to learn Spanish, and the like. Such are the titles of some of the books printed at Binondo by Juan de Vera.

Commenting on the above statements of Aduarte, our bibliographer, however, makes this very sensible observation,—the omission, namely, of any positive information on two points of utmost importance to the antiquary and historian,—at what time, that is, was de Vera’s press set up in the Philippines; and whence was it brought to those islands? Anent the first press it is noteworthy (according to the unanimous opinion of critics) that it certainly was not carried thither from Spain, though maybe sent over from Mexico, where printing was established in the early years of the sixteenth century, Retana, however, maintaining as likelier that the first printing-outfit introduced into the Philippines was brought thither from Japan, where (as we otherwise know) a book, the Sanctos no Gosagueo, or Compendium of the Lives of the Saints, was printed at the Jesuit College at Katsusa, in 1591. In the same kingdom I find printed (at another Jesuit College) at “Nangasaki,” in 1603, the Vocabulario de Japón, Japanese ancestor of the old Bugarín dictionary elsewhere referred to (in this paper) as having been published at Manila in 1630.9 In Japan,—the fact is worth noting,—ten different works were printed in Roman characters prior to the year 1599.

But let us return to Luzon. If Aduarte is right in his assertion that Juan de Vera was “the first printer in the Philippines,” then the press was at work prior to the year 1610, and the Tagal Arte (just described) is not the forerunner of Philippine imprints. [36]

So much for one of Retana’s oracles. Now pass we on to consider the second and only other writer that, with original sources at hand, has treated of this bibliographical problem, Father Martínez-Vigil, who, in the story of his order (named ahead) mentions this fact, that when resident at Manila he was shown a very rich codex—a MS.—of over six hundred folios, on Chinese paper, in perfect condition, for many reasons (all duly set forth) of unassailable authenticity, and albeit (he remarks) somewhat hard to decipher, except to a palæontologist, yet written with marvelous clearness and neatness of penmanship. In this MS., which (the Father says) was written during the years 1609–1610, besides an account of all notable occurrences in the islands from 1581 to 1606, with which latter year the story ends, four years earlier, you should observe, than Pinpin’s Arte of 1610, are also to be read these words: “Los que primero imprimieron fueron del órden de San Agustín el P. Fr. Juan de Villanueva, algunos tratadillos; mas del órden de Sto. Domingo el P. Fr. Francisco de San Joseph cosas mayores y de mas tomo el primero que escribió en lengua araya fué de la Compañia.”

Whereof, the meaning substantially is, that “the first printers (in the Philippines) were of the Order of St. Augustine, among them Father Juan de Villanueva, publisher of some small treatises—tratadillos; then others of the Order of St. Dominic, of whom Father Francisco de San Joseph printed works of larger bulk, and was the first of his brethren to write in araya (Tagal?).”

Here then, in these quotations from two Dominican monuments—Aduarte’s history and the MS. (quoted by Martínez-Vigil), the latter ending with events of the year 1606—you have all that antiquity tells of the introduction of the printing-press into the Philippines.

To the assertion (in the MS.), relative to the Augustinian press, may be appended an item or so in regard to the art-establishment of that order at Lubao, in Pampanga province in Luzon, which I have picked up from one of their chroniclers, Gaspar de San Agustín, a Tagal and Visaya linguist, who died, some say at Tondo, others at Manila, in 1724, after nearly fifty years’ mission-service in the islands. In his history (Madrid, 1698), are the following words in reference to Lubao convent: “Se han celebrado en este Convento algunos Capitulos intermedios y mucho tiempo huvo Estudios menores de Gramatica y Retorica; y teniamos tambien en él una muy buena Imprenta, traida [37]del Japón, en que se imprimian muchos libros, assi en la lengua Española como Pampanga y Tagala.”10

In brief, that is, Father Gaspar says that “in Lubao convent, where the order maintained a school of grammar and rhetoric, there was a press (brought from Japan), whereon many books were printed in Spanish, Pampanga, and Tagal.” May we not, then, be justified in surmising that this Lubao press was the one referred to in the MS. adduced by Martínez-Vigil, that attributes to Augustinians the introduction of typography into the Philippines? And, moreover, since the said ancient MS. ends with the year 1606, that this Lubao press was at work at a still earlier date?

But, enough. With no originals at hand, we feel disinclined to pursue this topic further as to the priority of printing in the islands, nor do we care to press the question, whether, namely, the first book of Philippine manufacture was Bugarín’s dictionary of 1630, Blancas’ Arte of 1610, or the Lubao tratadillos of 1606.

In our own colonies (we may observe) printing was introduced, first at Cambridge in Massachusetts, in 1638; while in Pennsylvania the first book printed—an almanac—by William Bradford, of Philadelphia, is dated 1685, a full half century later, that is, than the introduction of this “art preservative of arts” into Malaysia. [39]