History and speculations

When I posted my column on the British Invasion of Manila in 1762 on Facebook last week, I added a photo of a map showing the British positions relative to Spanish Manila. This resulted in an engaging thread.

There was a comment on the church of Bagumbayan outside the walls of Intramuros that was used by the British in the attack; it was home to the Black Nazarene before the image was moved to Quiapo. After the invasion, Bagumbayan was cleared and the residents moved to the Bulacan town we know today as Pulilan. Someone asked what would have happened to the Philippines if the British had stayed on? An open-ended question whose many answers are, at best, speculative.

Someone quoted the late Benedict Anderson’s “Imagined Communities”:

“In 1762, London seized Manila from Spain, and held it for almost two years. It is entertaining to note that Madrid only got it back in exchange for, of all places, Florida, and the other ‘Spanish’ possessions east of the Mississippi. Had the negotiations proceeded differently, the archipelago could have been politically linked with Malaya and Singapore during the 19th century.”

Manolo Quezon supplied links to literature suggesting that the British invasion of the Falklands [Malvinas] was a ripple effect of the unpaid ransom of Manila centuries before.

Vicente Rafael commented: “Part of the Seven Years’ War, the first truly global war that had long-term effects for both Britain and Spain and their respective empires. It led directly to the American Revolution of 1776 and eventually to the loss of the Spanish empire in the Americas; and it was only a matter of time before the chain reaction of events—American westward expansion, Spanish imperial collapse—would lead to the wars of 1898, and from there, the American colonization of the Philippines. Without 1762, there would be no 1776, no 1810, no 1898, and so on.”

Jesuit historian Antonio de Castro pulled everyone back to earth with a reminder that history was not always linear, and that speculation, engaging as it is on my FB wall, should be appreciated as speculation. He ended by saying that “these are questions that no historian is able to answer as a historian; more properly, the historian here becomes, self-consciously, a philosopher of history, or even a theologian of history.”

In a nutshell, the British, with 17 vessels carrying arms, ammunition, and almost 7,000 men arrived in Malate on Sept. 23, 1762, and moved toward Intramuros, taking Spanish fortifications and churches along the way for use against the Spanish who were trapped in the Walled City by Sept. 30. Bombardment began on Oct. 2, and a breach in Intramuros was entered on Oct. 5 and the city was taken on Oct. 6.

The transcription of the text from The General Evening Post, published in London containing news from Thursday, April 21, 1763, to Saturday, April 23, 1763, is too long for this space; but this text, together with a map, makes history come alive. It details the British attack, which was hampered by the monsoon that the Spanish literally took as heaven-sent.

On Sept. 25, 1762, the British had taken the fort named Pulverista which had been abandoned by the Spanish, and they occupied the church and convent of Ermita, using it for cover against the heavy rain. On the 26th, the British took two more structures outside Intramuros which was defended by the Bastion de San Diego and Bastion de San Andres. The head count of the defenders was given as “800 men of the Royal regiment, under the command of the Marquis of Villa Mediana, brigadier general, augmented by a body of 10,000 Indians from the Province of Pampanga, a fierce and barbarous people.” The British were unable to “take possession of Minondo (Binondo—AO), Tondo and La Vera Cruz, the posts which commanded the river, and communication with the country. The inundation had secured their Parian suburb.”

By Sept. 27, “[t]he Governor sent out a flag of truce, to apologize for some barbarities committed by the Savages lately mentioned, who had murdered some straggling seamen; and to request, that a nephew of his, taken in the bay, might be sent on shore. The Gentleman had been dispatched from the Philippine galleon just arrived on the coast from Acapulco, with the first advice of the war. Hostilities ceased till 11 at night, when recommenced our fire from the mortars, increased them to four, and placed a six-pounder on our left flank as a further security for our post at St. Jago’s church…

“28th The Governor’s nephew was landed. My Secretary, Lieut. Fryar, was ordered to conduct him into the town with a flag of truce. In the meantime, a large party of garrison, intermixed with Indians, sallied out to attack our second post No. 2 by which Lieut. Fryar was advancing to the Revelin gate. The Barbarians, without respecting his character, inhumanly murdered him, mangling his body in a manner too shocking to mention. In their fury they mortally wounded the other Gentleman who had endeavored to save Mr. Fryar. Our party received their onset with much firmness and bravery, and repulsed them with some loss on their side. As it was evident that the Indians alone were guilty of this horrid piece of barbarity, our soldiers showed them no mercy.”

Textbook history gives us the result of the battle, but rarely provides the details that make history come alive. Teaching students how to use primary source documents critically is better than rote memory of stray facts.

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Comments are welcome at aocampo@ateneo.edu.