CHAPTER X
POTOSÍ
We had not been in Potosí many hours before we realized that it was a most fascinating place with an atmosphere all its own. By the time we had been here a week we were ready to agree with those who call it the most interesting city in South America.
The prestige of its former wealth, the evidence on every side of former Spanish magnificence, the picturesquely clad Indians and the troops of graceful, inquisitive llamas in the streets, aroused to the utmost our curiosity and interest.
Our first duty was to call on the Prefect who had been expecting our arrival and was most kind during our entire stay. A Bolivian prefect has almost unlimited power in his department and is directly responsible to the President. His orders are carried out by the sub-prefect who is also chief of police and has a small body of soldiers under his immediate control.
We found the Government House, or Prefectura, to be a fine old building dating back to colonial days. Probably the most interesting person that has ever occupied it was General William Miller, that picturesque British veteran who fought valiantly through all the Peruvian Wars of Independence, receiving so many wounds that he was said to have been “honeycombed with bullets.” At the end of the wars he was appointed Prefect of Potosí, and it was during his incumbency that the great liberator Simon Bolivar made his visit. There is a vivid description of it in Miller’s “Memoirs.” When Bolivar arrived in sight of the far-famed mountain, the flags of Peru, Buenos Aires, Chile, and Colombia were unfurled on its summit. As he entered the town, twenty-one petards were exploded on the peak, an aërial salute “that had a very singular and imposing effect.” “Upon alighting at the Government House, under a grand triumphal arch, decorated with flags, the reception of His Excellency was according to the Hispanic-American taste. Two children, dressed as angels, were let down from the arch as he approached, and each pronounced a short oration! Upon entering the grand saloon, six handsome women, representing the fair sex of Potosí, hailed the arrival of His Excellency, crowned him with a wreath of laurel, and strewed flowers, which had been brought from a great distance for the occasion.” This was followed by seven weeks of bull-fights, grand dinners, balls, fireworks, illuminations, and other signs of public rejoicing, which would seem to have surfeited even a person so fond of pomp and adulation as the great liberator.
Opposite the Government House, on the east side of the plaza, is a curious many-arched arcade which incloses a new plaza, the work of an ambitious prefect. The tall column surmounted by a statue, that stands as the only ornament in the new plaza, once stood in the centre of the old, but was moved to its new position by the Prefect who decided that his work would be incomplete unless properly graced by a monument.
On a corner of the new plaza is Potosí’s only bookshop. Judging by the stock in trade, the principal customers are school children and lawyers. The book trade was dull when we were there, but considerable interest was shown in other departments of the store where toys and picture post cards were on sale.
Near by is the “University” where second-rate secondary instruction is given to poor little boys who sit on damp adobe seats in badly-lighted, foul-smelling rooms. It was once a convent, but the church connected with it has long since been transformed into a theatre. The only attractive thing about the “University” is the charming old convent garden where rare old flowers still try to bloom.
Opposite the “University” is the club. Here there are billiard tables (it is really remarkable how many billiard tables one finds scattered all over South America, even in the most inaccessible places) and a bar. The custom of serving a little felt mat with each drink is resorted to, and when a member chooses to stand treat, he goes about and gathers up all the mats in sight and takes them to the bar where he cashes them with his own money, or some that he has recently won. The bar was well patronized. And no one is to blame but the climate, which is the worst in South America.
Although Potosí is in the Tropics, the highest recorded temperature here in the shade on the hottest day ever known, was 59° F. The city is nearly thirteen thousand five hundred feet above the sea, almost as high as Pike’s Peak. Every afternoon cold winds sweep down through the streets striking a chill into one’s very marrow. A temperature of 22° F. is not unknown, yet none of the houses have stoves or any appliances (except soup) for warming their shivering inhabitants. As the prevailing temperature indoors is below 50° F., almost every one wears coats and hats in the house as much as outdoors, or even more so, for a brisk walk of a block or two at this altitude makes one quite warm, and in the middle of the day the sun is hot.