A Philippine Christmas story

We may not have a classic Philippine Christmas story (we do have a classic New Year story though), but we do have an old Christmas story. On the day before Christmas, we thought it appropriate to tell the story, which predates Charles Dicken’s A Christmas Carol by a full century.

On December 23, 1747, the galleon Nuestra Señora de Begoña dropped anchor off the Cavite port. The freight contained a coffin-like box for Don Santiago Orendain who resided in Intramuros; but the next day, the box was inadvertently delivered to the home of another don where a riotous noche buena celebration was going on. The guests insisted on seeing the contents of the aguinaldo, or Christmas box. The box was opened, and: “Beneath a mass of spun yarn which had been used for packing they beheld a head, severed from the body, and the outlines of what evidently was a corpse, as the bare limbs and a prominent kneecap showed beneath the packing. The head seemed to have been neatly cut off, and the wads of yarn had dark stains on them. The waxy features, staring eyes, brown hair, clotted with gore, all cried out upon a ghastly murder!”

The recipient and his friends took the box to the mezzanine of a doctor who lived in front, knocked loudly on the door and ran before they could be recognized. The doctor, who was with a friend, was just as shocked at the contents of the mysterious Christmas box. After attending the Misa de Gallo, he and his friend transferred the box to the home of a notorious usurer. Upon seeing the contents, the usurer immediately surmised that someone was trying to get him in trouble with the authorities. He had many enemies in power who owed him money and would just welcome an opportunity to get any kind of a hold on him.

This usurer had a pretty niece named Doña Eulalia who was in love with a young lawyer, but the usurer was objecting to their marriage because the lawyer was poor. That Christmas morning, the usurer went to consult this young lawyer whose name was Don Manuel Vargas. He decided on the young lawyer because he was the only lawyer in Manila who did not owe him any money.

Don Manuel, after reading the Latin inscription on the box, agreed to take sole responsibility for its contents on the condition that the usurer would withdraw his objections to his marriage to Eulalia.

The usurer agreed and the lawyer “left to himself, opened the box for the fourth time that night, and drew forth a head so lifelike that even its wooden thump would not allay the fears of the uninitiated. The headless body, of most symmetrical proportions, was next raised and fitted to a solid wooden pedestal packed beneath it in a box. Under the spun yarn which seemed to have borne the stains of recent tragedy, lay also camel’s hair robes and a quaintly carved staff. Further down in the depths of the box Don Manuel drew forth a broad silver salver, on which he placed the head apparently dripping with gore, and he screwed the salver onto the outstretched right arm. There stood before Don Manuel, in the first pale light of dawn, an excellent statue (lifesize) of St. John the Baptist, who with his head on a salver, recalled to the faithful the crime of Salome.”

The lawyer received a reward from the true owner of the image and with the usurer’s blessing married Doña Eulalia. Ever after, the couple never forgot the aguinaldo they received on that Christmas Eve in 1749.