Spanish America, Its Romance, Reality and Future, Vol. 1 (of 2)

by C. Reginald Enock

THE CORDILLERA OF THE ANDES

IN ECUADOR, PERU AND BOLIVIA

Siste, viator; draw rein: your mule will stop willingly; he is stricken with soroche perhaps, the malady of the mountain, which you yourself may suffer if at this elevation, where but half an atmosphere presses upon us and oxygen is scant, you attempt to run or climb. Draw rein upon this summit and look beyond. There is a panorama it were worth a journey over a hemisphere to see. Range and peak are clothed with perpetual snow, which gleams like porcelain in the sun.

Heavenward thrown, crumpled, folded, ridged and fractured, with gnomon-fashioned uplifts pointing to the sky, shattered strata and sheer crevasse, natural terrace and grim escarpment, hung over with filmy mist-veils and robed with the white clothing of its snowfields, and, when the windows of heaven are open, drenched with the deluges intercepted from the boundless plains and forests far beyond; the father of the rivers whose floods are borne a thousand leagues away the Cordillera crouches, rears and groans upon the western seaboard of the continent. The beautiful Andes, the terrible Andes, the life-giving Andes, the death-dealing Andes—so we might apostrophize them—for the Cordillera is of many moods, and whatever change of adjectives the traveller may ring, he will fail of truly describing this mighty chain.

When the delicate tints of early morning shine on the crested snow in rarest beauty, and the light and tonic air invigorates both man and horse, the leagues pass swiftly by. Night falls, or the snow-cloud gathers, or the pelting rain descends; then does the weight of weariness and melancholy descend upon us[23]—so have I felt it.

The name of the Andes, to the traveller who has crossed the giddy passes and scaled the high peaks of this stupendous mountain chain, brings back sensations which are a blend of the pleasurable and the painful. In his retrospect the Cordillera—for such is its familiar name to the inhabitants of the land it traverses—bulks as a thing of varied and almost indescribable moods. It possesses that individuality—menacing, beautiful by turns—which no doubt is an attribute of all mountains, in the recollection of those who best know them.

The Andes are no playground, such as some of the mountains of Europe have become, nor are they the object or scene of climbing enterprise and exploration such as bring the Himalayas so frequently before the geographically interested public. Comparatively simple in their structure, it is their enormous length—a wall unbroken, extending for four thousand miles from north to south along the western littoral of their continent—their treeless aridity, their illimitable, dreary, inclement uplands, and, these passed, their chaste snowy peaks, tinged by the rising or the setting sun, that most impress the traveller in those lands they traverse.

Here in the higher elevations of these remote fastnesses there are no material comforts for man or beast. Humanity, as far as it has the hardihood to dwell here, is confined to the Indian or the mestizo, who has paid nature the homage of being born here, and so can dwell and work in what is his native environment. In the more sheltered valleys it is true that large centres of population flourish; important towns which from their elevation above sea-level—ten thousand or twelve thousand feet—might look down as it were from a dizzy height upon the highest inhabited centres of Europe; whilst, did we establish industrious mining communities on the peak of the Matterhorn or Mont Blanc, we should still be far below some of those places of the Peruvian and Bolivian Andes where minerals are won for the marts of Europe.

The Andes consist physiographically of two great parallel chains, forming into three, with lesser parallel undulations, in certain parts of its course; the ranges being joined by nudos or knots, as the transversal ridges are termed; a very well marked structure. In places vast tablelands lie between the high paramos of Colombia, the altiplanicies of Peru, the punas of Bolivia, often studded with lakes, including the enormous Lake Titicaca. In some cases these high uplands between the enclosing Cordilleras are indeed dreary and inclement, sparsely inhabited, and the dweller of the lowlands loves not to sojourn there longer than may be necessary for his purpose. Conversely, the highlander fears the enervating climate of the lowlands.

Between the more easterly paralleling ranges great rivers run, having their birth in the snow-cap and incessant rains, both of which are the result of the deposition from the moisture-laden trade winds which, sweeping across the Atlantic and Brazil for thousands of miles, are intercepted by the crest of the Cordillera, impinging thereon and depositing their moisture. Running down the easterly slope, in a thousand rills, the waters gather in the giant channels, all flowing northwards, in the troughs between the ranges, to where, with curious regularity, they break through these ranges in deep cuttings or pongos, as they are there termed, like gargantuan mill-races, turning thus east and pouring forth their floods upon the Amazon plain, where, after vast courses amid the forests, they reach the main stream of the Amazon, and finally empty themselves on the coast of Brazil into the Atlantic, whence they originally came upon the wings of the wind—a mighty natural hydraulic engine, unceasing in its operations, stupendous in its work. Yes; Siste, viator, draw rein—

Hast thou entered the treasures of the snow?
Or hast thou seen the treasuries of the hail?
Who hath cleft a channel for the water-flood?
Dost thou know the balancings of the clouds?

The imprint of the Andes perhaps never fades from the mind of the traveller. When you have braved the tempest and the steep, when your slow and panting beast overcomes the last few rising yards upon the maritime range that shuts off from view the White Cordillera, then, as the dark horizon of the foreground rocks gives place, your astonished gaze rests upon that range of white-clothed sentinels beyond, upraised some time since the Jurassic or Silurian Ages. There they mark the eras: there they stand, performing their silent and allotted work; and there, when evening falls, it tints their brows with orange and with carmine, and wraps their bases with the purple pall of finished day.

Borne upward three to five miles above the level of the ocean arose these mighty guardians of the western shore, carrying some ocean bed from where it lay, where strange creatures of the deep reposed within the ooze—huge ammonites and cephalopods, whose fossil scrolls and circles, now petrified in rigid schools upon the stiffened summits, catch the traveller's eye as his weary mule stumbles over the limestone ridges: and, blurred by the pelting rain of the Andine winter and loosened from the stony grasp by frost and sun and earthquake, they, together with the rocky walls that hold them, are again dissolving into particles; a phase within the endless sequence of Nature's work; an accident of her ceaseless and inexplicable operations.

Has this great Cordillera produced a high type of humanity? Has the clear atmosphere, the nearer approach to the clouds, the purity and example of the heights made man here pure and noble? We shall judge later, after viewing the palimpsest of history here, following on the palimpsest of Nature, for the Cordillera is a scroll of time, erased, rewritten in the physical and in the human world. The Andes have been blood-stained along all their four-thousand-mile course, that we know, ever since the white man trod them. We also know that before his time the Cordillera did produce a high human culture, that of the mysterious "Andine people," with their successors, the Incas. Pagan, perhaps, but who, in the long ages, had evolved some comprehension of the "Unknown God," and whose social code was more in tune with a true economic philosophy of life than that of their successors.

Descending now from the clouds, metaphorically and actually, we must glance more particularly at the life of those modern countries which have in part their home in the Cordillera, to whom the Cordillera is a very real and palpable thing.

From north to south, Colombia, Venezuela, Ecuador, Peru, Bolivia and Chile occupy this extensive zone: countries whose general conditions as regards the littoral we have seen in our journey along the Pacific coast. Excepting Bolivia, all these lands have the advantages accruing from the condition that they stretch from the coast across the Andes, extending to the Amazon plains beyond; thus enjoying zones respectively of coast, mountain and forest, with all their diversity of environment, climate and resource.

As we shall see in the chapter devoted to the Amazon Valley, many navigable streams traverse this forested region, giving access by launch or canoe through thousands of miles of otherwise inaccessible territory, for roads are often impossible and of railways there are none.

Colombia we shall visit in another chapter. Both Colombia and Venezuela lie in part upon the Andes and face upon the Spanish Main.

Ecuador is but a small country in comparison with the vaster areas of its neighbours, but Nature has rendered it extremely diverse, and has dowered it—it is a terrible gift, however—with some of the most remarkable mountain forms on the face of the globe. Nothing can exceed the stupendous grandeur of the great "avenue" of snow-clad volcanoes which arises before us around Quito and terminates on the Equator.

In Ecuador Nature might seem to have thought to display her powers after the manner of a model, with every grade of climate, topographical form and species of plant and animal life; to have set up, within a measurable compass, an example of her powers in the tropical world. The hot lowlands of the coast, covered in part with the densest and rankest vegetation, intersected by the most fertile of valleys, where ripen the most delicious and valuable fruits, with rivers wherein the curious life of the Tropics has its home, from gorgeous insect or bird down to the tortoise and the loathly alligator, slope upwards to the bleakest tablelands, the icy paramos, which themselves are crowned with the snow-capped volcanoes, at times belching forth fire and ash, carrying destruction to fruitful field and populous town. Beyond lies some of the most broken region on the earth's surface, descending to the forests inhabited by the half-naked and savage Indian, still outside the pale of civilization or the influence of Christianity, who may receive the incautious traveller with deadly weapons of blow-pipe and poisoned arrows.

The uplands of Ecuador embody a high tableland, cut up into three hoyas or basins, known as those of Quito, Ambato and Cuenca respectively.

"Rising from both the eastern and western rims of this elevated plateau are the higher Cordilleras, their main summits culminating far above the perpetual snowline, which in Ecuador lies at about 15,750 feet above sea-level. As before remarked, due to their peculiarly symmetrical arrangement and spectacular appearance, such an assemblage of snow-clad peaks is not found in any other part of the world. Not only for their height are the Ecuadorian peaks noteworthy, but for their peculiar occurrence in parallel lines, sometimes in pairs facing each other across the 'cyclopean passage' or avenue formed by the long plateau. There are twenty-two of these great peaks, several of which are actual volcanoes, grouped along the central plains almost within sight of each other. Built up by subterranean fires, the great mountain edifices of Ecuador are sculptured by glacier streams and perpetual snows. The volcanoes of Ecuador have rendered the country famous among geologists and travellers of all nationalities. They were the terror of the primitive Indian, and objects of awe and worship by the semi-civilized peoples of the land, and have been at various periods terrible scourges and engines of destruction.

"The largest number of high peaks and the greatest average elevations occur upon the eastern Andes, or Cordillera Oriental, whilst the western or Occidental is distinguished by having the highest individual elevations. The altitudes given by various authorities of these peaks differ somewhat, and the measurements of later investigators vary considerably from those of Humboldt in some cases. Humboldt was the first to study and measure the Ecuadorian volcanoes, and La Condamine measured them in 1742. The more modern investigators were Drs. Reiss and Stübel, who spent four years, from 1870 to 1874, in the study, and in 1880 they were the subject of Edward Whymper's famous travels. The alleged remarkable condition of the sinking or rising of various of these summits and localities may account, it has been stated, for the variation found in measurements made at different times. It has been estimated that a considerable decrease in the elevation of the Ecuadorian Andes in the region took place during last century. Quito has sunk, it is stated, 26 feet in 122 years, and Pichincha 218 feet in the same period. The farm at Antisana, where Humboldt lived for some time, has sunk 165 feet in sixty-four years. On the other hand, two of the active volcanoes, those of Cotopaxi and Sangay, have increased in altitude since they were measured by La Condamine, it is asserted. Underlying seismic disturbances have doubtless been the cause of these movements."[24]

The highest of these peaks is Chimborazo, 20,498 feet, followed by Cotopaxi, 19,613 feet, Antisana and Cayambe, both over 19,000 feet, with others ranging downwards to about 14,000 feet.

"The great Cotopaxi, with its unrivalled cone, is the most terrible and dangerous in Ecuador, and the highest active volcano in the world. From its summit smoke curls upwards unceasingly, and knowledge of its activities begins with South American history after the Conquest. The first eruption experienced by the Spaniards was in 1534, during the attempted conquest of the ancient native kingdom of Quito by Alvarado. The Indians regarded the terrible outpourings of the volcano, which coincided with this foreign advent, as a manifestation of Nature in aid of the invaders and against themselves, and this was a factor in breaking down their opposition. But the rain of ashes from the burning mountain greatly troubled the small army of Alvarado for several days, as before described. After this out-burst Cotopaxi remained quiescent for more than two hundred years, until 1741, when it broke out with extraordinary force, and became for twenty-six years the scourge of the districts of Quito and Latacunga. The province of Leon and Latacunga, which formerly had been among the most beautiful and fertile, became poverty-stricken by reason of the eruptions. These outbreaks generally consisted in a great rain of sand and ash, followed by vast quantities of mud and water, which were thrown over the valleys and plains, destroying whatever lay in the way. Between 1742 and 1768 there were seven great eruptions of this character, and it is noteworthy that none of these were accompanied by earthquakes. The thunderings were heard at Honda, in Colombia, 500 miles away, it is recorded. Cotopaxi then remained quiescent for thirty-five years, until 1803, when Humboldt heard the detonations of a new outbreak, like discharges of a battery, from the Gulf of Guayaquil, where he was on board a vessel for Lima. A number of lesser outbreaks occurred during the nineteenth century, but comparatively little record has been kept of them. There were streams of fresh lava, columns of black smoke, and showers of sand sent forth at various periods, and in 1877 a further memorable eruption took place, followed by others up to 1880. It would appear that since the volcano of Tunguragua entered again into action Cotopaxi has been less vigorous. Cotopaxi is regarded by various travellers as one of the most beautiful mountain peaks in the world, its symmetry of outline rivalling the famous Fuji-yama of Japan, which it overtops by more than 7,000 feet. This Ecuadorian volcano is 2,000 feet higher than Popocateptl, the "smoking mountain" of Mexico, and more than 15,000 feet higher than Vesuvius, and 7,000 higher than Teneriffe. It rises in a symmetrical cone, with a slope of 29° or 30°. Its height, as before given, is 19,613, according to Whymper, and the crater varies from 2,300 feet to 1,650 feet in diameter, and is 1,200 feet deep approximately, bordered by a rim of trachytic rock. The summit of Cotopaxi is generally shrouded in cloud masses, and only visible for a few days even in the clearest season of the year."[25]

This high region of Ecuador is gained by the railway from Guayaquil to Quito, which ascends amid some remarkable scenery over a difficult route, traversing deep ravines and fertile districts. Some of the passages are terrific in character.

"Riobamba is reached at 9,020 feet. The town is lighted from a hydro-electric station in the mountain stream. Beyond this point Chimborazo bursts upon the view. The great mountain displays a double peak, the snow-clad crests of which are outlined against the upland sky, at those times when the firmament is free from clouds. The plateau of Riobamba has a healthy climate, described, on the authority of Humboldt, as one of the best in the world. In this region a considerable increase in the production of wheat has followed upon the building of the railway.

"Between Riobamba and Ambato the Chimborazo pass is crossed, at Urbina, the highest point reached, and thence a rapid descent is made to Ambato, 8,435 feet in the midst of a district producing fruits and foodstuffs abundantly. Along the Latacunga Valley, comparatively flat and some ten miles wide, rich pastures, intersected by irrigation ditches, abound, with numerous bands of cattle and horses. Grain, corn, potatoes, alfalfa, apples, peaches, strawberries, etc., are products of this high fertile district, and good cheese and butter are made. Beyond the town of Latacunga, 9,055 feet elevation, the line crosses the base of Cotopaxi, whose snowy cone is surmounted by the thin, unceasing smokewreath from its crater, the cloud hanging in the atmosphere. This point of the line is 11,653 feet above sea-level, only slightly less than that of the Chimborazo pass. Beyond Cotopaxi lies the fertile valley of Machachi, one of the most pleasing districts in Ecuador. On either hand is the row of famous volcanoes, a mighty avenue of great peaks, often clothed in green up to the line of perpetual snow. A view is obtained from the railway of the Chillo Valley, with various cotton and woollen mills, actuated by water power. In these establishments, hydraulically worked from the river, cloths of cheap character for native clothing are made. Still descending, the railway approaches and enters the city of Quito at 9,375 feet elevation.

"The construction of this remarkable railway from Guayaquil to Quito was mainly due to the activity and enterprise of an American financier and railway builder, Mr. Archer Harman, whose work in connection with which began in 1897. The line remains as a worthy monument to this man, whose grave lies at the pretty town of Huigra. A strong impulse was given to the progress of Ecuador by the building of this railway and by the influence of its builder, and the Republic has cause to remember his name with gratitude, as indeed has the traveller.

"Quito, the capital of Ecuador, is not without an atmosphere of interest and even romance. Remote and inaccessible as it has been until, in the last few decades, the railway united it with the outer world, Quito still conserves its character of a mountain capital, surrounded by lofty snow-clad volcanoes, whose names are bywords in geography. There are many large towns in the Andes, throughout Peru, Colombia, Bolivia and Venezuela, but both by reason of its history and its topography the capital of Ecuador is among the most interesting. The Quito Valley lies at an elevation of 9,500 feet above sea-level. Around the upland valley are twenty noble volcanic summits, whose variety of form is remarkable, from the truncated to the perfect cone, from jagged and sunken crests to smooth, snow-covered, gleaming domes, among them the beautiful, if dreaded, Cotopaxi. These mountains are fully described in dealing with the peaks and volcanoes.

THE APPROACH TO QUITO.

Vol. I. To face p. 222.

"The historical interest of Quito lies in the fact that it was the ancient centre of the Shiri Empire, formed by the mysterious Caras and the Quitus, as described in the historical section of this work, whose dynasty fell before the Incas under Huayna Capac, who in their turn gave way to the Spaniards. The famous Inca road, traversing the Cordilleras and tablelands, joined Quito with Cuzco, passing through the various centres of Inca civilization, with their stone-built temples and palaces, flanked by hill fortresses which guarded the heads of the valleys to the east or the west against the attacks of savage tribes. The remains of this road still exist.

"As regards the character of the climate and surroundings of Quito, opinions differ considerably. It is difficult to comprehend why the Shiris and the Incas should have built or maintained their capital city upon such a spot, a small, broken meseta, or plain, as is that of Quito, or why the Spaniards perpetuated it upon a site of so little advantage and utility, when near at hand are the flat lands of Turubamba and Añaquito, and not very far off the spacious and delightful valleys of Chillo and Tumbaco. Of all the towns on the inter-Andine hoyas Quito is the highest and coldest. The surrounding vegetation is poor and of melancholy aspect, and corresponds with the inclement situation. The position is healthy and even agreeable for those who are acclimatized thereto, but the descriptions lavished by some writers thereon of 'delicious' and of 'eternal spring' are exaggerations, says one observer.[26] Another authority says that 'the traveller is charmed in looking at the carpet of perpetual verdancy on which Quito stands. The climate is delightful. It is neither summer nor spring nor winter, but each day of the year offers a singular combination of the three seasons. Neither cholera nor yellow fever nor consumption is known there. The mild and healthy temperature which prevails is something admirable. In short, it may be said that the great plateau of Quito is a kind of paradise.'[27] Thus extremes of opinion are seen to exist.

"The annual death-rate of Quito is given as about 36 per 1,000,[28] but this might undoubtedly be reduced under better sanitary measures. It is a well-known circumstance that the high upland regions and towns of the Andes are generally free from pulmonary consumption, and tubercular disease of the lungs, which on the coastal lowlands of tropical America is very frequent, is unknown above 8,000 feet.

"The aspect of Quito, is picturesque. The first impression is that of a white city, relieved by roofs of red tiles, the streets thronged with interesting people. As seen from the slopes of Pichincha, which descend to the city on its western side, or from the summit of the Panecillo, a small hill standing within the borders of the city, or from other high points near at hand, the city unfolds pleasingly to the view. It may be likened to a city of the third order in Europe. In spite of the broken character of the land upon which it is built, the streets are nearly all straight, the principal thoroughfares being wide and paved. It is traversed from west to east by two deep quebradas, or ravines, which descend from Pichincha and other hills, and one of these is arched over in order to preserve the alignment of the streets. The city follows the general Latin American system of town-planning, being laid out mainly in great rectangular squares, the streets at right angles to each other. The architectural type of the houses is that embodying the old Spanish or Moorish style, well known to the traveller in Latin America, from Mexico to Peru or Argentina: the picturesque and often chaste character of façade (although some may term it monotonous), with iron grilles before the windows and high, wide entrance doorway, or saguan, admitting a mounted horseman. The main feature of the house of this type is the interior patio, or courtyard, upon which the rooms open, often followed by a second patio. The material of which the houses are constructed is adobe, or sun-dried earthern brick, which in the dwellings of more pretension are generally covered with stucco or plaster, whitened, and at times painted with vivid colours. Stone is also used. The use of colour, on the walls of houses in Latin American towns gives a picturesque appearance at times even to the meanest pueblo, and relieves what might often be an extreme poverty of appearance. The roofs of the Quito houses often project over the footpaths, affording protection from rain, and balconies overhang from every window.

"The public buildings of Quito are of the heavy, square, colonial Spanish type. Looking upon the great square, or plaza mayor, occupying the whole of its southern side, is the cathedral, and on the western side the Government palace, with a handsome façade, whose main feature is its long row of columns. On the north side of the plaza is the palace of the Archbishop, and on the east the municipal hall. This arrangement, with some modification, is one encountered in nearly all Latin American capitals, wherein are grouped upon the plaza the principal edifices of Church and State, the former taking the place of honour. The arrangement is generally a pleasing and useful one. The plaza is the pulse of the community, and during those times when the band plays in its garden it forms a meeting-ground for the people and the sexes. There are other smaller plazas and subsidiary squares in the city, including those of San Francisco and Santo Domingo. The many ecclesiastical buildings are an indication of the part which the Church has played. The finest building in the city is the Jesuits' church, with a façade elaborately carved, and the university occupies part of what formerly was the Jesuit college. There are eleven monastic institutions, six of which are nunneries. One of the convents, that of San Francisco, covers a whole cuadra or block, and takes its place as one of the largest institutions of this nature in the world. A part of this great building is in ruins, and another part has been used for the purpose of a military barracks by the Government. The university has faculties of law, medicine and theology—those three professions which appeal so strongly to the Latin American character; but the institution is regarded as backward, and it has been but poorly supported.

"The commerce of Quito is small: there is little produced in so high a region for export. Superior hand-made carpets are woven, and much skill is shown in wood-carving and in gold and silver work. These industries were often characteristic of the ancient people of America, and weaving was essentially a widely practised craft among the Andine races. The beautiful textile fabrics of the Incas and pre-Incas, some of them probably thousands of years old, which have been preserved attest the taste and skill of these people. The native manufactures of Quito include ponchos, blankets, mattings and coarse woollen carpets, also tanned leather, saddles and shoes. There is a tendency among all the Andine people to preserve their interesting home-crafts and cottage industries, which a wise, economic spirit would endeavour to assist. But cheap imports menace them.

"The streets of Quito are thronged from morning to evening with horses, mules, donkeys and oxen, also llamas, with loads of all kinds, and ladies in victorias drive about, or to the shops, which are replete with merchandise from London, Paris, New York, Vienna or Berlin. Officers in regimentals and gentlemen in top-hats and frock-coats are numerous, and Indians with red and yellow ponchos and white cotton trousers and hats. But as regards modern conveniences Quito is backward, and the lack of hotels and public hygiene is very serious, and the general conditions surrounding public health call for urgent improvement."[29][30]

The Ecuadorian "Orient," as the eastern forested region is termed, is, as has been said, the third natural division of the country, and a maze of rivers flow to it from the divortia aquaram of the Cordillera. The boundary-line with Peru, Ecuador's neighbour on the south, is in dispute, notwithstanding arbitration by the King of Spain in recent years. The relations between the two nations have been seriously embittered by reason of this controversy. Ecuador is, in point of population, the weaker nation: perhaps her claims have not been considered in a sufficiently generous spirit. The law of uti possidetis alone holds. But an outlet to the great navigable affluents of the Amazon is a question of paramount importance in this forested region, cut off as it is from the Pacific by the huge rampart of the Andes, and—without prejudice to the historical aspects of the boundary question—this matter should receive full consideration. The Orient, although an undeveloped and little-travelled region at present, must, in the future, be of great value. Peru enjoys a vast territory in the same zone, and could well afford to take a generous outlook upon the wishes of her neighbour, thereby healing ancient quarrels and laying the foundation of future international stability and friendship.

We shall tread this region again in the chapter dealing with the Amazon.

The upland region of the Cordillera between Ecuador and Peru, little known to-day, was the scene of bitter struggles between the Incas—under Tupac Yupanqui and his son Huayna Capac, both famous princes of the Inca dynasty—and the Shiris, of the empire or kingdom of Quito, which the Incas wished to subjugate.

Cacha Duchisela, whose armies had beaten off the Inca attacks—he was the fifteenth and last of the Shiri Kings of Quito—was rapidly declining in health.

"But his mind did not share the ills of his body, and he formulated careful plans for the organization of his forces, which, under Calicuchima, were carried out. Amid the snowy heights of Azuay the vanguard of the Puruhaes detained for long the onward march of the Inca forces. But, aided by the Cañaris, the Peruvians opened a way, and upon the bleak and melancholy páramos of Tiocajas, where years before their fathers had fought, battle was again waged, and with the same fatal result for the forces of the Shiri. Completely defeated, Cacha retired upon the fortress of Mocha, as his father Hualcopo had done; but, still more unfortunate, Cacha could not prevent the advance of the Incas. Having lost almost all his army, not so much by death as by desertion and disaffection, Cacha was forced to abandon the provinces of Mocha, Ambato, Latacunga, and Quito, which seemed insecure, and to pass to the northern provinces. Followed by the Inca, he first fortified himself at Cochasqui and then at Otalvo.[31] Here the valiant Caranquis, who had always been the faithful vassals of the Shiris, fought with such bravery that from the defensive the army passed to the offensive, and the Inca, escaping from an attack, was obliged to raise the siege of the Caranqui fortress and to suspend operations. He ordered strongholds to be made at Pesillo, and turned back to Tomebamba, with the purpose of calling up from Cuzco and the other provinces fresh forces of the imperial troops. In the meantime the Caranquis attacked and took the Pesillo fortress, and killed its garrison, an exploit which was at once answered by Huayna Capac with a strong detachment of soldiers, under the command of his brother Auqui Toma. Encountering no resistance, this general advanced to Otalvo, but he fell in the first attack. Discouraged by his death, the Peruvians halted. Huayna Capac then advanced, bent on vengeance, and the attack was renewed, but without result. At length by means of a subterfuge, in which the Incas pretended to flee and then made a flank attack, the castle was taken and burnt. The cheated Caranquis fell confused before the enemy, and only a captain and a thousand men escaped, taking refuge in the forests. Cachi fled to the famed Hatuntaqui fortress, the last hope of his remaining vassals, and around this stronghold his troops were concentrated. The Shiri king, notwithstanding his wasting infirmity, caused his servants to carry him in his chair to the place of greatest danger in the combat. The Inca sent him the last invitation to an honourable surrender, with the hope of avoiding further bloodshed. Cacha made reply that the war was not of his seeking, that he was defending the integrity of his people, and that he would die before submitting. The attacks continued, and at first it seemed that the tide of battle might turn in favour of the Shiri. But these hopes were vain, for, suddenly struck by a lance, which penetrated his body, the brave Shiri fell dead in his chair. Disaster followed: the vanquished army gave up its weapons and surrendered, proclaiming, however, at the last moment, upon the stricken field, the right of accession to kingship of Paccha, the son of the dead king. But with the battle of Hatuntaqui fell the dynasty of the Shiris, and on the plain which had formed, he fatal battleground the traveller may observe to-day the numerous tumuli beneath which repose the remains of those who once formed the army of the kingdom of Quito. Thus was played out in those high regions, overlooked by the Andine snows and volcanoes, one of those fateful dramas of early America, analogous in many ways with the historic struggles of Old World dynasties.

"An incident of Huayna's reign, as concerns Ecuador, was the rebellion of the Caranquis, who had accepted the Inca rulers. It was a long and obstinate conflict to overcome them, but terrible punishment was meted out. The Inca caused 20,000[32] of the rebels to be drowned in a lake, that of Yahuar-Cocha, whose name means 'the lake of blood,' which it bears to the present time. The number given, other writers remark, was probably that of the combatants who fell on both sides. When the punitive expedition was accomplished Huayna returned to Quito, greatly troubled by the constant insurrections of the various provinces of the northern empire. There was a shadow upon the mind of the great Inca ruler, a portent of some disaster to befall his nation. These forebodings were later to be realized, for the caravels of the white man, although at that moment the Inca did not know it, were about to traverse the waters of the Pacific upon the coasts of the empire.

"Huayna Capac doubtless received news of the earlier arrival of the white men on the Panama coast of South America, and the matter impressed him strongly. Tradition states that supernatural occurrences heralded the fall of the Inca Empire—flaming comets, earthquakes, and so forth. On his deathbed, according to tradition, Huayna recalled a prognostication that had been earlier made, that after twelve Incas had reigned—Huayna himself was the twelfth—a valorous race would appear, a white, bearded people, who would overcome the empire. 'I go to rest with our father the Sun,' he added. But it would appear that the great Inca had not always regarded the sun as an infallible power. Some years before, at the great feast of Raymi, the festival of the Sun, at Cuzco, the chief priest had observed that the monarch looked up from time to time at the orb with considerable freedom, an action prohibited and considered almost sacrilegious; and he inquired, why the Inca did this. Huayna replied: 'I tell you that our Father the Sun must have another lord more powerful than himself; a thing so inquiet and so bound in his course could not be a god.' Before he died Huayna Capac admonished his successor ever to carry on the noble traditions of their dynasty, in fulfilling their title as 'lovers of the poor.' Indeed, a civilization and rulers who had so organized the material resources of the realm and the life of the community that none were in want, and where no class oppressed another, as was indisputably the case under the Inca Empire, well merited such a title, and that the system should have been destroyed by the ruthless individualism of the Europeans is one of the most melancholy incidents in history."[33][34]

These same remote uplands were the scene of the strenuous march of the Spaniards under Alvarado (whose earlier adventures we followed in Mexico), who affected to consider Quito as outside Pizarro's jurisdiction. Theirs was a dreadful march. Accustomed to warmer lands, men and horses starved with cold and famine in the inclement and foodless Cordillera. They were forced to eat the bodies of their horses and to boil herbs in their helmets for food. The march was made in vain, for Alvarado had been forestalled by Benalcazar, who, with Almagro, was the real conqueror of Ecuador.

Ecuador, after the time of Independence, in which the famous Liberator, Bolivar, figured prominently, formed part of the republican incorporation with Columbia and Venezuela. Afterwards it was subject to revolutionary strife and civil wars of the most savage and bloodthirsty nature.

Among the leaders of the republican period the name of Dr. Garcia-Moreno stands forth. It was a steadfast doctrine of his that political progress could not be secured whilst widespread poverty among the people remained—a doctrine opposed to the merely political ideas of other Presidents of the Republic, and which indeed is as true to-day in the Spanish American Republics as it was then.[35]

The antagonisms of the Liberal and clerical elements at this period brought dreadful excesses in political life, with assassination and destruction. The clergy were in a large measure corrupt, their opponents uncompromisingly hostile, and woe fell upon the land, and as late as the year 1912 the most dreadful deeds were committed, and the future seems to hold little immunity from similar occurrences.

Our way lies now into Peru. But no highways unite the two Republics along the almost inaccessible ranges of the Cordillera; no railways traverse this wild and broken region between them, and for a thousand miles the whistle of the locomotive is unheard among the mountains, whose solitudes are traversed only by the difficult mule-trail, over which the hardy arriero pursues his arduous course, or the slow and patient llama, feeding on the scanty herbage as it goes.

It was in one of the more northern towns of Peru, that of Cajamarca, that the principal act of the drama in the downfall of the Inca Empire took place, and we cannot do less, as we stand in the plaza of the town, than cast a backward glance at this page of early American history, fraught with such changes of destiny to the folk of the Cordillera.

We have seen elsewhere how Pizarro and his followers painfully made their way along the South American coast. On September 24, 1532, they began their march upon Cajamarca, ascending from the hot coastal lands to the cold regions of the Andes. Stories had reached them of great, populous valleys, high up among the clouds which covered the mountains, of people who had gold in such profusion that they regarded it as a commonplace, and made their household utensils of the yellow metal.

The Inca Empire at that moment was divided against itself. The two sons of the great Huayna Capac, Atahualpa and his brother Huascar, were fighting for the inheritance. Never had the Empire been divided thus, and its dissension was the precursor of its fall.

Pizarro sent emissaries before him, and they found evidence of a remarkable civilization—in cut-stone buildings, bridges, and intensive agriculture. By torture of the Indians, information was extracted concerning the intentions of Atahualpa, whose swift messengers had already apprised the Inca chief of the white man's arrival on the coast. Atahualpa was crafty and laid plans for their destruction, but meantime he sent gifts of llamas and golden cups.

However, the arrival was a peaceful one. The Spaniards formed camp and arrogantly sent to summon the Inca to appear before them. Hernando de Soto, the emissary, found the chief in the courtyard of his residence—a part of which still stands in Cajamarca—and, riding up to him, rudely forced his horse in front of Atahualpa, until the animal's breath fanned his very face.

But the stoic Inca, although he had never beheld these terrible men-animals, as the Indians termed the horsemen, before, moved not. He wore the llauta, a fringe of crimson wool, the emblem of sovereignty. He vouchsafed no reply at first, but afterwards professed his friendship, and chicha, or native beer, in a golden loving-cup, was brought forth for the Spaniards' refreshment. Thirty thousand soldiers with lances surrounded him. At a word of his the Spaniards might have been destroyed, or at least driven off.

A careful watch was kept that night in the Spanish camp. "They are five hundred to one, comrades," said Pizarro; "but if we must fight and die, it shall be like Christians, with Providence on our side." Or such at least is what the historians have recorded of Pizarro's address; and, as we have before remarked, the men of Spain, on occasion, were devout.

The Spanish plan was a surprise attack and to seize the person of Atahualpa. On the following day the chief was to return the visit. The Incas were seen approaching, with bands, dancing, and singing, adorned with gold and silver; and, decked in his regal bravery, reclining in his litter, was the figure of the prince, the last of the Incas.

Whether the intentions of the Peruvians were hostile or not is doubtful. But the Spaniards saw, or pretended to see, arms concealed beneath the peaceful robes, and they prepared themselves to make a sudden attack—to strike the first blow, after their customarily valiant manner.

It was the hand of the Church that gave the signal for the onslaught that marked the beginning of the end of the Incas. The Friar Vicente Valverde—chroniclers have acclaimed him as "the rascally friar"—advanced, at the instigation of Pizarro, with a Bible in one hand and a cross in the other, accompanied by an interpreter, to meet Atahualpa as he approached, the armed Spaniards being concealed by the wall of the plaza. "You must here render tribute and homage to our Emperor," exclaimed Valverde, "to our Pontiff, and to the God of the Christians"; and he held forth the Bible.

The Inca chief took the book, in curiosity perhaps, probably not understanding what was said. Opening it, he fingered the pages a moment, and then haughtily and impatiently threw the book from him. "Christians!" called out the friar—and it is recorded that it was his intention, or that he had instructions, to break the peace under any circumstances—"Christians, I call upon you to avenge this insult to the faith!"

Atahualpa, suspecting a menace, stood up in his litter and ordered his soldiers to prepare. Pizarro and his men grasped their arms and rushed forth. The trumpets sounded; the mounted Spaniards rode to the charge; the Indians, stricken with terror at the sound of the guns, retreated in panic; and the Christians, falling upon the Inca army, triumphed, massacring the Indians like sheep.

Then they raised their eyes to heaven, giving thanks for this great victory. The conquest of Peru was, by this easy victory, already theirs.

The Inca chief had been taken prisoner in the engagement. He was a man of some thirty years of age, good-looking, fierce, stoic, a good reasoner and speaker, and the Spaniards regarded him as a wise man and treated him well at first. Probably they felt his superiority over them, these rude knights of the conquest. Great chiefs came from all parts of Peru to do him homage in his captivity. Huascar, his brother, had been murdered, it is said, by Atahualpa's orders; and Pizarro was wroth at this occurrence.

The scene changes again. Fearing that, sooner or later, the white men would kill him, Atahualpa offered them a princely ransom for his release.

"What ransom can you give?" asked Pizarro, seeing thereby a means of securing untold gold. "And when and how can you deliver it?"

The imprisoned chieftain raised his arm to a white line that ran high around the wall of his chamber or cell. "I will fill this room up to that line with gold," he said—"gold as pots and vases, gold as nuggets and as dust. I will fill this room, also, twice over with silver, in addition. That shall be my ransom, and it shall be completed in two months' time."

The offer, naturally, was accepted. "Have no fear," said Pizarro. The Inca sent swift messengers to Cuzco, the capital, hundreds of miles to the south, along the rugged Cordillera, with orders that two thousand Indians should bring the golden vessels from the temples and the palaces.

One of the remarkable institutions of the Inca Empire was the system of posts, established along the famous roads. Relays of postmen or runners were kept stationed at the tambos or post-houses. When a message was despatched, the runner ran his section at full speed, shouting out the message to the next waiting postman, who immediately proceeded to cover his stage in the same way; and thus the message was conveyed with the utmost speed for hundreds of miles.

Stores of gold began to arrive—vases, jars, pots, some weighing as much as twenty-five pounds each of the precious metal. The Spaniards one day saw a remarkable spectacle upon the precipitous mountain track, on the farther side of the valley—a line of golden pots, borne on llamas, gleaming in the sun, coming to Cajamarca for the royal ransom.

The promise of the Inca was fulfilled. The ransom was made good. Did the Spaniards fulfil their part? For the answer we may point to the final scene, when Atahualpa, at first condemned by his captors—especially the priest—to be burnt to death, was strangled, after a mock trial in the plaza—infamously done to death, on what was probably a trumped-up charge of intended treachery.

The only bright spot on this foul page of Spanish history is in the circumstance that twelve of the Spaniards, among them Hernando de Soto, protested vigorously against the deed. But Pizarro and the false friar Valverde, and others, were resolved upon it, and nothing moved them.

PIZARRO, THE CONQUISTADOR.

Vol. I. To face p. 240.

Possibly Pizarro, on the day of his own assassination, nine years afterwards, recalled this hour. He was killed, whilst at dinner on Sunday, by the follower of his partner Almagro—because he did not keep his promises.

Peru has always appealed to the imagination by reason of its natural wealth, added to its mysteries and remoteness. Humboldt spoke of it as "a beggar sitting upon a heap of gold," an aphorism designed to convey the idea of undeveloped riches. There is scarcely any valuable or useful product of Nature in the mineral and vegetable world which we may not find in one or other of the wide zones of littoral, mountain and forest of this land; scarcely any potentiality of life is lacking among her people, could they but make their way to its enjoyment. Since Humboldt wrote, much has been done, it is true, but it is little more than a beginning, in some respects.

If on the coastal zone we remark great tracts of territory capable of cultivation under irrigation, so do we find the agricultural resources of the uplands still calling for development, and mineral resources still lying unworked in many districts; whilst in the great Montaña, or region to the east of the Andes, which occupies the greater part of the Republic, settlement and cultivation are in the nature only of a few scattered oases in what is a rich and fertile wilderness.

The uplands of the Andes in Peru contain some of the most thickly-populated parts of the country, notwithstanding their considerable elevation. Here we find capital cities or towns of the various Departments or States at elevation ranging from 8,000 to 13,000 feet above the sea, whilst populous mining centres, such as Cerro de Pasco and others, are at heights up to 14,000 feet.

"The people of pure Spanish blood in these upland communities are few, relatively, for in the course of time they have become so intermingled with the original inhabitants that they now form the real Mestizos, or people of mixed race. But they are, to all intents and purposes, as much Spanish Americans as the dwellers of the littoral provinces, their language being Spanish, and their customs principally of similar origin. They are a well-meaning class, desirous of progress and betterment, but kept backward by the isolation of their position, and the poverty of the country, and low standard of living consequent thereon.

"But the main bulk of the population of these regions is formed by the original people who constituted the communities of the Inca Empire—the Quechuas and Aymaras. Whilst in general terminology these are called Indians, they must not be confounded with the savage tribes of the forest, from which they are distinct in every respect. They merge into the Cholos, with an admixture of Spaniard. They have, of course, absolutely nothing in common with the imported negroes of the coast, and are not necessarily dark-skinned—their complexion sometimes being relatively light—although they are beardless. The hair is worn in a queue. They are strong and hardy in constitution, and are much sought after as mining labourers, having a natural aptitude for this work. The mining regions, in some cases, are situated at very high elevations, from 11,000 to 17,000 feet, or more, and in the greatly rarefied air of such altitudes none but the actual sons of the soil—who have paid Nature the homage of being born there—can endure the hard physical exertion which mining demands.

"The history of these people is a chequered and terrible one. At the time of the Inca Empire they lived in a condition of happy and contented enjoyment of the fruits of their toil—a quiet, pastoral life, ruled by beneficent laws and monarchs who had their welfare at heart in a manner such as has never been carried out among the subjects or citizens of any Christian nation. They inhabited their glorious uplands, wresting from Nature, with pleasurable toil, the means of their simple existence, until—in the inexplicable plan of Nature, which ever demands strife and change—Spaniards came sailing round the world, and substituted for that peaceful regime battle and bloodshed, and long and terrible oppression. A resulting fear of the invading white man inspired the distrust which to-day is one of their dominant characteristics—Spain's legacy in the Andes. This has induced a feeling of despair, which is imprinted on their melancholy countenances, and in the passive resistance which has become their habitual attitude towards progress and the administration of the Republic. But it would not be fair to cast the onus of this distrust upon the Spaniards alone, for the Cholos have been abused and oppressed by the Peruvians of the Republic, almost up to the present day. In times of revolutionary war their goods have been commandeered, and themselves made to serve as soldiers in strife in which they had no interest, whilst in times of peace they have been considered an easy subject for spoliation by the petty authorities and the wealthier Mestizo class.

"The population of these regions in prehispanic days was very considerable. The destroying tendency of the Spanish rule is indicated by the fact that the Viceroy Toledo, in 1575, numbered eight million Indians, exclusive of the savages of the forests, whilst at the close of the Spanish regime the whole population of the country only numbered about a million and a quarter. At present it is calculated that the number of the Cholo-Indians of the Andine regions is something under two millions. None of these calculations is quite reliable, but the fact remains that the country was well-populated in pre-Colombian times, and that great destruction took place during the epoch of Pizarro and the viceroys, whilst internal feuds and the Chilean War accounted for a great many more deaths. High mortality, moreover, was brought about from misery and privation consequent upon wars. To-day the population tends slowly to increase, but infant mortality among the Cholos is very heavy, due to the wretched and insanitary condition of their life, added to the rigours of the climate on the high plateaux; which latter, however, would not be an evil were the standard of life higher.

"The poor Cholo has retained one fortunate condition from the civilization of his Inca forbears—he is an independent landholder. The small holding, or chacara, which he has wrested from Nature's chaos of rocks and ravines on the Andine slopes is his own; no one can dispossess him of it, and it affords him sufficient crop of maiz, potatoes, and, in places, alfalfa, to keep him and those dependent upon him. He is often, in addition, the owner of herds of llamas, alpacas, or sheep and goats, and from their wool he and his woman spin, and weave with their primitive looms, the 'tweeds'—for of this nature is the native cloth—and felt hat, which are his garments. These small holdings have been made in the most inaccessible places in many cases, by clearing away rocks and banking up the ground on the lower side in a similar way to that in which the andenes, or old cultivated terraces of the Inca period, were formed, and which still remain and excite the traveller's notice throughout the whole Andine region.

"Indeed, to the rough, topographical conditions and difficult environment of these small holdings is due the Cholos' undisputed possession, in the first instance, thereof. Had they existed in more favourable situations they would have been annexed long ago, first by the Spanish landholders, and then by the owners of large haciendas under the Republic, or taken by the petty authorities under one or another pretext. It is again an instance of Nature protecting her progeny against the ravages of their own kind. The laws of the Republic now forbid these small holdings to be alienated from the Cholos; a wise measure, tending to preserve this useful peasant class.

"The andenes, as the terraced fields which cover the hill-slopes of the Andine region are termed, are worthy of detailed description. They exist in almost every valley, extending upwards from the coast and the foothills to elevations of 12,000 feet, and even 16,000 feet or more, covering the slopes even in the most inaccessible situations and rigorous altitudes. From some high saddle or summit whence the surrounding horizon is visible, the observer notes a curious chequered or rippled appearance upon the flanks of the ridges, as far as the eye can reach, from the floor of the valleys up to the precipitous rock escarpments. They are the andenes; small terraces, one after the other, embanked on the lower sides with stone walls, like a series of irregular steps, where the soil has been collected and cultivated. The great number of these small holdings in every direction throughout the Peruvian Sierra has given rise to the supposition that a numerous population inhabited the Andes in prehistoric times—estimates even of ninety million inhabitants having been made. But this is fabulous, although it is evident that a numerous people must have formed and cultivated these remarkable terraces, of whom the present population are only a residue.

"Adjacent to these valleys, especially in certain districts, as upon the Upper Marañon,[36] are groups of extensive ruins of habitations, as well as of burying-places, known as huacas—often containing mummies—and of castles and fortresses. These latter often command the heads of valleys and defiles, and they go to show that the former inhabitants must have dwelt as separate groups or communities under the leadership of some chief—probably in pre-Inca times. These andenes, as the Spaniards termed the terraces when they conquered Peru, may have given rise, it has been surmised, to the name of the Andes; but this probably is not correct, the real derivation undoubtedly coming from the name of the Antis—a tribe which inhabited the snow-covered Cordillera region, which was termed by the Incas Ant-isuyu. This name, in Quechua, signifies 'copper-bearing,' and copper was extensively used by the Incas.

"The Cholo, then, provides for his wants, and he is quite independent—when allowed to be so—of the governing race. He asks nothing from civilization, and indeed this has, so far, brought him mainly two things—the superstitious part of the Roman Catholic religion, and alcohol! The one has partly improved his mind—the other tends to ruin his body.

"At Fair times, and on the numerous Church feast-days, the Cholos and their women flock into the towns to buy, sell, drink and indulge in religious exercises. With their bright-hued blankets and ponchos—generally made by themselves—they lend colour and interest to the scene. And the priests—ha! the priests!—this is the time of their harvest, and the Cholos are the inexhaustible supply whence they draw fees, tithes and offerings. For the Cholo nature has been most susceptible to the rites and representations with which Roman Catholicism is interpreted among them. They all bear Spanish names—Christian and surname—and each has his patron saint: and they must be considered a civilized race.

"As stated, these people are the descendants of the Incas, or rather of the Quechuas and Aymaras, who formed the population of the Inca Empire, for of the Inca line there are no descendants whatever left. The Incas were a royal line, and whilst their members were more or less numerous, owing to the polygamy customary to them, the irregular descendants were not recognized as legitimate Incas, the real line of succession having been preserved by the progeny of the marriage of the reigning Inca with his own sister. The illegitimate offspring naturally intermarried with the common people, and were merged into these again. Elsewhere some particulars of the past history and conditions of the Incas, and the population under their rule, have been described, as also their structures—temples, palaces and habitations—the ruins of which are encountered to-day along these vast uplands, where the Cholo feeds his flock, and lives his remote and melancholy existence. In marked contrast are some of these beautiful ruins to the wretched habitations of the present occupiers of the land.

"The Cholo-Indians of the uplands are, then, miners, shepherds and agriculturists. In tending their flocks, and in the breeding and domestication of the llama, they are remarkably expert, and their patience and endurance arouse the interest of the traveller who sojourns among them. They have many good qualities, which have been unable yet to expand. The true policy of the administrations which govern them must be towards bettering them and causing them to multiply, for, apart from motives of humanity, they are one of the country's most valuable human assets. If they fail, and become exterminated, a large part of the uplands and higher valleys of the Andes would become an uninhabited desert, for it is doubtful if any other race could ever occupy their place, or perform manual labour at the great elevations which form their habitat.

"Let us now glance at the conditions of life in some of the principal towns of this region of the Sierra. As is but natural, the farther these communities are removed from the coast, the more primitive does their mode of life become. When the only means of communication with the outside world are by difficult and sometimes dangerous mule-roads, journeys are undertaken but rarely, and new influences, objects and appliances are not easily forthcoming. Yet in some cases demand is met by supply, and in spite of the difficulty of conveyance of heavy goods; pianos, billiard-tables and such things are constantly met with in the houses and restaurants of the large towns in the inter-Andine region. But books, pictures and other essentials of refined life are scarce.

"What is the aspect of these towns? Imagine yourself astride your mule upon the summit of the range which bounds one of these Andine valleys. You have toiled on all day, saddle-galled and weary, and you gladly direct your gaze to where the town lies spread below—a bird's-eye view. The streets run at right angles, with a central plaza containing the cathedral or church, and official buildings; the hotel—if there be one at this particular place—and various shops and houses. The cultivated plain surrounds it—the 'flat place' which Nature has provided, and which, together with the river which intersects it, is the reason of man's habitation there at all. For it is early impressed upon the traveller in the Andes that 'flat places' are a prime requisite for humanity's existence. You begin the descent, having seen that the crupper of your mule is in place, in order that you may not journey upon the animal's neck; whilst your arriero tightens the pack-mule's girths. Small chacaras, or holdings, with little tumble-down stone huts, grass-roofed, straggle up the hillside, and bare-legged, unwashed children rush out among your animal's legs—the progeny of unkempt Cholo peasant women, at work within upon the preparation of some primitive meal. The little holdings are surrounded by rude stone walls, or hedges of prickly-pear, or maguey (agave). Still you descend. The huts give place to adobe houses, with whitewashed walls and red-tiled or grass-thatched roofs; the straggling trail forms itself more into the semblance of a street; your beast's hoofs rattle over the cobble pavement; some few inhabitants stand at their doors to stare and remark at the advent of a stranger; and in a moment you have entered the plaza.

IN THE PERUVIAN ANDES.

Vol. I. To face p. 250.

"The condition of the plaza, in Spanish American cities, is an index of the prosperity and enterprise of the particular community. In the more wealthy and advanced towns it is well paved, and planted with shrubs and flowers, and a band, during several evenings of the week, discourses music therein, to the delight of the populace. Here pretty girls and amorous youths promenade—the only means of exercise the former are permitted, and the only general meeting-ground of the two sexes. In the interior towns of Peru the plaza is often grass-grown and unpaved. It seems to reflect the poverty of its inhabitants, and to impress upon the foreigner that the country is but slowly recovering from the misfortunes of its troubled history. The traveller, accustomed to the movement and modernness of the cities of other lands, will observe the triste aspect of the place with dismay, and wish he might turn his horse's head again without delay towards the coast and civilization. But the more leisurely observer will not fail to find much that is interesting even here. The buildings are quaint; the air of mediaeval times which shrouds the grass-grown plaza and the half-ruined church, together with the strange garb of the Indians who slink through the streets, and the struggling evidences of modern civilization—in shop sign or municipal notice—are almost pathetic. Whatever it is, it is peaceful; the climate is bracing, the cost of living—to foreign eyes—nil; and do not the surrounding hills and valleys contain unknown possibilities of mineral and industrial wealth?

"The society of these places consists of the official element—the prefect and other functionaries, and few professional men; the few storekeepers, and the chief landowners of the neighbourhood. There is but little social life—an occasional baile, a few political meetings, and the Sunday morning Mass. At the latter, the young men of the place foregather at the church door, what time the devout señoritas come forth, and pass review of soft faces and flashing eyes, beneath shady mantillas. There is probably a club with billiard-tables, brought with difficulty over mountain roads, as before mentioned, and newspapers of somewhat remote date. But the chief centres for gossip-mongers are the stores, and shops where copitas of brandy and native spirits are sold.

"The great merry-making period of the year is that of the three days' carnival celebration. During this time business is entirely suspended, and the whole population—whether in Lima and other coast cities, the towns of the Andes, or the remote hamlets of the plateaux—give themselves over to frenzied play. This consists principally in bombarding each other from the balconies of the houses with globos, or india-rubber bladders full of water; squirts, scents, powder and other matters. It is impossible to pass along the streets during these three days' riotous play without being soaked or covered with flour or powder from above, and the only method is either to enter into the sport, or else lie low at home until it is over. The usual reserve between the sexes is much broken down at this time, and the warm-blooded Peruvian girl enters with much zest into the temporary licence of Carnival.

"The houses of the upland towns are generally built of adobe or tapiales—that is, of bricks or concrete made of wet earth, sun-dried and whitened—the roofs being covered with red pantiles, or thatched with grass. Through the wide entrance door access is gained to the patio, or interior paved yard, after the usual Spanish American style, upon which the various rooms look and open. The windows upon the street are all securely barred with iron rejas, or grilles, and the whole aspect is quaint and mediaeval, though the arrangement lacks in comfort from the foreigner's point of view; whilst the interior ménage is naturally of a nature more primitive than that of communities in European towns. But in general, the peoples of these regions dwell in sufficiency, and that acute poverty, as among the lower strata of foreign cities, does not exist in Peru.

"The ultimate and irrevocable line of caste distinction in these places is that between the coat and the poncho. From the prefect and the lawyer and the doctor, down to the shop assistant, the dress is the coat of the ordinary European form. Be there but the smallest recognized strain of European blood in the individual, it will be sheltered by the coat, but below this all is ignorance and the poncho. This useful but uncivilized garment consists of a species of blanket with an opening in the centre by which it is slipped over the head. We must, however, temper this 'clothes—philosophy' by remarking that the poncho is used even by caballeros on certain occasions, especially on horseback, when, in the form of a thin white material, it wards off the sun's rays and protects the horseman from dust, whilst as a thick woollen garment it shields him from the bitter blasts and keen air of the mountain uplands. The ponchos woven of vicuña wool by the Cholos are of the most exquisite texture, and practically, waterproof. But the ordinary blanket poncho is the poor Indian's greatest possession. It shelters him by day from the sun or rain, and at night it forms his bed.

"The advent of a foreigner in these more remote places is a matter of interest to the inhabitants, and—especially if he be a person bent upon some scientific or exploratory work—he is well and hospitably received, and all facilities afforded to him. Keen interest is taken in anything pertaining to the outside world, for these people, cut off as they are by natural barriers from its happenings, are far from being apathetic, or indifferent of events. Indeed it is this eager interest and avidity for knowledge of the modern world which most greatly touches the sympathy of the traveller, and which is the element which must redeem the people of these remote places from stagnation and decadence.

"Peruvian hospitality is proverbial, and nowhere is it stronger than among the peoples of the upper class in the Sierra. The traveller soon becomes the centre of a group who press their not unwelcome attentions upon him; and they provide the best their houses afford for his refreshment and entertainment, as a rule accepting nothing in payment. This pleasing quality, in addition to being born of their native kindness, is motived partly from the desire to be considered civilized, and this is not without a note of pathos. The traveller, moreover, will not fail to recollect that he has sojourned in other—business—communities, whose higher civilization certainly does not necessarily include hospitality. These Sierra people of Peru, whilst they possess pleasing traits of the above nature, have also others less happy. They, as a class, are sometimes unscrupulous in their business dealings, and agreements are not always to be relied upon—a defect of the Spanish American generally, which at times overshadows his better qualities."[37]

We have already remarked on the mineral resources of the Andine region of Peru. It may be that, in the future, attention will be more widely directed thereto, and travellers with technical knowledge of mining are increasingly making their way here, and some notes on this score are of interest. Little, however, seems possible in this field without the use of foreign capital.

In a land so famous for its gold as was that of Old Peru, it is remarkable that so little gold is produced at the present time—an insignificant annual amount of little over £100,000. Yet there are many gold-bearing deposits scattered over the vast upland region, from auriferous quartz-seams: to vast gravel deposits. There do not appear to be any huge ore-bodies of the nature of South Africa, with low-grade but abundant material. The seams, however, in many cases offer "payable propositions." There are rock ledges of great length and depth, capable of being worked economically by adits rather than shafts, and sometimes with water-power available and with "cheap mining labour" (that attractive item of the company-promoter's prospectus) at hand, with immediate areas of fertile land for the needful foodstuffs. A difficult feature sometimes is the matter of transport, for, from the coast, the Cordillera must be surmounted.

The enormous gold-bearing alluvial deposits are generally situated on the most westerly side or summits of the Cordillera, and in the Montaña, and are difficult of access at present in the absence of railways. Various enterprises have been set on foot to win the gold from these in recent years—whether by the method of dredging, whether after the Californian "hydraulic" system—but it is doubtful if they have proved a success, from a variety of causes. There, however, is the gold, awaiting recovery.

The reputation for fabulous wealth of silver in the Peruvian mountains has passed into a proverb. Great wealth has been recovered, and the ores are often extremely rich. Myriads of old workings exist, which were abandoned because the more primitive appliances of a past age did not permit the drainage of the mines, which became filled with water; but they are capable of being pumped out. Romantic tales are told of the enrichment of miners who persevered in their labours in some lonely mine and won great fortune. In the many examinations I made here of gold and silver mines in Peru there were found conditions that should well repay modern mining enterprise. There is, of course, a good deal of work being carried on.

The great wealth of copper, lead, zinc, quicksilver, iron and coal also present their attractions, and there are rarer metals whose use commerce urgently requires. But foreign capital does not flow very freely to Peru, and Peruvian capital does not seem to have the organizing faculty to develop the mineral wealth of the country for itself. The mining laws of Peru offer considerable privileges to the foreigner, whom the Government is ever desirous of encouraging.

The Indian, the native miner, has his own methods of winning the gold from the rocks and gravels, or the gold-bearing streams of the Montaña, or the auriferous earths of the high pampas. In the streams he selects a suitable spot and paves it with large stones. Then, when the floods pass over the prepared surface of rude "riffles," the gold carried down by the waters from the auriferous rocks lodges in the interstices, and, removing the stones, he recovers the precious nuggets and dust. Or, by laborious panning in a batea, or wooden bowl, hollowed out of a block of wood, he washes the gravel from the rich banks of sediment, and the gold lies at the bottom. In the case of the gold-bearing ores, he digs shallow pits in the surface of the ledge, where Nature, under the oxidation of the pyrites, has transformed the gold into a form recoverable by the simple method of amalgamation with quicksilver, after crushing the friable quartz under a primitive rocking-stone.

Indeed, in many places, it would seem that Nature has placed the gold here in a form such that recovery will remunerate the natural son of the soil, when a more greedy and better-equipped "company" would be unable to pay its way. The stores of gold possessed by the Incas of Peru were won by such primitive methods; large bodies of Indians being employed upon the work, and evidences of their operations remain to the present time.

The ancient folk of the Andes had as their greatest food products maiz, millet and potatoes, together with the numerous tropical fruits of the lowlands. They gave Europe the potato—surely no inconsiderable gift—having developed it in Ecuador, Peru and Chile, from the wild, bitter variety; and Europe gave them wheat and other cereals, and, of course, the domestic animals—ox, cow, sheep, horse and pig.

The llama was their only beast of burden here—this curious, hoofed, ruminating quadruped of the camel tribe, with its long neck and timid face. In our journeys along these bleak uplands we shall meet large droves of the llamas, bearing loads of merchandise, in weight up to a hundred pounds. These animals are sagacious in their way, and if overloaded refuse to move. Their services, their wool, their flesh, are all extremely valuable adjuncts of Indian life. The creature costs little or nothing to keep: it requires no shelter, and it feeds itself as it goes along, at a rate of about four miles an hour. The llama indeed was—and is—an outstanding figure in the native economics of the Peruvian and Bolivian Andes. Its cousin the alpaca is also to be seen in large bands.

Up to the limit of the temperate zone in the Peruvian Andes, about 11,500 feet, we shall remark some of the familiar flora of England, such as ferns, nettles, buttercups, violets and stitchwort, together with wild geraniums and pelargoniums. Apples, pears, cherries and strawberries also grow, under desultory cultivation. Trees are scant in the almost treeless Andes, and we find little beyond the groves of stunted quinua and other native shrubs, which, however, are valuable for fuel. The ichu grass—stipa Incana—which also serves for "thatching" the Indian huts, is the predominant herbage.

As we ascend, the vegetation becomes even more humble. At 13,500 feet the potato will not grow; the hardy barley will not yield. Only a few thorny shrubs and some curious cacti are to be seen. Higher still we reach the limit of the perpetual snow, where little but the lichens and a few cryptogams appear, except a few cold-resisting flowers having medicinal properties. Above, all is bare, the inorganic world asserts its kingdom—except for the condor of the Andes circling around the summit of some ice-covered volcano.

Here in these high, inclement uplands, I have pitched my tent, and my Indians are now preparing a meal around the camp-fire, made of the dry grass or some scanty leña or firewood, or possibly we may have come across a "colony" of the curious yareta, a huge mushroom-like woody growth, perhaps three feet in diameter, full of resin, which burns fiercely: a product only of the Peruvian and Bolivian heights. Failing these matters, the fire must be of dry llama dung, or taquia, a useful fuel in the Andes, from which even the ores of silver, in places, are smelted.

PERU: LLAMAS AND ALPACAS.

PERU: NATIVE BLANKET WEAVER IN THE ANDES.

Vol. I. To face p. 260.

Here on the roof of the world we mark the rays of the setting sun tinting a rosy red the eternal pinnacles of the Andes, and the last glow gone, we must seek the tent and draw the ponchos about us; the Indians throwing themselves upon the ground outside. Simple and faithful souls are these children of the uplands, full of gratitude to the patron who treats them fairly; resourceful and industrious. And the Ingles, of course, treat them well and justly. Is not an Englishman's word his bond? Further, are not his pockets invariably lined with silver! Months have I spent in these wilds, without any other companions than the Quechua Indians and the Cholos, our only language Spanish and what smattering of Quechua it was possible for me to acquire.

Or perhaps I have formed camp in some abandoned Inca ruins, and the evening meal has been cooked in the ruined stone fireplace of folk departed these many centuries: my seat a cube of stone neatly fashioned—one of those which strew the ground around—by some ancient mason. There one may ponder upon the strange folk, who built massive temples and megalithic walls—in a region where there is no timber and where corn does not grow. Why did these folk establish themselves in these high places? Are there any other mountains in the world where Nature brought forth a dominating culture so near the clouds as that whose progenitors went forth, as we are told, from the mysterious island of Titicaca?

Or again, night has overtaken us on the edge of the Montaña, and, below, we overlook the tree-filled valleys, part of the forest which stretches unbroken for thousands of miles across the Amazon plains of Brazil. The valley may be filled with mist, and the effect is remarkable, as a weird transformation scene. The sun sets; it still tinges the western sky with its beauteous and indescribable tints. The palest saffron fades into the pearly-green of the zenith, and the last, orange rays, calm and cold, flash faintly and expiringly upwards. In the deep cañons the fleecy masses of pearly vapour slowly pour—"slow, lingering up the hills like living things." So soft and pure are they that they might be the couch spread for some invisible god-traveller! No eye but mine beholds them. The Indians are busy at the camp-fire. Then the mist masses arise as if to engulf the lonely headland on which we stand, like awful billows. But the light fades, except that of a single jewelled planet, which gleams softly and protectingly down from its gathering height.

The Indians sustain themselves at times on their journeys by chewing the leaves of the coca shrub, which are a valued possession among them. This shrub, peculiar to Peru and Bolivia—although it has now been transplanted to Ceylon—is that which gives us the cocaine of the pharmacopœia. For the invaluable quinine, we may also be grateful to Peru and to the memory of that viceroy's lady, the Countess of Chinchon, who, sick of a fever—it was tercianas or tertial malaria—was cured by an Indian woman with doses of the steeped bark of the quinine shrub, which bears her name to this day.

The most ancient and remarkable town of the Cordillera is Cuzco, the one-time Inca capital. It lies in a valley, overlooked by lofty mountains; and on its northern side stands the famous fortress of Sacsaihuaman, the cyclopean fortress of the early Peruvians—the Incas and their predecessors. Here we may stand upon the great walls of what is one of the most remarkable of prehistoric structures, forming terraces along the hillside of great stone blocks, built in the form of revetments and salients, some of the stones being nearly twenty feet high.

Many of the walls of the Cuzco streets still retain their Inca stone construction, a monument to the clever masonry of these people, which has excited the interest and admiration of many archæologists and travellers. Here was the Temple of the Sun, and indeed part of its beautifully moulded walls still remains.

The town is the centre of one of the most popular districts of Peru, labouring Indians mainly; and it has a number of interesting Spanish colonial buildings, with some textile and other industries. We may reach Cuzco now by rail from Arequipa and the coast at Mollendo. Not far away are others of the remarkable remains of early Peruvian civilization, including the Inca "astronomical observatory" of Intihuatana, where the priests determine the solstices by means of the shadow cast by a stone column, a portion of which still exists. Also Ollanta.

Cuzco witnessed the final overthrow of the Incas after the scene at Cajamarca, and many excesses were committed here by the Spaniards, in their purpose of stamping out the early Peruvian civilization—a sad and pathetic page of history indeed.

If on these high and often dreary uplands it was destined that the power of the Inca Empire should pass away in so melancholy a fashion, it would seem that fate had here a similar end for the empire of its conquerors in store. For are not the fateful names of Junin and Ayacucho stamped upon the face of this Cordillera region? Here the Royalists of Spain made their last stand.

We cannot enter upon the details of Spain's downfall. From its history stand out the famous names of San Martin, with his march across the Andes from Argentine into Chile; Bolivar, and his equally or more renowned march across the Northern Andes; Cochrane, the English admiral, and his operations on the coast; Sucre, La Serna, and others. At the Battle of Junin the Royalist leader of the Spanish forces was defeated. Cuzco, the last stronghold of Spain in South America, fell. Then came the historic Battle of Ayacucho. The patriots—Peruvians, Chileans and some Argentines—numbered some six thousand; the Royalists nine thousand. The Royalists were utterly routed, fifteen hundred were slain: the viceroy, his generals, officers and army were captured. It was hailed as a providential victory for freedom; a new life after three hundred years of Spanish domination, and the colours of Iberia flew no more upon the Cordillera.

THE RUINED INCA FORTRESS OF OLLANTAYTAMBO, PERU.

Vol. I. To face p. 264.

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[CHAPTER VIII]