"But although the decrease of wealth and the general poverty had afflicted this kingdom, accustomed at other times to great opulence and affluence in all things, yet that which most grieved the minds of its inhabitants were the acts of violence, imprisonments, embargoes, exiles, and other terrifying exhibitions of rigor which began to be introduced into it after the year forty-four, as will be told later. All this, being yet in its violent beginnings, kept not only this city of Manila, where the thunderbolts strike nearer, but all the islands of its jurisdiction, full of horror and gloom; and there was no chink that was not closed to consolation, when all gates were seen opened to misfortune." The author of this relation, after having described the earthquake which happened in the year 1645, proceeds as follows:
"All those plagues, penalties, and wretchedness above mentioned were not the most grievous matters that afflicted this community. Worse were the domestic afflictions and secret tragedies that it suffered during these last years. Those were the hidden pest that infected men's hearts and poisoned the blood, which instead of giving vital strength to the members caused them mortal shocks. These were the slow fever, which, insidiously taking possession of the principal part of the body, destroyed the harmony of its actions and disturbed its powers. With the progress of that disease, the hourglass was so disordered that there was no hour for clemency and fortune, and all times were given over to misfortune. Already so great was the number of those thrown into prisons, dungeons, and obscure cells, that all the places set aside by justice for the punishment of criminals were filled; and other new and frightful places, sites, and methods of delayed punishment were found inside the city. And when those places were also full, it was necessary to divide the prisoners among the provinces, villages, and presidios of these islands."
Thus far Don José Millán de Poblete, in the above-cited relation, which was dedicated to the Conde de Peñaranda, president of the supreme Council of the Indias. In matters so criminal and full of grief, I have not been willing to trust to my own poor wit and lack of polish, nor to leave my reputation to the judgment of others. The worst is, that those disasters continued with greater rigor to the year one thousand six hundred and fifty-three.