Possibly Pizarro, on the day of his own assassination, nine years afterwards, recalled this hour. He was killed, whilst at dinner on Sunday, by the follower of his partner Almagro—because he did not keep his promises.
Peru has always appealed to the imagination by reason of its natural wealth, added to its mysteries and remoteness. Humboldt spoke of it as "a beggar sitting upon a heap of gold," an aphorism designed to convey the idea of undeveloped riches. There is scarcely any valuable or useful product of Nature in the mineral and vegetable world which we may not find in one or other of the wide zones of littoral, mountain and forest of this land; scarcely any potentiality of life is lacking among her people, could they but make their way to its enjoyment. Since Humboldt wrote, much has been done, it is true, but it is little more than a beginning, in some respects.
If on the coastal zone we remark great tracts of territory capable of cultivation under irrigation, so do we find the agricultural resources of the uplands still calling for development, and mineral resources still lying unworked in many districts; whilst in the great Montaña, or region to the east of the Andes, which occupies the greater part of the Republic, settlement and cultivation are in the nature only of a few scattered oases in what is a rich and fertile wilderness.
The uplands of the Andes in Peru contain some of the most thickly-populated parts of the country, notwithstanding their considerable elevation. Here we find capital cities or towns of the various Departments or States at elevation ranging from 8,000 to 13,000 feet above the sea, whilst populous mining centres, such as Cerro de Pasco and others, are at heights up to 14,000 feet.
"The people of pure Spanish blood in these upland communities are few, relatively, for in the course of time they have become so intermingled with the original inhabitants that they now form the real Mestizos, or people of mixed race. But they are, to all intents and purposes, as much Spanish Americans as the dwellers of the littoral provinces, their language being Spanish, and their customs principally of similar origin. They are a well-meaning class, desirous of progress and betterment, but kept backward by the isolation of their position, and the poverty of the country, and low standard of living consequent thereon.
"But the main bulk of the population of these regions is formed by the original people who constituted the communities of the Inca Empire—the Quechuas and Aymaras. Whilst in general terminology these are called Indians, they must not be confounded with the savage tribes of the forest, from which they are distinct in every respect. They merge into the Cholos, with an admixture of Spaniard. They have, of course, absolutely nothing in common with the imported negroes of the coast, and are not necessarily dark-skinned—their complexion sometimes being relatively light—although they are beardless. The hair is worn in a queue. They are strong and hardy in constitution, and are much sought after as mining labourers, having a natural aptitude for this work. The mining regions, in some cases, are situated at very high elevations, from 11,000 to 17,000 feet, or more, and in the greatly rarefied air of such altitudes none but the actual sons of the soil—who have paid Nature the homage of being born there—can endure the hard physical exertion which mining demands.
"The history of these people is a chequered and terrible one. At the time of the Inca Empire they lived in a condition of happy and contented enjoyment of the fruits of their toil—a quiet, pastoral life, ruled by beneficent laws and monarchs who had their welfare at heart in a manner such as has never been carried out among the subjects or citizens of any Christian nation. They inhabited their glorious uplands, wresting from Nature, with pleasurable toil, the means of their simple existence, until—in the inexplicable plan of Nature, which ever demands strife and change—Spaniards came sailing round the world, and substituted for that peaceful regime battle and bloodshed, and long and terrible oppression. A resulting fear of the invading white man inspired the distrust which to-day is one of their dominant characteristics—Spain's legacy in the Andes. This has induced a feeling of despair, which is imprinted on their melancholy countenances, and in the passive resistance which has become their habitual attitude towards progress and the administration of the Republic. But it would not be fair to cast the onus of this distrust upon the Spaniards alone, for the Cholos have been abused and oppressed by the Peruvians of the Republic, almost up to the present day. In times of revolutionary war their goods have been commandeered, and themselves made to serve as soldiers in strife in which they had no interest, whilst in times of peace they have been considered an easy subject for spoliation by the petty authorities and the wealthier Mestizo class.
"The population of these regions in prehispanic days was very considerable. The destroying tendency of the Spanish rule is indicated by the fact that the Viceroy Toledo, in 1575, numbered eight million Indians, exclusive of the savages of the forests, whilst at the close of the Spanish regime the whole population of the country only numbered about a million and a quarter. At present it is calculated that the number of the Cholo-Indians of the Andine regions is something under two millions. None of these calculations is quite reliable, but the fact remains that the country was well-populated in pre-Colombian times, and that great destruction took place during the epoch of Pizarro and the viceroys, whilst internal feuds and the Chilean War accounted for a great many more deaths. High mortality, moreover, was brought about from misery and privation consequent upon wars. To-day the population tends slowly to increase, but infant mortality among the Cholos is very heavy, due to the wretched and insanitary condition of their life, added to the rigours of the climate on the high plateaux; which latter, however, would not be an evil were the standard of life higher.
"The poor Cholo has retained one fortunate condition from the civilization of his Inca forbears—he is an independent landholder. The small holding, or chacara, which he has wrested from Nature's chaos of rocks and ravines on the Andine slopes is his own; no one can dispossess him of it, and it affords him sufficient crop of maiz, potatoes, and, in places, alfalfa, to keep him and those dependent upon him. He is often, in addition, the owner of herds of llamas, alpacas, or sheep and goats, and from their wool he and his woman spin, and weave with their primitive looms, the 'tweeds'—for of this nature is the native cloth—and felt hat, which are his garments. These small holdings have been made in the most inaccessible places in many cases, by clearing away rocks and banking up the ground on the lower side in a similar way to that in which the andenes, or old cultivated terraces of the Inca period, were formed, and which still remain and excite the traveller's notice throughout the whole Andine region.
"Indeed, to the rough, topographical conditions and difficult environment of these small holdings is due the Cholos' undisputed possession, in the first instance, thereof. Had they existed in more favourable situations they would have been annexed long ago, first by the Spanish landholders, and then by the owners of large haciendas under the Republic, or taken by the petty authorities under one or another pretext. It is again an instance of Nature protecting her progeny against the ravages of their own kind. The laws of the Republic now forbid these small holdings to be alienated from the Cholos; a wise measure, tending to preserve this useful peasant class.
"The andenes, as the terraced fields which cover the hill-slopes of the Andine region are termed, are worthy of detailed description. They exist in almost every valley, extending upwards from the coast and the foothills to elevations of 12,000 feet, and even 16,000 feet or more, covering the slopes even in the most inaccessible situations and rigorous altitudes. From some high saddle or summit whence the surrounding horizon is visible, the observer notes a curious chequered or rippled appearance upon the flanks of the ridges, as far as the eye can reach, from the floor of the valleys up to the precipitous rock escarpments. They are the andenes; small terraces, one after the other, embanked on the lower sides with stone walls, like a series of irregular steps, where the soil has been collected and cultivated. The great number of these small holdings in every direction throughout the Peruvian Sierra has given rise to the supposition that a numerous population inhabited the Andes in prehistoric times—estimates even of ninety million inhabitants having been made. But this is fabulous, although it is evident that a numerous people must have formed and cultivated these remarkable terraces, of whom the present population are only a residue.
"Adjacent to these valleys, especially in certain districts, as upon the Upper Marañon,[36] are groups of extensive ruins of habitations, as well as of burying-places, known as huacas—often containing mummies—and of castles and fortresses. These latter often command the heads of valleys and defiles, and they go to show that the former inhabitants must have dwelt as separate groups or communities under the leadership of some chief—probably in pre-Inca times. These andenes, as the Spaniards termed the terraces when they conquered Peru, may have given rise, it has been surmised, to the name of the Andes; but this probably is not correct, the real derivation undoubtedly coming from the name of the Antis—a tribe which inhabited the snow-covered Cordillera region, which was termed by the Incas Ant-isuyu. This name, in Quechua, signifies 'copper-bearing,' and copper was extensively used by the Incas.
"The Cholo, then, provides for his wants, and he is quite independent—when allowed to be so—of the governing race. He asks nothing from civilization, and indeed this has, so far, brought him mainly two things—the superstitious part of the Roman Catholic religion, and alcohol! The one has partly improved his mind—the other tends to ruin his body.
"At Fair times, and on the numerous Church feast-days, the Cholos and their women flock into the towns to buy, sell, drink and indulge in religious exercises. With their bright-hued blankets and ponchos—generally made by themselves—they lend colour and interest to the scene. And the priests—ha! the priests!—this is the time of their harvest, and the Cholos are the inexhaustible supply whence they draw fees, tithes and offerings. For the Cholo nature has been most susceptible to the rites and representations with which Roman Catholicism is interpreted among them. They all bear Spanish names—Christian and surname—and each has his patron saint: and they must be considered a civilized race.
"As stated, these people are the descendants of the Incas, or rather of the Quechuas and Aymaras, who formed the population of the Inca Empire, for of the Inca line there are no descendants whatever left. The Incas were a royal line, and whilst their members were more or less numerous, owing to the polygamy customary to them, the irregular descendants were not recognized as legitimate Incas, the real line of succession having been preserved by the progeny of the marriage of the reigning Inca with his own sister. The illegitimate offspring naturally intermarried with the common people, and were merged into these again. Elsewhere some particulars of the past history and conditions of the Incas, and the population under their rule, have been described, as also their structures—temples, palaces and habitations—the ruins of which are encountered to-day along these vast uplands, where the Cholo feeds his flock, and lives his remote and melancholy existence. In marked contrast are some of these beautiful ruins to the wretched habitations of the present occupiers of the land.
"The Cholo-Indians of the uplands are, then, miners, shepherds and agriculturists. In tending their flocks, and in the breeding and domestication of the llama, they are remarkably expert, and their patience and endurance arouse the interest of the traveller who sojourns among them. They have many good qualities, which have been unable yet to expand. The true policy of the administrations which govern them must be towards bettering them and causing them to multiply, for, apart from motives of humanity, they are one of the country's most valuable human assets. If they fail, and become exterminated, a large part of the uplands and higher valleys of the Andes would become an uninhabited desert, for it is doubtful if any other race could ever occupy their place, or perform manual labour at the great elevations which form their habitat.
"Let us now glance at the conditions of life in some of the principal towns of this region of the Sierra. As is but natural, the farther these communities are removed from the coast, the more primitive does their mode of life become. When the only means of communication with the outside world are by difficult and sometimes dangerous mule-roads, journeys are undertaken but rarely, and new influences, objects and appliances are not easily forthcoming. Yet in some cases demand is met by supply, and in spite of the difficulty of conveyance of heavy goods; pianos, billiard-tables and such things are constantly met with in the houses and restaurants of the large towns in the inter-Andine region. But books, pictures and other essentials of refined life are scarce.
"What is the aspect of these towns? Imagine yourself astride your mule upon the summit of the range which bounds one of these Andine valleys. You have toiled on all day, saddle-galled and weary, and you gladly direct your gaze to where the town lies spread below—a bird's-eye view. The streets run at right angles, with a central plaza containing the cathedral or church, and official buildings; the hotel—if there be one at this particular place—and various shops and houses. The cultivated plain surrounds it—the 'flat place' which Nature has provided, and which, together with the river which intersects it, is the reason of man's habitation there at all. For it is early impressed upon the traveller in the Andes that 'flat places' are a prime requisite for humanity's existence. You begin the descent, having seen that the crupper of your mule is in place, in order that you may not journey upon the animal's neck; whilst your arriero tightens the pack-mule's girths. Small chacaras, or holdings, with little tumble-down stone huts, grass-roofed, straggle up the hillside, and bare-legged, unwashed children rush out among your animal's legs—the progeny of unkempt Cholo peasant women, at work within upon the preparation of some primitive meal. The little holdings are surrounded by rude stone walls, or hedges of prickly-pear, or maguey (agave). Still you descend. The huts give place to adobe houses, with whitewashed walls and red-tiled or grass-thatched roofs; the straggling trail forms itself more into the semblance of a street; your beast's hoofs rattle over the cobble pavement; some few inhabitants stand at their doors to stare and remark at the advent of a stranger; and in a moment you have entered the plaza.
"The condition of the plaza, in Spanish American cities, is an index of the prosperity and enterprise of the particular community. In the more wealthy and advanced towns it is well paved, and planted with shrubs and flowers, and a band, during several evenings of the week, discourses music therein, to the delight of the populace. Here pretty girls and amorous youths promenade—the only means of exercise the former are permitted, and the only general meeting-ground of the two sexes. In the interior towns of Peru the plaza is often grass-grown and unpaved. It seems to reflect the poverty of its inhabitants, and to impress upon the foreigner that the country is but slowly recovering from the misfortunes of its troubled history. The traveller, accustomed to the movement and modernness of the cities of other lands, will observe the triste aspect of the place with dismay, and wish he might turn his horse's head again without delay towards the coast and civilization. But the more leisurely observer will not fail to find much that is interesting even here. The buildings are quaint; the air of mediaeval times which shrouds the grass-grown plaza and the half-ruined church, together with the strange garb of the Indians who slink through the streets, and the struggling evidences of modern civilization—in shop sign or municipal notice—are almost pathetic. Whatever it is, it is peaceful; the climate is bracing, the cost of living—to foreign eyes—nil; and do not the surrounding hills and valleys contain unknown possibilities of mineral and industrial wealth?
"The society of these places consists of the official element—the prefect and other functionaries, and few professional men; the few storekeepers, and the chief landowners of the neighbourhood. There is but little social life—an occasional baile, a few political meetings, and the Sunday morning Mass. At the latter, the young men of the place foregather at the church door, what time the devout señoritas come forth, and pass review of soft faces and flashing eyes, beneath shady mantillas. There is probably a club with billiard-tables, brought with difficulty over mountain roads, as before mentioned, and newspapers of somewhat remote date. But the chief centres for gossip-mongers are the stores, and shops where copitas of brandy and native spirits are sold.
"The great merry-making period of the year is that of the three days' carnival celebration. During this time business is entirely suspended, and the whole population—whether in Lima and other coast cities, the towns of the Andes, or the remote hamlets of the plateaux—give themselves over to frenzied play. This consists principally in bombarding each other from the balconies of the houses with globos, or india-rubber bladders full of water; squirts, scents, powder and other matters. It is impossible to pass along the streets during these three days' riotous play without being soaked or covered with flour or powder from above, and the only method is either to enter into the sport, or else lie low at home until it is over. The usual reserve between the sexes is much broken down at this time, and the warm-blooded Peruvian girl enters with much zest into the temporary licence of Carnival.
"The houses of the upland towns are generally built of adobe or tapiales—that is, of bricks or concrete made of wet earth, sun-dried and whitened—the roofs being covered with red pantiles, or thatched with grass. Through the wide entrance door access is gained to the patio, or interior paved yard, after the usual Spanish American style, upon which the various rooms look and open. The windows upon the street are all securely barred with iron rejas, or grilles, and the whole aspect is quaint and mediaeval, though the arrangement lacks in comfort from the foreigner's point of view; whilst the interior ménage is naturally of a nature more primitive than that of communities in European towns. But in general, the peoples of these regions dwell in sufficiency, and that acute poverty, as among the lower strata of foreign cities, does not exist in Peru.
"The ultimate and irrevocable line of caste distinction in these places is that between the coat and the poncho. From the prefect and the lawyer and the doctor, down to the shop assistant, the dress is the coat of the ordinary European form. Be there but the smallest recognized strain of European blood in the individual, it will be sheltered by the coat, but below this all is ignorance and the poncho. This useful but uncivilized garment consists of a species of blanket with an opening in the centre by which it is slipped over the head. We must, however, temper this 'clothes—philosophy' by remarking that the poncho is used even by caballeros on certain occasions, especially on horseback, when, in the form of a thin white material, it wards off the sun's rays and protects the horseman from dust, whilst as a thick woollen garment it shields him from the bitter blasts and keen air of the mountain uplands. The ponchos woven of vicuña wool by the Cholos are of the most exquisite texture, and practically, waterproof. But the ordinary blanket poncho is the poor Indian's greatest possession. It shelters him by day from the sun or rain, and at night it forms his bed.
"The advent of a foreigner in these more remote places is a matter of interest to the inhabitants, and—especially if he be a person bent upon some scientific or exploratory work—he is well and hospitably received, and all facilities afforded to him. Keen interest is taken in anything pertaining to the outside world, for these people, cut off as they are by natural barriers from its happenings, are far from being apathetic, or indifferent of events. Indeed it is this eager interest and avidity for knowledge of the modern world which most greatly touches the sympathy of the traveller, and which is the element which must redeem the people of these remote places from stagnation and decadence.
"Peruvian hospitality is proverbial, and nowhere is it stronger than among the peoples of the upper class in the Sierra. The traveller soon becomes the centre of a group who press their not unwelcome attentions upon him; and they provide the best their houses afford for his refreshment and entertainment, as a rule accepting nothing in payment. This pleasing quality, in addition to being born of their native kindness, is motived partly from the desire to be considered civilized, and this is not without a note of pathos. The traveller, moreover, will not fail to recollect that he has sojourned in other—business—communities, whose higher civilization certainly does not necessarily include hospitality. These Sierra people of Peru, whilst they possess pleasing traits of the above nature, have also others less happy. They, as a class, are sometimes unscrupulous in their business dealings, and agreements are not always to be relied upon—a defect of the Spanish American generally, which at times overshadows his better qualities."[37]
We have already remarked on the mineral resources of the Andine region of Peru. It may be that, in the future, attention will be more widely directed thereto, and travellers with technical knowledge of mining are increasingly making their way here, and some notes on this score are of interest. Little, however, seems possible in this field without the use of foreign capital.
In a land so famous for its gold as was that of Old Peru, it is remarkable that so little gold is produced at the present time—an insignificant annual amount of little over £100,000. Yet there are many gold-bearing deposits scattered over the vast upland region, from auriferous quartz-seams: to vast gravel deposits. There do not appear to be any huge ore-bodies of the nature of South Africa, with low-grade but abundant material. The seams, however, in many cases offer "payable propositions." There are rock ledges of great length and depth, capable of being worked economically by adits rather than shafts, and sometimes with water-power available and with "cheap mining labour" (that attractive item of the company-promoter's prospectus) at hand, with immediate areas of fertile land for the needful foodstuffs. A difficult feature sometimes is the matter of transport, for, from the coast, the Cordillera must be surmounted.
The enormous gold-bearing alluvial deposits are generally situated on the most westerly side or summits of the Cordillera, and in the Montaña, and are difficult of access at present in the absence of railways. Various enterprises have been set on foot to win the gold from these in recent years—whether by the method of dredging, whether after the Californian "hydraulic" system—but it is doubtful if they have proved a success, from a variety of causes. There, however, is the gold, awaiting recovery.
The reputation for fabulous wealth of silver in the Peruvian mountains has passed into a proverb. Great wealth has been recovered, and the ores are often extremely rich. Myriads of old workings exist, which were abandoned because the more primitive appliances of a past age did not permit the drainage of the mines, which became filled with water; but they are capable of being pumped out. Romantic tales are told of the enrichment of miners who persevered in their labours in some lonely mine and won great fortune. In the many examinations I made here of gold and silver mines in Peru there were found conditions that should well repay modern mining enterprise. There is, of course, a good deal of work being carried on.
The great wealth of copper, lead, zinc, quicksilver, iron and coal also present their attractions, and there are rarer metals whose use commerce urgently requires. But foreign capital does not flow very freely to Peru, and Peruvian capital does not seem to have the organizing faculty to develop the mineral wealth of the country for itself. The mining laws of Peru offer considerable privileges to the foreigner, whom the Government is ever desirous of encouraging.
The Indian, the native miner, has his own methods of winning the gold from the rocks and gravels, or the gold-bearing streams of the Montaña, or the auriferous earths of the high pampas. In the streams he selects a suitable spot and paves it with large stones. Then, when the floods pass over the prepared surface of rude "riffles," the gold carried down by the waters from the auriferous rocks lodges in the interstices, and, removing the stones, he recovers the precious nuggets and dust. Or, by laborious panning in a batea, or wooden bowl, hollowed out of a block of wood, he washes the gravel from the rich banks of sediment, and the gold lies at the bottom. In the case of the gold-bearing ores, he digs shallow pits in the surface of the ledge, where Nature, under the oxidation of the pyrites, has transformed the gold into a form recoverable by the simple method of amalgamation with quicksilver, after crushing the friable quartz under a primitive rocking-stone.
Indeed, in many places, it would seem that Nature has placed the gold here in a form such that recovery will remunerate the natural son of the soil, when a more greedy and better-equipped "company" would be unable to pay its way. The stores of gold possessed by the Incas of Peru were won by such primitive methods; large bodies of Indians being employed upon the work, and evidences of their operations remain to the present time.
The ancient folk of the Andes had as their greatest food products maiz, millet and potatoes, together with the numerous tropical fruits of the lowlands. They gave Europe the potato—surely no inconsiderable gift—having developed it in Ecuador, Peru and Chile, from the wild, bitter variety; and Europe gave them wheat and other cereals, and, of course, the domestic animals—ox, cow, sheep, horse and pig.
The llama was their only beast of burden here—this curious, hoofed, ruminating quadruped of the camel tribe, with its long neck and timid face. In our journeys along these bleak uplands we shall meet large droves of the llamas, bearing loads of merchandise, in weight up to a hundred pounds. These animals are sagacious in their way, and if overloaded refuse to move. Their services, their wool, their flesh, are all extremely valuable adjuncts of Indian life. The creature costs little or nothing to keep: it requires no shelter, and it feeds itself as it goes along, at a rate of about four miles an hour. The llama indeed was—and is—an outstanding figure in the native economics of the Peruvian and Bolivian Andes. Its cousin the alpaca is also to be seen in large bands.
Up to the limit of the temperate zone in the Peruvian Andes, about 11,500 feet, we shall remark some of the familiar flora of England, such as ferns, nettles, buttercups, violets and stitchwort, together with wild geraniums and pelargoniums. Apples, pears, cherries and strawberries also grow, under desultory cultivation. Trees are scant in the almost treeless Andes, and we find little beyond the groves of stunted quinua and other native shrubs, which, however, are valuable for fuel. The ichu grass—stipa Incana—which also serves for "thatching" the Indian huts, is the predominant herbage.
As we ascend, the vegetation becomes even more humble. At 13,500 feet the potato will not grow; the hardy barley will not yield. Only a few thorny shrubs and some curious cacti are to be seen. Higher still we reach the limit of the perpetual snow, where little but the lichens and a few cryptogams appear, except a few cold-resisting flowers having medicinal properties. Above, all is bare, the inorganic world asserts its kingdom—except for the condor of the Andes circling around the summit of some ice-covered volcano.
Here in these high, inclement uplands, I have pitched my tent, and my Indians are now preparing a meal around the camp-fire, made of the dry grass or some scanty leña or firewood, or possibly we may have come across a "colony" of the curious yareta, a huge mushroom-like woody growth, perhaps three feet in diameter, full of resin, which burns fiercely: a product only of the Peruvian and Bolivian heights. Failing these matters, the fire must be of dry llama dung, or taquia, a useful fuel in the Andes, from which even the ores of silver, in places, are smelted.
Here on the roof of the world we mark the rays of the setting sun tinting a rosy red the eternal pinnacles of the Andes, and the last glow gone, we must seek the tent and draw the ponchos about us; the Indians throwing themselves upon the ground outside. Simple and faithful souls are these children of the uplands, full of gratitude to the patron who treats them fairly; resourceful and industrious. And the Ingles, of course, treat them well and justly. Is not an Englishman's word his bond? Further, are not his pockets invariably lined with silver! Months have I spent in these wilds, without any other companions than the Quechua Indians and the Cholos, our only language Spanish and what smattering of Quechua it was possible for me to acquire.
Or perhaps I have formed camp in some abandoned Inca ruins, and the evening meal has been cooked in the ruined stone fireplace of folk departed these many centuries: my seat a cube of stone neatly fashioned—one of those which strew the ground around—by some ancient mason. There one may ponder upon the strange folk, who built massive temples and megalithic walls—in a region where there is no timber and where corn does not grow. Why did these folk establish themselves in these high places? Are there any other mountains in the world where Nature brought forth a dominating culture so near the clouds as that whose progenitors went forth, as we are told, from the mysterious island of Titicaca?
Or again, night has overtaken us on the edge of the Montaña, and, below, we overlook the tree-filled valleys, part of the forest which stretches unbroken for thousands of miles across the Amazon plains of Brazil. The valley may be filled with mist, and the effect is remarkable, as a weird transformation scene. The sun sets; it still tinges the western sky with its beauteous and indescribable tints. The palest saffron fades into the pearly-green of the zenith, and the last, orange rays, calm and cold, flash faintly and expiringly upwards. In the deep cañons the fleecy masses of pearly vapour slowly pour—"slow, lingering up the hills like living things." So soft and pure are they that they might be the couch spread for some invisible god-traveller! No eye but mine beholds them. The Indians are busy at the camp-fire. Then the mist masses arise as if to engulf the lonely headland on which we stand, like awful billows. But the light fades, except that of a single jewelled planet, which gleams softly and protectingly down from its gathering height.
The Indians sustain themselves at times on their journeys by chewing the leaves of the coca shrub, which are a valued possession among them. This shrub, peculiar to Peru and Bolivia—although it has now been transplanted to Ceylon—is that which gives us the cocaine of the pharmacopœia. For the invaluable quinine, we may also be grateful to Peru and to the memory of that viceroy's lady, the Countess of Chinchon, who, sick of a fever—it was tercianas or tertial malaria—was cured by an Indian woman with doses of the steeped bark of the quinine shrub, which bears her name to this day.
The most ancient and remarkable town of the Cordillera is Cuzco, the one-time Inca capital. It lies in a valley, overlooked by lofty mountains; and on its northern side stands the famous fortress of Sacsaihuaman, the cyclopean fortress of the early Peruvians—the Incas and their predecessors. Here we may stand upon the great walls of what is one of the most remarkable of prehistoric structures, forming terraces along the hillside of great stone blocks, built in the form of revetments and salients, some of the stones being nearly twenty feet high.
Many of the walls of the Cuzco streets still retain their Inca stone construction, a monument to the clever masonry of these people, which has excited the interest and admiration of many archæologists and travellers. Here was the Temple of the Sun, and indeed part of its beautifully moulded walls still remains.
The town is the centre of one of the most popular districts of Peru, labouring Indians mainly; and it has a number of interesting Spanish colonial buildings, with some textile and other industries. We may reach Cuzco now by rail from Arequipa and the coast at Mollendo. Not far away are others of the remarkable remains of early Peruvian civilization, including the Inca "astronomical observatory" of Intihuatana, where the priests determine the solstices by means of the shadow cast by a stone column, a portion of which still exists. Also Ollanta.
Cuzco witnessed the final overthrow of the Incas after the scene at Cajamarca, and many excesses were committed here by the Spaniards, in their purpose of stamping out the early Peruvian civilization—a sad and pathetic page of history indeed.
If on these high and often dreary uplands it was destined that the power of the Inca Empire should pass away in so melancholy a fashion, it would seem that fate had here a similar end for the empire of its conquerors in store. For are not the fateful names of Junin and Ayacucho stamped upon the face of this Cordillera region? Here the Royalists of Spain made their last stand.
We cannot enter upon the details of Spain's downfall. From its history stand out the famous names of San Martin, with his march across the Andes from Argentine into Chile; Bolivar, and his equally or more renowned march across the Northern Andes; Cochrane, the English admiral, and his operations on the coast; Sucre, La Serna, and others. At the Battle of Junin the Royalist leader of the Spanish forces was defeated. Cuzco, the last stronghold of Spain in South America, fell. Then came the historic Battle of Ayacucho. The patriots—Peruvians, Chileans and some Argentines—numbered some six thousand; the Royalists nine thousand. The Royalists were utterly routed, fifteen hundred were slain: the viceroy, his generals, officers and army were captured. It was hailed as a providential victory for freedom; a new life after three hundred years of Spanish domination, and the colours of Iberia flew no more upon the Cordillera.
Still threading the high region of the Andes, our journey takes us into Bolivia, that comparatively little-known Republic.
Neither topographically nor historically is there any marked change from Peru to Bolivia. Both countries occupy the "roof of the world" here, the chain and uplands of the Cordillera, although, if such were possible, the punas, or steppes, of Bolivia are even more inclement than the corresponding antiplanicies of Peru.
Bolivia has, indeed, been termed the Tibet of America, where the yak is replaced by the llama. But it would be unjust to compare the one with the other as regards the human element, for the Andine Republic is peopled, or at least administered and animated, by the sensitive and progressive Spanish American civilization, and is not an old or decadent land, but, on the contrary, has all its life before it.
The highlands, we have said, are a continuation of those of Peru. In both countries, as well as in Northern Chile, we shall remark on our mountain expedition the herds of beautiful vicuña, fleet as the wind, living where nothing else will live, yielding a soft, tawny fur or skin, a boa of which is indeed a comforter around one's neck as a protection against the keen air of the heights. In the ramparts of the rocks myriads of viscachas squirrels, or rather conies, have their home, and it is a swift shot that will secure one for the evening meal.
Of the stupendous snowy peaks of Bolivia we have already spoken. There arise Sorata and Illimani, highest—with Huascaran and Coropuna, in Peru, and Aconcagua, in Chile, all near or over 23,000 feet—on the American Continent. Few travellers approach or ascend these mountains, whose beauties the inhabitants themselves generally prefer to contemplate from afar.
Bolivia is generally regarded as a "mountain republic," remote, inaccessible, backward. Such a concept requires some modification. It is true that the country, deprived of its seaboard, has its population and centres of life mainly upon the Andes, that its population is relatively small in comparison with those of its neighbours, and consists to a larger degree of the Indian element. But it is not all mountain, nor all Indian folk. A considerable area of the Republic extends to the lowlands of the Amazon Valley (and to the Plate), including those delightful sub-valleys and hill-slopes which Nature, by reason of climate and vegetation, has rendered of the most pleasant. As for the people, we find here the same Spanish American civilization, among the cultured class that is, with the traits and gifts common to their race. As for the Indian—that is their social problem.
La Paz, the capital of Bolivia, to which we may have ascended by rail from the coast, is approached almost unawares. There is nothing to foretell, as we cross the barren plains from Viacha, that so important a place will shortly be displayed to the view. Suddenly we reach the Alto, or "Height," and there, far below, is La Paz, reposing in the mighty amphitheatre of its abrupt valley. Before the train descends from the verge it is well to look again upon Illimani, Huayna-Potosi, and another giant, Mururata, whose snowy peaks reflect the colour of the sunset, bathed in an atmosphere so limpid that their distant slopes are brought to deceptive nearness.
The Valley of La Paz has the aspect of a vast crater, its floor lying over 12,000 feet above sea-level. Its buildings and institutions merit the traveller's attention. Its pleasing alameda and other planted or cultivated areas are a relief after the dreary and forbidding aspect of the valley around, with its scarred and precipitous sides. Who could have founded a city here, and why?
La Paz was founded by Alonzo de Mendoza in 1548, and first named to commemorate the temporary reconciliation between Pizarro and Almagro, who had grievously quarrelled. The cathedral was begun in the seventeenth century, when the famous mines of Potosi were at their height of productiveness. Some of the streets are of the most winding character possible, and many of them reflect the poverty of their Indian dwellers. Others are full of animation, constantly threaded by caravans of llamas, asses and mules, and thronged by a many-hued population of pure-blooded Indians, with garments negligent but picturesque; Cholas, or half-breed women, often extremely pretty, dressed in vivid colours, coquettish, wearing their home-made hats of white felt; and townsmen of white race, ladies of La Paz, and European folk: in brief, all the elements we shall have seen in the upland towns of Spanish America, where rich and poor do congregate together. On Sundays the animation increases, for this is the day of markets, and piles of wares and fruits and other products interest and attract. The streets are electrically lit. In the new part of the city are many handsome residences and evidences of wealth. The inevitable band in the plaza discourses its music, and the churches command their usual congregations. The museums—mining and archæological—show a regard for science here. La Paz is now becoming a comparatively cosmopolitan centre, and its interest and importance most undoubtedly increase.
The Republic of Bolivia took its name, as a token of gratitude, from Bolivar, the great Liberator. Since his time, from 1825 to 1913, it has had seventy-one different presidents, an average of a little over one per annum, an indication either of an experimental outlook towards self-government or of chronic unrest, whichever way we may prefer to view it. It is difficult for a European to comprehend the disabilities and difficulties of such a community, and criticism is easy. But we may again reflect that their future lies before these remote States, and that their human vitality and natural resource are storehouses for the future, not depleted or derelict.
To the observant foreigner perhaps the most interesting human element in the Andes is that of the Indians. They are the true children of the soil, Nature's product unadulterated, the specimen of her human handiwork in this special environment. They hide nothing, they expect nothing from her. But if the future lies before them they are nevertheless obsessed with their past. They are a raza conquistada as their masters term them—a conquered race. They may not always be so. Different writers take different views of them.
In Peru the natives of these uplands are the Quechuas; in Bolivia, the Quechuas and the Aymaras. These two differ somewhat in their habits and temperament. There are, in addition, a number of savage tribes, mostly in the forested regions.
"The Aymaras, one of the principal ethnical elements of the Bolivian nation, are found in the north, as far as Peruvian territory, on the banks, islands and peninsulas of Lake Titicaca, and on the plateau as far south as Oruro. The Quechuas occupy the south and the north of the Argentine.
"Between these two races there is a difference of type and a greater difference of character. The Aymara is a little above the average height, has the chest strongly developed, the calves powerful, and the feet small. The features are not on the whole attractive; they are prominent, and indicative neither of intelligence nor goodwill. The head is large, the neck short and thick, the cheeks wide, the nose massive; the eyes are small, the mouth wide, and the lips thick. The colour is coppery or an olive-brown, varying with the altitude. The hair is black, thick and strong, but the beard is absolutely lacking.
"While the Quechua is docile, submissive and obedient, the Aymara is hard, vindictive, bellicose, rebellious, egotistical, cruel and jealous of his liberty; he is always ready to resort to force. In times of disturbance the factions have always recruited the bulk of their fighters from the Aymaras. Yet they seem lacking in will, except the will to hate all that is unlike themselves. The Aymara is also fanatical, and his is not the fanaticism of religion, but of vanity; he wants to cut a figure in the religious fêtes, which are not unlike orgies of idolatry, and are marked by alcoholic and moral excesses of every kind.
"The plateaux are always cool, so the Aymara wears a comparatively warm costume, consisting of a thick woollen shirt and a poncho of many colours, with dark, narrow breeches coming just below the knee. The legs are bare, and the feet equally so, or are shod with sandals of raw hide. The Aymara, like the Tibetan, another dweller in plateaux, is insensible to cold; he sleeps bare-footed in the hardest frosts, and walks through freezing water or over ice without apparent inconvenience. On days of festival the Aymara replaces the poncho by a sort of tight-fitting tunic. The head is well covered with a large woollen bonnet, which protects the neck and ears. The women also wear a shirt or chemise of thick wool or cotton, over which they throw a mantle of coarse, heavy wool, striped with bright colours, and retained on the chest by a sort of spoon of silver or copper, the slender handle serving as a pin. A heavy woolle petticoat, pleated in front, and usually dyed a dark blue, covers the lower part of the body to the ankles. The Aymara woman wears several of these petticoats superimposed, which gives her a very bulky look about the hips. A somewhat unattractive hat completes the costume. Men and women alike having a perfect contempt for hygiene, all parts of the body are coated with a respectable layer of dirt. Their clothes, which they never put off, even to sleep, are worn until they fall into tatters, and usually give off a disagreeable ammoniacal odour.
"The Aymara tongue differs from the Quechua; it is a harsh, guttural idiom, rather formless, but having conjugations. It is forcible and concise. The peoples conquered by the Quechuas learned the language of their conquerors; but the Aymaras retained theirs, and when the Spaniards conquered the country, the Aymaras, who had long been a subject race, were decadent and diminishing in numbers.
"By the innumerable vestiges of building and the tombs near Lake Titicaca we may judge that this country was once thickly populated. But the plains afforded no refuge, and the inhabitants could not escape the forced recruiting which supplied the mining centres. At the time of Tupac-Amaru's insurrection the Aymaras, happy to reconquer their liberty, or perhaps merely to effect a change of masters and to satisfy their bellicose instincts, threw themselves into the revolt; whereupon war, sickness and famine considerably reduced their numbers. To-day they are estimated to be about 400,000 strong.
"The Aymaras are divided into six tribes, according to the regions they inhabit. These are the Omasuyos, the Pacasas, the Sicasicas, the Larecajas, the Carangas, and the Yungas. The Aymaras of the provinces of Yungas, Larecaja, and Muñecas are lighter in tint, cleaner, more intelligent and less uncouth than the rest.
"The Quechua race, whose numbers are greater, are found in many regions of Bolivia. The Quechua is lighter and yellower than the Aymara, and more of a Mongolian type. The features are irregular, the eyes black, the cheek-bones prominent; the narrow forehead is slightly protuberant, and the skull oblong; the mouth is wide and the nose massive. The stature is rather below the average, but there are tall individuals, who as a rule resemble the Aymara type. Solidly built, the Quechua looks a powerful and muscular man; but as from childhood both sexes are used to carrying extremely heavy burdens on the back they are not really very strong in the limbs, although the shoulders are very powerful. The Indian is an extraordinary walker; his legs of steel enable him to travel long distances in mountainous regions without the least fatigue. The women are even stronger than the men, their work being heavier, although they live practically the same life.
"The Quechua costume consists of a coloured poncho, a tight woollen vest, and breeches rarely falling below the knee; the feet are shod with ojotas, or rawhide sandals, which take the shape of the foot. The woman wears a small woollen vest, cut low on the bosom; the skirt is the same as that worn by the Aymara women; and on a feast-day the Quechua woman wears all the petticoats she possesses, one over another. As they are all of equal length, each shows the edge of that below it, whence a gamut of various colours. The Quechua women are distinguished from the Aymaras chiefly by their hats, which are flatter.
"The Quechua idiom is extremely rich and has been studied grammatically.
"The Indian race has never been assimilated; as it was at the moment of conquest, so it is now; with the same language, the same customs, and the same miserable dwellings, hardly fit to shelter beasts. Isolated and solitary, or gathered into hamlets of a few cabins, they are merely conical huts of unbaked bricks, covered with thatch or reeds, and consisting of one small chamber, in which all the members of the family live in the completest promiscuity. These huts, in which the most wretched poverty and uncleanliness reign supreme, contain nothing that we should call furniture; as a rule there is no bed but the hardened soil or a few coverings of ragged sheepskin."[38]