The Philippine Islands, 1493-1898, Volume 43, 1670-1700: Explorations by early navigators, descriptions of the islands and their peoples, their history and records of the Catholic missions, as related in contemporaneous books and manuscripts, showing the political, economic, commercial and religious conditions of those islands from their earliest relations with European nations to the close of the nineteenth century

In Short

This volume serves as a primary-source compilation documenting the religious, political, and social landscape of the Philippines across several centuries. Through excerpts from Dominican mission histories, ethnographic observations, and correspondence from Jesuit priests, the text captures the daily realities of life in the islands. It functions as an archival record of colonial expansion, the persistence of indigenous beliefs, and the evolving administrative challenges faced by foreign settlers. Its lasting value lies in its candid, often contradictory, preservation of the voices—European and native—that shaped the archipelago’s tumultuous history.

The Story

The narrative arc of this volume begins in the late seventeenth century, focusing on the rigorous, expansionist efforts of the Dominican order. The early chapters detail the arrival of successive missions from Spain, listing the names and origins of dozens of friars committed to establishing the "Holy Office" and expanding the administration of the islands, specifically among the Zambals. The tone is one of institutional zeal, yet it quickly shifts toward a narrative of profound disillusionment. The missionaries discover, to their horror, that the local populations who had ostensibly accepted Christianity were simultaneously practicing their ancestral, "diabolical" rites in secret. This revelation sparks a campaign of investigation, where young schoolboys are coaxed into betraying their elders, leading to a deliberate, Lenten crackdown on indigenous spiritual practices.

As the text moves into the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries, the focus transitions from the institutional history of the church to ethnographic documentation. The perspective shifts to observations of the islands' "superstitions," detailing the beliefs and social structures of the various native groups. These accounts are punctuated by the narrative of an American expedition to the Sulu archipelago, which provides a secular contrast to the religious documents. Here, the focus turns to piracy, trade, and the martial character of the Sulus, painting a portrait of a society perceived by outsiders as simultaneously sophisticated and predatory.

The final arc of the volume is found in the nineteenth-century letters of Jesuit missionaries stationed in Mindanao. These accounts move away from broad history and into the immediate, often gritty, reality of the "finis terrae"—the remote, isolated outposts of the frontier. The missionaries describe their struggles to build churches in poverty-stricken regions, their complicated relationships with local leaders (or datos), and the persistent, violent customs of the local inhabitants, such as ritual human sacrifice. The ending is not a resolution of these conflicts but a collection of snapshots: stories of local feuds, the continued influence of traditional "witches" or mangkukulam, and the persistent, daily effort of the missionaries to impose a new moral order on a landscape they find both bewitching and fundamentally resistant to their influence. The volume concludes not with a final victory, but with an open-ended archive of cultural friction that continues to the dawn of the twentieth century.

How It Unfolds

The arrival of the missions Large bands of Dominican friars arrive from Spain to reinforce the provincial administration. These lists of names and home convents illustrate the massive, organized investment of resources into the archipelago.

The discovery of secret rites Missionaries realize that their converts have been maintaining dual loyalties to the Church and to ancient deities. This leads to an internal investigation where the friars use children to expose the secret practices of their parents.

The shift toward ethnography The text widens its view to record the customs, superstitions, and social hierarchies of the Filipinos. These documents attempt to categorize the "savage" versus the "civilized," often highlighting the perceived moral failures of the local population.

The Sulu encounter An American expedition provides a stark, pragmatic view of piracy and political intrigue in the southern islands. This section emphasizes the military and commercial tensions that dominated the region, contrasting sharply with the earlier focus on religious conversion.

Life on the frontier Jesuit letters reveal the harsh, lonely reality of working in remote Mindanao. The missionaries describe the struggle to manage both the physical isolation of the region and the complex, often violent, cultural habits of the people they serve.

The People

The volume is populated by a rotating cast of figures who represent the clashing interests of the era. The Dominican friars are the early protagonists, motivated by a sense of divine duty; they view their work as a struggle against the "prince of darkness." Their counterpart is the native "priest of the idols," who operates in the shadows, maintaining traditional spiritual authority.

In the nineteenth-century letters, the Jesuit missionaries like Father Mateo Gisbert emerge as weary, observant chroniclers. They strive to be "fathers" to their parishioners, yet they remain deeply alienated by the very culture they attempt to transform. Opposing them, or at least complicating their work, are the datos, or local chiefs, such as Dato Tumarus. These men are the aristocrats of their regions, holding onto power through a mix of traditional diplomacy and the collection of tribute. Finally, the native converts appear throughout as a volatile, often fickle presence. They are subjects of the missionaries' pedagogical experiments, yet they constantly slip back into ancient patterns, such as the mangkukulam rituals, embodying the frustration of the colonial project.

In Its Own Voice

"But not so quickly did our religious learn what can not be mentioned without tears, namely, that although the Indians were apparently Christians... yet they desired to serve God and the demon at the same time."

This statement marks the moment the friars realize their early missionary successes were merely superficial.

"The Moros who live about this large gulf, Father, are the remains of those powerful and warlike Moros who in the not distant past collected tribute from the Mandayas and other heathens."

A Jesuit missionary provides a stark assessment of the regional power dynamics and the history of piracy in the Davao gulf area.

What It's Really About

At its core, this book is an exploration of the limits of cultural assimilation. It examines the profound difficulty of transplanting European religious and legal structures into a landscape that holds its own ancient, rigid, and often violent traditions. The central tension is not just between "Christianity and paganism," but between the bureaucratic, orderly ambitions of the colonial state and the chaotic, resilient reality of local life. The text asks whether any outside power can truly claim to understand or "civilize" a culture that regards its own customs as both sacred and essential for survival. It documents the persistent, quiet, and sometimes bloody resistance of a people who refuse to be fully colonized by the spirit or the law.

Why Read It Today

Readers interested in the raw, unedited history of colonial interaction will find this book essential. It is not an easy read; the language is dense, archaic, and deeply colored by the prejudices of the seventeenth through nineteenth centuries. The text does not shy away from the harsh realities of its time, including the dehumanizing descriptions of indigenous peoples and the brutal details of human sacrifice.

However, the experience of reading these documents is akin to digging through a forgotten archive. You encounter the actual voices of the men who stood on the front lines of an empire, recording their daily frustrations with the heat, the isolation, and the "fickle" nature of the converts they sought to save. There is a strange, haunting quality to these accounts—the sense that the missionaries are writing into a void, trying to describe a world that remains fundamentally beyond their grasp. It is a vital read for anyone who wants to understand the historical roots of the Philippine cultural identity, provided they are willing to navigate the complex, often uncomfortable, and deeply human contradictions preserved within these pages. The value lies in the documentation itself, which remains a testament to the collision of worlds that still echoes in the archipelago today.