We found the old Jesuit church the most interesting of all the sights that the city afforded. It had once been superbly adorned and embellished with elaborate gilded carvings and magnificent altars. The last earthquake had overturned and destroyed three of the altars, but the four remaining are well worth a visit, and there are many beautiful paintings still on the walls. The west front of the church is a marvellous example of stone-cutting and like the towers of the Jesuit church in Potosí shows what excellent manual training the Jesuits taught their followers. Their expulsion from South America was one of the most serious in the long list of mistakes that Spain made in the government of her American colonies.
The atmosphere of the Franciscan monastery took one back to the middle ages. Everything was scrupulously clean and in good order. In the sacristy we found a beautiful Madonna by some artist of the sixteenth century. The monks treasure it highly and with good reason for the face is as beautiful as any I have ever seen. A pleasant-faced, communicative monk, who seemed glad enough to be permitted to break through the monotony of his quiet life in the cloisters, took us to his favorite spot in the gardens where, under the grapevines, a rude seat had been made from a great millstone that dated back to Spanish days. From here he led us to different trees in the orchard and begged us to sample the pears, peaches, and plums that it was his delight to cultivate. We were permitted also to visit the library and found it well stocked with rare and beautifully printed old books. Naturally most of them were devoted to theology and religious philosophy, but there was one section into which old-fashioned works on natural history had crept, including a fine set of Buffon. On the door of the library was posted a notice telling the monks that on Mondays and Thursdays they could consult books on piety; Tuesdays and Fridays, works on theology; Wednesdays and Saturdays, other classes of religious books, etc., etc. We looked in vain for any day on which it was permitted to use the books on natural history. Much has been written of the degenerate conditions prevailing in the South American religious houses. The Franciscan monasteries we visited here and in Santiago, where an electric dynamo runs a modern printing press for the dissemination of religious information, cannot be included in that category.
As we wandered about Arequipa enjoying the picturesque Indian shops and the bright colors of the native costumes, the Indians themselves were courteous and polite and gave little evidence of any justification for their reputation for turbulence.
The only evidence which we witnessed of any eagerness to join an uprising was on the arrival of Dr. Durand, a notorious revolutionist, who had fled from the country on the failure of a revolution which he had instigated not two years ago, and was now being allowed to return, thanks to the clemency of the Government. He had taken refuge in Bolivia and in going to his home at Lima, had to pass through Arequipa. We happened to be calling on the Prefect when the chairman of the local committee of the Liberal party came to request the privilege of giving Dr. Durand a popular reception. The Prefect had evidently received orders from the Government to allow any kind of a demonstration short of rioting, and after warning the Liberal chairman that there must be no disturbance of the peace, gave him permission to carry out the plans for the reception. We were somewhat surprised at the daring, one might almost say the bravado, of the Government in extending clemency to a notorious agitator who had done his best to upset the administration by violence.
Our feelings were confirmed the next day on the arrival of the train from Puno. The exile was received by a mob of three or four thousand noisy Liberals who, inspired by the sight of their hero, went to the limit in their manifestations of joy. It goes without saying that the horses were taken from the exile’s carriage and that he was dragged through the streets in triumph by his loyal supporters. The flat roofs of the houses were crowded with interested spectators who did not care to ally themselves with the Liberal party by joining the procession in the streets. A few of the bolder Liberals, encouraged by cognac or chicha, ventured to cry “Down with the Government!” “Down with the President!” “Viva Durand!” “Long live the Liberal party!”
It may seem ungracious to criticise the policy of a country where one has received as much hospitality and kindness as I have in Peru. At the same time I cannot help expressing the conviction that if Peru wishes to give the world evidence that she belongs to the same category of nations as does Mexico, for instance, where capitalists may safely invest and develop the resources of the country; if she seriously proposes to do away with revolutions and make them matters of ancient history rather than of present politics, she cannot afford to allow the instigators of revolutions to enjoy public triumphs such as are usually accorded to the true heroes of a nation.
There is too much of a tendency among South Americans to regard revolutions as a popular game. One of the rules is that after the conflict is over, your enemies must be treated with all the honors of war, and that it will not do to be too severe on the conquered revolutionist for fear that he may take revenge on you when the next revolution succeeds. If these politico-military agitators were put to death after being convicted of treason by a properly constituted tribunal, Peru would enjoy an era of peace and prosperity such as she scarcely dreams of at present—and the Peruvians are good dreamers. But just as long as she enthusiastically welcomes home, after a brief exile, men like Dr. Durand, she offers an extra inducement to any hot-headed young firebrand to start another revolution. If he succeeds, all honor and glory will be his, besides the emoluments of office and the satisfaction of enjoying political power. If he fails and makes good his exit from the country, it can mean at the worst but a brief exile and then a triumphal return, crowned by an ovation. In either case, unless he is so extremely unlucky as to get shot in the scrimmage, he is sure of plenty of honor and glory and those plaudits so dear to the Latin heart. Such a state of affairs insures more revolutions.
In talking the matter over among ourselves the evening after we had witnessed this extraordinary reception to a man whom we could not help regarding as an enemy of his country, we ventured to predict that before the end of the year Peru would see another revolution. It was an easy prophecy and we were not surprised at its speedy fulfillment. In fact, in less than six months a revolution broke out in Lima that for a time seemed as though it would succeed in overthrowing the Government whose mistaken clemency we had witnessed. The President and the Minister of Foreign Affairs were captured and dragged through the streets, and narrowly escaped death in the resulting collision between the revolutionists and the government troops. Fortunately, like so many of its predecessors, the revolution was a failure. But coming as it did just at a time when the city of Lima was endeavoring to sell its bonds on the New York market, it acted as a very effective warning to capitalists who were attracted by an eight per cent municipal bond.
CHAPTER XVII
LA PAZ, THE DE FACTO CAPITAL OF BOLIVIA
It is a twelve hours’ run from Arequipa to the wharf at Puno where one takes the steamer across Lake Titicaca. The distance is only two hundred and eighteen miles, but there are fifteen or twenty stops, and there is no hurry.