Entering a large patio, and ascending a stone stairway, we came to a balcony, where two officers in costly uniform rose and saluted. Entering a large hall, well carpeted and furnished at one end with curtains of the national color—red, yellow, and green—which hung over the sides of a large arm chair, in front of which was a small table, a tall, graceful officer of middle age rose from his seat in fall uniform, a velvet cap embroidered with gold pulled down over his eyebrows. This gentleman was his Excellency Captain General Manuel Isidoro Belzu, President of the republic of Bolivia. After shaking hands and being offered a seat on the sofa, I said to him: "That the President of the United States, desiring a more active exchange of the productions between the two Americas, I had the hope that a more direct route between the United States and Bolivia might be found than by the way of Cape Horn." To which the President replied: "He had heard of my arrival in La Paz, and was pleased to see me. My country," said he, "is in its infancy. I would be the more pleased to join hands with the United States, because we are all Americans. You may depend upon me for aid and assistance in your enterprise." Upon the entrance of some persons in uniform, we rose to take our leave. Before doing so, however, I was introduced to the Minister of War, who was an older looking soldier than the President himself.
Upon inquiring how the President came by some wounds in his face, I was told that in September, 1850, Belzu was invited to take a walk in the alameda of Sucre. A friend persuaded him to continue on outside the usual promenade, where they met some persons riding on horseback, upon the report of whose pistols Belzu fell, three balls having entered his head. The ruffians escaped from the country; the friend was shot in the plaza of the capitol before Belzu was well enough to interfere in his behalf. The plan was well laid, and so sure were the intended murderers that his days were ended, they rode off, leaving him on the ground, shouting "viva Ballivian," an ex-president, who at that time was known to be lingering along the boundary line between Bolivia and the Argentine republic.
This attempt to assassinate Belzu made him the more popular. The country is taught that his escape was Providential, and he had been spared for the good of the people.
As we recrossed the plaza one thousand horsemen were waiting orders. The horses small, but spirited, were in good order. The men, too, are larger and a more daring-looking set of fellows than those of the infantry we saw; each man wore a small scarlet cloak, and upon close examination I found every one of them had brass armor breast-plates; such as we read were worn by the ancients.
We visited the several ministers of the government, of whom there are three, according to the last constitution. Their families are with some of them, and government clerks travel about the country with the President. A part of the standing army marches in advance, and a part in the rear, as the administration winds along the narrow road through the Andes. The artillery does not travel, the roads being too narrow and rough for the cannon to pass on wheels. It may be taken from Oruro to Cuzco through the Titicaca basin, for there the country is level, and a railroad might be built without much expense for bridges or cutting through hills.
The arms used by this army are the old tower flint muskets, kept in bad order. The cavalry have a short carbine slung to the saddle, and carry a lance kept very bright and sharp, to which is attached a small swallow-tailed red flag. They manœuvre by the sound of the bugle; when in motion the noise made by enormous spurs and bridle-bits sounds not unlike that of a tin pedler's wagon. The horses are not well gaited, and some of the men bad riders; they all lean back, as though riding down hill all the time. There was not much discipline among the cavalry, unless smoking paper cigars and drinking chicha are regulations for cavalry drill. The women fancy the horsemen; crowds of them collect to look on. Some of them bring chicha, and with the most daring manner slip in between the horses a jug or light for a cigar. The population of Cochabamba is composed of about one man to five women, or more when the government comes. There are an unusual number of weddings, for the beauties of Cochabamba are thought to surpass those of other towns in the country.
The public force of Bolivia is composed of a standing army, an organized national guard, or militia, and a police. The standing army consists of three thousand men, with one officer to every six soldiers. Indians are not enlisted, they being considered the agriculturists of the country.
Bolivia has a population of about one million five hundred thousand; more than one-half are Indians, so that there is one soldier in the standing army for less than every two hundred and fifty Creoles. The cost of maintaining this army is not less than one million of dollars per annum, drawn from the labor of the aborigines. This is a heavy tax, when we consider that the value of the exports, exclusive of silver and gold, are not over five hundred thousand dollars a year.
The organized militia, about twenty thousand strong, are ready to defend their country, and when called out, fight bravely. Those who are natives of the Andes have an advantage over the soldiers of the lower countries, in being able to exert themselves in a then natural atmosphere. When men who live in the lowlands travel to the height of fifteen thousand feet above sea level, they give out for want of breath, and lay harmless upon the ground, while the Bolivian soldier smokes his paper cigar with comfort, and laughs at the imprudence of his enemy.
We visited the family of a countryman, the widow and two handsome children of a gentleman very much respected by the people of this country. His son, a fine-looking little fellow of ten years of age, had the manners of a Spaniard, and spoke his mother's language; but the quick flash of his black eye, and his desire to join our expedition, plainly bespoke his relationship to Uncle Sam. His sister, the elder of the two, promises to be the beauty of Cochabamba.