There are many commercial firms of considerable standing, the principal being three German houses, who make very large importations of European manufactures. All these goods have to be brought on mules’ backs from the ports of the Pacific coast over the Andes, and are therefore greatly enhanced in value by the time they get to be exposed for sale in the merchant’s store, the freight from the port of Arica to the interior of the republic varying from £40 to £80 per ton of twenty quintals of 100 Spanish pounds each, according to the season or the class of goods. A ton would be about eight mule-loads, and taking beer or wine as an example, we find that the cost of the freight of a case of any liquor from the Pacific coast would be £1 5s., and at times £2 10s., while the first cost at home of a case of beer would not perhaps be more than 10s. or 12s.
In consequence of this excessively high cost of freighting, the exports of Bolivia are limited almost entirely to the richest portions of the minerals with which the interior of the country abounds, and to “cascarilla,” or the bark of the cinchona tree. Bolivia enjoys an almost total monopoly of this latter valuable product, which received the name of Peruvian bark, because Bolivia itself was called Alto Peru before the War of Independence; but, at the present time, I think it may safely be asserted that all the Peruvian bark that is exported from Peru is collected in the forests of the province of Caupolican in Bolivia.[3] Indeed, so localized is the cinchona tree, being only found over, comparatively speaking, a small tract of country, that it may be feared that in a few years it will become almost extinct, as the tree dies after the bark has been stripped from it. The government of Bolivia—that is to say, whenever there is any central power worth calling a government—is always satisfied with collecting the export duties on the “cascarilla,” and takes no steps whatever to ensure the replanting of the forests, but seems to be satisfied with prohibiting the export of plants or seeds, and thinks thus to keep the valuable trade to the country, ignoring totally the fact that the day is fast approaching when all the cinchona trees will have been killed, and a trade that might, with very little care, have been a continuous source of revenue, will be entirely lost. But this short-sighted policy is pursued in Bolivia in every branch of revenue. Even the sums received from farming the tolls on the roads, such as they are, have to be sent to the provincial or central treasuries, and not a cent is spent in repairs until the road gets into a totally impassable condition, when a few spasmodic efforts are made, and the smallest amount possible is laid out, in order that the cash shall only be diverted from the public treasury for as short a time as may be.
Notwithstanding the difficulties under which trade is carried on in Bolivia, the merchants appear to do a flourishing business, and some of the best firms keep up princely establishments, and generally have branches in all the chief towns of the republic. The foreigners resident in Bolivia are somewhat exclusive in their social life, and although on friendly terms with the townspeople, it is only on certain occasions that one sees a mixed company of Bolivians and Europeans. But I noticed that this exclusiveness only referred to dinner-parties—a class of entertainment for which the European residents evidently do not think the Bolivians sufficiently well educated. There is, it must be allowed, good reason for thinking so, as the manners and customs of a Bolivian dinner-table differ in many essential points from a European one. For instance, salt-cellars are not often provided with salt-spoons; one’s own knife being thought to be all that is wanted for carving the joint, serving vegetables, and helping one’s self to salt, pepper, or mustard. Similarly, table or gravy spoons are almost unknown, as every one helps himself to soup or gravy with his own spoon. These little peculiarities, doubtless, account for the almost general absence of European guests at Bolivian tables, and vice versâ. At balls or soirées it is, of course, absolutely necessary that ladies should be, if not in a majority, at least well represented; and as there are not sufficient European ladies in any town even for a quadrille, it is upon these occasions that one gets a chance of seeing the ladies of the country to the greatest advantage. The German merchants do not seem to admire the “bello sexo” of Bolivia sufficiently to be often caught in the matrimonial net, and any bold adventurer who falls captive to the charms of a fair Boliviana, and accepts her for better or worse, is by his fellow-countrymen rather thought to have made a mistake. Frequently the balls and parties are got up in an impromptu manner, and then they are really delightful. I remember one of these, at which, after dancing till nearly midnight, a moonlight ride was proposed, and immediately put into execution. There was no lack of horses, and, through the kindness of one of my German friends, I was excellently well mounted; and away we started, about half a dozen ladies and a dozen cavaliers. Through the quiet town we rode at a good pace, and out across the plain to a lagoon, then entirely dry, where we ran races by the bright moonlight, and let off some rockets and crackers that one of the Germans had brought with him. We passed our pocket-flasks round, the ladies also not disdaining a small nip to keep them from catching cold with the night air, and then back to town, having thoroughly enjoyed the ride.
The foreign residents in Cochabamba always receive travellers with the greatest kindness and hospitality, and for my part I shall always retain the liveliest memories of the good time I spent with them. By one of the principal German firms I was received quite as a friend, although I was not provided with letters of introduction to the house. The establishment I refer to was throughout kept up on a most magnificent scale, and the arrangements of the various rooms, such as dining, billiard, and smoking and reading rooms, were as complete and as well ordered as many a club at home. An American firm of contractors for public works, and owners of the coaches that run from Cochabamba to Arani through the valley of Cliza, have a fine house and workshops just on the outskirts of the city, and are, far and away, the most hospitable men it has ever been my lot to meet with; indeed, I do not call to mind ever having seen such an open house kept up anywhere else. So truly hospitable are these worthy Americans, that they expect every English-speaking traveller who passes through Cochabamba to go direct to their house, and just take up his quarters there, as though he were an old friend of years’ standing. I was an entire stranger to them, and did not know of this excellent custom of theirs, and so I fear that I involuntarily offended them by going to the tambo instead of to their establishment; however, I did my best afterwards to make up for lost time, by eating as many breakfasts and dinners with them as possible, for they certainly kept the best cook in Cochabamba. Every day these good fellows have meals prepared for at least half a dozen more people than they have staying with them at the moment, so that they are always prepared to receive casual droppers-in, and on Sundays I have seen a score or so of self-invited guests sit down to a first-rate breakfast, excellent in character and quality, both in eatables and drinkables, and the meal has gone on just as though it had been specially prepared for the occasion. Long life to these hospitable Yankees, say I, and may their shadow never be less! and I am sure that every one who knows them personally will echo my wish for their prosperity and success.
While praising the hospitality of the foreigners resident in Cochabamba, I must not forget that shown me by many of the native families of the town, lest it should be thought that the Bolivians are behind their European friends in this respect. By all the Bolivians with whom I came in contact, I was received with the greatest cordiality, and by one family, to the head of which I had been specially recommended by Don Ignacio Bello of Trinidad, I was received quite as one of the family circle, which I take to be about the greatest compliment that can be paid to a stranger. My host, in this case, was a travelled and highly educated man, while his charming señora was of one of the best families of La Paz, and they had evidently improved greatly upon the general manners and customs of the country, for their table was always well appointed, and bountifully supplied with good things.
Cochabamba has a small theatre, but there is no regular company, and travelling ones seldom visit the town, as it is out of the principal routes of travel. During my stay, there was an amateur performance by young men, who took both male and female parts; but their acting was childish and nonsensical in the extreme, and the townsfolk seemed to be of the same opinion, for the amateurs played to empty benches.
The climate of Cochabamba may, in my opinion, be classed amongst the finest of the world, as it enjoys an almost perpetual summer, whilst the nights are pleasantly cool, and therefore invigorating to constitutions depressed by the humid heat of the Madeira and Amazon valleys. There seems to be but little difference all the year round. Certain months have more rain than others, the wettest months being November to January, but even then the rain only falls in the shape of good heavy showers, lasting, perhaps, an hour or so, when the sun breaks out again. A thoroughly wet day, with rain falling from morn till night, is a great rarity in Cochabamba, although at higher and lower altitudes, in the same parallel of latitude, such days are of frequent occurrence, while the central plains of Bolivia seem to have just a desirable amount of rainfall and no more.
Few towns could be mentioned that are more advantageously situated, from a hygienic point of view; indeed, I should say that a “City of Health” might be established at Cochabamba with very good results. Fever and ague are quite unknown, and if sanitary matters were attended to, it might soon be said that the place was quite free from diseases of any kind; but unfortunately, at present, such sicknesses as small-pox and scarlet fever are got rid of with difficulty, owing to the filthy habits of at least four-fifths of the natives of the place, who seem to be quite without any notions of public cleanliness. There are no sewers or drains of any kind whatever, and consequently the state of the whole city, with the exception of a few of the principal squares and main thoroughfares, which are swept every day by a gang of prisoners from the town jail, can be easier imagined than described. Vaccination also is much neglected, and consequently, when an outbreak of this dreadful scourge occurs, it rapidly takes vast dimensions, and great numbers suffer and die, for the Indian blood seems to cause the disease to take its most virulent form.
A town like this offers a most favourable opportunity for showing clearly the advantages afforded by a dry earth system of sewage to cities destitute of a plentiful supply of water. A president who would introduce this beneficent system into Bolivia would, in my opinion, confer a far greater favour on his country than any of its rulers have hitherto succeeded in doing. It will, perhaps, scarcely be credited, that even in the best establishments there are no closets or other receptacles for house refuse; indeed, in my experience throughout the country, such a convenience never came to my notice, excepting in the houses of the foreign residents. There is a back yard to most houses, which I can only describe as a dreadful cloaca maxima, and this horrid place is frequented by all the members of the family, without distinction of age or sex. The house refuse is thrown in this yard, and although pigs, dogs, mules, and any other animals that may be on the establishment are turned loose therein, the hot sun seems left to do the work of a disinfectant, except that an occasional sweeping takes place, when the rubbish that remains is set fire to, and burned to ashes.
When one sees such a dreadful want of the commonest knowledge of sanitary matters amongst a society otherwise sufficiently cultivated, one is almost tempted to think that there must be something fundamentally wrong in the educational system of the country; and certainly it must be set down as a great blot upon the teachings of the Roman Catholic clergy of South America, that they have not taught their flocks the elementary principle that “cleanliness is next to godliness.” The people are, however, so apathetic, and so thoroughly wedded to their customs, that probably a revolution might be threatened to any president who should endeavour to make a law of common decency obligatory in the republic. Perhaps, however, it has been thought that sewers are beyond the financial resources of the towns; and there may be another good reason, namely, that an abundant supply of water is not to be depended upon all the year round. But dry earth is always at hand, and therefore it seems at once apparent that Moule’s system would confer great blessings upon all the communities, if it were thoroughly carried out.