The history of these Peruvian Indians has been a very melancholy one. The early accounts which the Spanish chroniclers gave of the great empire of the Incas represented the Indians as a people ruled by laws and usages which provided for almost every action of their lives; neither a thief nor a vicious man was known amongst them; and they lived in happiness and contentment, but under a most rigid system of tutelage and subjection. Then came the Spanish conquerors, and, after a quarter of a century of bloodshed and rapine, the people found themselves bowed down by a grievous yoke. While the most beneficent laws were enacted by the Council of the Indies, their humane provisions continued to be either entirely evaded, or converted into pretexts for additional modes of oppression. From upwards of thirty millions the population was reduced to three millions within the space of two centuries; and all that can be said of the much-lauded colonial legislation of Spain is that it prevented the Indians from being actually exterminated; and that, when Peru gained her independence, there were a few million survivors, scattered in villages at wide intervals over a region once thickly peopled by their ancestors. The Council-room at Seville was, like another place, thickly paved with good intentions.
I was thrown a great deal amongst the Indians, and at one time I had the most excellent opportunities of judging of their character, and I was certainly most favourably impressed. They now have many vices engendered by centuries of oppression and evil example, from which their ancestors were probably free: they are fond of chicha and aguardiente, and are very suspicious; but I found that this latter feeling disappears when the occasion for it is found not to exist. They have had but too good reason for their suspicion generally. On the other hand, they are intelligent, patient, obedient, loving amongst each other, and particularly kind to animals. Crimes of any magnitude are hardly ever heard of amongst them; and I am sure that there is no safer region in the world for the traveller, than the plateaux of the Peruvian cordilleras. That the Indians are not cowardly or mean-spirited when once roused was proved in the battles which they fought under the banner of Tupac Amaru in 1781; and a people who could produce men capable of such heroic constancy as was displayed by the mutilated heroes of Asillo should not lightly be accused of want of courage. When well led they make excellent soldiers.
Although there is so large a proportion of mestizos, or half-castes, in Peru, it is very remarkable how isolated the Indians still remain. They have their separate language, and traditions, and feelings, apart from their neighbours of Spanish origin; and it is even said that there are secret modes of intercourse, and even secret designs amongst them, the knowledge of which is guarded with jealous care. In 1841, when General Gamarra was at Pucara, on his way to invade Bolivia, it was reported that certain influential Indians, from all parts of the country, were about to assemble in the hills near Azangaro, for the discussion of some grave business; and that they were in the habit of assembling in the same way, though in different localities, every five years. The object of these assemblies was unknown—it may have been merely to converse over their ancient traditions—but it was feared, at the time, that it was for some far deeper and more momentous purpose. It is believed that similar meetings have since taken place near Chayanta[279] in Bolivia, near Quito, and in other parts, but the strictest secrecy is preserved by the Indians themselves. The abolition of the tribute has probably had the effect of separating the Indians still more from the white and mixed races, for they used to have constant intercourse connected with the payments to the authorities, which brought them into the towns, while now they live apart in their solitary huts in the mountain fastnesses, or in distant villages.
It may be that this unhappy people, descendants of the once mighty race which, in the glorious days of the Incas, conquered and civilised half a continent, is marching slowly down the gloomy and dark road to extinction; "the fading remains of a society sinking amidst storms, overthrown and shattered by overwhelming catastrophes."[280] But I trust that this may not be so, and that a fate less sad is still reserved for the long-suffering gentle children of the Sun.
CHAPTER XI.
JOURNEY FROM PUNO TO CRUCERO, THE CAPITAL OF CARAVAYA.
On April 7th we left Puno on the road to the chinchona forests of Caravaya. There are three modes of travelling in Peru: one by purchasing all the required mules and employing servants; the second, by hiring an arriero, or muleteer, who supplies the mules at so much for the journey; and the third, by using the wretched animals which are provided at the post-houses, and changing them at each stage, but this can only be done on the main roads. The latter way, though the least comfortable, is by far the most economical, and I therefore determined to adopt it, yet I should probably have hesitated had I known the trouble it would entail. I bought a fine mule for a hundred dollars, with the gentle paso llano, the easiest pace imaginable, for myself, and sent to the post-house at Puno for beasts for Mr. Weir, the gardener who accompanied me, and for the baggage. Four vicious-looking brutes accordingly made their appearance, and we started; but no sooner had we reached the plain at the top of the zigzag path leading out of Puno to the north, than they all ran away in different directions, kicking violently. After hours of this kind of annoyance I at last got one of the brutes into a corner of a stone-fenced field, but, just as I was about to catch him, he gave a kick, jumped over the wall, and went off again. It ended in our having to drag the mules by their lassos until our arms were nearly torn out of the sockets; and thus we ignominiously entered the village of Paucar-colla late in the evening, a distance of only twelve miles from Puno. As for the scenery, or the nature of the country, between Puno and Paucar-colla, I can remember nothing but vicious mules with their hind legs kicking up in the air.
Paucar-colla is built on an eminence, surrounded by broad grassy plains, which slope down to the shores of the lake of Titicaca. It consists of a few streets of mud-built, red-tiled huts, ranged round a large plaza, with a church in a dilapidated state, also of mud. At this place I saw the last of the Aymara Indians, or at least of their women, who can always be distinguished by their dress, which differs from that worn by the Inca or Quichua Indians. The Aymara women wear an uncu, or garment brought together over each shoulder, and secured in the mode of the classic Greeks, with two topus, or large pins, generally in the shape of spoons. The head-dress is a curiously-shaped, four-cornered red cap, the sides curving outwards and stiff, with black flaps suspended from it, sometimes hanging down, and at others thrown up over the top. The Quichua dress, used by the women from here as far as Cuzco, is quite different: they have a full woollen skirt, reaching down half-way between the knee and ankle; a bright-coloured lliclla, or mantle, over the shoulders, secured across the bosom by a single topu; and as a head-dress the broad-brimmed black velvet montero, with red and blue ribbons.