Views of nature: or Contemplations on the sublime phenomena of creation / with scientific illustrations

by Alexander von Humboldt

ILLUSTRATION AND NOTE.

In the Preface to the Second and Third Editions of this work (See preliminary pages of this translation) I have already noticed the republication of the preceding tale, which was first printed in Schiller’s Horen (for the year 1795, part 5, pages 90–96). It embodies the development of a physiological idea in a semi-mythical garb. In the year 1793, in the Latin Aphorisms from the Chemical Physiology of Plants, appended to my Subterranean Flora, I had defined the vital force as the unknown cause which prevents the elements from following their original attractive forces. The first of my aphorisms ran thus:—

“Rerum naturam si totam consideres, magnum atque durabile, quod inter elementa intercedit, discrimen perspicies, quorum altera affinitatum legibus obtemperantia, altera, vinculis solutis, varie juncta apparent. Quod quidem discrimen in elementis ipsis eorumque indole neutiquam positum, quum ex sola distributione singulorum petendum esse videatur. Materiam segnem, brutam, inanimam eam vocamus, cujus stamina secundum leges chymicæ affinitatis mixta sunt. Animata atque organica ea potissimum corpora appellamus, quæ, licet in novas mutari formas perpetuo tendant, vi interna quadam continentur, quominus priscam sibique insitam formam relinquant.

“Vim internam, quæ chymicæ affinitatis vincula resolvit, atque obstat, quominus elementa corporum libere conjungantur, vitalem vocamus. Itaque nullum certius mortis criterium putredine datur, qua primæ partes vel stamina rerum, antiquis juribus revocatis, affinitatum legibus parent. Corporum inanimorum nulla putredo esse potest.”[^[RL]]

These opinions, against which the acute Vicq d’Azyr has protested in his Traité d’Anatomie, vol. i. p. 5, but which are still entertained by many eminent persons among my friends, I have placed in the mouth of Epicharmus. Reflection and prolonged study in the departments of physiology and chemistry have deeply shaken my earlier belief in peculiar, so-called vital forces. In the year 1797, at the conclusion of my Versuche über die gereizte Muskel- und Nervenfaser, nebst Vermuthungen über den chemischen Process des Lebens in der Thier- und Pflanzenwelt (vol. ii. pp. 430–436), I already declared that I by no means regarded the existence of these peculiar vital forces as established. Since that period I have not applied the term peculiar forces to that which may possibly be produced only by the combined action of the separate already long known substances and their material forces. We may, however, deduce a more certain definition of animate and inanimate substances from the chemical relations of the elements, than can be derived from the criteria of voluntary movement, the circulation of fluid in solid parts, and the inner appropriation and fibrous arrangement of the elements. I call that substance animate “whose voluntarily separated parts change their composition after separation has taken place, the former external relations still continuing the same.” This definition is merely the expression of a fact. The equilibrium of the elements is maintained in animate matter by virtue of their being parts of one whole. One organ determines another, one gives to another the temperature, the tone as it were, in which these, and no other affinities operate. Thus in organisation all is reciprocal, means and end. The rapidity with which organic parts change their compound state, when separated from a complex of living organs, differs greatly according to the degree of their dependence, and the nature of the component materials. The blood of animals, which is variously modified in the different classes, undergoes a change earlier than the juices of plants. Fungi generally decompose more rapidly than the leaves of trees; and muscle more readily than the cutis.

Bone, the elementary structure of which has only been understood of late years, the hair of animals, the ligneous part of vegetable substances, the shells or husks of fruit, and the feathery calix (pappus) of plants, are not inorganic and devoid of life; but approximate, even in life, to the condition which they manifest after their separation from the rest of the organism. The higher the degree of vitality or irritability of an animate substance, the more striking or rapid will be the change in its compound state after separation. “The aggregate of the cells is an organism, and the organism lives as long as its parts continue actively subservient to the whole. Considered antithetically to inanimate nature, the organism appears to be self-determining.”[^[RM]] The difficulty of satisfactorily referring the vital phenomena of organism to physical and chemical laws, depends chiefly (and almost in the same manner as the prediction of meteorological processes in the atmosphere) on the complication of the phenomena, and on the great number of the simultaneously acting forces, as well as the conditions of their activity.

I have faithfully adhered in the Cosmos to the same mode of representing and considering the so-called vital forces, and affinities,[^[RN]] the formative impulse and the principle of organising activity. I there wrote as follows:[^[RO]] “The mythical ideas long entertained of the imponderable substances, and vital forces, peculiar to each mode of organization, have complicated our views generally, and shed an uncertain light on the path we ought to pursue.

“The most various forms of intuition have thus, age after age, aided in augmenting the prodigious mass of empirical knowledge, which in our own day has been enlarged with ever-increasing rapidity. The investigating spirit of man strives, from time to time, with varying success, to break through those ancient forms and symbols invented to subject rebellious matter to rules of mechanical construction.”

Further in the same work,[^[RP]] I have said, “It must, however, be remembered, that the inorganic crust of the earth contains within it the same elements that enter into the structure of animal and vegetable organs. A physical cosmography would therefore be incomplete, if it were to omit a consideration of these forces, and of the substances which enter into solid and fluid combinations in organic tissues, under conditions which, from our ignorance of their actual nature, we designate by the vague term of vital forces, and group into various systems, in accordance with more or less perfectly conceived analogies.”[^[RQ]]

THE
PLATEAU, OR TABLE-LAND,
OF
CAXAMARCA,
THE ANCIENT CAPITAL OF THE INCA ATAHUALLPA,
AND THE
FIRST VIEW OF THE PACIFIC OCEAN,
From the Ridge of the Andes.

After having sojourned for a whole year on the ridge of the Andes, or Antis,[^[111]], between 4° north and 4° south latitude, amidst the table-lands of New Granada, Pastos, and Quito, and consequently at an elevation varying between 8,500 and 13,000 feet above the level of the sea, it is delightful to descend gradually through the more genial climate of the Cinchona or Quina Woods of Loxa, into the plains of the Upper Amazon. There an unknown world unfolds itself, rich in magnificent vegetation. The little town of Loxa has given its name to the most efficacious of all fever barks,—the Quina, or the Cascarilla fina de Loxa. This bark is the precious produce of the tree, which we have botanically described as the Cinchona Condaminea; but which, (from the erroneous supposition that all the Cinchona known in commerce was obtained from one and the same tree,) had previously been called Cinchona officinalis. The fever bark first became known, in Europe, about the middle of the seventeenth century. Sebastian Badus affirms, that it was brought to Alcala de Henares in the year 1632; but according to other accounts, it was brought to Madrid in 1640, when the Countess de Chinchon[^[112]], the wife of the Peruvian Viceroy, arrived from Lima, (where she had been cured of an intermittent fever,) accompanied by her physician, Juan del Vego. The finest kind of Cinchona is obtained at the distance of from eight to twelve miles southward of the town of Loxa, among the mountains of Uritusinga, Villonaco, and Rumisitana. The trees which yield this bark grow on mica slate and gneiss, at the moderate elevations of 5755 and 7673 feet above the level of the sea, nearly corresponding, respectively, with the heights of the Hospital on the Grimsel, and the Pass of the Great St. Bernard. The Cinchona Woods in these parts are bounded by the little rivulets Zamora and Cachyacu.

The tree is felled in its first flowering season, or about the fourth or seventh year of its growth, according as it may have been reared from a strong shoot or from seed. At the time of my journey in Peru we learned, with surprise, that the quantity of the Cinchona Condaminea annually obtained at Loxa by the Cascarilla gatherers, or Quina hunters (Cascarilleros and Caçadores de Quina), amounted only to 110 hundred weight. At that time none of this valuable product found its way into commerce; all that was obtained was shipped at Payta, a port of the Pacific, and conveyed round Cape Horn to Cadiz, for the use of the Spanish Court. To procure the small supply of 11,000 Spanish pounds, no less than 800 or 900 Cinchona trees were cut down every year. The older and thicker stems are becoming more and more scarce; but, such is the luxuriance of growth, that the younger trees, which now supply the demand, though measuring only six inches in diameter, frequently attain the height of from 53 to 64 feet. This beautiful tree, which is adorned with leaves five inches long and two broad, seems, when growing in the thick woods, as if striving to rise above its neighbours. The upper branches spread out, and when agitated by the wind the leaves have a peculiar reddish colour and glistening appearance which is distinguishable at a great distance. The mean temperature of the woods of the Cinchona Condaminea varies between 60° and 66° Fahrenheit; that is to say, about the mean annual temperature of Florence and the Island of Madeira: but the extremes of heat and cold experienced at those points of the temperate zone, are never felt in the vicinity of Loxa. However, comparisons between climates in very different degrees of latitude, and the climate of the table-lands of the tropical zone, must, from their very nature, be unsatisfactory.

Descending from the mountain node of Loxa, south-south-east, into the hot valley of the Amazon River, the traveller passes over the Paramos of Chulucanas, Guamani, and Yamoca. These Paramos are the mountainous deserts, which have been mentioned in another portion of the present work; and which, in the southern parts of the Andes, are known by the name of Puna, a word belonging to the Quichua language. In most places, their elevation is about 10,125 feet. They are stormy, frequently enveloped for several successive days in thick fogs, or visited by terrific hail-storms; the hail-stones being not only of different forms, generally much flattened by rotation, but also run together into thin floating plates of ice called papa-cara, which cut the face and hands in their fall. During this meteoric process, I have sometimes known the thermometer to sink to 48° and even 43° Fahrenheit, and the electric tension of the atmosphere, measured by the voltaic electrometer, has changed, in the space of a few minutes, from positive to negative. When the temperature is below 43° Fahrenheit, snow falls in large flakes, scattered widely apart; but it disappears after the lapse of a few hours. The short thin branches of the small leaved myrtle-like shrubs, the large size and luxuriance of the blossoms, and the perpetual freshness caused by the absorption of the moist atmosphere—all impart a peculiar aspect and character to the treeless vegetation of the Paramos. No zone of Alpine vegetation, whether in temperate or cold climates, can be compared with that of the Paramos in the tropical Andes.

The solemn impression which is felt on beholding the deserts of the Cordilleras, is increased in a remarkable and unexpected manner, by the circumstance that in these very regions there still exist wonderful remains of the great road of the Incas, that stupendous work by means of which, communication was maintained among all the provinces of the empire along an extent of upwards of 1000 geographical miles. On the sides of this road, and nearly at equal distances apart, there are small houses, built of well-cut free-stone. These buildings, which answered the purpose of stations, or caravanseries, are called Tambos, and also Inca-Pilca, (from Pircca, the Wall). Some are surrounded by a sort of fortification; others were destined for baths, and had arrangements for the conveyance of warm water: the larger ones were intended exclusively for the family of the sovereign. At the foot of the volcano Cotopaxi, near Callo, I had previously seen buildings of the same kind in a good state of preservation. These I accurately measured, and made drawings from them. Pedro de Cieça, who wrote in the sixteenth century, calls these structures Aposentos de Mulalo[^[113]]. The pass of the Andes, lying between Alausi and Loxa, called the Paramo del Assuay, a much frequented route across the Ladera de Cadlud, is at the elevation of 15,526 feet above the level of the sea, and consequently almost at the height of Mont Blanc. As we were proceeding through this pass, we experienced considerable difficulty in guiding our heavily laden mules over the marshy ground on the level height of the Pullal; but whilst we journeyed onward for the distance of about four miles, our eyes were continually rivetted on the grand remains of the Inca Road, upwards of 20 feet in breadth. This road had a deep under-structure, and was paved with well-hewn blocks of black trap porphyry. None of the Roman roads which I have seen in Italy, in the south of France and in Spain, appeared to me more imposing than this work of the ancient Peruvians; and the Inca road is the more extraordinary, since, according to my barometrical calculations, it is situated at an elevation of 13,258 feet above the level of the sea, a height exceeding that of the summit of the Peak of Teneriffe by upwards of 1000 feet. At an equal elevation, are the ruins said to be those of the palace of the Inca Tupac Yupanqui, and known by the name of the Paredones del Inca, situated on the Assuay. From these ruins the Inca road, running southward in the direction of Cuenca, leads to the small but well-preserved fortress of the Cañar[^[114]], probably belonging to the same period, viz.: the reign of Tupac Yupanqui, or that of his warlike son Huayna Capac.

We saw still grander remains of the ancient Peruvian Inca road, on our way between Loxa and the Amazon, near the baths of the Incas on the Paramo of Chulucanas, not far from Guancabamba, and also in the vicinity of Ingatambo, near Pomahuaca. The ruins at the latter place are situated so low, that I found the difference of level between the Inca road at Pomahuaca, and that in the Paramo del Assuay, to be upwards of 9700 feet. The distance in a direct line, as determined by astronomical latitudes, is precisely 184 miles; and the ascent of the road is about 3730 feet greater than the elevation of the Pass of Mont Cenis, above the Lake of Como. There are two great causeways, paved with flat stones, and in some places covered with cemented gravel[^[115]], on Macadam’s plan. One of these lines of road runs through the broad and barren plain lying between the sea-coast and the chain of the Andes, whilst the other passes along the ridge of the Cordilleras. Stones, marking the distances at equal intervals, are frequently seen. The rivulets and ravines were crossed by bridges of three kinds; some being of stone, some of wood, and others of rope. These bridges are called by the Peruvians, Puentes de Hamaca, or Puentes de Maroma. There were also aqueducts for conveying water to the Tambos and fortresses. Both lines of road were directed to Cuzco, the central point and capital of the great Peruvian empire, situated in 13° 31′ south lat., and according to Pentland’s Map of Bolivia, at the elevation of 11,378 feet above the level of the sea. As the Peruvians had no wheeled carriages, these roads were constructed for the march of troops, for the conveyance of burthens borne by men, and for flocks of lightly laden Lamas; consequently, long flights of steps[^[116]], with resting-places, were formed at intervals in the steep parts of the mountains. Francisco Pizarro and Diego Almagro, in their expeditions to remote parts of the country, availed themselves with much advantage of the military roads of the Incas; but the steps just mentioned were formidable impediments in the way of the Spanish cavalry, especially as in the early period of the Conquista, the Spaniards rode horses only, and did not make use of the sure-footed mule, which, in mountainous precipices, seems to reflect on every step he takes. It was only at a later period that the Spanish troops were mounted on mules.

Sarmiento, who saw the Inca roads whilst they were in a perfect state of preservation, mentions them in a Relacion which he wrote, and which long lay buried in the Library of the Escurial. “How,” he asks, “could a people, unacquainted with the use of iron, have constructed such great and magnificent roads, (caminos tan grandes, y tan sovervios), and in regions so elevated as the countries between Cuzco and Quito, and between Cuzco and the coast of Chili?” “The Emperor Charles,” he adds, “with all his power, could not have accomplished even a part of what was done by the well-directed Government of the Incas, and the obedient race of people under its rule.” Hernando Pizarro, the most educated of the three brothers, who expiated his misdeeds by twenty years of captivity in Medina del Campo, and who died at 100 years of age, in the odour of sanctity (en olor de Santidad), observes, alluding to the Inca roads: “Throughout the whole of Christendom, no such roads are to be seen as those which we here admire.” Cuzco and Quito, the two principal capitals of the Incas, are situated in a direct line south-south-east, north-north-west in reference the one to the other. Their distance apart, without calculating the many windings of the road, is 1000 miles; including the windings of the road, the distance is stated by Garcilaso de la Vega, and other Conquistadores, to be “500 Spanish leguas.” Notwithstanding this vast distance, we are informed, on the unquestionable testimony of the Licentiate Polo de Ondegardo, that Huayna Capac, whose father conquered Quito, caused certain materials to be conveyed thither from Cuzco, for the erection of the royal buildings, (the Inca dwellings). In Quito, I found this tradition still current among the natives.

When, in the form of the earth, nature presents to man formidable difficulties to contend against, those very difficulties serve to stimulate the energy and courage of enterprising races of people. Under the despotic centralizing system of the Inca Government, security and rapidity of communication, especially in relation to the movement of troops, were matters of urgent state necessity. Hence the construction of great roads, and the establishment of very excellent postal arrangements by the Peruvians. Among nations in the most various degrees of civilization, national energy is frequently observed to manifest itself, as it were by preference, in some special direction; but the advancement consequent on this sort of partial exertion, however strikingly exhibited, by no means affords a criterion of the general cultivation of a people. Egyptians, Greeks[^[117]], Etruscans, and Romans, Chinese, Japanese, and Indians, present examples of these contrasts. It would be difficult to determine, what space of time may have been occupied in the execution of the Peruvian roads. Those great works, in the northern part of the Inca Empire, on the table-land of Quito, must certainly have been completed in less than thirty or thirty-five years; that is to say, in the short interval between the defeat of the Ruler of Quito, and the death of the Inca Huayna Capac. With respect to the southern, or those specially styled the Peruvian roads, the period of their formation is involved in complete obscurity.

The date of the mysterious appearance of Manco Capac is usually fixed 400 years prior to the arrival of Francisco Pizarro, (who landed on the Island of Puná in the year 1532), consequently, about the middle of the twelfth century, and full 200 years before the foundation of the city of Mexico (Tenochtitlan); but instead of 400 years, some Spanish writers represent the interval between Manco Capac and Pizarro to have been 500, or even 550 years. However the history of the Peruvian empire records only thirteen reigning princes of the Inca dynasty, which, as Prescott justly observes, is not a number sufficient to fill up so long a period as 550, or even 400 years. Quezalcoatl, Botchia, and Manco Capac, are the three mythical beings, with whom are connected the earliest traces of cultivation among the Aztecs, the Muyscas, (properly Chibchas), and the Peruvians. Quezalcoatl, who is described as bearded and clothed in black, was High Priest of Tula, and afterwards a penitent, dwelling on a mountain near Tlaxapuchicalco. He is represented as having come from the coast of Panuco; and, therefore, from the eastern part of Anahuac, on the Mexican table-land. Botchia, or rather the bearded, long-robed Nemterequeteba[^[118]], (literally messenger of God, a Buddha of the Muyscas), came from the grassy steppes eastward of the Andes chain, to the table-lands of Bogotá. Before the time of Manco Capac, some degree of civilization already existed on the picturesque shores of the Lake of Titicaca. The fortress of Cuzco, on the hill of Sacsahuaman, was built on the model of the more ancient structures of Tiahuanaco. In like manner, the Aztecs imitated the pyramidal buildings of the Toltecs, and the latter copied those of the Olmecs (Hulmecs); and thus, by degrees, we arrive at historic ground in Mexico as early as the sixth century of the Christian era. According to Siguença, the Toltecic Step Pyramid of Cholula, was copied from the Hulmecic Step Pyramid of Teotihuacan. Thus, through every stage of civilization, we pass into an earlier one, and as human intelligence was not aroused simultaneously in both continents, we find that in every nation the imaginative domain of mythology immediately preceded the period of historical knowledge.

The early Spanish Conquistadores were filled with admiration on first beholding the roads and aqueducts of the Peruvians; yet not only did they neglect the preservation of those great works, but they even wantonly destroyed them. As a natural consequence of the destruction of the aqueducts, the soil was rendered unfertile by the want of irrigation. Nevertheless, those works, as well as the roads, were demolished for the sake of obtaining stones ready hewn for the erection of new buildings; and the traces of this devastation are more observable near the sea-coast, than on the ridges of the Andes, or in the deeply cleft valleys with which that mountain-chain is intersected. During our long day’s journey from the syenitic rocks of Zaulac to the valley of San Felipe, (rich in fossil remains and situated at the foot of the icy Paramo of Yamoca), we had no less than twenty-seven times to ford the Rio de Guancabamba, which falls into the Amazon. We were compelled to do this on account of the numerous sinuosities of the stream, whilst on the brow of a steep precipice near us, we had continually within our sight the vestiges of the rectilinear Inca road, with its Tambos. The little mountain stream, the Rio de Guancabamba, is not more than from 120 to 150 feet broad; yet so strong is the current, that our heavily laden mules were in continual danger of being swept away by it. The mules carried our manuscripts, our dried plants, and all the other objects which we had been a whole year engaged in collecting; therefore, every time that we crossed the stream, we stood on one of the banks in a state of anxious suspense until the long train of our beasts of burthen, eighteen or twenty in number, were fairly out of danger.

This same Rio de Guancabamba, which in the lower part of its course has many falls, is the channel for a curious mode of conveying correspondence from the coast of the Pacific. For the expeditious transmission of the few letters that are sent from Truxillo to the province of Jaen de Bracamoros, they are despatched by a swimming courier, or, as he is called by the people of the country, “el correo que nada.” This courier, who is usually a young Indian, swims in two days from Pomahuaca to Tomependa; first proceeding by the Rio de Chamaya, (the name given to the lower part of the Rio de Guancabamba) and then by the Amazon river. The few letters of which he is the bearer, he carefully wraps in a large cotton handkerchief, which he rolls round his head in the form of a turban. On arriving at those parts of the rivers in which there are falls or rapids, he lands, and goes by a circuitous route through the woods. When wearied by long-continued swimming, he rests by throwing one arm on a plank of a light kind of wood of the family of the Bombaceæ, called by the Peruvians Ceiba, or Palo de balsa. Sometimes the swimming courier takes with him a friend to bear him company. Neither troubles himself about provisions, as they are always sure of a hospitable reception in the huts which are surrounded by abundant fruit-trees in the beautiful Huertas of Pucara and Cavico.

Fortunately, the river is free from crocodiles, which are first met with in the upper course of the Amazon, below the cataract of Mayasi; for the slothful animal prefers to live in the more tranquil waters. According to my calculation, the Rio de Chamaya has a fall[^[119]] of 1778 feet, in the short distance of 52 geographical miles; that is to say, measuring from the Ford (Paso) de Pucara, to the point where the Chamaya disembogues in the river Amazon, below the village of Choros. The Governor of the province Jaen de Bracamoros assured me, that letters sent by the singular water post conveyance just mentioned, are seldom either wetted or lost. After my return from Mexico, I myself received, when in Paris, letters from Tomependa, which had been transmitted in this manner. Many of the wild Indian tribes, who dwell on the shores of the Upper Amazon, perform their journeys in a similar manner; swimming sociably down the stream in parties. On one occasion, I saw the heads of thirty or forty individuals, men, women, and children, of the tribe of the Xibaros, as they floated down the stream on their way to Tomependa. The Correo que nada returns by land, taking the difficult route of the Paramo del Paredon.

On approaching the hot climate of the basin of the Amazon, the aspect of beautiful and occasionally very luxuriant vegetation delights the eye. Not even in the Canary Islands, nor on the warm coasts of Cumana and Caracas, had we beheld finer orange-trees than those which we met with in the Huertas de Pucara. They consisted chiefly of the sweet orange-tree (Citrus aurantium, Risso); the bitter orange-tree (Citrus vulgaris, Risso) was less numerous. These trees, laden with their golden fruit in thousands, attain there a height of between 60 and 70 feet; and their branches, instead of growing in such a way as to give the trees rounded tops or crowns, shoot straight up like those of the laurel. Near the ford of Cavico a very unexpected sight surprised us. We saw a grove of small trees, about 18 or 19 feet high, the leaves of which, instead of being green, appeared to be of a rose colour. This proved to be a new species of Bougainvillæa, a genus first determined by Jussieu the elder, from a Brazilian specimen in Commerson’s Herbarium. But on a nearer approach we found that these trees were really without leaves, properly so called, and that what, from a distant view, we had mistaken for leaves, were bright rose-coloured bracts. Owing to the purity and freshness of the colour, the effect was totally different from that of the hue which so pleasingly clothes many of our forest-trees in autumn. The Rhopala ferruginea, a species of the South African family of the Proteaceæ, has found its way hither, having descended from the cool heights of the Paramo de Yamoca into the warm plains of the Chamaya. We likewise frequently saw here the beautifully pinnated Porlieria hygrometrica, one of the Zygophylleæ, which, by the closing of its leaves, indicates change of weather, generally the approach of rain. This plant is more certain in its tokens than any of the Mimosaceæ, and it very rarely deceived us.

At Chamaya we found rafts (balsas) in readiness to convey us to Tomependa, where we wished to determine the difference of longitude between Quito and the mouth of the Chinchipe; a point of some importance to the geography of South America on account of an old observation of La Condamine[^[120]]. We slept as usual in the open air, and our resting-place was on the sandy shore called the Playa de Guayanchi, at the confluence of the Rio de Chamaya and the Amazon. Next morning we proceeded down the latter river as far as the Cataract and the Narrows, or the Pongo of Rentema. Pongo, the name given to River Narrows by the natives, is a corruption of the word Puncu, which, in the Quichua language, signifies a door or gate. In the Pongo de Rentema huge masses of rock consisting of coarse-grained sandstone (conglomerate), rise up like towers and form a rocky dam across the stream. I measured a base line on the flat sandy shore, and found that the Amazon River, which, further eastwards, spreads into such mighty width, is, at Tomependa, scarcely 1400 feet broad. In the celebrated River Narrows, called the Pongo de Manseriche, between Santiago and San Borja, the breadth is less than 160 feet. The Pongo de Manseriche is formed by a mountain ravine, in some parts of which the overhanging rocks, roofed by a canopy of foliage, permit only a feeble light to penetrate, and by the force of the current all the drift-wood, consisting of trunks of trees in countless numbers, is broken and dashed to atoms. The rocks by which all these Pongos are formed, have, in the course of centuries, undergone many changes. The Pongo de Rentema, which I have mentioned above, was, a year before my visit to it, in part broken up by a high flood; indeed the inhabitants of the shores of the Amazon still preserve by tradition a lively recollection of the sudden fall of the once lofty masses of rock along the whole length of the Pongo. This fall took place in the early part of the last century, and the debris suddenly dammed up the river and impeded the current. The consequence was, that the inhabitants of the village of Puyaya, situated at the lower part of the Pongo de Rentema, were filled with alarm on beholding the dry bed of the river; but, after the lapse of a few hours, the waters recovered their usual course. There appears to be no reason for believing that these remarkable phenomena are occasioned by earthquakes. The river, which has a very strong current, seems, as it were, to be incessantly labouring to improve its bed. Of the force of its efforts some idea may be formed from the fact that, notwithstanding its vast breadth, it sometimes rises upwards of 26 feet above its ordinary level in the space of 20 or 30 hours.

We remained seventeen days in the hot valley of the Marañon or the Amazon River. To proceed from thence to the coast of the Pacific it is necessary to cross the chain of the Andes, between Micuipampa and Caxamarca (in 6° 57′ S. lat., and 78° 34′ W. long.), at a point where, according to my observations, it is intersected by the magnetic equator. At a still higher elevation are situated the celebrated silver mines of Chota. Then, after having passed the ancient Caxamarca (the scene, 316 years ago, of the most sanguinary drama in the history of the Spanish Conquista), and also Aroma and Guangamarca, the route descends, with some interruptions, into the Peruvian lowlands. Here, as in nearly all parts of the Andes, as well as of the Mexican Mountains, the highest points are picturesquely marked by tower-like masses of erupted porphyry and trachyte, the former frequently presenting the effect of immense columns. In some places these masses give a rugged cliff-like aspect to the mountain ridges; and in other places they assume the form of domes or cupolas. They have here broken through a formation, which, in South America, is extensively developed on both sides of the equator, and which Leopold von Buch, after profound research, has pronounced to be cretaceous. Between Guambos and Montan, nearly 12,800 feet above the level of the sea, we found marine fossils[^[121]] (Ammonites about 15 inches in diameter, the large Pecten alatus, oyster-shells, Echini, Isocardias, and Exogyra polygona). A species of Cidaris, which, in the opinion of Leopold von Buch, does not differ from one found by Brongniart in the old chalk at the Perte du Rhone, we collected in the basin of the Amazon at Tomependa, and likewise at Micuipampa; that is to say, at elevations differing the one from the other by no less than 10,550 feet. In like manner, in the Amuich chain of the Caucasian Daghestan, the chalk of the banks of the Sulak, scarcely 530 feet above the level of the sea, is again found on the Tchunum, at the elevation of full 9,600 feet, whilst, on the summit of the Shadagh Mountain, 13,950 feet high, the Ostrea diluviana (Goldf.), and the same chalk, present themselves. Abich’s admirable Caucasian observations furnish the most decided confirmation of Leopold von Buch’s geognostic views respecting the cretaceous Alpine development.

From the solitary farm of Montan, surrounded with flocks of Lamas, we ascended further southward the eastern declivity of the Cordilleras, until we reached the level height in which is situated the argentiferous mountain Gualgayoc, the principal site of the far-famed mines of Chota. Night was just drawing in, and an extraordinary spectacle presented itself to our observation. The Cerro de Gualgayoc is separated by a deep cleft-like valley (Quebrada), from the limestone mountain Cormolache. The latter is an isolated hornstone rock, presenting, on the northern and western sides, almost perpendicular precipices, and containing innumerable veins of silver, which frequently intersect and run into each other. The highest shafts are 1540 feet above the floor of the stoll or groundwork, called the Socabon de Espinachi. The outline of the mountain is broken by numerous tower-like points and pyramidal notches; and hence the summit of the Cerro de Gualgayoc bears the name of Las Puntas. This mountain presents a most decided contrast to that smoothness of surface which miners are accustomed to regard as characteristic of metalliferous districts. “Our mountain,” said a wealthy mine-owner whom we visited, “looks like an enchanted castle (como si fuese un castillo encantado).” The Gualgayoc bears some resemblance to a cone of dolomite, but it is still more like the notched ridges of the Mountain of Monserrat in Catalonia, which I have also visited, and which has been so pleasingly described by my brother. Not only is the silver mountain Gualgayoc perforated on every side, and to its very summit, by many hundred large shafts, but the mass of the siliceous rock is cleft by natural openings, through which the dark blue sky of these elevated regions is visible to the observer standing at the foot of the mountain. The people of the country call these openings windows (Las ventanillas de Gualgayoc). On the trachytic walls of the volcano of Pichincha similar openings were pointed out to us, and there, likewise, they were called windows, (Ventanillas de Pichincha.) The singular aspect of the Gualgayoc is not a little increased by numerous sheds and habitations, which lie scattered like nests over the fortress-looking mountain wherever a level spot admits of their erection. The miners carry the ore in baskets, down steep and dangerous footpaths, to the places where it is submitted to the process of amalgamation.

The value of the silver obtained from the mines of Gualgayoc during the first thirty years of their being worked, from 1771 to 1802, is supposed to have amounted to upwards of thirty-two millions of piastres. Notwithstanding the hardness of the quartzose rock, the Peruvians, even before the arrival of the Spaniards, extracted rich argentiferous galena from the Cerro de la Lin, and also from the Chupiquiyacu; of this fact many old shafts and galleries bear evidence. The Peruvians also obtained gold from the Curimayo, where also natural sulphur is found in the quartz rock as well as in the Brazilian Itacolumite. We took up our temporary abode, in the vicinity of the mines, in the little mountain town of Micuipampa, situated at an elevation of 11,873 feet above the sea, and where, though only 6° 43′ from the equator, water freezes within doors, at night, during a great part of the year. This wilderness, almost devoid of vegetation, is inhabited by 3000 or 4000 persons, who are supplied with articles of food from the warm valleys, as they themselves can grow nothing but some kinds of cabbage and salad, the latter exceedingly good. Here, as in all the mining towns of Peru, ennui drives the richer inhabitants, who, however, are not the best informed class, to the dangerous diversions of cards and dice. The consequence is, that the wealth thus quickly won is still more quickly spent. Here one is continually reminded of the anecdote related of one of the soldiers of Pizarro’s army, who complained that he had lost in one night’s play, “a large piece of the sun,” meaning a plate of gold which he had obtained at the plunder of the Temple of Cuzco. At Micuipampa the thermometer, at eight in the morning, stood at 34°.2, and at noon, at 47°.8 Fahrenheit. Among the thin Ichhu-grass (possibly our Stipa eriostachya), we found a beautiful Calceolaria (C. Sibthorpioides), which we should not have expected to see at such an elevation.

Near the town of Micuipampa there is a high plain called the Llano or the Pampa de Navar. In this plain there have been found, extending over a surface of more than four English square miles, and immediately under the turf, immense masses of red gold ore and wire-like threads of pure silver. These are called by the Peruvian miners remolinos, clavos, and vetas manteadas, and they are overgrown by the roots of the Alpine grasses. Another level plain, to the west of the Purgatorio, and near the Quebrada de Chiquera, is called the Choropampa (the Muscle-Shell Plain), the word churu signifying in the Quichua language a muscle or cockle, particularly a small eatable kind, which the people of the country now distinguish by their Spanish names hostion or mexillon. The name Choropampa refers to fossils of the cretaceous formation, which in this plain are found in such immense numbers that at an early period they attracted the attention of the natives. In the Choropampa there has been found near the surface of the earth, a rich mass of pure gold, spun round, as it were, with threads of silver. This fact proves how slight may be the affinity between many of the ores upheaved from the interior of the earth, through fissures and veins, and the nature of the adjacent rock, and how little relative antiquity exists between them and that of the formation they have broken through. The rock of the Gualgayoc, as well as that of the Fuentestiana, is very watery, whilst in the Purgatorio perfect dryness prevails. In the Purgatorio, notwithstanding the height of the strata above the sea-level, I found to my astonishment, that the temperature in the mine was 67°.4 Fahr., whilst in the neighbouring Mina de Guadalupe the water in the mine was about 52°.2 Fahr. In the open air the thermometer indicates only 42°.1 Fahr., and the miners, who labour very hard, and who work almost without clothing, say that the subterranean heat in the Purgatorio is stifling.

The narrow path from Micuipampa to the ancient Inca city Caxamarca is difficult even for mules. The original name of the town was Cassamarca or Kazamarca, that is to say, the City of Frost. Marca, in the signification of a district or town, belongs to the northern dialect of the Chinchaysuyo, or the Chinchasuyu, whilst in the common Quichua language the word means the story of a house, and also a fortress and place of defence. For the space of five or six miles, the road led us through a succession of Paramos, where we were without intermission exposed to the fury of a boisterous wind and the sharp angular hail peculiar to the ridges of the Andes. The height of the road is for the most part between 9600 and 10,700 feet above the sea-level. There I had the opportunity of making a magnetic observation of general interest, viz., for determining the point where the north inclination of the needle passes into the south inclination, and also the point at which the traveller has to cross the magnetic equator[^[122]].

Having at length reached the last of these mountain wildernesses, the Paramo de Yanaguanga, the traveller joyfully looks down into the fertile valley of Caxamarca. It presents a charming prospect, for the valley, through which winds a little serpentine rivulet, is an elevated plain of an oval form, in extent from 96 to 112 square miles. The plain bears a resemblance to that of Bogota, and like it is probably the bed of an ancient lake; but in Caxamarca there is wanting the myth of the miracle-working Botchia, or Idacanzas, the High Priest of Iraca, who opened a passage for the waters through the rocks of Tequendama. Caxamarca lies 640 feet higher than Santa Fé de Bogota, and consequently its elevation is equal to that of the city of Quito; but being sheltered by surrounding mountains, its climate is much more mild and agreeable. The soil of Caxamarca is extraordinarily fertile. In every direction are seen cultivated fields and gardens, intersected by avenues of willows, varieties of the Datura (bearing large red, white, and yellow flowers), Mimosas, and beautiful Quinuar trees (our Polylepsis villosa, a Rosacea approximating to the Alchemilla and Sanguisorba). The wheat harvest in the Pampa de Caxamarca is, on the average, from fifteen to twenty-fold; but the prospect of abundant crops is sometimes blighted by night frosts, caused by the radiation of heat towards the cloudless sky, in the strata of dry and rarefied mountain air. These night frosts are not felt within the roofed dwellings.

Small mounds, or hillocks, of porphyry (once perhaps islands in the ancient lake) are studded over the northern part of the plain, and break the wide expanse of smooth sandstone. From the summit of one of these porphyry hillocks, we enjoyed a most beautiful prospect of the Cerro de Santa Polonia. The ancient residence of Atahuallpa is on this side, surrounded by fruit gardens, and irrigated fields of lucern (Medicago sativa), called by the people here Campos de alfalfa. In the distance are seen columns of smoke, rising from the warm baths of Pultamarca, which still hear the name of Baños del Inca. I found the temperature of these sulphuric springs to be 156°.2 Fahr. Atahuallpa was accustomed to spend a portion of each year at these baths, where some slight remains of his palace have survived the ravages of the Conquistadores. The large deep basin or reservoir (el tragadero) for supplying these baths with water, appeared to me, judging from its regular circular form, to have been artificially cut in the sandstone rock, over one of the fissures whence the spring flows. Tradition records that one of the Inca’s sedan-chairs, made of gold, was sunk in this basin, and that all endeavours to recover it have proved vain.

Of the fortress and palace of Atahuallpa, there also remain but few vestiges in the town, which now contains some beautiful churches. Even before the close of the sixteenth century, the thirst for gold accelerated the work of destruction, for, with the view of discovering hidden treasures, walls were demolished and the foundations of buildings recklessly undermined. The Inca’s palace is situated on a hill of porphyry, which was originally cut and hollowed out from the surface, completely through the rock, so that the latter surrounds the main building like a wall. Portions of the ruins have been converted to the purposes of a town jail and a Municipal Hall (Casa del Cabildo). The most curious parts of these ruins, which however are not more than between 13 and 16 feet in height, are those opposite to the monastery of San Francisco. These vestiges, like the remains of the dwelling of the Caciques, consist of finely-hewn blocks of free-stone, two or three feet long, laid one upon another without cement, as in the Inca-Pilca, or fortress of the Cañar, in the high plain of Quito.

In the porphyritic rock there is a shaft which once led to subterraneous chambers and into a gallery, (by miners called a stoll,) from which, it is alleged, there was a communication with the other porphyritic rocks already mentioned;—those situated at Santa Polonia. These arrangements bear evidence of having been made as precautions against the events of war, and for the security of flight. The burying of treasure was a custom very generally practised among the Peruvians in former times; and subterraneous chambers still exist beneath many private dwellings in Caxamarca.

We were shown some steps cut in the rock, and the footbath used by the Inca (el lavatorio de los pies). The operation of washing the sovereign’s feet was performed amidst tedious court ceremonies[^[123]]. Several lateral structures, which, according to tradition, were allotted to the attendants of the Inca, are built some of free-stone with gable roofs, and others of regularly shaped bricks, alternating with layers of siliceous cement. The buildings constructed in this last-mentioned style, to which the Peruvians give the name of Muros y obra de tapia, have little arched niches or recesses. Of their antiquity I was for a long time doubtful, though I am now convinced that my doubts were not well-grounded.

In the principal building, the room is still shown in which the unfortunate Atahuallpa was confined for the space of nine months, from the date of November, 1532[^[124]]. The notice of the traveller is still directed to the wall, on which he made a mark to denote to what height he would fill the room with gold, on condition of his being set free. This height is variously described. Xerez in the Conquista del Peru (which Barcia has preserved to us), Hernando Pizarro in his letters, and other writers, all give different accounts of it. The captive monarch said, “that gold in bars, plates, and vessels should be piled up as high as he could reach with his hand.” The dimensions of the room, as given by Xerez, are equivalent to 23 feet in length and 18 in breadth. Garcilaso de la Vega, who quitted Peru in 1560, in his twentieth year, estimates that the treasures brought from the temples of the Sun in Cuzco, Huaylas, Huamachuco, and Pachacamac, up to the fatal 29th of August, 1533, the day of the Inca’s death, amounted to 3,838,000 ducados de oro[^[125]].

In the chapel of the town jail, which, as I have mentioned above, is erected on the ruins of the Inca Palace, a stone, stained, as it is alleged, with “indelible spots of blood,” is viewed with horror by the credulous. It is placed in front of the altar, and consists of an extremely thin slab, about 13 feet in length, probably a portion of the porphyry or trachyte of the vicinity. To make an accurate examination of this stone, by chipping a piece off, would not be permitted. The three or four spots, said to be blood stains, appear in reality to be nothing but hornblende and pyroxide run together in the fundamental mass of the rock. The Licentiate Fernando Montesinos, though he visited Peru scarcely a hundred years after the taking of Caxamarca, gave currency to the fabulous story that Atahuallpa was beheaded in prison, and that traces of blood were still visible on a stone on which the execution had taken place. There appears no reason to question the fact, since it is borne out by the testimony of many eye-witnesses, that the Inca willingly allowed himself to be baptized by his cruel and fanatical persecutor, the Dominican monk, Vicente de Valverde. He received the name of Juan de Atahuallpa, and submitted to the ceremony of baptism to avoid being burnt alive. He was put to death by strangulation (el garrote), and his execution took place publicly in the open air. Another tradition relates that a chapel was erected above the stone on which Atahuallpa was strangled, and that the remains of the Inca repose beneath that stone. Supposing this to be correct, the alleged spots of blood are not accounted for. The fact is, however, that the body was never deposited under the stone in question. After the performance of a mass for the dead and other solemn funeral ceremonies, at which the brothers Pizarro were present in deep mourning(!), the body was conveyed first to the cemetery of the Convento de San Francisco, and afterwards to Quito, Atahuallpa’s birthplace. This removal to Quito was in compliance with the wish expressed by the Inca prior to his death. His personal enemy, the crafty Rumiñavi, from artful political motives, caused the body to be interred in Quito with great solemnity. Rumiñavi (literally the stone-eye) received this name from a defect in one of his eyes, occasioned by a wart. (In the Quichua language rumi signifies stone, and ñavi eye.)

Descendants of the Inca still dwell in Caxamarca, amidst the dreary architectural ruins of departed splendour. These descendants are the family of the Indian Cacique, or, as he is called in the Quichua language, the Curaca Astorpilca. They live in great poverty, but nevertheless contented and resigned to their hard and unmerited fate. Their descent from Atahuallpa, through the female line, has never been a doubtful question in Caxamarca; but traces of beard would seem to indicate some admixture of Spanish blood. Huascar and Atahuallpa, two sons of the great Huayna Capac (who for a child of the Sun was somewhat disposed to free-thinking)[^[126]], reigned in succession before the invasion of the Spaniards. Neither of these two princes left any acknowledged male heirs. In the plains of Quipaypan, Huascar was made prisoner by Atahuallpa, by whose order he was shortly after secretly put to death. Atahuallpa had two other brothers. One was the insignificant youth Toparca, who in the autumn of 1533 Pizarro caused to be crowned as Inca; and the other was the enterprising Manco Capac, who was likewise crowned, but who afterwards rebelled: neither of these two princes left any known male issue. Atahuallpa indeed left two children; one a son, who received in Christian baptism the name of Don Francisco, and who died young; the other a daughter, Doña Angelina, who became the mistress of Francisco Pizarro, with whom she led a wild camp life. Doña Angelina had a son by Pizarro, and to this grandson of the slaughtered monarch the Conqueror was fondly attached. Besides the family of Astorpilca, with whom I became acquainted in Caxamarca, the families of Carguaraicos and Titu-Buscamayca were, at the time I visited Peru, regarded as descendants of the Inca dynasty. The race of Buscamayca has since that time become extinct.

The son of the Cacique Astorpilca, an interesting and amiable youth of seventeen, conducted us over the ruins of the ancient palace. Though living in the utmost poverty, his imagination was filled with images of the subterranean splendour and the golden treasures which, he assured us, lay hidden beneath the heaps of rubbish over which we were treading. He told us that one of his ancestors once blindfolded the eyes of his wife, and then, through many intricate passages cut in the rock, led her down into the subterranean gardens of the Inca. There the lady beheld, skilfully imitated in the purest gold, trees laden with leaves and fruit, with birds perched on their branches. Among other things, she saw Atahuallpa’s gold sedan-chair (una de las andas) which had been so long searched for in vain, and which is alleged to have sunk in the basin at the Baths of Pultamarca. The husband commanded his wife not to touch any of these enchanted treasures, reminding her that the period fixed for the restoration of the Inca empire had not yet arrived, and that whosoever should touch any of the treasures would perish that same night. These golden dreams and fancies of the youth were founded on recollections and traditions transmitted from remote times. Golden gardens, such as those alluded to (Jardines ó huertas de oro), have been described by various writers who allege that they actually saw them; viz., by Cieza de Leon, Parmento, Garcilaso, and other early historians of the Conquista. They are said to have existed beneath the Temple of the Sun at Cuzco, at Caxamarca, and in the lovely valley of Yucay, which was a favourite seat of the sovereign family. In places in which the golden Huertas were not under ground, but in the open air, living plants were mingled with the artificial ones. Among the latter, particular mention is always made of the high shoots of maize and the maize-cobs (mazorcas) as having been most successfully imitated.

The son of Astorpilca assured me that underground, a little to the right of the spot on which I then stood, there was a large Datura tree, or Guanto, in full flower, exquisitely made of gold wire and plates of gold, and that its branches overspread the Inca’s chair. The morbid faith with which the youth asserted his belief in this fabulous story, made a profound and melancholy impression on me. These illusions are cherished among the people here, as affording them consolation amidst great privation and earthly suffering. I said to the lad, “Since you and your parents so firmly believe in the existence of these gardens, do you not, in your poverty, sometimes feel a wish to dig for the treasures that lie so near you?” The young Peruvian’s answer was so simple and so expressive of the quiet resignation peculiar to the aboriginal inhabitants of the country, that I noted it down in Spanish in my Journal. “Such a desire (tal antojo),” said he, “never comes to us. My father says that it would be sinful (que fuese pecado). If we had the golden branches, with all their golden fruits, our white neighbours would hate us and injure us. We have a little field and good wheat (buen trigo).” Few of my readers will I trust be displeased that I have recalled here the words of young Astorpilca and his golden dreams.

An idea generally spread and firmly believed among the natives is, that it would be criminal to dig up and take possession of treasures which may have belonged to the Incas, and that such a proceeding would bring misfortune upon the whole Peruvian race. This idea is closely connected with that of the restoration of the Inca dynasty, an event which is still expected, and which in the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries was looked forward to with especial confidence. Oppressed nations always fondly hope for the day of their emancipation, and for the re-establishment of their old forms of government. The flight of Manco Inca, the brother of Atahuallpa, who retreated into the forests of Vilcapampa, on the declivity of the Eastern Cordillera; and the abode of Sayri Tapac and Inca Tupac Amaru in those wildernesses, are events which have left lasting recollections in the minds of the people. It is believed that descendants of the dethroned dynasty settled still further eastward in Guiana, between the rivers Apurimac and Beni. These notions were strengthened by the myth of el Dorado and the golden city of Manoa, which popular credulity carried from the west and propagated eastward. So greatly was the imagination of Sir Walter Raleigh inflamed by these dreams, that he raised an expedition in the hope of conquering “the imperial and golden city.” There he proposed to establish a garrison of three or four thousand English, and to levy from “the Emperor of Guiana, a descendant of Huayna Capac, and who holds his Court with the same magnificence, an annual tribute of £300,000 sterling, as the price of the promised restoration to the throne in Cuzco and Caxamarca.” Wherever the Peruvian Quichua language prevails, traces of the expected restoration of the Inca rule[^[127]] exist in the minds of many of the natives possessing any knowledge of their national history.

We remained five days in the capital of the Inca Atahuallpa, which, at that time, numbered only 7000 or 8000 inhabitants. Our departure was delayed by the necessity of obtaining a great number of mules to convey our collections, and of selecting careful guides to conduct us across the chain of the Andes to the entrance of the long but narrow Peruvian sandy desert called the Desierto de Sechura. Our route across the Cordilleras lay from north-east to south-west. Having passed over the old bed of the lake, on the pleasant level height of Caxamarca, we ascended an eminence at an elevation of scarcely 10,230 feet: and we were then surprised by the sight of two strangely-shaped porphyritic mounds called the Aroma and the Cunturcaga. The latter is a favourite haunt of the gigantic vulture, which we call the Condor; kacca, in the Quichua language, signifying the rocks. The porphyritic heights just mentioned are in the form of columns having five, six, or seven sides, from 37 to 42 feet in height, and some of them are crooked and bent as if in joints. Those which crown the Cerro Aroma are remarkably picturesque. The peculiar distribution of the columns, which are ranged in rows one above another, and frequently converging, presents the appearance of a two-storied building, roofed by a dome of massive rock, which is not columnar. These erupted masses of porphyry and trachyte are, as I have on a former occasion remarked, characteristic of the ridges of the Andes, to which they impart a physiognomy totally different from that of the Swiss Alps, the Pyrenees, and the Siberian Altai.

From Cunturcaga and Aroma we descended, by a zigzag route, a steep declivity of 6400 feet into the cleft-like valley of the Magdalena, the lowest part of which is 4260 feet above the sea level. Here there is an Indian village consisting of a few miserable huts, surrounded by the same species of cotton-trees (Bombax discolor), which we first observed on the banks of the Amazon. The scanty vegetation of the valley of Magdalena somewhat resembles that of the province of Jaen de Bracamoros, but we missed, with regret, the red groves of Bougainvillæa. Magdalena is one of the deepest valleys I have seen in the chain of the Andes. It is a decided cleft, running transversely from east to west, and bounded on each side by the Altos of Aroma and Guangamarca. Here recommences the same quartz formation which was so long enigmatical to me. We had previously observed it in the Paramo de Yanaguanga, between Micuipampa and Caxamarca, at an elevation of 11,722 feet, and on the western declivity of the Cordillera it attains the thickness of many thousand feet. Since Leopold von Buch has proved that the cretaceous formation is widely extended, even in the highest chains of the Andes, and on both sides of the isthmus of Panama, it may be concluded that the quartz formation, of which I have just made mention (perhaps transformed in its texture by the action of volcanic power), belongs to the free sandstone intervening between the inner chalk and the gault and greensand. From the genial valley of the Magdalena we again proceeded westward, and, for the space of two hours and a half, we ascended a steep wall of rock 5116 feet high, which rises opposite to the porphyritic groups of the Alto de Aroma. In this ascent we felt the change of temperature the more sensibly, as the rocky acclivity was frequently overhung with cold mist.

After having travelled for eighteen months without intermission, within the restricted boundaries of the interior of a mountainous country, we felt an ardent desire to enjoy a view of the open sea, a desire which was heightened by repeated disappointments. Looking from the summit of the volcano of Pichincha, over the thick forests of the Provincia de las Esmeraldas, no sea horizon is distinctly discernible owing to the great distance and the height of the point of view. It is like looking down from a balloon into empty space; the fancy divines objects which the eye cannot distinguish. Afterwards, when, between Loxa and Guancabamba, we arrived at the Paramo de Guamani (where there are many ruins of buildings of the times of the Incas), our mule-drivers confidently assured us that, beyond the plain, on the other side of the low districts of Piura and Lambajeque, we should have a view of the sea. But a thick mist overhung the plain and obscured the distant coast. We beheld only variously-shaped masses of rock, now rising like islands above the waving sea of mist, and now vanishing. It was a view similar to that which we had from the Peak of Teneriffe. We experienced a similar disappointment whilst proceeding through the Andes Pass of Guangamarca, which I am now describing. Whilst we toiled along the ridges of the mighty mountain, with expectation on the stretch, our guides, who were not very well acquainted with the way, repeatedly assured us that, after proceeding another mile, our hopes would be fulfilled. The stratum of mist, in which we were enveloped, seemed sometimes to disperse for a moment, but whenever that happened, our view was bounded by intervening heights.

The desire which we feel to behold certain objects is not excited solely by their grandeur, their beauty, or their importance. In each individual this desire is interwoven with pleasing impressions of youth, with early predilections for particular pursuits, with the inclination for travelling, and the love of an active life. In proportion as the fulfilment of a wish may have appeared improbable, its realization affords the greater pleasure. The traveller enjoys, in anticipation, the happy moment when he shall first behold the constellation of the Cross, and the Magellanic clouds circling over the South Pole; when he shall come in sight of the snow of the Chimborazo, and of the column of smoke ascending from the volcano of Quito; when, for the first time, he shall gaze on a grove of tree-ferns, or on the wide expanse of the Pacific Ocean. The days on which such wishes are fulfilled mark epochs in life, and create indelible impressions; exciting feelings which require not to be accounted for by any process of reasoning. The longing wish I felt to behold the Pacific from the lofty ridges of the Andes was mingled with recollections of the interest with which, as a boy, I had dwelt on the narrative of the adventurous expedition of Vasco Nunez de Balboa[^[128]]. That happy man, whose track Pizarro followed, was the first to behold, from the heights of Quarequa, on the isthmus of Panama, the eastern part of the great “South Sea.” The reedy shores of the Caspian, viewed from the point whence I first beheld them, viz., from the Delta formed by the mouths of the Volga, cannot certainly be called picturesque, yet the delight I felt on first beholding them, was enhanced by the recollection that, in my very earliest childhood, I had been taught to observe, on the map, the form of the Asiatic inland sea. The impressions aroused within us in early childhood, or excited by the accidental circumstances of life[^[129]], frequently, in after years, take a graver direction, and become stimulants to scientific labours and great enterprises.

After passing over many undulations of ground, on the rugged mountain ridges, we at length reached the highest point of the Alto de Guangamarca. The sky, which had so long been obscured, now suddenly brightened. A sharp south-west breeze dispersed the veil of mist; and the dark blue canopy of heaven was seen between the narrow lines of the highest feathery clouds. The whole western declivity of the Cordillera (adjacent to Chorillos and Cascas), covered with huge blocks of quartz 13 or 15 feet long; and the plains of Chala and Molinos, as far as the sea coast near Truxillo, lay extended before our eyes, with a wonderful effect of apparent proximity. We now, for the first time, commanded a view of the Pacific. We saw it distinctly; reflecting along the line of the coast an immense mass of light, and rising in immeasurable expanse until bounded by the clearly-defined horizon. The delight which my companions, Bonpland and Carlos Montufar, shared with me in viewing this prospect, caused us to forget to open the barometer on the Alto de Guangamarca. According to a calculation which we made at a place somewhat lower down (an isolated farm called the Hato de Guangamarca), the point at which we first gained a view of the ocean, must have been at no greater an elevation than between 9380 and 9600 feet.

The view of the Pacific was solemnly impressive to one, who, like myself, was greatly indebted for the formation of his mind, and the direction given to his tastes and aspirations, to one of the companions of Captain Cook. I made known the general outline of my travelling schemes to John Forster, when I had the advantage of visiting England under his guidance, now more than half a century ago. Forster’s charming pictures of Otaheite had awakened throughout Northern Europe a deep interest (mingled with a sort of romantic longing), in favour of the islands of the Pacific Ocean. At that period, when but few Europeans had been fortunate enough to visit those islands, I cherished the hope of seeing them, at least in part; for the object of my visit to Lima was twofold: first, to observe the transit of Mercury over the solar disc, and secondly, to fulfil a promise I had made to Captain Baudin, on my departure from Paris. This promise was to join him in the circumnavigatory voyage which he was to undertake as soon as the French Republic could furnish the necessary funds.

American papers circulated in the Antilles announced that the two French corvettes, Le Géographe and Le Naturaliste, were to sail round Cape Horn, and to touch at Callao de Lima. This information, which I received when in the Havannah, after having completed my Orinoco journey, caused me to relinquish my original plan of proceeding through Mexico to the Philippines. I lost no time in engaging a ship to convey me from Cuba to Carthagena de Indias. But Captain Baudin’s expedition took quite a different course from that which had been expected and announced. Instead of proceeding by the way of Cape Horn, as had been intended at the time when it was agreed that Bonpland and I should join it, the expedition sailed round the Cape of Good Hope. One of the objects of my visit to Peru, and of my last journey across the chain of the Andes, was thus thwarted; but I had the singular good fortune, at a very unfavourable season of the year, in the misty regions of Lower Peru, to enjoy a clear bright day. In Callao I observed the passage of Mercury over the sun’s disc, an observation of some importance in aiding the accurate determination of the longitude of Lima[^[130]], and of the south-western part of the new continent. Thus, amidst the serious troubles and disappointments of life, there may often be found a grain of consolation.