Up the Orinoco and down the Magdalena

by J. A. Zahm

On leaving Ciudad Bolivar we had a limited supply of ice in a small refrigerator. This was a real luxury while it lasted. At first we thought it would be difficult to become accustomed to drinking the warm water of the river—it had a temperature of 82° F.—but we soon became quite used to it, and rarely, if ever, thought of the absence of ice.

We had spent nearly two months in Venezuela and were about to enter the neighboring republic of Colombia. During that period we had visited most of the chief cities of the coast and of the interior, and had come into contact with all classes of people. We had talked with them about matters religious, educational, social, economic, political, and only rarely did they manifest any disinclination to express their honest opinions about men and things. Apart from a certain class of professional revolutionists—who have everything to gain and nothing to lose from internecine strife—we found that the great majority of the population is, in spite of what has been said to the contrary, peace-loving and thoroughly sick of the turmoil of which they have so long been the helpless victims. The better element—old Venezuelan families of Spanish descent—which should be the ruling element, but which is too often kept in the background by ambitious adventurers and unscrupulous spoilsmen, have lofty ideals for their country, and long to see it become the home of peace and industry, of progress and culture.

For few, if for any of the countries of South America, has Nature done more than for Venezuela.

She has in the first place the dominating advantage of location. She is nearer to Europe and the United States than any of the other South American republics, and should, under a strong and stable government, enjoy corresponding trade advantages. From her numerous ports on the Caribbean sea, as well as from points on the Orinoco and its affluents, freight can be transferred in a few days to our ports on the Gulf and Atlantic coast, while from La Guaira to Cadiz the distance is but little greater than it is from New York to London.

And what a great commercial future there is for this at present hapless and neglected country when it shall be blessed by wise and progressive rulers! It has soil of marvelous fertility and possesses mineral deposits of all kinds and of untold value. It has tens of thousands of square miles of the best grazing land in the world, capable of supporting millions of cattle. In the lowlands all the productions of the tropics are found and their annual yield could be enormously increased. In the plateaus of the mountain chains are produced the fruits and cereals of the temperate zone—of the best quality and in surprising abundance. Then there are the rare and beautiful woods of its interminable virgin forests; sources of wealth yet untouched and all but unknown, except to the few who have explored this land of marvelous natural resources.

Such are some of Nature’s gifts to Venezuela. But the extent of her bounty is as astonishing as its variety. How few are there who have an adequate conception of the extent of this country? It is a land that is scarcely known to the general reader except in connection with one of its periodic revolutions. And yet it has an area almost seven times as great as that of Great Britain and nearly ten times as great as that of the whole of New England. In extent of territory it equals France, Germany and Italy, Belgium and the Netherlands, Ireland and Switzerland all combined.

And yet, incredible as it may appear, its total population, including Indians—savage as well as civilized—is less than that of New York City. If the population of Venezuela were as dense as that of Belgium the country would count three hundred and fifty-eight million inhabitants.

Sparse as is the population, it is rather a matter of surprise that the number of inhabitants is so great rather than that it is so small. During a period of seventy years there have been no fewer than seventy-six revolutions. During sixty of these years the country has seen two armies almost continually in the field. The poor soldiers, mere puppets of soulless adventurers, rarely knew what they were fighting for. Against their will, they were torn from their homes and families to enable ambitious leaders to get control of the government. The death-rate has been appalling—at times greater by far than the birth-rate. Some of the revolutions, it is estimated, have caused the loss of more than a hundred thousand lives. For this reason, there has been a decrease in the population during the last fifty years instead of an increase. Indeed, it may be questioned whether there are as many inhabitants in the country to-day as there were before the war with Spain, or even at the time it was first visited by Europeans.

It would be difficult to name another country, except possibly Haiti, where, in proportion to the population, war has wrought greater ravages and counted more victims. A country that should be a land of peace and plenty has for generations been an armed camp of contending factions, in which the worst elements have come to the front and in which justice and innocence and respectability have been trampled under foot. With all this were the usual concomitants of such a condition of affairs—atrocities that the pen would fail to describe, deaths from famine and pestilence, deaths from the machete and from imprisonment in dark and foul dungeons.

Like northern Italy, after the death of Frederick II, Venezuela, in the words of Dante, has been for nearly a century