Try mapping an island—say Boracay the next time you’re there—from a moving banca and from high cliffs and empathize with Antonio Pigafetta (Fernando de Magallanes’ chronicler and cartographer in 1521). Without airplanes, GPS, or other gadgets, Pigafetta was able to gauge locations, distances, shapes, and sizes only from ships and treetops, all the while battling Lapu-Lapu and sundry hazards like giant pythons and toothy crocodiles.
Understandably, Pigafetta could do no better than draw misshapen and mislocated islands, though with identifiable names, e.g., Zzubu, Mattan, Bohol, Humunu, Zzamal, Caghaian, and Pulaoam; and place names Maingdanao, Butuan, Calagam, Subanin.
Other expeditions followed Magallanes and in his 1543 voyage, Ruy López de Villalobos named Leyte or Samar Felipina in honor of Spanish Crown Prince Felipe (later King Felipe II). More information meant greater accuracy and Ateneo dean Leo Garcia calls Terza
Ostro Tavola by Ramusio-Gastaldi (Venice, 1563) the “birth certificate of the Philippines,” being the first map with the archipelago’s present name.
The super rare Ramusio-Gastaldi map was drawn upside down—China, Cochin-China, and Regno de Bengala at the bottom; Gilolo, Terenate, Ambon, Celebes, Iava Magiore, and Sumatra on top. Mid-map was Archipelago de S. Lazaro encompassing Lo Ladron, Humunu, Cyabu, Vendanao, Sarangan, Zolo, and Paloban. A narrow island east of Mindanao was labelled Filipina. There was no Luzon yet, with Martín de Goiti and companions having gone there only in 1570.
Maps have became progressively more accurate and detailed with the arrival of Miguel López de Legaspi in 1565 when military, religious, and civil authorities spread all over the archipelago and the Tagalog, Cebuano, Ilocano, Pampango, Waráy, etc. embarked on the path to nationhood.
Petrus Kaerius’ Insulae Philippinae (Amsterdam, 1598) was the first map to show the Philippines alone. It was drawn sideways but had many recognizable names: Ilocos, Luzom, Pagansi, Mondora, Negoes, Cabu, Paracalla, Mindanao, Suricao, Dapito, Calamiane.
The culmination of two centuries of mapmaking, the holy grail of Philippine cartography, was Carta Hydrographica y chorographica de las Islas Filipinas, published in 1734 by Fr. Pedro Murillo Velarde, S.J. By then, Luzon and the Visayas were well-known and only Mindanao and the Cordilleras were largely terra incognita. The map was large (1.12 x 1.20 meters) and decorative with coat of arms, compass roses, sailing ships, and 12 vignettes with city and rural scenes and mini maps of Guajan (Guam), Intramuros, Zamboanga, and Cavite and its harbor. It was drawn and engraved, respectively, by Indios Tagalos Francisco Suarez and Nicolás de la Cruz Bagay and printed in Manila’s Jesuit press.
Only about a dozen copies are known to exist today, most in national libraries: Biblioteca Nacional de España, British Library, US Library of Congress, and Paris’ Bibliothèque Nationale. I’ve seen three examples here: at Malacañang’s Presidential Museum, the GBR Museum in Cavite, and the 2012 PHIMCOS exhibit at Manila’s Metropolitan Museum. A fourth copy has just arrived. Auctioned at Sotheby’s London last Nov. 4 by the English Duke of Northumberland, it was won by a still-anonymous Pinoy for GBP170,500 or P12.6 million.
Fray Pedro, Mang Kikò, and Pareng Kulás would have been astounded.
Notes: (a) President Ferdinand E. Marcos’ map collection including a Murillo-Velarde (without vignettes) is in the Malacañang Presidential Museum and Library; (b) The definitive study of Philippine maps is Carlos Quirino, Philippine Cartography, 3rd edition, Leovino Ma. Garcia, ed. (Manila: Vibal Foundation, 2010): (c) An illustrated catalogue of the Philippine Map Collectors Society exhibit is available (check the PHIMCOS website); and (d) The Murillo-Velarde identifies places in the China Sea off Bataan, Zambales, and Pangasinan as Galit, Panacot, and Lumbáy (Tagalog for anger, threat and sorrow, respectively).
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