From Panacot to Panatag
Like most historians, I do research in libraries, archives, and museums but, believe it or not, sometimes I do research in antique shops. I remember looking through glass cases in the National Museum filled with Ming-dynasty blue and white ceramics excavated with the San Diego shipwreck, then browsing through modern reproductions of the same in the museum shop. This was in the 1990s when, in nearby Ermita antique shops, you were allowed to handle authentic Ming-dynasty ceramics that were selling cheaper than the reproductions!
Since then I have learned that there is no better way to study ceramics than by handling pieces, and I’m grateful to have been guided through a survey of the Philippine archeological record by Kit Roxas in Makati, Venancio Magbuhos in Ermita, and the late F.C. Santamaria in Intramuros. Then, of course, there are regular lectures and handling sessions organized by the Oriental Ceramic Society of the Philippines.
Excavated Chinese ceramics form an important part of the jigsaw puzzle that is Philippine prehistory, or the period before written records. The late E. Arsenio Manuel used to say that I should have been an anthropologist rather than a historian. “Where history ends,” he challenged me, “anthropology begins.” Over the years, artifacts in antique shops have provided material for columns and lectures. The few small things I could afford to buy are brought to class for a show-and-tell session before students are told to write a short essay on: “What is the oldest thing you have held in your hand?”
Old maps and books on the Philippines form part of my arsenal, and for this I have learned from a Glorietta shop which has a rather unimaginative name, Gallery of Prints, but an enviable stock of rare books, maps, prints and engravings of the Philippines from the 17th century to the early 20th century. In Bangkok there is a German-owned shop with an equally unimaginative name, Old Maps & Prints Co., that I visit regularly because it was there that a reduced version of the 18th-century map of the Philippines by the Jesuit Pedro Murillo Velarde was to be had for six figures in euros. Its price, like a diamond, was based on its perfect condition. Little wonder it was kept in an inner room and was shown to me after I had been offered a seat and a cold drink.
There are less than 30 extant copies of the full-sized map in the universe, making one worth over P1 million—if you can find one today. It is known by its kilometric title: Carta Hydrographica y Corographica de las Islas Filipinas Dedicada al Rey Nuestro Señor por el Mariscal d. Campo D. Fernando Valdes Tamon Cavall. O del Orden de Santiago, Gov. or y Cap.n General de dichas islas. Hechas pr el P.e. Pedro Murillo Velarde dla. Compa. de Jhs. Cath.co. de. Canones sobre los Mapas, y Relaciones mejores que han salido y observaciones del Author… en Manila Ano 1734. (A hydrographic and chorographic map of the Philippine Islands dedicated to the Spanish King by Fernando Valdes Tamon, Captain General of the Philippines, made and annotated by Fr. Pedro Murillo Velarde of the Society of Jesus in Manila in 1734)
The Murillo Velarde map is not just a map that depicts the shape of the islands and their names; it is a sea chart that outlines several sailing routes, anchorages, etc. It also has an abridged history of the Philippines from Magellan to 1734, with important information on the natural resources of the Philippines.
Although obsolete as a map today, it is significant because it was drawn by a Filipino artist, Francisco Suarez, and engraved by Nicolas de la Cruz Bagay, of whom we know very little. Suarez also drew a series of decorative panels that framed the map. Though not an integral part of the map, these vignettes depicted inhabitants of the Philippines and included plans of Cavite, Zamboanga, and Intramuros. The drawings may look naive today, but they have a particular charm and were faithfully engraved by De la Cruz Bagay.
Father Murillo Velarde said of Filipino artists:
“The Filipinos are extremely capable in any handicraft—there are excellent embroiderers, painters, silversmiths and engravers whose work has no equal in all the Indies, and could be considered elegant in Paris and Rome. I have seen paintings, drawings, and maps from pens more beautiful, neater and handsomer than those taken from Paris.”
When the British took Manila in 1762, part of their loot were the eight copper plates of the map engraved by De la Cruz Bagay. With these copper plates, some impressions were made in London after 1768, but since then the plates have disappeared and are probably in a private collection or tucked away in some museum.
The Murillo Velarde map was the largest, most accurate, and most artistically crafted map of its time; it was repeatedly copied over the years by European map makers and became the basis of what the West knew about these far-off isles called the Philippines.
Once obsolete, the Murillo Velarde map has become relevant overnight because it is the oldest Philippine map depicting the contested Scarborough Shoal that China claims as part of its territory through historic rights. Here you will find Scarborough under its native or Philippine name—not “Panatag” (Assured) but “Panacot” (Threat)—together with nearby island groups “Lumbay” (Sorrow) and “Galit” (Anger).
Antiques are not just for museums. They can come in handy in our territorial dispute with China.
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