Some notes on the bibliography of the Philippines — Inside the Classic

A Grammar with a Misprinted Page

Middleton devotes considerable attention to Father Blancas's Arte, a Tagalog grammar printed on rice paper. He notes that the book contains 327 pages, yet the printer misnumbered page 157 as “156,” so the text actually runs to 312 pages. The verso of the title page records licenses from officials in Binondoc (Binondo) and Quiapo, dated February and June 1609. Middleton then observes that the type shows “distinct marks of use,” which he takes as evidence that the press had been operating before 1610. This kind of material detail—paper type, pagination errors, worn type—is the foundation of his argument.

Two Witnesses for the First Press

To determine when printing began in the Philippines, Middleton summons two authorities: Father Diego Aduarte's 1640 history of the Dominican province, and Father Martínez-Vigil's 1884 work on the same order. Aduarte mentions a Chinese Christian named Juan de Vera, a printer by trade living with the Dominican fathers at Binondo, whom he calls “the first printer” in the Philippines. Middleton also cites Retana's claim that only these two sources treat the introduction of the press. The author does not resolve the puzzle of which imprint came first, but he lays out the conflicting evidence—Aduarte's account versus the 1610 Arte—for the reader to weigh.

The Free Library's Growing Collection

Middleton's paper doubles as a report on the Free Library of Philadelphia's Philippine holdings. By May 1900, the library had gathered fifty-four volumes and references to nearly six hundred magazine articles. One of the most notable acquisitions is the Flora de Filipinas, a four-volume folio with colored lithographs, published in Manila between 1877 and 1883 for the Augustinian friars. Middleton also mentions that the library prepared mimeographed “Finding Lists” for readers. These details situate the bibliographic notes within a practical effort to build a research collection, countering what Middleton calls the “popular misapprehension” about Philippine literary output.

Middleton's notes reward readers who attend to physical evidence: misnumbered pages, worn type, torn licenses. The paper does not offer a definitive chronology of the early Philippine press, but it models how bibliographers work with incomplete records. Readers interested in the history of the book will find a case study in reconstructing a printing tradition from fragmentary sources.

There’s something almost archaeological about tracking down the first printer or the earliest pages of a place, the way Middleton did for the Philippines. It brings a quiet ache for all the lost marginalia. I found that same feeling while reading A Selected Bibliography of Virginia, 1607-1699 — Key Ideas to Explore, where old books suddenly feel like quiet companions once again.