Of the vineyards and pastures, the many industries, the famous wines of the country, the cattle, the industrious folk, the forests and the fishing, the great mining enterprises, copper and all ore, the rivers and the railways, the German colony of Valdivia and the pleasing towns of the coast we cannot here speak in detail.
Chile is fortunate, industrially, in her great coalfields at Lota and elsewhere in the south, which form the basis of considerable industry. The seams in some cases dip beneath the Pacific.
Chile is a land that offers much by reason of its temperate climate, and these more southern regions may be expected to attain to greater importance in the future.
For a thousand miles, perhaps, the littoral still unfolds to the south, with great fiords and forests, terminating in a maze of channels which line the coast of Patagonia to Magellan Strait and Cape Horn. There is a race of hardy Indian boatmen here, a tribe which, it is said, "throw their women overboard in a storm to lighten the canoe." It is a land cold and stormy, with a little-known interior, which the early explorers described as being inhabited by giants or people with big feet—hence the name of Patagonia. For hundreds of miles the Pacific slope is a thick, continuous forest. Nevertheless, in the Strait of Magellan lies a prosperous Chilean colony, where vast flocks of sheep thrive—the colony of Punta Arenas, the world's southernmost seaport.
Magellan, the intrepid Portuguese navigator of early times, whose name the Strait bears, bore bravely out into the great south sea which he named the Pacific. His crew were weak with cold and hunger. But he would push on, "even if they had to eat the leather of the rigging." Ox-hides, rats and sawdust, indeed, they did eat. On to the west the vessels sailed, across the unknown sea—"almost beyond the grasp of man for vastness"—to circumnavigate the globe for home.
Magellan himself did not finish the voyage, although he crossed the Pacific, for his earthly race was run; he left his bones in the Philippines. But the ship and his pilot, Sebastian del Cano, a Spaniard, reached home, and Cano was given the arms of nobility, with the device of a ship and globe and the inscription Tu Solus circumdedesti me.
From the Pacific coast we shall now ascend to the great chain of the Andes, to follow the same series of countries in that high region.
Siste, viator; draw rein: your mule will stop willingly; he is stricken with soroche perhaps, the malady of the mountain, which you yourself may suffer if at this elevation, where but half an atmosphere presses upon us and oxygen is scant, you attempt to run or climb. Draw rein upon this summit and look beyond. There is a panorama it were worth a journey over a hemisphere to see. Range and peak are clothed with perpetual snow, which gleams like porcelain in the sun.
Heavenward thrown, crumpled, folded, ridged and fractured, with gnomon-fashioned uplifts pointing to the sky, shattered strata and sheer crevasse, natural terrace and grim escarpment, hung over with filmy mist-veils and robed with the white clothing of its snowfields, and, when the windows of heaven are open, drenched with the deluges intercepted from the boundless plains and forests far beyond; the father of the rivers whose floods are borne a thousand leagues away the Cordillera crouches, rears and groans upon the western seaboard of the continent. The beautiful Andes, the terrible Andes, the life-giving Andes, the death-dealing Andes—so we might apostrophize them—for the Cordillera is of many moods, and whatever change of adjectives the traveller may ring, he will fail of truly describing this mighty chain.
When the delicate tints of early morning shine on the crested snow in rarest beauty, and the light and tonic air invigorates both man and horse, the leagues pass swiftly by. Night falls, or the snow-cloud gathers, or the pelting rain descends; then does the weight of weariness and melancholy descend upon us[23]—so have I felt it.
The name of the Andes, to the traveller who has crossed the giddy passes and scaled the high peaks of this stupendous mountain chain, brings back sensations which are a blend of the pleasurable and the painful. In his retrospect the Cordillera—for such is its familiar name to the inhabitants of the land it traverses—bulks as a thing of varied and almost indescribable moods. It possesses that individuality—menacing, beautiful by turns—which no doubt is an attribute of all mountains, in the recollection of those who best know them.
The Andes are no playground, such as some of the mountains of Europe have become, nor are they the object or scene of climbing enterprise and exploration such as bring the Himalayas so frequently before the geographically interested public. Comparatively simple in their structure, it is their enormous length—a wall unbroken, extending for four thousand miles from north to south along the western littoral of their continent—their treeless aridity, their illimitable, dreary, inclement uplands, and, these passed, their chaste snowy peaks, tinged by the rising or the setting sun, that most impress the traveller in those lands they traverse.
Here in the higher elevations of these remote fastnesses there are no material comforts for man or beast. Humanity, as far as it has the hardihood to dwell here, is confined to the Indian or the mestizo, who has paid nature the homage of being born here, and so can dwell and work in what is his native environment. In the more sheltered valleys it is true that large centres of population flourish; important towns which from their elevation above sea-level—ten thousand or twelve thousand feet—might look down as it were from a dizzy height upon the highest inhabited centres of Europe; whilst, did we establish industrious mining communities on the peak of the Matterhorn or Mont Blanc, we should still be far below some of those places of the Peruvian and Bolivian Andes where minerals are won for the marts of Europe.
The Andes consist physiographically of two great parallel chains, forming into three, with lesser parallel undulations, in certain parts of its course; the ranges being joined by nudos or knots, as the transversal ridges are termed; a very well marked structure. In places vast tablelands lie between the high paramos of Colombia, the altiplanicies of Peru, the punas of Bolivia, often studded with lakes, including the enormous Lake Titicaca. In some cases these high uplands between the enclosing Cordilleras are indeed dreary and inclement, sparsely inhabited, and the dweller of the lowlands loves not to sojourn there longer than may be necessary for his purpose. Conversely, the highlander fears the enervating climate of the lowlands.
Between the more easterly paralleling ranges great rivers run, having their birth in the snow-cap and incessant rains, both of which are the result of the deposition from the moisture-laden trade winds which, sweeping across the Atlantic and Brazil for thousands of miles, are intercepted by the crest of the Cordillera, impinging thereon and depositing their moisture. Running down the easterly slope, in a thousand rills, the waters gather in the giant channels, all flowing northwards, in the troughs between the ranges, to where, with curious regularity, they break through these ranges in deep cuttings or pongos, as they are there termed, like gargantuan mill-races, turning thus east and pouring forth their floods upon the Amazon plain, where, after vast courses amid the forests, they reach the main stream of the Amazon, and finally empty themselves on the coast of Brazil into the Atlantic, whence they originally came upon the wings of the wind—a mighty natural hydraulic engine, unceasing in its operations, stupendous in its work. Yes; Siste, viator, draw rein—
The imprint of the Andes perhaps never fades from the mind of the traveller. When you have braved the tempest and the steep, when your slow and panting beast overcomes the last few rising yards upon the maritime range that shuts off from view the White Cordillera, then, as the dark horizon of the foreground rocks gives place, your astonished gaze rests upon that range of white-clothed sentinels beyond, upraised some time since the Jurassic or Silurian Ages. There they mark the eras: there they stand, performing their silent and allotted work; and there, when evening falls, it tints their brows with orange and with carmine, and wraps their bases with the purple pall of finished day.
Borne upward three to five miles above the level of the ocean arose these mighty guardians of the western shore, carrying some ocean bed from where it lay, where strange creatures of the deep reposed within the ooze—huge ammonites and cephalopods, whose fossil scrolls and circles, now petrified in rigid schools upon the stiffened summits, catch the traveller's eye as his weary mule stumbles over the limestone ridges: and, blurred by the pelting rain of the Andine winter and loosened from the stony grasp by frost and sun and earthquake, they, together with the rocky walls that hold them, are again dissolving into particles; a phase within the endless sequence of Nature's work; an accident of her ceaseless and inexplicable operations.
Has this great Cordillera produced a high type of humanity? Has the clear atmosphere, the nearer approach to the clouds, the purity and example of the heights made man here pure and noble? We shall judge later, after viewing the palimpsest of history here, following on the palimpsest of Nature, for the Cordillera is a scroll of time, erased, rewritten in the physical and in the human world. The Andes have been blood-stained along all their four-thousand-mile course, that we know, ever since the white man trod them. We also know that before his time the Cordillera did produce a high human culture, that of the mysterious "Andine people," with their successors, the Incas. Pagan, perhaps, but who, in the long ages, had evolved some comprehension of the "Unknown God," and whose social code was more in tune with a true economic philosophy of life than that of their successors.
Descending now from the clouds, metaphorically and actually, we must glance more particularly at the life of those modern countries which have in part their home in the Cordillera, to whom the Cordillera is a very real and palpable thing.
From north to south, Colombia, Venezuela, Ecuador, Peru, Bolivia and Chile occupy this extensive zone: countries whose general conditions as regards the littoral we have seen in our journey along the Pacific coast. Excepting Bolivia, all these lands have the advantages accruing from the condition that they stretch from the coast across the Andes, extending to the Amazon plains beyond; thus enjoying zones respectively of coast, mountain and forest, with all their diversity of environment, climate and resource.
As we shall see in the chapter devoted to the Amazon Valley, many navigable streams traverse this forested region, giving access by launch or canoe through thousands of miles of otherwise inaccessible territory, for roads are often impossible and of railways there are none.
Colombia we shall visit in another chapter. Both Colombia and Venezuela lie in part upon the Andes and face upon the Spanish Main.
Ecuador is but a small country in comparison with the vaster areas of its neighbours, but Nature has rendered it extremely diverse, and has dowered it—it is a terrible gift, however—with some of the most remarkable mountain forms on the face of the globe. Nothing can exceed the stupendous grandeur of the great "avenue" of snow-clad volcanoes which arises before us around Quito and terminates on the Equator.
In Ecuador Nature might seem to have thought to display her powers after the manner of a model, with every grade of climate, topographical form and species of plant and animal life; to have set up, within a measurable compass, an example of her powers in the tropical world. The hot lowlands of the coast, covered in part with the densest and rankest vegetation, intersected by the most fertile of valleys, where ripen the most delicious and valuable fruits, with rivers wherein the curious life of the Tropics has its home, from gorgeous insect or bird down to the tortoise and the loathly alligator, slope upwards to the bleakest tablelands, the icy paramos, which themselves are crowned with the snow-capped volcanoes, at times belching forth fire and ash, carrying destruction to fruitful field and populous town. Beyond lies some of the most broken region on the earth's surface, descending to the forests inhabited by the half-naked and savage Indian, still outside the pale of civilization or the influence of Christianity, who may receive the incautious traveller with deadly weapons of blow-pipe and poisoned arrows.
The uplands of Ecuador embody a high tableland, cut up into three hoyas or basins, known as those of Quito, Ambato and Cuenca respectively.
"Rising from both the eastern and western rims of this elevated plateau are the higher Cordilleras, their main summits culminating far above the perpetual snowline, which in Ecuador lies at about 15,750 feet above sea-level. As before remarked, due to their peculiarly symmetrical arrangement and spectacular appearance, such an assemblage of snow-clad peaks is not found in any other part of the world. Not only for their height are the Ecuadorian peaks noteworthy, but for their peculiar occurrence in parallel lines, sometimes in pairs facing each other across the 'cyclopean passage' or avenue formed by the long plateau. There are twenty-two of these great peaks, several of which are actual volcanoes, grouped along the central plains almost within sight of each other. Built up by subterranean fires, the great mountain edifices of Ecuador are sculptured by glacier streams and perpetual snows. The volcanoes of Ecuador have rendered the country famous among geologists and travellers of all nationalities. They were the terror of the primitive Indian, and objects of awe and worship by the semi-civilized peoples of the land, and have been at various periods terrible scourges and engines of destruction.
"The largest number of high peaks and the greatest average elevations occur upon the eastern Andes, or Cordillera Oriental, whilst the western or Occidental is distinguished by having the highest individual elevations. The altitudes given by various authorities of these peaks differ somewhat, and the measurements of later investigators vary considerably from those of Humboldt in some cases. Humboldt was the first to study and measure the Ecuadorian volcanoes, and La Condamine measured them in 1742. The more modern investigators were Drs. Reiss and Stübel, who spent four years, from 1870 to 1874, in the study, and in 1880 they were the subject of Edward Whymper's famous travels. The alleged remarkable condition of the sinking or rising of various of these summits and localities may account, it has been stated, for the variation found in measurements made at different times. It has been estimated that a considerable decrease in the elevation of the Ecuadorian Andes in the region took place during last century. Quito has sunk, it is stated, 26 feet in 122 years, and Pichincha 218 feet in the same period. The farm at Antisana, where Humboldt lived for some time, has sunk 165 feet in sixty-four years. On the other hand, two of the active volcanoes, those of Cotopaxi and Sangay, have increased in altitude since they were measured by La Condamine, it is asserted. Underlying seismic disturbances have doubtless been the cause of these movements."[24]
The highest of these peaks is Chimborazo, 20,498 feet, followed by Cotopaxi, 19,613 feet, Antisana and Cayambe, both over 19,000 feet, with others ranging downwards to about 14,000 feet.
"The great Cotopaxi, with its unrivalled cone, is the most terrible and dangerous in Ecuador, and the highest active volcano in the world. From its summit smoke curls upwards unceasingly, and knowledge of its activities begins with South American history after the Conquest. The first eruption experienced by the Spaniards was in 1534, during the attempted conquest of the ancient native kingdom of Quito by Alvarado. The Indians regarded the terrible outpourings of the volcano, which coincided with this foreign advent, as a manifestation of Nature in aid of the invaders and against themselves, and this was a factor in breaking down their opposition. But the rain of ashes from the burning mountain greatly troubled the small army of Alvarado for several days, as before described. After this out-burst Cotopaxi remained quiescent for more than two hundred years, until 1741, when it broke out with extraordinary force, and became for twenty-six years the scourge of the districts of Quito and Latacunga. The province of Leon and Latacunga, which formerly had been among the most beautiful and fertile, became poverty-stricken by reason of the eruptions. These outbreaks generally consisted in a great rain of sand and ash, followed by vast quantities of mud and water, which were thrown over the valleys and plains, destroying whatever lay in the way. Between 1742 and 1768 there were seven great eruptions of this character, and it is noteworthy that none of these were accompanied by earthquakes. The thunderings were heard at Honda, in Colombia, 500 miles away, it is recorded. Cotopaxi then remained quiescent for thirty-five years, until 1803, when Humboldt heard the detonations of a new outbreak, like discharges of a battery, from the Gulf of Guayaquil, where he was on board a vessel for Lima. A number of lesser outbreaks occurred during the nineteenth century, but comparatively little record has been kept of them. There were streams of fresh lava, columns of black smoke, and showers of sand sent forth at various periods, and in 1877 a further memorable eruption took place, followed by others up to 1880. It would appear that since the volcano of Tunguragua entered again into action Cotopaxi has been less vigorous. Cotopaxi is regarded by various travellers as one of the most beautiful mountain peaks in the world, its symmetry of outline rivalling the famous Fuji-yama of Japan, which it overtops by more than 7,000 feet. This Ecuadorian volcano is 2,000 feet higher than Popocateptl, the "smoking mountain" of Mexico, and more than 15,000 feet higher than Vesuvius, and 7,000 higher than Teneriffe. It rises in a symmetrical cone, with a slope of 29° or 30°. Its height, as before given, is 19,613, according to Whymper, and the crater varies from 2,300 feet to 1,650 feet in diameter, and is 1,200 feet deep approximately, bordered by a rim of trachytic rock. The summit of Cotopaxi is generally shrouded in cloud masses, and only visible for a few days even in the clearest season of the year."[25]
This high region of Ecuador is gained by the railway from Guayaquil to Quito, which ascends amid some remarkable scenery over a difficult route, traversing deep ravines and fertile districts. Some of the passages are terrific in character.
"Riobamba is reached at 9,020 feet. The town is lighted from a hydro-electric station in the mountain stream. Beyond this point Chimborazo bursts upon the view. The great mountain displays a double peak, the snow-clad crests of which are outlined against the upland sky, at those times when the firmament is free from clouds. The plateau of Riobamba has a healthy climate, described, on the authority of Humboldt, as one of the best in the world. In this region a considerable increase in the production of wheat has followed upon the building of the railway.
"Between Riobamba and Ambato the Chimborazo pass is crossed, at Urbina, the highest point reached, and thence a rapid descent is made to Ambato, 8,435 feet in the midst of a district producing fruits and foodstuffs abundantly. Along the Latacunga Valley, comparatively flat and some ten miles wide, rich pastures, intersected by irrigation ditches, abound, with numerous bands of cattle and horses. Grain, corn, potatoes, alfalfa, apples, peaches, strawberries, etc., are products of this high fertile district, and good cheese and butter are made. Beyond the town of Latacunga, 9,055 feet elevation, the line crosses the base of Cotopaxi, whose snowy cone is surmounted by the thin, unceasing smokewreath from its crater, the cloud hanging in the atmosphere. This point of the line is 11,653 feet above sea-level, only slightly less than that of the Chimborazo pass. Beyond Cotopaxi lies the fertile valley of Machachi, one of the most pleasing districts in Ecuador. On either hand is the row of famous volcanoes, a mighty avenue of great peaks, often clothed in green up to the line of perpetual snow. A view is obtained from the railway of the Chillo Valley, with various cotton and woollen mills, actuated by water power. In these establishments, hydraulically worked from the river, cloths of cheap character for native clothing are made. Still descending, the railway approaches and enters the city of Quito at 9,375 feet elevation.
"The construction of this remarkable railway from Guayaquil to Quito was mainly due to the activity and enterprise of an American financier and railway builder, Mr. Archer Harman, whose work in connection with which began in 1897. The line remains as a worthy monument to this man, whose grave lies at the pretty town of Huigra. A strong impulse was given to the progress of Ecuador by the building of this railway and by the influence of its builder, and the Republic has cause to remember his name with gratitude, as indeed has the traveller.
"Quito, the capital of Ecuador, is not without an atmosphere of interest and even romance. Remote and inaccessible as it has been until, in the last few decades, the railway united it with the outer world, Quito still conserves its character of a mountain capital, surrounded by lofty snow-clad volcanoes, whose names are bywords in geography. There are many large towns in the Andes, throughout Peru, Colombia, Bolivia and Venezuela, but both by reason of its history and its topography the capital of Ecuador is among the most interesting. The Quito Valley lies at an elevation of 9,500 feet above sea-level. Around the upland valley are twenty noble volcanic summits, whose variety of form is remarkable, from the truncated to the perfect cone, from jagged and sunken crests to smooth, snow-covered, gleaming domes, among them the beautiful, if dreaded, Cotopaxi. These mountains are fully described in dealing with the peaks and volcanoes.
"The historical interest of Quito lies in the fact that it was the ancient centre of the Shiri Empire, formed by the mysterious Caras and the Quitus, as described in the historical section of this work, whose dynasty fell before the Incas under Huayna Capac, who in their turn gave way to the Spaniards. The famous Inca road, traversing the Cordilleras and tablelands, joined Quito with Cuzco, passing through the various centres of Inca civilization, with their stone-built temples and palaces, flanked by hill fortresses which guarded the heads of the valleys to the east or the west against the attacks of savage tribes. The remains of this road still exist.
"As regards the character of the climate and surroundings of Quito, opinions differ considerably. It is difficult to comprehend why the Shiris and the Incas should have built or maintained their capital city upon such a spot, a small, broken meseta, or plain, as is that of Quito, or why the Spaniards perpetuated it upon a site of so little advantage and utility, when near at hand are the flat lands of Turubamba and Añaquito, and not very far off the spacious and delightful valleys of Chillo and Tumbaco. Of all the towns on the inter-Andine hoyas Quito is the highest and coldest. The surrounding vegetation is poor and of melancholy aspect, and corresponds with the inclement situation. The position is healthy and even agreeable for those who are acclimatized thereto, but the descriptions lavished by some writers thereon of 'delicious' and of 'eternal spring' are exaggerations, says one observer.[26] Another authority says that 'the traveller is charmed in looking at the carpet of perpetual verdancy on which Quito stands. The climate is delightful. It is neither summer nor spring nor winter, but each day of the year offers a singular combination of the three seasons. Neither cholera nor yellow fever nor consumption is known there. The mild and healthy temperature which prevails is something admirable. In short, it may be said that the great plateau of Quito is a kind of paradise.'[27] Thus extremes of opinion are seen to exist.
"The annual death-rate of Quito is given as about 36 per 1,000,[28] but this might undoubtedly be reduced under better sanitary measures. It is a well-known circumstance that the high upland regions and towns of the Andes are generally free from pulmonary consumption, and tubercular disease of the lungs, which on the coastal lowlands of tropical America is very frequent, is unknown above 8,000 feet.
"The aspect of Quito, is picturesque. The first impression is that of a white city, relieved by roofs of red tiles, the streets thronged with interesting people. As seen from the slopes of Pichincha, which descend to the city on its western side, or from the summit of the Panecillo, a small hill standing within the borders of the city, or from other high points near at hand, the city unfolds pleasingly to the view. It may be likened to a city of the third order in Europe. In spite of the broken character of the land upon which it is built, the streets are nearly all straight, the principal thoroughfares being wide and paved. It is traversed from west to east by two deep quebradas, or ravines, which descend from Pichincha and other hills, and one of these is arched over in order to preserve the alignment of the streets. The city follows the general Latin American system of town-planning, being laid out mainly in great rectangular squares, the streets at right angles to each other. The architectural type of the houses is that embodying the old Spanish or Moorish style, well known to the traveller in Latin America, from Mexico to Peru or Argentina: the picturesque and often chaste character of façade (although some may term it monotonous), with iron grilles before the windows and high, wide entrance doorway, or saguan, admitting a mounted horseman. The main feature of the house of this type is the interior patio, or courtyard, upon which the rooms open, often followed by a second patio. The material of which the houses are constructed is adobe, or sun-dried earthern brick, which in the dwellings of more pretension are generally covered with stucco or plaster, whitened, and at times painted with vivid colours. Stone is also used. The use of colour, on the walls of houses in Latin American towns gives a picturesque appearance at times even to the meanest pueblo, and relieves what might often be an extreme poverty of appearance. The roofs of the Quito houses often project over the footpaths, affording protection from rain, and balconies overhang from every window.
"The public buildings of Quito are of the heavy, square, colonial Spanish type. Looking upon the great square, or plaza mayor, occupying the whole of its southern side, is the cathedral, and on the western side the Government palace, with a handsome façade, whose main feature is its long row of columns. On the north side of the plaza is the palace of the Archbishop, and on the east the municipal hall. This arrangement, with some modification, is one encountered in nearly all Latin American capitals, wherein are grouped upon the plaza the principal edifices of Church and State, the former taking the place of honour. The arrangement is generally a pleasing and useful one. The plaza is the pulse of the community, and during those times when the band plays in its garden it forms a meeting-ground for the people and the sexes. There are other smaller plazas and subsidiary squares in the city, including those of San Francisco and Santo Domingo. The many ecclesiastical buildings are an indication of the part which the Church has played. The finest building in the city is the Jesuits' church, with a façade elaborately carved, and the university occupies part of what formerly was the Jesuit college. There are eleven monastic institutions, six of which are nunneries. One of the convents, that of San Francisco, covers a whole cuadra or block, and takes its place as one of the largest institutions of this nature in the world. A part of this great building is in ruins, and another part has been used for the purpose of a military barracks by the Government. The university has faculties of law, medicine and theology—those three professions which appeal so strongly to the Latin American character; but the institution is regarded as backward, and it has been but poorly supported.
"The commerce of Quito is small: there is little produced in so high a region for export. Superior hand-made carpets are woven, and much skill is shown in wood-carving and in gold and silver work. These industries were often characteristic of the ancient people of America, and weaving was essentially a widely practised craft among the Andine races. The beautiful textile fabrics of the Incas and pre-Incas, some of them probably thousands of years old, which have been preserved attest the taste and skill of these people. The native manufactures of Quito include ponchos, blankets, mattings and coarse woollen carpets, also tanned leather, saddles and shoes. There is a tendency among all the Andine people to preserve their interesting home-crafts and cottage industries, which a wise, economic spirit would endeavour to assist. But cheap imports menace them.
"The streets of Quito are thronged from morning to evening with horses, mules, donkeys and oxen, also llamas, with loads of all kinds, and ladies in victorias drive about, or to the shops, which are replete with merchandise from London, Paris, New York, Vienna or Berlin. Officers in regimentals and gentlemen in top-hats and frock-coats are numerous, and Indians with red and yellow ponchos and white cotton trousers and hats. But as regards modern conveniences Quito is backward, and the lack of hotels and public hygiene is very serious, and the general conditions surrounding public health call for urgent improvement."[29][30]
The Ecuadorian "Orient," as the eastern forested region is termed, is, as has been said, the third natural division of the country, and a maze of rivers flow to it from the divortia aquaram of the Cordillera. The boundary-line with Peru, Ecuador's neighbour on the south, is in dispute, notwithstanding arbitration by the King of Spain in recent years. The relations between the two nations have been seriously embittered by reason of this controversy. Ecuador is, in point of population, the weaker nation: perhaps her claims have not been considered in a sufficiently generous spirit. The law of uti possidetis alone holds. But an outlet to the great navigable affluents of the Amazon is a question of paramount importance in this forested region, cut off as it is from the Pacific by the huge rampart of the Andes, and—without prejudice to the historical aspects of the boundary question—this matter should receive full consideration. The Orient, although an undeveloped and little-travelled region at present, must, in the future, be of great value. Peru enjoys a vast territory in the same zone, and could well afford to take a generous outlook upon the wishes of her neighbour, thereby healing ancient quarrels and laying the foundation of future international stability and friendship.
We shall tread this region again in the chapter dealing with the Amazon.
The upland region of the Cordillera between Ecuador and Peru, little known to-day, was the scene of bitter struggles between the Incas—under Tupac Yupanqui and his son Huayna Capac, both famous princes of the Inca dynasty—and the Shiris, of the empire or kingdom of Quito, which the Incas wished to subjugate.
Cacha Duchisela, whose armies had beaten off the Inca attacks—he was the fifteenth and last of the Shiri Kings of Quito—was rapidly declining in health.
"But his mind did not share the ills of his body, and he formulated careful plans for the organization of his forces, which, under Calicuchima, were carried out. Amid the snowy heights of Azuay the vanguard of the Puruhaes detained for long the onward march of the Inca forces. But, aided by the Cañaris, the Peruvians opened a way, and upon the bleak and melancholy páramos of Tiocajas, where years before their fathers had fought, battle was again waged, and with the same fatal result for the forces of the Shiri. Completely defeated, Cacha retired upon the fortress of Mocha, as his father Hualcopo had done; but, still more unfortunate, Cacha could not prevent the advance of the Incas. Having lost almost all his army, not so much by death as by desertion and disaffection, Cacha was forced to abandon the provinces of Mocha, Ambato, Latacunga, and Quito, which seemed insecure, and to pass to the northern provinces. Followed by the Inca, he first fortified himself at Cochasqui and then at Otalvo.[31] Here the valiant Caranquis, who had always been the faithful vassals of the Shiris, fought with such bravery that from the defensive the army passed to the offensive, and the Inca, escaping from an attack, was obliged to raise the siege of the Caranqui fortress and to suspend operations. He ordered strongholds to be made at Pesillo, and turned back to Tomebamba, with the purpose of calling up from Cuzco and the other provinces fresh forces of the imperial troops. In the meantime the Caranquis attacked and took the Pesillo fortress, and killed its garrison, an exploit which was at once answered by Huayna Capac with a strong detachment of soldiers, under the command of his brother Auqui Toma. Encountering no resistance, this general advanced to Otalvo, but he fell in the first attack. Discouraged by his death, the Peruvians halted. Huayna Capac then advanced, bent on vengeance, and the attack was renewed, but without result. At length by means of a subterfuge, in which the Incas pretended to flee and then made a flank attack, the castle was taken and burnt. The cheated Caranquis fell confused before the enemy, and only a captain and a thousand men escaped, taking refuge in the forests. Cachi fled to the famed Hatuntaqui fortress, the last hope of his remaining vassals, and around this stronghold his troops were concentrated. The Shiri king, notwithstanding his wasting infirmity, caused his servants to carry him in his chair to the place of greatest danger in the combat. The Inca sent him the last invitation to an honourable surrender, with the hope of avoiding further bloodshed. Cacha made reply that the war was not of his seeking, that he was defending the integrity of his people, and that he would die before submitting. The attacks continued, and at first it seemed that the tide of battle might turn in favour of the Shiri. But these hopes were vain, for, suddenly struck by a lance, which penetrated his body, the brave Shiri fell dead in his chair. Disaster followed: the vanquished army gave up its weapons and surrendered, proclaiming, however, at the last moment, upon the stricken field, the right of accession to kingship of Paccha, the son of the dead king. But with the battle of Hatuntaqui fell the dynasty of the Shiris, and on the plain which had formed, he fatal battleground the traveller may observe to-day the numerous tumuli beneath which repose the remains of those who once formed the army of the kingdom of Quito. Thus was played out in those high regions, overlooked by the Andine snows and volcanoes, one of those fateful dramas of early America, analogous in many ways with the historic struggles of Old World dynasties.
"An incident of Huayna's reign, as concerns Ecuador, was the rebellion of the Caranquis, who had accepted the Inca rulers. It was a long and obstinate conflict to overcome them, but terrible punishment was meted out. The Inca caused 20,000[32] of the rebels to be drowned in a lake, that of Yahuar-Cocha, whose name means 'the lake of blood,' which it bears to the present time. The number given, other writers remark, was probably that of the combatants who fell on both sides. When the punitive expedition was accomplished Huayna returned to Quito, greatly troubled by the constant insurrections of the various provinces of the northern empire. There was a shadow upon the mind of the great Inca ruler, a portent of some disaster to befall his nation. These forebodings were later to be realized, for the caravels of the white man, although at that moment the Inca did not know it, were about to traverse the waters of the Pacific upon the coasts of the empire.
"Huayna Capac doubtless received news of the earlier arrival of the white men on the Panama coast of South America, and the matter impressed him strongly. Tradition states that supernatural occurrences heralded the fall of the Inca Empire—flaming comets, earthquakes, and so forth. On his deathbed, according to tradition, Huayna recalled a prognostication that had been earlier made, that after twelve Incas had reigned—Huayna himself was the twelfth—a valorous race would appear, a white, bearded people, who would overcome the empire. 'I go to rest with our father the Sun,' he added. But it would appear that the great Inca had not always regarded the sun as an infallible power. Some years before, at the great feast of Raymi, the festival of the Sun, at Cuzco, the chief priest had observed that the monarch looked up from time to time at the orb with considerable freedom, an action prohibited and considered almost sacrilegious; and he inquired, why the Inca did this. Huayna replied: 'I tell you that our Father the Sun must have another lord more powerful than himself; a thing so inquiet and so bound in his course could not be a god.' Before he died Huayna Capac admonished his successor ever to carry on the noble traditions of their dynasty, in fulfilling their title as 'lovers of the poor.' Indeed, a civilization and rulers who had so organized the material resources of the realm and the life of the community that none were in want, and where no class oppressed another, as was indisputably the case under the Inca Empire, well merited such a title, and that the system should have been destroyed by the ruthless individualism of the Europeans is one of the most melancholy incidents in history."[33][34]
These same remote uplands were the scene of the strenuous march of the Spaniards under Alvarado (whose earlier adventures we followed in Mexico), who affected to consider Quito as outside Pizarro's jurisdiction. Theirs was a dreadful march. Accustomed to warmer lands, men and horses starved with cold and famine in the inclement and foodless Cordillera. They were forced to eat the bodies of their horses and to boil herbs in their helmets for food. The march was made in vain, for Alvarado had been forestalled by Benalcazar, who, with Almagro, was the real conqueror of Ecuador.
Ecuador, after the time of Independence, in which the famous Liberator, Bolivar, figured prominently, formed part of the republican incorporation with Columbia and Venezuela. Afterwards it was subject to revolutionary strife and civil wars of the most savage and bloodthirsty nature.
Among the leaders of the republican period the name of Dr. Garcia-Moreno stands forth. It was a steadfast doctrine of his that political progress could not be secured whilst widespread poverty among the people remained—a doctrine opposed to the merely political ideas of other Presidents of the Republic, and which indeed is as true to-day in the Spanish American Republics as it was then.[35]
The antagonisms of the Liberal and clerical elements at this period brought dreadful excesses in political life, with assassination and destruction. The clergy were in a large measure corrupt, their opponents uncompromisingly hostile, and woe fell upon the land, and as late as the year 1912 the most dreadful deeds were committed, and the future seems to hold little immunity from similar occurrences.
Our way lies now into Peru. But no highways unite the two Republics along the almost inaccessible ranges of the Cordillera; no railways traverse this wild and broken region between them, and for a thousand miles the whistle of the locomotive is unheard among the mountains, whose solitudes are traversed only by the difficult mule-trail, over which the hardy arriero pursues his arduous course, or the slow and patient llama, feeding on the scanty herbage as it goes.
It was in one of the more northern towns of Peru, that of Cajamarca, that the principal act of the drama in the downfall of the Inca Empire took place, and we cannot do less, as we stand in the plaza of the town, than cast a backward glance at this page of early American history, fraught with such changes of destiny to the folk of the Cordillera.
We have seen elsewhere how Pizarro and his followers painfully made their way along the South American coast. On September 24, 1532, they began their march upon Cajamarca, ascending from the hot coastal lands to the cold regions of the Andes. Stories had reached them of great, populous valleys, high up among the clouds which covered the mountains, of people who had gold in such profusion that they regarded it as a commonplace, and made their household utensils of the yellow metal.
The Inca Empire at that moment was divided against itself. The two sons of the great Huayna Capac, Atahualpa and his brother Huascar, were fighting for the inheritance. Never had the Empire been divided thus, and its dissension was the precursor of its fall.
Pizarro sent emissaries before him, and they found evidence of a remarkable civilization—in cut-stone buildings, bridges, and intensive agriculture. By torture of the Indians, information was extracted concerning the intentions of Atahualpa, whose swift messengers had already apprised the Inca chief of the white man's arrival on the coast. Atahualpa was crafty and laid plans for their destruction, but meantime he sent gifts of llamas and golden cups.
However, the arrival was a peaceful one. The Spaniards formed camp and arrogantly sent to summon the Inca to appear before them. Hernando de Soto, the emissary, found the chief in the courtyard of his residence—a part of which still stands in Cajamarca—and, riding up to him, rudely forced his horse in front of Atahualpa, until the animal's breath fanned his very face.
But the stoic Inca, although he had never beheld these terrible men-animals, as the Indians termed the horsemen, before, moved not. He wore the llauta, a fringe of crimson wool, the emblem of sovereignty. He vouchsafed no reply at first, but afterwards professed his friendship, and chicha, or native beer, in a golden loving-cup, was brought forth for the Spaniards' refreshment. Thirty thousand soldiers with lances surrounded him. At a word of his the Spaniards might have been destroyed, or at least driven off.
A careful watch was kept that night in the Spanish camp. "They are five hundred to one, comrades," said Pizarro; "but if we must fight and die, it shall be like Christians, with Providence on our side." Or such at least is what the historians have recorded of Pizarro's address; and, as we have before remarked, the men of Spain, on occasion, were devout.
The Spanish plan was a surprise attack and to seize the person of Atahualpa. On the following day the chief was to return the visit. The Incas were seen approaching, with bands, dancing, and singing, adorned with gold and silver; and, decked in his regal bravery, reclining in his litter, was the figure of the prince, the last of the Incas.
Whether the intentions of the Peruvians were hostile or not is doubtful. But the Spaniards saw, or pretended to see, arms concealed beneath the peaceful robes, and they prepared themselves to make a sudden attack—to strike the first blow, after their customarily valiant manner.
It was the hand of the Church that gave the signal for the onslaught that marked the beginning of the end of the Incas. The Friar Vicente Valverde—chroniclers have acclaimed him as "the rascally friar"—advanced, at the instigation of Pizarro, with a Bible in one hand and a cross in the other, accompanied by an interpreter, to meet Atahualpa as he approached, the armed Spaniards being concealed by the wall of the plaza. "You must here render tribute and homage to our Emperor," exclaimed Valverde, "to our Pontiff, and to the God of the Christians"; and he held forth the Bible.
The Inca chief took the book, in curiosity perhaps, probably not understanding what was said. Opening it, he fingered the pages a moment, and then haughtily and impatiently threw the book from him. "Christians!" called out the friar—and it is recorded that it was his intention, or that he had instructions, to break the peace under any circumstances—"Christians, I call upon you to avenge this insult to the faith!"
Atahualpa, suspecting a menace, stood up in his litter and ordered his soldiers to prepare. Pizarro and his men grasped their arms and rushed forth. The trumpets sounded; the mounted Spaniards rode to the charge; the Indians, stricken with terror at the sound of the guns, retreated in panic; and the Christians, falling upon the Inca army, triumphed, massacring the Indians like sheep.
Then they raised their eyes to heaven, giving thanks for this great victory. The conquest of Peru was, by this easy victory, already theirs.
The Inca chief had been taken prisoner in the engagement. He was a man of some thirty years of age, good-looking, fierce, stoic, a good reasoner and speaker, and the Spaniards regarded him as a wise man and treated him well at first. Probably they felt his superiority over them, these rude knights of the conquest. Great chiefs came from all parts of Peru to do him homage in his captivity. Huascar, his brother, had been murdered, it is said, by Atahualpa's orders; and Pizarro was wroth at this occurrence.
The scene changes again. Fearing that, sooner or later, the white men would kill him, Atahualpa offered them a princely ransom for his release.
"What ransom can you give?" asked Pizarro, seeing thereby a means of securing untold gold. "And when and how can you deliver it?"
The imprisoned chieftain raised his arm to a white line that ran high around the wall of his chamber or cell. "I will fill this room up to that line with gold," he said—"gold as pots and vases, gold as nuggets and as dust. I will fill this room, also, twice over with silver, in addition. That shall be my ransom, and it shall be completed in two months' time."
The offer, naturally, was accepted. "Have no fear," said Pizarro. The Inca sent swift messengers to Cuzco, the capital, hundreds of miles to the south, along the rugged Cordillera, with orders that two thousand Indians should bring the golden vessels from the temples and the palaces.
One of the remarkable institutions of the Inca Empire was the system of posts, established along the famous roads. Relays of postmen or runners were kept stationed at the tambos or post-houses. When a message was despatched, the runner ran his section at full speed, shouting out the message to the next waiting postman, who immediately proceeded to cover his stage in the same way; and thus the message was conveyed with the utmost speed for hundreds of miles.
Stores of gold began to arrive—vases, jars, pots, some weighing as much as twenty-five pounds each of the precious metal. The Spaniards one day saw a remarkable spectacle upon the precipitous mountain track, on the farther side of the valley—a line of golden pots, borne on llamas, gleaming in the sun, coming to Cajamarca for the royal ransom.
The promise of the Inca was fulfilled. The ransom was made good. Did the Spaniards fulfil their part? For the answer we may point to the final scene, when Atahualpa, at first condemned by his captors—especially the priest—to be burnt to death, was strangled, after a mock trial in the plaza—infamously done to death, on what was probably a trumped-up charge of intended treachery.
The only bright spot on this foul page of Spanish history is in the circumstance that twelve of the Spaniards, among them Hernando de Soto, protested vigorously against the deed. But Pizarro and the false friar Valverde, and others, were resolved upon it, and nothing moved them.