A little geography may not be amiss here. A glance at the map will show
that the city of Bogotá is situated upon a vast plateau, at an altitude
of about 8,500 feet above sea-level, 4 degrees from the equator, and 75
degrees to the west of Greenwich. Its position in the continent is
central. It is perched like a nest high up in the mountains. To reach
the ocean, and thus the outer world, the inhabitants of Bogotá are even
now still compelled to have recourse to quite primitive methods; true,
there are some apologies for railways starting northward, southward and
westward, but in some cases their impetus ends as soon as they reach the
end of the plain, and in others long before attaining that distance.
Once the railway journey finished—which does not exceed two or three
hours on any of the lines—the traveller has to content himself with the
ancient and slow method of riding, mostly mule riding. The ground is so
broken and the roads are so bad that horses could not cross them as
safely as that thoughtful, meditative, and much-maligned animal the
mule. After covering a distance of some ninety to one hundred miles
westward, the traveller reaches the town of Honda, which lies on the
Magdalena River. Here steam-boats are to be found, stern-wheeled,
shallow-bottomed, drawing no more than from 2½ to 3 feet, in which,
within four or five days, he makes the journey down to the sea-coast.
The map of the country would seem to show that the easiest way from the
capital to the ocean would be towards the Pacific, and as the crow flies
such is the case; but between Bogotá and the Pacific Ocean the Andes, at
some period of their youth, must have frolicked and gambolled amongst
themselves and lost their way home, so that they now form the most
rugged country imaginable. Geographers, with that thirst for
classification that afflicts—or should I rather say animates?—men of
science, speak of two or three chains of mountains. The average man,
however, who has to travel over that country, conceives his task as
corresponding to a start made from one end of a huge comb, following the
developments of it from the root to the point of each tooth until
Providence and Nature take pity on him, and land him, so to speak, on
the sea-shore.
Bogotá is no thoroughfare. When you get there, there you are, and if you
go there, it is because you were bent on it; it is not like other towns
that may be on the road to somewhere else, so that travellers may chance
to find themselves there.
The plateau of Bogotá proper was formerly—no one knows how many
centuries or thousands of years ago—a lake of about eighty square miles
encased between the surrounding mountains. The waters of the lake broke
through the barrier of mountains towards the south, draining it, and
leaving the plateau dry, save for some small lakes that dot it here and
there, and a few rivers of no great importance. I could not help
thinking that this immense lake thus held aloft upon that mighty
pedestal at such an altitude formed a sort of gigantic goblet such as is
rarely seen under the sun. The river that marks the course through which
the waters are supposed to have been drained drags its sluggish waves
meandering in many turns and twists from north to south along the plain,
and gives a sudden leap of 750 feet through the open gap on the
mountain-side, forming those magnificent waterfalls called the
Tequendama. The river plunges headlong, as if to make up for its
previous semi-stagnant condition; it disappears between two mighty walls
of stone, polished as if chiselled by the hand of man; it roars with a
deafening sound; its waters appear, as they curl over the abyss, white
as the wool of a lamb, and their consistency conveys the impression of
wool rather than that of snow. The morning sun plays upon the mass of
waters, and crowns it with a halo of rainbows varying in size. On the
borders of the river, at the place where the cataract springs, are to be
seen evergreens and pine-trees, and other such plants belonging to the
temperate or cold zones; down below, where the water falls, and the
river reappears like a dying stream following its course in the lower
valley, palm-trees and tropical vegetation are to be seen, and birds of
variegated plumage, parrots, cockatoos, parroquets and others, fly like
living arrows from the sunlight, and plunge into the mist with piercing
shrieks amidst the deafening roar of the cataract.
As we journeyed on in the cool night air, it seemed to me that the whole
country—north, south, east and west—lay at my feet, and to the mind’s
eye it appeared with its vast interminable plains to the east crossed by
numberless rivers, the mountain region to the north on the western side
of the Magdalena Valley, the broad plains in the Lower Magdalena, and
the rugged mountainous district of Antioquia on the western side of the
river, and then mountains and more mountains towards the Pacific Ocean.
Surely, if a journey in these days presents such difficulties, the first
journey undertaken by the conquerors who discovered the plateau of
Bogotá, may be held for a feat worthy of those men who, whatever their
faults, were brave among the bravest.
Towards the east of the Magdalena River, on the coast of the Atlantic,
the city of Santa Marta had been founded somewhere in 1530. News of the
vast empire alleged to exist in the interior of the country had reached
the founders of the town, and they soon decided to conquer that region
about which such marvels were told. In the month of August, 1536, an
expedition of 700 soldiers, infantry, and 80 horse left Santa Marta to
penetrate into the heart of the continent, confident in their courage,
and lusting for gold and adventure. This part of the expedition marched
by land, and 200 more men journeyed in boats along the river Magdalena.
A full narrative of their adventures would be long. They met foes large
and small, from poisonous reptiles and the numerous insects which made
life a burden, to tigers and alligators: add to these fevers and
illnesses absolutely unknown to them. It is said that one man, whilst
sleeping in camp with all his companions, was snatched from his hammock
by a famished tiger. At times the rank and file seemed ripe for mutiny,
but the captain was a man of iron. His name was Gonzalo Jiménez de
Quesada. Though himself sore smitten by some disease peculiar to the
locality, he kept the lead, and dragged the rest in his train. Praise is
likewise due to the chaplain of the expedition, Domingo de las Casas,
who stoutly supported the commander. This friar was a kinsman of that
other friar Bartolomé de las Casas, whose unwearying efforts in behalf
of the native races won for him the well-deserved name of ‘Protector of
the Indians.’
After a while the boats and the shores of the great river were
abandoned, and the men found themselves in a mountainous country where
the temperature became more tolerable and pleasant as they climbed
higher. Finally, their eyes beheld the Empire of the Chibchas. What a
joy—after toil and suffering which had lasted over seventeen months,
when only 160 of the original expedition were left—to gaze upon a land
where cultivated fields were seen in all directions, and the
hearth-smoke rising from the houses to heaven! This was the land of the
Chibchas, who formed an empire second only to that of the Incas of Peru
and the Aztecs of Mexico. They had a religion—by no means a bad one as
religions went amongst the American aborigines—they had their code of
laws, their division of time, their rules and codes in all matters
appertaining to family life and administration of government; they
tilled the soil, they believed in the immortality of the soul, they
reverenced their dead, and practised barter according to well-defined
laws.
The thousands and thousands of soldiers which the Zipa or King of the
Chibchas could bring against the Spaniards were overawed rather than
overcome by force. The greater sagacity of the Spaniards, coupled with
their courage, soon made them masters of the land. Jiménez de Quesada
founded the city of Bogotá in 1537. He chose a spot on the plains which
suited him—where the city now stands—and, clad in full armour,
surrounded by his companions and by a large crowd of Indians, plucked
some grass from the ground, and, unsheathing his sword, declared that he
took possession of the land for the greater glory of God as the property
of his King and master, Charles V. of Spain. Then turning, with a fierce
glance, to those who surrounded him, he challenged one and all to single
combat should they dare to dispute his action. Naturally, no dispute
arose, and so the title was acquired. They had their own peculiar ways,
those old Spanish conquerors! A similar method was followed by Nuñez de
Balboa, when, in the name of his King and master, he took possession of
the Pacific Ocean with whatever lands and islands might border on it,
stepping into the waters clad in full armour, holding the flag of Spain
in his left hand, and his trusty Toledo blade—_la de Juanes_—in his
right.
To speak of this conquest of the Chibcha Empire recalls the fact that
the land of Bogotá was really the land of El Dorado. _El Dorado_ in
Spanish means the gilt one, the man covered with gold, and all
chroniclers and historians of the early period are agreed as to the
origin of the tradition.
The King of the Chibchas, amongst whom power and property passed by law
of inheritance from uncle to nephew, was called the Zipa. His power as a
monarch was absolute, but to attain the dignity of what we should
nowadays call Crown Prince, and to become in due course King, it was not
enough to be a nephew, or even to be the right nephew. The prospective
heir to the throne had to qualify himself by passing through an ordeal
which Princes of other nations and other times would certainly find most
obnoxious. He had to live in a cave for six years, fasting the whole
time, with limited rations, barely enough to sustain life. No meat or
salt were to be eaten during the whole time. He must see no one, with
the exception of his male servants, nor was he even allowed to gaze upon
the sun. Only after sunset and before sunrise might he issue from his
cave. After this ordeal he was qualified, but should he have so much as
cast his eyes upon a woman during that period, his rights to the throne
were lost. The consecration, so to speak, of the Zipa took the form of a
most elaborate ceremony. The prospective Zipa would betake himself—being
carried upon a special sort of frame so arranged that twenty men
standing under it could lift it upon their shoulders—to one of the five
sacred lakes that still exist in the plateau, generally to the lake of
Guatavita. There, stripped naked, his body was smeared with a resinous
substance, upon which gold-dust was sprinkled in large quantities.
Naturally, after this process the man appeared like unto a very statue
of gold. Two other high dignitaries or chiefs, called Caciques, as nude
as the Zipa, would go with him upon a raft of twisted reeds and slowly
paddle into the centre of the lake. All round the shore was a dense
crowd, burning a species of aromatic herb which produced clouds of
smoke. On every hand was heard the sound of music, or, rather, of noises
representing the music customary at all ceremonies. On the raft, at the
feet of the Zipa, lay a huge pile of gold and emeralds. Each of his
companions, too, had gold and emeralds, wherewith to propitiate the god
in whose honour the ceremony was performed. One of the chiefs in the
raft would raise a white flag and wave it. The noise on the shores
became deafening, whilst the gilded Zipa threw into the lake all the
gold and all the emeralds; then his companions would follow his example.
When all the gold and emeralds on the raft had been cast into the lake,
the people ashore also made their offerings of gold. Thus, after six
years’ fasting, the Zipa was (so to put it) anointed or qualified for
kingship. On reaching the land the period of abstinence came to an end,
and now that the Zipa was full-fledged Crown Prince, or Zipa (if his
predecessor should have chanced to die), his first act was to get
gloriously drunk.
From the early days of the conquest, efforts were made to drain the five
lakes, from which numerous samples of gold idols and roughly-worked gold
have been recovered. Even recently a company was formed in England for
that purpose. The tradition in this case being so universal, it seems
rational to assume that vast treasures must lie at the bottom of these
lakes, because the Chibchas were an ancient race, and their ceremonies
must have been repeated during centuries. The country also is rich in
emeralds and in gold—hence the belief in the large amount of treasure to
be obtained from those lakes whose waters look so placid.
Some years ago in Bogotá an enthusiast, who sought to form a company for
the purpose of draining one of the lakes, carried about with him a few
samples of gold, idols and suchlike, which, so he said, had been brought
to light by a man whom he named, a good diver, who plunged five times
into the lake, and after each plunge brought up one of the specimens
exhibited. He argued thus: The bottom of the lake must be practically
studded with gold, since Mr. X. succeeded each time. There are millions
in the lake, and all that is needed is a little money to drain it.
The argument seemed so strong, and the gold gleamed so bright in his
hands, that he obtained numerous subscribers, until he had the
misfortune to come across one of those sceptics impervious to reason,
who, after listening to him, replied: ‘Yes, I have no doubt that there
must be millions in the lake, since X. at each plunge brought out a bit
of gold like those you show me; but what I cannot for the life of me
understand is why he is not still plunging—it seems so easy!’ The tale
went round the town, and the lake was not drained, nor has it been up to
the present.
This gilding of the man is the germ of the legend of El Dorado, which
has cost so much blood, and in search of which so many thousands and
thousands of men have wandered during past centuries in all possible
directions on their bootless quest.