There is something in the transportation of the European to tropical climates and the control of an inferior race which, in certain circumstances, appears to loose and to intensify all the most cruel instincts and desires of which humanity is capable. In reckoning up the racial contests in New Granada, reader and historian alike must give the aboriginal his due. He was by no means the gentle savage such as he is frequently depicted. Indeed, many of his native customs were completely brutal. Nevertheless, it is necessary to debit against the invader numerous excesses and deeds of cruelty directed against the inferior or subject race. And since popular feeling, which ranges on the side of the oppressed to-day, was undoubtedly on the side of the oppressor during the earlier centuries, there can be little doubt that the ferocity of the Indians of New Granada, and their hesitating acceptance of the missionary's doctrine, were not without excuse.
Although the soil of New Granada offered endless possibilities to the colonists, the cost of transport and the difficulties attendant on this necessary commercial operation rendered agriculture in the interior of little importance as an industry. Each settlement grew sufficient for its own needs, and no more. Other factors in the slight use made of the rich soil were the natural indolence and the improvident habits of the people—habits not yet quite eradicated, since at the present day Venezuela, although it possesses some of the richest and best maize-growing lands in the world, still imports maize from the United States. From the creation of the Viceroyalty onward, attempts were made by the Spanish authorities to make the people industrious and thrifty, but these met with scant success.
The power and character of the aboriginal tribes may be estimated from the fact that, up to the end of the colonial period, Spanish authority in the immense territory of Quito was only exercised over a valley, formed by two spurs of the Andes, which reached some eighty leagues in length, with an average breadth of fifteen leagues. At the beginning of the eighteenth century a number of towns were established by Catholic missionaries on the Atlantic coast and on the rivers emptying into the Gulf of San Miguel; but the Indians destroyed them all, and remained so little dominated by the white race that a treaty of peace, concluded between Spaniards and native chiefs in 1790, contained a clause by which the Spaniards consented to abandon all their forts in Darien.
Beyond these there were other foes to be feared, quite as grim and even more dangerous. In 1670 the famous buccaneer, Captain Morgan, destroyed the castle of San Lorenzo at Chagres. This, of course, was in addition to his feat of capturing and burning the town of Panamá. Ten years later another party of buccaneers captured the city of Santa Maria, in consequence of which the mines of Cana were closed in 1685.
Towards the end of the seventeenth century William Paterson established a Scottish colony on the Bay of Caledonia, at Puerto Escoces, but the venture scarcely proved a success. Ill-fate seems to have pursued most of the attempts at settlement in New Granada while the Spanish rule lasted. Yet the town of Santa Fé de Bogotá flourished, and has continued to flourish to this day, so that no less an authority than Mr. R.B. Cunninghame Graham has described it as the chief literary centre south of Panamá.
The town is set at the foot of the hills, facing a vast plain, and towards the end of the colonial period was represented as a city of 3,250 families—a population of upwards of 16,000. It was the centre of archiepiscopal authority, with jurisdiction over the Dioceses of Cartagena, Santa Marta, Panamá, Caracas, and Quito. The route from Bogotá to Europe lay by way of Cartagena, 300 miles distant from the capital.
Next in order of importance was Quito. The immense province was—and is at the present day—made up for the most part of dense jungle growth, alternating with marshy and desert stretches, with nomadic tribes inhabiting the more open areas. The city of Quito itself, set in perpetual spring, is considered one of the most beautiful spots in the world, almost its only drawbacks being the tremendous violence of the tropical storms to which it is subject, and occasional earthquake shocks.
The poverty of the mines of Quito freed the Indian inhabitants from mining labour, a form of industry which, under Spanish rule, depopulated so many native centres. In consequence of this Quito was reputed to be the most thickly populated province of South America. Various manufactures were pursued, and there were several towns with populations of over 10,000. The products of the land were exchanged for wine, oil, and other extraneous products, but so inefficient was the colonial administration that in 1790 Quito was one of the poorest of South American cities.
The article of chief value—for rubber had not then come into prominence—was the quinquina, or cinchona bark, at first considered peculiar to the territory of Loxa, but subsequently found to exist at Bogotá, Riobamba, and many other parts of New Granada. It was first introduced to Europe by the Jesuits in 1639, and after its use had been established at the Spanish Court in 1640, it commanded a price of 100 crowns a pound. In these circumstances quinquina was, as a matter of course, subject to adulteration and substitution—practices which brought their own reward, since the quinine of Loxa, at one time considered of the highest quality, fell into disrepute when the gatherers in that province mixed with the real article the bark of other trees. Perpetually increasing demand led to more careful search for supplies, and the New Granada of the colonial era owed almost all its prosperity to the exports of the famed bark, for the output of minerals dwindled almost to vanishing point.