Kitabı oku: «Equatorial America», sayfa 18
Juan Fernandez has one tall peak, nearly three thousand feet high, which the pilots point out long before the rest of the island is seen. It was from this lofty lookout that Alexander Selkirk was wont to watch daily in the hope of sighting some passing ship, by which he might be released from his imprisonment. There are about one hundred residents upon the group to-day, it having been leased by the Chilian government as a stock ranch for the breeding of goats and cattle, as well as for the raising of vegetables for the market of Valparaiso. There are said to be thirty thousand horned cattle, and many sheep, upon these islands. Occasional excursion parties are made up at Valparaiso to visit the group by steamboat, for the purpose of shooting seals and mountain goats. Stories are told of Juan Fernandez having been formerly made the headquarters of pirates who came from thence to ravage the towns on the coast of the continent, and it is believed by the credulous that much of the ill-gotten wealth of the buccaneers still remains hidden there. In search of this supposititious treasure, expeditions have been fitted out in past years at Valparaiso, and many an acre of ground has been vainly dug over in seeking for piratical gold, supposed to be buried there. Some of the shrewd stock raisers of Juan Fernandez are ready, for a consideration, to point out to seekers the most probable places where such treasures might have been buried.
CHAPTER XVI
The Port of Callao. – A Submerged City. – Peruvian Exports. – A Dirty and Unwholesome Town. – Cinchona Bark. – The Andes. – The Llama. – A National Dance. – City of Lima. – An Old and Interesting Capital. – Want of Rain. – Pizarro and His Crimes. – A Grand Cathedral. – Chilian Soldiers. – Costly Churches of Peru. – Roman Catholic Influence. – Desecration of the Sabbath.
The passage northward from Valparaiso to Callao occupies about four days by the steamers which do not stop at intermediate ports. We entered the harbor in the early morning while a soft veil of mist enshrouded the bay, but as the sun fairly shone upon the view, this aerial screen rapidly disappeared, revealing Callao just in front of us, making the foreground of a pleasing and vivid picture, the middle distance filled by the ancient city of Lima, and the far background by alpine ranges. Callao is an ill-built though important town, with a population of about thirty thousand, and serves as the port for Lima, the capital of Peru. It has a good harbor, well protected by the island of San Lorenzo, which, with the small island of El Fronton, and the Palminos reef, forms a protection against the constant swell of the ocean. There are nearly always one or two ships of war belonging to foreign nations in the harbor, and large steamships from the north or the south. The sailing distance from Panama is fifteen hundred miles. The Callao of to-day is comparatively modern. Old Callao formerly stood on a tongue of land opposite San Lorenzo, but in 1746 an earthquake submerged it and drowned some five thousand of the inhabitants, foundered a score of ships, and stranded a Spanish man-of-war. In calm weather one can row a boat over the spot where the old city stood, and see the ruins far down in the deep waters. The present city has twice been near to sharing the same fate: once in 1825, and again in 1868. It is, therefore, not assuming too much to say that Callao may at any time disappear in the most summary fashion. The sunken ruins in the harbor are a melancholy and suggestive sight, the duplicate of which we do not believe can be found elsewhere on the globe. Though seismic disturbances are of such frequent occurrence, and are so destructive on the west coast of South America, they are hardly known on the Atlantic or eastern side of the continent. That they are frequently coincident with volcanic disturbances indicates that there is an intimate connection between them, but yet earthquakes often occur in regions where volcanoes do not exist. This was the case, not long since, as most of our readers will remember, in South Carolina. It has been noticed by careful observers that animals become uneasy on the eve of such an event, which would seem to show that earthquakes sometimes owe their origin to extraordinary atmospheric conditions.
San Lorenzo is about six miles from Callao, and is four miles long by one in width. It is utterly barren, presenting a mass of brownish gray color, eleven hundred feet high, at whose base there is ever a broad, snow white ruffle, caused by the never-ceasing ocean swell breaking into foam. An English smelting company has established extensive works near the shore of the island, for the reduction of silver and copper ores. The approach to Callao from the sea affords a fine view of the undulating shore, backed by the snowy Cordilleras, the shabby buildings of the town, with the dismantled castle of San Felipe forming the foreground. In landing one must be cautious: there is always considerable swell in the harbor.
The staple products of this region are represented by packages of merchandise prepared for shipment, and which are the first to attract one's attention upon landing, such as cinchona bark from the native forests, piles of wheat in bulk, hides, quantities of crude salt, sugar packed in dried banana leaves, bales of alpaca wool, and, most suggestive of all, some heavy bags of silver ore. Little is being done in mining at present, though the field for this industry is large. The difficulty of transportation is one of the great drawbacks, yet Peru has over a thousand miles of railways in her rather limited area. Gold, platinum, silver, and copper are all found in paying quantities. Coal and petroleum also exist here, in various inland districts. The guano deposits, which have yielded so much wealth to Peru in the past, are practically exhausted, while the nitrate-producing province of Tarapaca has been stolen by Chili, to which it now belongs. It is thought that the nitrate deposits can be profitably worked for fifty years to come.
A crowd of the lazy, ragged population were loafing about the landing, watching the strangers as they came on shore at the wet and slippery stone steps.
It is very plain that the great importance of Callao has departed, though there is still an appearance of business activity. Not long ago, a hundred vessels at a time might be seen at anchor inside of San Lorenzo; now, a score of good-sized ships are all one can count. This is owing to various causes: an unreasonable high tariff is one of them, exorbitant port charges is another, and the general depression of business on the west coast is felt quite as strongly here as at any of the ports. Like Santos, on the other side of the continent, Callao is ever an unhealthy resort, where a great mortality prevails in the fever season. The absence of good drainage and inattention to hygienic rules will in part account for the bad repute that the port has among the shipping masters who frequent the coast. The streets are particularly malodorous about the water front. The dirty vultures seem to be depended upon to remove offensive garbage.
A certain remarkable occurrence sometimes takes place in this harbor, which, so far as the writer knows, is without precedent elsewhere. A ship may come in from sea and anchor at about sunset, in good order and condition, everything being white and clean on board, but when her captain comes on deck the next morning, he may find that his ship has been painted, inside and out, a dark chocolate color during the night, the atmosphere at the same time being impregnated with a peculiar odor, arising from this "paint," or whatever it may be, which clings tenaciously to every object, wood or iron. While it is damp and freshly deposited, it can be removed like fresh paint, but if it is permitted to dry, it is as difficult to remove as ordinary dried paint would be. No one can tell the origin of this nuisance, but most seamen whose business brings them to Callao have been through this experience. Of course it must be an atmospheric deposit, but from whence? It has never been known to occur upon the neighboring land, but only in the harbor. Scientists have given the matter their attention, and have concluded that it may be caused by sulphurous gases produced in the earth below the water, which rise to the surface and disseminate themselves in the surrounding atmosphere.
From any elevated point in the city one may enjoy a delightful view, the main features of which are the Andes on the land side, and seaward, the broad heaving bosom of the Pacific. The corrugated peaks of the former, clad in white, seem like restless phantoms marching through the sky. Over the latter, long lines of inky blackness trail behind northern or southern bound steamers, while here and there a tall, full-rigged ship recalls the older modes of navigation.
The smoother water inside of San Lorenzo is alive with small boats, some under sails, some propelled by oars, shooting in and out among the shipping which lie at anchor before the town. A pair of large whales assisted at this scene for our special benefit, just inside the harbor's mouth. It must have been only play on their part, – leviathans at play, – but they threw up the sea in such clouds of spray with their broad tails, as to make it appear like a battle-royal seen from a mile away.
We mentioned the fact of seeing cinchona bark in bales ready for shipping. Of all the products of South America, gold, silver, and precious stones included, the most valuable is the drug which is called quinine, made from the bark of the cinchona tree. There is no other one article known to the materia medica which has been used in such large quantities or with such unvarying success by suffering humanity. It was first introduced into Europe from Peru, and was then known as Peruvian bark. It was supposed at that time to be found only in this section of the continent; but subsequently it was discovered to abound in all the forests along the course of the Andes, and especially on their western slope. So large has been its export that it was found the source of supply was rapidly becoming exhausted, until local governments awoke to the importance of the matter, and protected by law the trees which produce it. These are no longer ruthlessly cut down to die, when yielding their valuable harvest, but only a certain quantity of the desirable bark is taken from each tree annually, so that nature replaces the portion which had been removed, by covering the trunk with a fresh growth. The cinchona tree, having been transplanted from South America, is now successfully cultivated in the islands of the Malacca Straits, Ceylon, India, and other tropical regions.
The tree which produces this valuable febrifuge belongs to the same family as the coffee plant. In appearance it is very like our native beech tree, having remarkably white wood.
The llama is found nearly all over South America, and is often seen as a beast of burden at Callao, taking the place here which the donkey or burro fills in Mexico. It has been described as having the head and neck of a camel, the body of a deer, the wool of a sheep, and the neigh of a horse. We do not agree with those who pronounce the llama an awkward creature. True, the body is a little ungainly, but the head, the graceful pose, the pointed, delicate ears, and the large, lustrous eyes are absolutely handsome. It can carry a burden weighing one hundred pounds over hard mountain roads, day after day, while living upon very scanty food. It is slow in its movements, patient when well treated, and particularly sure-footed. It is of a very gentle disposition, but when it finds the weight placed upon its back too heavy, like the Egyptian camel, it immediately lies down and will not rise until the load is lightened. The llama, or "mountain camel," as it has been aptly called, is the only domesticated native animal. The horse, ox, hog, and sheep are all importations which were entirely unknown here four centuries ago. The llama has two notable peculiarities: when angry it will expectorate at its enemy, and when hurt will shed tears. The expectoration is of an acrid, semi-poisonous nature, and if it strikes the eyes will, it is said, blind them. The llama, guanaco, alpaca, and vicuña were the four sheep of the Incas, the wool of the first clothing the common people; the second, the nobles; the third, the royal governors; and the fourth the Incas. The first two are domesticated, guanacos and vicuñas are wild, though they all belong to the same family.
The manners and customs of any people new to the traveler are always an interesting study, but in nothing are they more strongly individualized than in the pursuit of amusements. A favorite dance, known here as the zama cueca, is often witnessed out-of-doors in retired corners of the plaza or the alameda, as well as elsewhere. It requires two performers, and is generally danced by a male and female, being not unlike the Parisian cancan, both in the movement and the purpose of the expression. The two dancers stand opposite each other, each having a pocket handkerchief in the right hand, while the music begins at first a dull, monotonous air, which rapidly rises and falls in cadence. The dancers approach each other, swaying their bodies gracefully, and using their limbs nimbly; now they pass each other, turning in the act to coquettishly wave the handkerchief about their heads, and also to snap it towards each other's faces. Thus they advance and retreat several times, whipping at each other's faces, while throwing their bodies into peculiar attitudes. Again they resume the first movement of advance and retreat, one assuming coyness, the other ardor, and thus continue, until, as a sort of climax, they fall into each other's arms with a peal of hearty laughter. A guitar is the usual accompanying instrument, the player uttering the while a shrill impromptu chant. When a male dancer joins in this street performance, as is sometimes the case, it is apt to be a little coarse and vulgar.
There is very little in Callao to detain us, and one is quite ready to hasten on to Lima, the capital of Peru, hoping to escape the stench and universal dirtiness of the port.
The city of Lima has at this writing about one hundred and sixty thousand inhabitants, and is situated six miles from Callao, its shipping port, with which it is connected by two rival railways. These roads are constructed upon an up-grade the whole distance, but the rise is so gradual as to be almost imperceptible, though Lima is over five hundred feet higher than Callao. The capital, which is clearly visible from the water as we enter the harbor, presents from that distance, and even from a much nearer point of view, a most pleasing picture, being favorably situated on elevated ground, with its many spires and domes standing forth in bold relief. It has, when seen from such a distance, a certain oriental appearance, charming to the eye of a stranger. But it is deceptive; it is indeed distance which lends enchantment in this case, for upon arriving within its precincts one is rudely undeceived. The apparently grand array of architecture on near inspection proves to be flimsy and poor in detail: everything is bamboo frame and plaster; no edifice is solid above the basement. Still, one can easily imagine how attractive the place must have been in those viceregal days, the period of its false glory and prosperity. The capital stands almost at the very foot of the Cordillera which forms the coast range, and is built upon both sides of the Rimac, over which stretches a substantial stone bridge of six arches, very old and very homely, but all the more interesting because it is so venerable. The width of the river at this point is over five hundred feet. In the winter season it is a very moderate stream, but when the summer sun asserts itself, the snow upon the neighboring mountains yields to its warmth, and the Rio Rimac then becomes an alpine torrent. It is like the Arno at Florence, which at certain seasons has the form of a river without the circulation. The anecdote is told here of a Yankee visitor to Lima who was being shown over the city by a patriotic citizen, and who on coming to this spot remarked to his chaperon: "You ought either to buy a river or sell this bridge."
At the entrance of this ancient structure stands a lofty and very effective archway, with two tall towers, and a clock in a central elevation. Prominent over the arched entrance to the roadway is the motto Dios y La Patria, – "God and Country." Nothing in Lima is of more interest than this hoary, unique, moss-grown bridge.
One pauses before the crumbling yet still substantial old structure to recall the vivid scenes which must have been enacted in the long, long past upon its roadway. Here madly contending parties have spilled each other's blood, hundreds of gaudy church processions have crossed these arches, bitter civil and foreign wars have raged about the bridge, dark conspiracies have been whispered and ripened here, solitary murders committed in the darkness of night, and lifeless bodies thrown from its parapet; but the dumb witness still remains intact, having endured more than three hundred years of use and abuse.
It is not necessary to unpack one's waterproof or umbrella in Lima. It never rains here, any more than it does in the region of Aden, at the mouth of the Red Sea. All vegetable growth is more or less dependent upon artificial irrigation, and in the environs where this is judiciously applied the orange and lemon trees are heavy with golden fruit, forming a rich contrast with the deep green of the luxuriant plantain, the thick, lance-like agave, and the prolific banana. The city and its environs would be as poorly off without the water of the Rimac as would the Egyptians if deprived of the annual overflow of the fertilizing Nile. Though the river is so inconsiderable at certain seasons, still it does supply a certain quantity of water always, which is improved to the utmost. Dews some times prevail at night, so heavy as to be of partial benefit, giving to vegetation a breath of moisture, and taking away the dead dryness of the atmosphere. This, however favorable for vegetation, is considered unwholesome for humanity. The flowers and shrubbery of the plaza droop for want of water, and are only preserved by great care on the part of those in charge of them. In some of the private gardens the pashinba palm-tree is seen, very peculiar in its growth, being mounted as it were upon stilts, formed by the exposed straight roots which radiate, like a series of props, to support the tall trunk. At its apex is a singular, spear-like stem, pointing straight skyward, without leaf or branch, just beneath which are the graceful, long, curved palm leaves, exquisite in proportions, bending like ostrich feathers. At first sight this tree looks like an artificial production, in which nature has taken no part. Lying only twelve degrees south of the equator, Lima has a tropical climate, but being also close to the foothills of the Andes, she is near to a temperate district, so that her market yields the fruits and vegetables of two zones.
Pizarro, the ambitious and intrepid conqueror of Peru, here established his capital in 1535, and here ended his days in 1541, dying at the hands of the assassin, the natural and retributive end of a life of gross bigotry, sensuality, recklessness, and almost unparalleled cruelty. In a narrow street, – the Callejon de Petateron, – leading out of the Plaza Mayor, a house is pointed out as being the one in which Pizarro was assassinated. Both Pizarro in Peru and Cortez in Mexico owed their phenomenal success to exceptional circumstances, namely, to the civil wars which prevailed among the native tribes of the countries they invaded. By shrewdly directing these intestine troubles so as to aid their own purposes, each commander in his special field achieved complete victory over races which, thus disunited and pitted against each other, fell an easy prey to the cunning invaders. Neither of these adventurers had sufficient strength to contend against a united and determined people. Such an enemy on his own ground would have swept the handful of Spaniards led by Pizarro from the face of the earth by mere force of numbers.
Soon after its foundation, Lima became the most luxurious and profligate of the viceregal courts of Spain, and so continued until its declaration of independence, and final separation from the mother country. The most worthless and restless spirits about the throne of Spain were favored in a desire to join Pizarro in the New World. The home government, while purging itself of so undesirable an element, added to the recklessness and utter immorality which reigned in the atmosphere of Lima. Forty-three successive viceroys ruled Peru during the Spanish occupancy. The nefarious Inquisition, steeped in the blood of helpless and innocent natives, was active here long after its decadence in Madrid, while the local churches, convents, and monasteries accumulated untold wealth by a system of arbitrary taxation, and iniquitous extortion exercised towards the native race. What better could have been expected from Pizarro than to inaugurate and foster such a state of affairs? Under the influence of designing priests and lascivious monks, he was as clay in the potter's hands, being originally only an illiterate swineherd, one who could neither read nor write. The state documents put forth during his viceregency, still preserved and to be seen in the archives of Lima, show that he could only affix his mark, not even attempting to write his own name. Though Charles V. finally indorsed and ennobled him with the title of Marques de la Conquista, and appointed him viceroy of the conquered country, he was still and ever the illegitimate, low-bred hind of Truxillo in continental Spain. The palace of this man, who, with the exception of Cortez, was the greatest human butcher of the age in which he lived, is still used for government offices, while the senate occupies the council chamber of the old Inquisition building, infamous for the bloody work done within its walls. H. Willis Baxley, M. D., the admirable author, writes on the spot as follows: "When the apologists of Pizarro attempt to shield his crimes, and excuse his acts of cruelty by his religious zeal and holy purpose of extending the dominion of the cross, they may well be answered that the religion was unworthy of adoption which required for its extension that the wife of the Inca Manco, then a prisoner in Pizarro's power, should be 'stripped naked, bound to a tree, and in presence of the camp be scourged with rods, and then shot to death with arrows!' This cold-blooded brutality, and to a woman, should brand his name with eternal infamy."
As we have intimated, Lima, like Constantinople, looks at its best from a distance, viewed so that the full and combined effect of its many domes and spires can be taken in as a whole; but whether near to it or far from it, few places in South America possess more poetical and historical interest. Its past story reads like an Arabian Nights' tale. Though the city is by no means what it has been, and wears an unmistakable air of decayed greatness, and though foreign invaders and civil wars have done their worst, Lima is still an extremely attractive metropolis. Even the vandalism of the late Chilian invaders, who outraged all the laws of civilized warfare (if there is any such thing as civilized warfare), regardless of the rights of non-combatants, could not obliterate her natural attractions and historical associations. The Chilian soldiers destroyed solely for the sake of destroying, mutilated statuary and works of art generally, besides burning historical treasures and libraries; and yet these Chilians claim to be the highest type of modern civilization on the southern continent. They strove to ruin whatever they could not steal and carry away with them from Peru, and, almost incredible to record, they wantonly killed the elephant in the zoölogical garden of Lima, and purloined the small animals. Noble, chivalrous Chilians! The rank and file of these people are the very embodiment of ignorance and brutality. The Chilian soldier carries, as a regular weapon, a curved knife called a curvos, with which he cuts the throats of his enemies. At close quarters, instead of fighting man-fashion, as nearly all other nations do, he springs like a fierce bull-dog at his opponent's throat, and with his curvos cuts it from ear to ear. After a battle, bands of these fiends in human shape go over the field, seeking out the wounded who are still alive, deliberately cutting their throats, and robbing their bodies of all valuables. It is Chilian tactics to take no prisoners, give no quarter. These brave soldiers would have burned Lima to the ground after gaining possession, had it not been for the interference of the foreign ministers, who had national men-of-war at Callao with which to back their arguments. These guerrillas – for that is just about what the Chilian soldiers are – knew full well that if even a small European battalion of disciplined men were landed and brought against them, they would simply be swept from the face of the earth.
Lima is laid out with the streets in rectangular form, the central point being the Plaza Mayor, in the shape of a quadrangle, each side of which is five hundred feet in length. On the north side of this admirably arranged square stand the buildings occupied as government offices, together with the bishop's palace, and the cathedral overshadowed by its two lofty towers. The corner-stone of this edifice was laid by Pizarro with great ceremony. The spires, although presenting such an effective appearance, are constructed of the most frail material, such as bricks, stucco, and bamboo frames, but still, as a whole, they are undeniably imposing. In this dry climate they are, perhaps, enduring also. Like the façade of the church of St. Roche, in Paris, this of the Lima cathedral is marked by bullet-holes commemorating the Chilian invasion. The church is raised six or eight feet above the level of the plaza, as is usual in South America, standing upon a marble platform, reached by broad steps, well calculated to enhance the really graceful proportions, and add to the effect of its broad, high towers. The interior is quite commonplace, with the usual tinsel, poor carvings, and wretched oil paintings, including several grotesque Virgin Marys. These were too poor even for the Chilians to steal. Beneath the grand altar rest the ashes of Pizarro, the cruel, ambitious, reckless tool of the Romish Church. The cathedral was built in 1540, but has undergone complete repairs and renovations from time to time, being still considered to be one of the most imposing ecclesiastical edifices in America. Its original cost is said to have been nine million dollars, to obtain which Pizarro robbed the Inca temples of all their elaborate gold and silver ornaments. According to Prescott, the Spaniards took twenty-four thousand, eight hundred pounds of gold, and eighty-two thousand ounces of silver from a single Inca temple! Prescott is careful in his statements to warn us of the unreliability of the Spanish writers, nearly all of whom were Romish priests. Where figures are concerned they cannot be depended upon for a moment. They also took special care to cover up the fiendish atrocities of the Inquisition, and the extortions of the church as exercised towards the poor, down-trodden native race.
One's spirits partook of the sombre and austere atmosphere which reigns at all times in this ancient edifice. It was very lonely. Not a soul was to be seen during our brief visit to the cathedral at noonday, except a couple of decrepit old beggars at the entrance, the faint, dull glare of the burning candles about the altar only serving to deepen the shadows and emphasize the darkness.
The area of the Plaza Mayor embraces eight or nine acres of land, and has often been the theatre of most sanguinary scenes, where hand-to-hand fights have frequently taken place between insurgent citizens and soldiers of the ruling power of the day, while many unpopular officials have been hanged in the towers of the cathedral, from each of which projects a gibbet! The middle of the plaza is beautified by a bronze fountain with arboreal and floral surroundings. There was formerly some statuary here, which the brave Chilians stole and carried away with them, even purloining the iron benches, which they transported to Valparaiso and Santiago. The streets running from this square, with the exception of the Calle de los Mercaderes, have an atmosphere of antiquity, which contrasts with the people one meets in them. Even the turkey buzzards, acting as street scavengers, are of an antique species, looking quite gray and dilapidated, as though they were a hundred years old. In Vera Cruz the same species of bird, kept for a similar purpose, have a brightness of feather, and jauntiness withal, quite unlike these feathered street-cleaners of Lima. The "Street of the Merchants," just referred to, is the fashionable shopping thoroughfare of Lima, where in the afternoons the ladies and gentlemen are seen in goodly numbers promenading in full dress.
There is here the usual multiplicity of churches, convents, and nunneries, such as are to be found in all Spanish cities, though the latter establishments have been partially suppressed. Some of the churches of Lima are fabulously expensive structures; indeed, the amount of money squandered on churches and church property in this city is marvelous. During the late war many articles of gold and silver, belonging to them, were melted into coin, but some were hidden, and have once more been restored to their original position in the churches. The convent and church of San Francisco form one of the most costly groups of buildings of the sort in America. The ornamental tiles of the flooring are calculated, not by the square yard, but by the acre. There are over a hundred Roman Catholic churches in Lima, few of which have any architectural beauty, but all of which are crowded with vulgar wax figures, wooden images, and bleeding saints. These churches in several instances have very striking façades: that of La Merced, for instance; but they are mere shams, as we have already said, – stucco and plaster; they would not endure the wear of any other climate for a single decade.
