Sketches of the Manners, Customs, and History of the Indians of America.
CHAPTER VIII.
Character of the Indians.—Employed in the mines.—Story of a pickaxe.—Mr. Temple’s conduct considered.—Humanity of the Indians to him.—His reflections.—Dress of the Indian men;—of the women.
In 1825, Edmund Temple, a young Englishman, went out to Potosi as agent for a mining company formed in London. From his “Travels” I shall select such remarks and incidents as tend to illustrate the present character and condition of the native Indians. We shall then be better able to judge what they have gained by their intercourse with Europeans.
“The Peruvian Indians are a strong, healthy race, though not very tall, and generally laborious, for every kind of labor is performed by them. In Potosi, however, the miners, all Indians, have acquired a character for habits of idleness and a propensity to defraud their employers, which it must be admitted is not altogether without foundation, though I think the cause of the evils complained of may be traced to harsh treatment, or to unwarrantable exactions of some sort, aggression being as frequent on one side as delinquency on the other.
“I know from experience, that, by proper management, their faults and the disadvantages arising from them may be guarded against, and in a great degree corrected. A worm, or, if it be thought more applicable, the adder, will turn when trod upon, and will then resent the injury; so has it been with these Indians before now; but, with kind usage, fair remuneration for their services, and an impartial conduct towards them, they are perfectly tractable, and may become good, faithful, and willing servants.
“During my residence at Potosi I have had occasion to employ many Indians, as well miners as those of other trades and occupations; there is no want of hands, as it has been generally supposed, and I cannot say that I have any cause of complaint against them; they performed the work for which they were engaged to the best of their abilities, and at the completion of it I paid them their hire.
“Sunday, after the hour of early mass, is the customary time of paying the miners, and all persons employed in the ingenios; this practice I did not adhere to, having preferred settling all such matters, so far as I had control, on Saturday evening.
“At the appointed hour they assembled in the court before my office, accompanied sometimes by their wives and children, and if I happened to be engaged in any business, (despatching the couriers, for instance, when, in the absence or illness of my companions, I have been employed many hours of the day ‘writing against time’) these people would remain, without evincing the slightest impatience, and never approach to ask to be settled with till called by name as they stood upon the list of the major-domo.
“They always expressed their thanks when they received their wages, upon which subject we never had the most trifling misunderstanding, and only once upon another, namely, upon the subject of a pickaxe that had been stolen out of our ingenio. It was worth fifteen shillings at Potosi, and might have been worth five in England; but the example, not the value, determined me upon giving a color of infinite importance to the case.
“After the depredation had been made known to me, and when the workmen had assembled to receive their week’s wages, two shillings per diem each man, I called them all into my office, merely for the sake of exhibiting myself in the highest possible degree of dignity, (a clerk never looks so dignified as behind his own counter,) and whilst they stood like culprits in humility before me, with their hats off, I sat proudly elevated upon my judgment-seat, with my hat on, and in my hand a pen—a just emblem of my office, it is true, and at the same time calculated to convey terror to the mind of the thief, who knew that, if detected, I should instantly employ it in an application to the alcade for the infliction of fine and imprisonment.
“When I had fixed the attention of the party, I commenced the dread inquisition. Alas! many of their forefathers, for crimes of as little note, or even the bare suspicion of them, had been condemned by a more horrible inquisition, and before judges less disposed to render justice and mercy than their present one, although it will appear that even he was obdurately relentless. I put the question,—
“‘Who stole my pickaxe?’—Dead silence, each looked at each, and all looked at me.
“‘Who stole my pickaxe, I say?’
“‘Quien sabe?’ (who knows?) said a low voice in the crowd.
“‘Who knows?’ said I; ‘why, some of you know; and I, too, must know, before I pay you one rial of your wages.’ I then proceeded to question each individual by name.
“‘Gregorio Medrano, did you steal the pickaxe?’
“‘No, Señor.’
“‘Bernandino Marquete, did you steal the pickaxe?’
“‘No, Señor.’
“‘Casimiro Chambi, did you?’
“‘No, Señor.’
“And so on through the whole list with the same profitless result.
“The Indians, like the lower class of Irish, preserve inviolable secrecy respecting their own concerns; an informer is looked upon as a wretch unworthy to live among honest men, or if permitted to live is loathed as a demon. Assured, therefore, that I should never succeed in detecting the exact thief, although we all well knew he was one of the party present, I proceeded to judgment upon all of them.
“‘Know, then, hermanos mios, (dear brothers,) that my sentence is this; that the major-domo do now, immediately, and on the spot, put into his hat as many grains of mais as there are of you here present; that those grains shall be all white save one, which shall be black; and he who draws that black grain shall pay for a new pickaxe.’
“Here consternation became general and evident, but, from the natural darkness of the Indian complexion, it was impossible to discover the delinquent from any change produced on his countenance by the inward workings of his mind.
“‘Now, señor major-domo, shake your hat well—shake it! I say, that no suspicion of partiality may be entertained. Let each man in succession put his hand in and take one grain of mais, then withdraw it, taking care to keep his hand shut, and not to open it until ordered so to do.’
“This being done, they all stood before me with their right arms stretched out at full length, and the hand firmly closed.
“‘Now for the detection of the thief! Open! Que es eso? (what is all this?) Major-domo! what is the reason of this?’ said I, for to my astonishment every hand was empty.
“‘I really don’t know, sir; they must have drawn the grains and swallowed them, for not a single one remains in my hat!’ said the major-domo, turning his hat-mouth downwards to prove that nothing was there.
“Amazement was at its height; it was evidently a case of bruxeria, (witchcraft.) Inaquinte Sambrano observed that it was the miraculous interference of Saint Dimas,[1] to prove that there was no thief among them. But, notwithstanding my surprise and confusion, I determined that the saint should not keep my pickaxe without paying for it.
“I desired the major-domo to give me his hat; upon examining it the witchcraft was explained. In obeying my orders ‘to shake the hat well,’ every grain of maize had absconded through a rent in the crown, and the floor being covered with thick straw matting, they fell upon it unheard.
“We therefore proceeded with more caution to a second drawing, when the black bean appeared, on the show of hands, in that of Basil Calamayo, from whose wages I directed the major-domo to purchase the best pickaxe that could be had in Potosi. From that hour I never heard of any pilfering.”
I do not record this procedure of Mr. Edmund Temple as a pattern of justice. Mr. Temple, in taking the worth of the pickaxe in the manner he did, from Basil Calamayo, without doubt punished an innocent person, and excited the superstitious fears of the ignorant Indians; both, very wrong actions. Still he pities the poor natives, and when his own interest does not interfere, speaks very kindly of their character. And well he might when he had such instances as the following to record.
“When I have arrived weary and faint at a Peruvian hut, with what pure feelings of gratitude have I made my acknowledgments to the family, who, from sheer benevolence, have ceded to me the only little store they possessed. Often have I alighted from my horse at an unseasonable hour and asked for milk, offering dollars.
“The answer invariably was, ‘No hai! no hai, Señor!’ They would not take the trouble of getting it for money.
“But when I said, ‘I am very unwell, my brother; do me the favor and God will repay you,’ my feeble voice, pale cheek, and sunken eye, bearing testimony to what I said, the sire of the family, or the matron, twisting her ball of thread from the silken wool of the vicuña, would mutter something in Quichua, (the language of the country,) when instantly an earthen ware pipkin would be seized by one of the younger members, who would glide away in pursuit of the flock, and returning quite breathless from the haste he used, would present me with the milk, without a question as to the payment.
“And this is savage hospitality! could I expect more among the most polished people of the earth? Should I always have obtained as much?”
In another place Mr. Temple observes, “I felt no apprehension of losing a single article of my baggage; it had been entrusted to the Indians, and in their charge required neither guards, nor swords, nor pistols, to protect it, or to insure its safe delivery.
“On the whole, I believe I am not singular in the opinion that the worst qualities of the Peruvian Indians have been imported, and that their virtues are their own. They possess a peaceable, unoffending spirit, free from even an accusation of those great moral crimes which disgrace civilized nations.
“The dress of the men, excepting the hat, which is precisely the shape of Don Quixote’s helmet without the niche in it, reminded me of that of the peasantry of Connaught. They wear coarse brown frieze cloth breeches, with the waistband very low, and always open at the knees, the buttons being for ornament, not for use. Shirts are seldom worn; the legs are bare, with the exception of pieces of hide under the soles of the feet, tied sandal-fashion round the instep and toes.
“The dress of the female Indians consists of a petticoat, worn much shorter by the unmarried than by those that are married, and a scarf of sundry colors round the shoulders, which is pinned on one side of the chest with a topa, a large silver pin; but sometimes they use a spoon, the handle of which being pointed serves as a pin.
“Cholas, those descended from Spanish and Indian parents, are very fond of dress. I have seen them with topas of gold, set with pearls and precious stones of considerable value.”
[1] The patron saint of robbers.