CERTAIN SOUTH AMERICAN TRAITS
As one travels through the various South American republics, becomes
acquainted with their political and social conditions, reads their
literature, and talks with other American travellers, there are a number
of adverse criticisms that frequently arise. I shall attempt here to
enumerate some of them, to account for a few, and to compare others with
criticisms that were made of the people of the United States, half a
century ago, by a distinguished English visitor.
Although it is true that the historical and geographical background of
the South Americans is radically different from ours, it is also true
that they have many social and superficial characteristics very like
those which European travellers found in the United States fifty years
ago. The period of time is not accidental. The South American Republics
secured their independence nearly fifty years later than we did.
Moreover, they have been hampered in their advancement by natural
difficulties and racial antipathies much more than we have. Although the
conditions of life in the United States, as depicted by foreign critics
seventy-five years after the battle of Yorktown, were decidedly worse
than the conditions of life in South America seventy-five years after
the battle of Ayacucho, the resemblances between the faults that were
found with us fifty years ago and those that are noticeable among the
South Americans of to-day, are too striking to be merely coincidences.
It is surely not for us to say that there is anything inherently wrong
with our Southern neighbors if their shortcomings are such as we
ourselves had not long ago, and possibly have to-day.
The first criticism that one hears, and the first one is likely to make
after getting beyond the pale of official good breeding in South
America, is that the manners of the ordinary South American are very
bad. Lest the traveller be inclined to take such a state of affairs too
seriously, let him read what Dickens wrote about us and our ways in
1855. It was a faithful picture of a certain phase of American life. It
should be confessed that it paints a condition of affairs worse than
anything I have seen in South America.
Travellers who are prone to find fault with the service at South
American hotels and restaurants will enjoy Dickens’ description of the
dining-room of a New York boarding-house. “In the further region of this
banqueting-hall was a stove, garnished on either side with a great brass
spittoon.... Before it, swinging himself in a rocking-chair, lounged a
large gentleman with his hat on, who amused himself by spitting
alternately into the spittoon on the right hand of the stove, and the
spittoon on the left, and then working his way back again in the same
order. A negro lad in a soiled white jacket was busily engaged in
placing on the table two long rows of knives and forks, relieved at
intervals by jugs of water; and as he travelled down one side of this
festive board, he straightened with his dirty hands, the dirtier cloth,
which was all askew, and had not been removed since breakfast.”
It is indeed hard for us to overlook the table manners of the average
South American. But how many years is it since North Americans were all
reading and conning “Don’t! A Guide to Good Manners”? It is less than a
quarter of a century since our self-conscious use of the fork on all
possible (and impossible) viands showed that we felt the need of
improvement.
To one inclined to criticise the speed with which a company of South
Americans will dispose of their food, let me recommend Dickens’ American
boarding-house table where a “very few words were spoken; and everybody
seemed to eat his utmost in self-defence, as if a famine were expected
to set in before breakfast-time to-morrow morning, and it had become
high time to assert the first law of nature. The oysters, stewed and
pickled, leaped from their capacious reservoirs, and slid by scores into
the mouths of the assembly. The sharpest pickles vanished; whole
cucumbers at once, like sugar-plums; and no man winked his eye. Great
heaps of indigestible matter melted away as ice before the sun. It was a
solemn and awful thing to see. Dyspeptic individuals bolted their food
in wedges; feeding, not themselves, but broods of nightmares, who were
continually standing at livery within them. Spare men, with lank and
rigid cheeks, came out unsatisfied from the destruction of heavy dishes,
and glared with watchful eyes upon the pastry.”
The conversation of a group of young South Americans is not such as
appeals to our taste. There is usually too much running criticism on the
personal qualities and attractions of their women acquaintances. To them
it seems doubtless most gallant. At all events, it is not sordid, as was
that conversation which Dickens describes as “summed up in one
word--dollars.”
When Dickens visited America, he remarked the frequency of the
expression “Yes, sir” and made a great deal of fun of us for our use of
it. Singularly enough, the Spanish “Yes sir”--_si señor_--is so
extremely common throughout South America as to attract one’s attention
continually.
Another thing that Dickens noticed was our tendency to postpone and put
off from day to day things that did not have to be done. Yet there is no
more common criticism of Spanish-Americans than that known as the
“Mañana” habit. You will hear almost any one who pretends to know
anything at all about Spanish-America say that the great difficulty is
the ease with which the Spanish-American says “Mañana.” Personally, I do
not agree with this criticism for I have heard the expression very
seldom in South America. It is true that it is hard to get things done
as quickly as one would wish, but I believe that the criticism has been
much overworked. Undoubtedly Dickens was honest in reporting that the
habit of postponing one’s work was characteristic of the middle west as
he saw it, but it would be greatly resented to-day and would not be
true.
In many South American cities one is annoyed by the continual
handshaking. No matter how many times a day you meet a man, he expects
you solemnly to shake hands with him just as did those western Americans
who annoyed “Martin Chuzzlewit.”
So also with “spitting.” I have been repeatedly annoyed, not only in the
provinces, but also in the very highest circles of the most advanced
Republics, by the carelessness of South Americans in this particular,
even at dinner parties. But how many years is it since “The Last
American” was prophetically depicted by J. A. Mitchell as sitting amid
the ruins of the national Capitol with his feet on the marble rail,
spitting tobacco juice? One can hardly ride in our street cars to-day
without being reminded that only recently have the majority of Americans
put the ban on spitting. The fact that there are already printed notices
in some of the principal South American cathedrals begging people, in
the name of the local “Anti-Tuberculosis Association,” not to spit on
the floor, shows that this unpleasant habit will undoubtedly be
eradicated in considerably less than fifty years after we have ceased to
offend.
We also dislike intensely the South American habit of staring at
strangers and of making audible comments on ladies who happen to be
passing. Unfortunately, this is a Latin habit which will be hard to
change. The South American has a racial right to look at such customs
differently. But if some of his personal habits are unpleasant, and even
disgusting from our point of view, there is no question that we irritate
him just as much as he does us. Our curt forms of address; our impatient
disregard of the amenities of social intercourse; our unwillingness to
pass the time of day at considerable length and inquire, each time we
see a friend, after his health and that of his family; our habit of
elevating our feet and often sitting in a slouchy attitude when
conversing with strangers, are to him extremely distasteful and
annoying. Our unwillingness to take the trouble to speak his language
grammatically, and our general point of view in regard to the “innate
superiority” of our race, our language, and our manufactures, are all
evidences, to his mind, of our barbarity. We care far too little for
appearances. This seems to him boorish. We criticise him because he does
not bathe as frequently as we do. He criticises us because we do not
show him proper respect by removing our hats when we meet him on the
street.
Furthermore, he regards us as lacking in business integrity. We are too
shrewd. Our standard of honor seems low to him. In fact, a practical
obstacle with which one accustomed to American business methods has to
contend in South America, is the extreme difficulty of securing accurate
information as to a man’s credit. Inquiries into the financial standing
of an individual, which are regarded as a matter of course with us, are
resented by the sensitive Latin temperament as a personal reflection on
his honesty. It seems to be true that the South American regards the
payment of his debts as a matter more closely touching his honor than we
do. He is accustomed to receiving long credits; he always really intends
to pay sometime, and he generally manages to raise installments without
much difficulty. Yet when pressed hard in the courts, he is likely to
turn and resent as an intentional insult the judgment which has been
secured against him. I have known personally of a case where a debtor
informed his creditor that it would be necessary for him to come well
armed if he accompanied the sheriff in an effort to satisfy the judgment
of the court, for the first man, and as many more as possible, that
crossed the door of his shop on such an errand would be shot. This we
criticise as defiance of the law. To the South American, the law has
committed an unpardonable fault in venturing to convict him of
neglecting his honorable debts.
It is unfortunate that the South Americans themselves are generally
quite unaware of their failings--a species of blindness that has
frequently been laid at our own doors. It is due to a similar cause.
South American writers who have travelled abroad and seen enough to
enable them to point out the defects of their countrymen rarely venture
to do so. The South American loves praise but cannot endure criticism.
It makes him fairly froth at the mouth, as it did the Americans in the
days of Charles Dickens’ first visit. So the pleasant-faced gentleman
from Massachusetts, Mr. Bevan, told young Martin Chuzzlewit. “If you
have any knowledge of our literature, and can give me the name of any
man, American born and bred, who has anatomized our follies as a people,
and not as this or that party; and has escaped the foulest and most
brutal slander, the most inveterate hatred and intolerant pursuit, it
will be a strange name in my ears, believe me. In some cases, I could
name to you, where a native writer has ventured on the most harmless and
good-humoured illustrations of our vices or defects, it has been found
necessary to announce, that in a second edition the passage has been
expunged, or altered, or explained away, or patched into praise.”
There is a story in Santiago de Chile of a young American scholar who
spent some time there studying localisms. When he returned to New York
he ventured to publish honest but rather severe criticisms of society,
as he saw it, in that most aristocratic of South American republics. As
a result, the university from which he came received a bad name in Chile
and his visit is held in such unpleasant memory that his welcome, were
he to return there, would be far from friendly. This seems narrow-minded
and perverse but is exactly the way we felt not long ago towards
foreigners who spent a few months in the States and wrote, for the
benefit of the European public, sincere but caustic criticisms. American
sensitiveness became a byword in Europe. Possibly it is growing less
with us. However that may be, South American sensitiveness is no keener
to-day than ours was fifty years since.
I am willing to admit that it ill becomes an American to offer serious
adverse criticisms of the people of any country. Our own defects have
been so repeatedly pointed out by foreigners, many of them with
distressing unanimity, that we cannot afford to set ourselves up as
judges of what South Americans should or should not do. It is true that
the South Americans have certain graces of manner which we lack. They
are more formal in their social intercourse, and use more of the oil of
polite speech in the mechanism of their daily life than we do.
Climatic conditions and difficulties of rapid transportation have had
much to do with the backwardness of the South American republics. With
the progress of science, the great increase in transportation facilities
and the war that is being successfully waged against tropical diseases,
a change is coming about which we must be ready to meet.
It is particularly important that we should realize that the political
conditions of the larger republics are very much more stable than our
newspaper and novel-reading public are aware of. Lynchings are unheard
of. Serious riots, such as some of our largest American cities have seen
within the past generation, are no more common with them than with us.
It is true that the Latin temperament finds it much more difficult to
bow to the majesty of the law and to yield gracefully to governmental
decrees than the more phlegmatic Teuton or Anglo-Saxon. But the
revolutions and riots that Paris has witnessed during the past century
have not kept us from a serious effort to increase our business with
France. The occasional political riot that takes place, of no more
significance than the riots caused by strikers with which we are all too
familiar at home, is no reason why we should be afraid to endeavor to
capture the South American market.
There is not the slightest question that there is a great opportunity
awaiting the American manufacturer and exporter when he is willing to
grasp it with intelligent persistence and determination. South America
is ready to take American goods in very large quantities as soon as we
are ready to take time to give attention to her needs. As Mr. Lincoln
Hutchinson aptly says: “There is no quick and easy remedy; money must be
spent, thoroughly equipped export managers must be employed, export
houses specializing on South American trade must be established,
efficient travellers must be sent out, technical experts employed,
agencies established, credits be given, minutiæ of orders attended to,
and, above all, trade connections adhered to in spite of allurements of
the home market, if we would succeed in the face of our competitors.
Half-way measures can accomplish but little, and that only temporary.”
Germany teaches her young business men Spanish or Portuguese and sends
them out to learn conditions in the field. American Universities long
ago learned the advantage of adopting Germany’s thorough-going methods
of scientific research. American business men have hitherto failed to
realize the importance of adopting Germany’s thorough-going methods of
developing foreign commerce. It is high time that they took a leaf out
of the experience of the “unpractical” universities.
Finally, a word of caution to those in search of information regarding
the history, politics, or geography of South America. The most
unfortunate result of the seven centuries during which Arab, Moorish, or
Mohammedan rule dominated a part or the whole of the Spanish peninsula,
is the truly Oriental attitude which the Spanish and the
Spanish-American maintains towards reliable information, or what we call
“facts.”
The student of the East realizes that Orientals, including Turks and
Celestials, have no sense of the importance of agreeing with fact. They
have furthermore a great abhorrence of a vacuum. If they do not know the
reply to a question they answer at random, preferring anything to the
admission of ignorance. If they do know, and have no interest in
substituting something else for what they know, they give the facts.
When they have no facts they give something else. They not only deceive
the questioner, they actually deceive themselves.
The same thing is true to a certain degree in South Americans. Sometimes
I have thought they were actually too polite to say “I don’t know.”
In South America as in the East it is of primitive importance to reach
the men who know and to pay no attention to any one else. No one really
knows, who is not actually on the spot in contact with the facts. The
prudent observer must avoid all evidence that is not first hand and
derived from a trustworthy source.
I do not bring this as a charge against the South Americans. I state it
as a condition which I have found to be nearly universally true. So far
as the South Americans are concerned, it is an inherited trait and one
which they are endeavoring to overcome. They are not to be blamed for
having it, any more than we are to be blamed for having inherited traits
from our Anglo-Saxon ancestors which are unpleasant to our Latin
neighbors and for which they have to make allowance in dealing with us.
In offering these adverse criticisms of the South American as he appears
to me to-day, I must beg not to be misunderstood. There are naturally
many exceptions to the rule. I know personally many individuals that do
not have any of the characteristics here attributed to South Americans
in general. I have in mind one South American, a resident of a much
despised republic, whose ancestors fought in one of the great battles of
the Wars of Independence, who has as much push and energy as a veritable
New York captain of industry. He has promoted a number of successful
industrial enterprises. He keeps up with the times; he meddles not in
politics; he enjoys such sports as hunting with hounds and riding across
country. The difference between him and the New Yorker is that he speaks
three or four languages where the New Yorker only speaks one and he has
sense enough to take many holidays in the year where the New Yorker
takes but few. I know another, a distinguished young lawyer who gives
dinner parties where the food is as good, the manners as refined, the
conversation as brilliant, and the intellectual enjoyment as keen as
any given anywhere. He, too, speaks four languages fluently and could
put to shame the average New York lawyer of his own age in the variety
of topics upon which he is able to converse, not only at his ease but
brilliantly and with flashes of keen wit. I know another, a
distinguished historian, who has been described by a well-known American
librarian, himself a member of half a dozen learned societies, as the
“most scholarly and most productive” bibliographer in either North or
South America. But these are exceptions to the general rule.
When we look at South Americans at close range we may dislike some of
their manners and customs, but not any more so than European critics
disliked ours half a century ago. And not any more so, be it remembered,
than the South American dislikes ours at the present day.
In this chapter and, in fact, throughout the book, I must confess to
having spoken more frankly and critically than will please some of my
kind friends in South America. Although they placed me under many
obligations by their generous hospitality, I feel that it is better for
all concerned that the truth should be told, even when it is unpleasant.
We cannot have confidence unless we have facts. I cannot pretend to have
succeeded in always finding the facts, but it has not been for lack of
endeavor. I have had no interest in concealing anything favorable or
unfavorable which I thought would make the picture clearer or more
distinct. Were we not already deluged with so much official propaganda,
it would have been my privilege to tell more of the wonderful natural
resources which all the South American republics possess. But just
because it has not been the business of “boosters” or promoters to
advertise difficulties or obstacles to progress, it becomes the more
necessary for the unprejudiced traveller to lay more stress on the
existing human handicaps, than on the wonderful natural resources. It is
an unpleasant task, but I believe it is worth doing. I have no patience
with those writers who paint everything in glowing colors and leave
others to discover the truth at their own expense. Nor have I any
sympathy with those who distort or emphasize disagreeable truths for the
sake of creating a sensation. I will, however, plead guilty to being a
prejudiced observer in so far as I am an ardent advocate of closer and
more intelligent relations between the United States and the South
American republics, and a firm believer in the truth that international
friendships, in order to be lasting, must be built on an honest
understanding of prevailing conditions and racial tendencies.
INDEX
Abancay, 289, 290, 295, 324.
Acobamba, 365, 370.
Aconcagua, 218.
Aconcawa, 159.
Acostambo, 369.
Agave plant, 71, 286.
Aguardiente, 326.
Alcaldes, Indian, 284, 365.
Alfa. _See_ Alfalfa.
Alfalfa, 77, 84, 100, 108, 159.
Allorisma subcuneata, 369.
Almagro, 263, 351.
Almanza, Emiliano, 320.
----, J. Antonio, 320.
----, Luis E., 320.
Alpacas, 137, 161.
Alto de La Paz, 228.
Amazon, 139, 240, 297, 318.
Americans in La Paz, 239.
Americans in South America, 10, 13-15, 24, 26-28,
29, 32, 39-40, 62, 182, 241, 388.
Amphitheatre, Inca, 278.
Ancacato, 162.
Ancon, Treaty of, 206.
Andahuaylas, 329-335.
Anderson, Geo. E., 28.
Andines. _See_ Terraces.
Angosta de Tupiza, 87.
Angrand, M., 320.
Anta, plain of, 283-285.
Antis, 318.
Antofagasta, 170-175, 201-2.
Antofagasta Railway, 88, 92, 170.
Aniline dyes, 262.
Animal Industries, 37-39.
Apurimac, 285, 291, 297, 325, 368, 370.
----, bridge over, 288.
Apurimac, rapids of, 293.
----, valley of the, 318, 321.
Aramayo, Señor, 90.
Araucanians, 192, 357, 358.
Architect, Jesuit, 325.
Architecture, Inca, 260, 311.
Arequipa, 215-224.
Argentina, 30-82 and passim.
Arica, 187, 205-209.
Armadillo, 234.
Art School of Chile, 192.
Ascarrunz, Dr. Moises, 166.
Ascotan, 173.
Atacama, 78.
Atahualpa, 280, 358.
Auquibamba, 325-26.
Automobiles, 18, 25, 31, 33, 36.
Ayacucho, 108, 144, 321, 324, 346-351, 360.
----, battle of, 281, 325, 350-355.
Ayalá, Alejandro, ix.
Ayamarás, 145, 152-154, 163, 169, 232, 249, 255, 268.
Ayavari, 255.
Ayoayo, 246.
Ayoma, battle of, 162.
Azequia, 312, 314.
Bahia, 10-15.
Bahia Blanca, 31, 63.
Ballivian, Sr. Don Manuel Vicente, 252.
Balmaceda, Pres., 173, 179, 209.
Balsas, 226, 235.
“Baltimore” episode, 209.
Bamboo pipes, 361.
Banco Nacional de Bolivia, 145.
Bandelier, Professor Ad. F., 218, 226, 227, 233, 334.
Banks and Banking, 145;
in Arequipa, 217;
Argentina, 39-40;
Brazil, 31-32;
La Paz, 237;
Tupiza, 88.
Banquets, Peruvian, 331, 337, 356.
Barbour, Thos., 252.
Barley straw, 84, 159, 284, 366.
Barros Arana, Diego, 191.
Bartolo, 135, 252.
Beazley, J. B., ix.
Beer, 335, 372.
Beggars’ Fair in Cuzco, 264.
Begonias, 290, 297, 326.
Belgrano, 48, 67.
Beni, valley of the, 239, 240.
Bibliographer, 391.
Billiards, 119, 166.
Birds, 110, 175, 202.
Biscachas, 246.
Blanco River, 286.
“Blind Man’s Guide.” _See_ El Lazarillo.
Bogotá, 35, 47, 196, 223.
Bola, 315.
Bolivar, General Simon, 50, 52, 118, 144.
Bolivia, 49, 56, 57, 73, 79. 83, and passim.
Bolivia Railway, ix.
Bolivian Andes, climbing and exploration in the, 249.
Bolivian army, 89, 104.
---- customs service, 85.
---- Government, 79, 92.
---- National Museum, 252.
---- paper currency, 114.
---- physician, 116.
Bombon, 341.
de Bonelli, Hugh, 200.
Book shops, 168, 178-79, 191.
Brazil, chapters I and II, 42, and passim.
Brazil, trade of, 10, 14, 20, 24-28.
British enterprises in Bolivia, 165.
Broom flower, 286.
Bryce, Rt. Hon. James, 233.
Bubonic plague, 210, 214.
Buenos Aires, 30-45, 60, 72, 73, and passim;
foreign trade of, 68;
history of, 46-51.
Buenos Aires and Rosario R. R., ix, 61, 69.
Bulimulus, 342.
Business methods, 384.
Caceres, Lieutenant, vii, 289, 293, 298, 303, 305, 345.
Cachimayo, 140.
Cachipascana, 224.
Cacho, Don Gaspar Mauro, 348.
Cachora, 297.
Cactus, 77, 86, 95, 341, 364.
Caisa, 112.
Calamá, 173.
Calancha, Father, 322.
Caldera, 177, 202.
Calera, 140.
Callao, 109.
Camacho, General, 138.
Camargo, 100.
Caracara, 151.
Caracas, 35.
Caras of Ecuador, 273.
Carnival balloons, 355.
Carnival season, 346, 350-353, 360-363.
Caroline Islands, 206, 275.
Casa Nacional de Moneda, 129.
Castelnau, 143.
Castilla, President, 320.
Castillo, 296, 298, 305.
Cattle, 37, 38, 152, 334, 364.
Ccapac, Manco, 322.
Cebada. _See_ barley straw.
Central America, 42.
Cerro de Pasco, 3, 373, 374.
Chachani, Mt., 217.
Chaco, 70, 78, 131, 139, 165.
Chaile, Fermin, 109, 164, and passim.
Challabama, 285.
Challapata, 145, 158, 162, 163, 172.
Challoma, 150.
Chavez, Lopez, ix.
Checcacupe, 254, 256.
Chibchas of Bogotá, 232.
Chicha, 134, 153, 246, 347, 350, 354, 361, 372.
Chicherias, 134, 256.
Children’s Sunday in La Paz, 233.
Chile, 40, 42, 51, 57, 58, 179, 181, 330, and passim.
Chile and Brazil, 185.
Chile and Peru, 357.
Chilean and Peruvian engineers, 125.
Chilean character, 204.
---- hospitality, 187.
---- navy, 200.
Chileans, 124.
---- of to-day, 358.
Chincha Islands, 204.
Chincheros, 335-341.
Chincona plants, 146.
Chocolate, 147, 156.
Chola, 235.
Choqquequirau, 291-323.
Chorolque, 100.
Chucuito, 334.
Chulpas, 164.
Chunchas, 318.
Chuno, 110.
Chupe, 111, 126, 128, 350.
Chuquisaca, 143.
Cinti, 100.
Cisneros, Mariano, 320.
Civil Engineers, 242, 270-71, 369, 375, 387.
Clausilia, 342.
Coal-beds, 369.
Coca, 107, 126, 127, 153, 235, 248.
Cochabamba, 170, 248.
Cochran, Thos. Earl of Dundonald, 51, 200.
Cock fight, 213.
Cocoa, 14, 107.
Coffee, 21, 23, 24.
Coins and coinage of Bolivia, 88, 128, 238;
Brazil, 25;
Peru, 145, 146, 213;
Uruguay, 30.
Colombia, 147, 378.
Colpahuayo, 345.
Colquechaca, 157, 165.
Commerce. _See_ Trade.
Commercial houses, British, in Valparaiso, 199.
Commercial prosperity in Chile, 199.
Commercial travellers, 9.
Condor, 305.
Condorkanqui, 346, 353.
“Conquest of Peru”--Prescott, 205.
Convents in Potosí, 129.
Conway, Sir Martin, 249.
Coñac, 355.
Cook, Capt. James, 276.
Copacavana, 226, 227.
Copper-ore, 205.
Copper smelters, 370.
Coquimbo, 177, 201-02.
Coracora, 235.
Corapuna. _See_ Koropuna.
Corcovado, 21.
Cordillera de los Frailes, 163-64.
Cordillera Real, 248.
Corn, in Potosí, 128.
---- parched, 254, 371.
Corrugated iron, 70.
Cosmos, 326.
Costume, Quichua, 262.
Cotagaita, 100-2.
Cotton, 14.
Covadonga, 53.
“Cradle of Gold,” 319.
Creveaux, 139.
Criticisms of Americans, 379, 387.
Crucero Alto, 224.
Cuchu Ingenio, 112.
Curahuasi, 289.
Currency of Chile, 199.
---- of Peru, 213.
Custom Houses, in Argentina, 31;
Bolivia, 88;
Brazil, 7, 9, 20, 21;
Peru, 212.
Cuzco, 205, 233, 251, 255, 258-282, 309, 318;
elevation of, 272;
university of, 268, 269.
Cuzco and Lima, 288.
Dall, Dr., 342.
Dasypus vellurosus, 234.
Dentists in South America, 270.
Desaguadero River, 164, 246.
Desert of Arequipa, 215.
Dickens, Charles, 380, 385.
Discovery of silver at Potosí, 121.
Diseases, tropical, 387.
Dishes, silver, 147.
Dixon, Prof. Roland B., 323.
Dolls of Sucre, 147.
“Don Mariano,” 293, 301.
Doorways, monolithic, 249, 251.
Drug store in Potosí, 127.
Drums at Carnival, 361.
Dry season, the, 84; cf. Rainy season.
Duck, 227.
Durand, Dr., 220.
Dutch in Brazil, 5-6.
Earthquakes in Arequipa, 216.
Easter Island, 276.
Ecuador, 57, 339.
Education of South American youth, 269.
Electric car, 182.
---- Railways, 370.
---- R. R. of La Paz, 230.
“El Lazarillo,” 60, 111, 170.
“Elzevir” Press of Santiago, 190.
English in Argentina, 31-33, 43-44, 47-48, 62, 64;
Bolivia, 124, 239;
Brazil, 4, 8, 20, 23-26;
Chile, 179, 193, 199-200.
Escara, 100, 104.
Estarca, 86.
Estero Patino, 139.
Estrella, La, 287.
Eucalyptus trees, 61.
Exhibition, fine arts, 192.
“Exploration of the Valley of the Amazon,”--Gibbon, 288.
Exposition, National, of Brazil, 16, 19-20.
Eyre, W. S., viii.
Ferdinand and Isabella, 54.
Ferdinand VII. of Spain, 48.
Fermin. _See_ Chaile.
Fern, 151.
Fincas, 141.
Firemen, volunteer, of Santiago, 188.
Fireworks, 338.
Fish, 175.
Flute, Ayamará, 234.
Folding-cots, 218.
Fortifications, Inca, 273.
Fortress, Inca, 274, 286, 310.
Fossils, 369.
Franco, Sr. A., ix.
French, in Argentina, 61;
Bolivia, 124;
Brazil, 4, 17, 20, 31, 61;
South America, 124.
Fruit, in Argentina, 73;
Bolivia, 246.
Furs, 199.
Gables in Inca houses, 309, 313.
Games of chance, 235-36.
Garcia, Marcos, 322.
Garcilasso de la Vega, 259, 275.
Gastelu, Don Juan, 321.
Gauchos, 67, 72.
Geranium, 151.
German-Americans, 167.
German business methods, 96, 388.
---- Club of Oruro, 166.
Germans, in Argentina, 43-62;
Brazil, 4, 7, 20, 27, 31;
Chile, 193.
Goats, 70, 75, 97, 110.
Gobernador of Chincheros, 335;
Huancarama, 328;
Quinua, 351;
Talavera, 333, 335;
Tambillo, 343, 344;
Yscuchaca, 368.
Grace & Co., W. R., viii, ix, 231.
Gran Chaco. _See_ Chaco.
Grapes, 110.
Grinding stones, 308.
Guamanga, 350-51.
Guanay, 239.
Guano, 203-4.
Guaqui, 252, 254.
Guemes Gral., 72.
Guinea pig, 84, 110, 143, 160.
Guitars, 156, 234.
Gulls, 160.
Hail, 158, 345.
Hand loom, 134.
Hanna, Rea, ix, 203.
Harness, 285.
Harp, 347, 361.
Harvard Observatory at Arequipa, 216.
Hats, 146, 263.
Hay, Clarence, ix, 257, 300, 302.
Head-gear, women’s, 350.
Heliotrope, 286.
Herford, Oliver, 127.
Hispanic Race, 53-56.
Historian, South American, 391.
Hope, John Pierce, ix, 251.
Horse racing, 36.
Horses, 37, 110, 152, 326.
Hospitality, Bolivian, 231.
Hotels, in Arequipa, 217;
Ayacucho, 347;
Buenos Aires, 34;
Challapata, 217;
Cuzco, 261;
Huancayo, 371, 373;
Jujuy, 72-74;
La Paz, 231;
La Quiaca, 78;
Lima, 376;
Mollendo, 214;
Montevideo, 29;
Oruro, 166;
Pernambuco, 8;
Potosí, 115, 125;
Rio de Janeiro, 18;
Santiago, 182;
South America, 380;
Sucre, 142;
Tupiza, 89-90.
Huadquiña, 320.
Huancarama, 327.
Huancavelica, 369.
Huancayo, 369-372.
Huanchaca, 164.
Huanta, 362-63.
Huarocondo, 284.
Huarpa River, 363.
Huatanay River, 257-58.
Humahuaca, 77.
Humidity, 70, 306.
Hutcheon, Don Santiago, ix, 80.
Hutchinson, Lincoln, 28, 388.
Ice cream, 331.
Iglehart, D. S., ix.
Ilo, 210.
Images, monolithic, 249.
Inca Empire, 318, 258.
---- palaces, 261.
---- roads, 283.
---- Rocca, 259.
---- stairway, 312.
---- stonework, 259.
---- stucco, 310, 311.
---- Tambos, 149.
“Inca Thrones,” 278.
---- vases, 279.
---- Viracocha, 276.
Incas, 84, 130, 206, 291, 307-323, 357, and passim.
Incahuasy, near Tambobamba, 318.
Ingenios in Potosí, 124.
Iquique, 201, 202, 205.
Iris, yellow, 288.
Irrigation, 77, 84, 100, 110, 343.
“Islands of Titicaca and Koati,” the, 334.
Islay, 211.
Italians in Argentina, 31-34, 45, 67, 72;
in Brazil, 4, 20.
Itaparica, 11.
Jail in Cuzco, 267.
---- in La Paz, 238.
Jar, earthen-ware, 315.
Jauja, 373; valley of, 371.
Jesuit church, 265;
in Arequipa, 218;
in Potosí, 126.
Jesuits, 332.
Jockey Club of Buenos Aires, 35.
Johnson, Rankin, ix, 249.
“Jornal do Comercio,” 22.
Jujuy, 69, 72-74.
Juliaca, 225, 254.
Juramento, 72.
Kari Kari, battlefield of, 132.
Kirkham, Mr., 372.
Koati, 226.
Koropuna, Mt., 218.
Kusaie, Island of, 206, 275.
“La Corona,” incident of, 187, 208.
“La Estrella,” 287, 320.
“La Glorieta,” 141.
Laja Tambo, 113.
“La Nacion,” 34.
Lantanas, 286.
La Paz, 145, 170, 228-240.
La Plata, 143.
La Plata, National University of, 38.
“La Prensa,” 34, 338.
La Quiaca, 69, 78, 82, 172.
La Raya, 255.
La Serena, 202, 281, 341, 355.
Latin-American Scientific Congress, 183.
Lautaro, 357.
Lavandais, E. de, 320.
Lawyers in South America, 270, 390.
Leguia, A. B., Pres. of Peru, viii, 294, 331, 376.
Lele, 275.
Leon, 75.
Leon, Marcelino, 319.
Letona family, 325.
Liberal party in Peru, 221.
Lima, 35, 47, 49, 51, 56, 73, 196, 369, 376, 378.
Limarí, str., 200, 201, 210.
Limatambo, 286.
Liniers, 47.
Lircay, valley of, 365, 367.
Lisbon, 14.
Livichuco, 160.
Lizards, 157, 202.
Llama drivers, 156.
Llamas, 77, 110, 113, 115, 133, 149, 155-161, 255, 326, 331, 367.
---- in Potosí, 117, 126.
Locusts, 61, 70, 325.
Lombardy poplars, 332.
Lomellini, Sr. C., 263, 279.
Los Neques, 346.
Lotto, 236.
Lupins, 297, 326.
Mac, 94, 101.
Macha, 158.
Mackenna Vicuña, B., 191.
Madre de Dios, river, 240.
Magellan, straits of, 179.
Maimará, 76.
Maipo, 51.
Maize, 110.
Malaria, 341.
Mamoré, river, 139.
Manaos, 240.
Manco Capac, 263, 279.
Mantaro River, 368-371.
“Mañana” habit, 382.
Marcas, 364.
Marcavalle, 370.
Markham, Sir Clements, 146, 267, 276.
“Martin Chuzzlewit,” 383, 386.
Martinelli, Don Federico, 325.
Matan, 71.
Matara, 345.
May, the 25th of, 46-48.
Medanos, 215.
Medical School in Santiago, 168.
Medicines, 127.
Medina, José Toribio, 189-190.
Mejia, 215.
Mendoza, 51.
Merchandise, foreign, 326.
Merino, Capt. Louis, ix.
“Mexican Trails,” 372.
Mexico, 41, 42.
Mexico steamer, 174.
Military Academy, Chilean, 194.
Milk, condensed, 153.
Miller, General Wm., 117, 355.
Mimosa trees, 71, 72, 95, 300, 341, 364.
Miners at Potosí, 122.
Mines, copper, 173.
---- ---- of Cerro de Pasco, 373.
Mines, gold, 173;
silver, 157, 164, 169, 173;
tin, 123, 169.
Mint in Potosí, 129.
Misti, 217.
Mitchell, J. A., 383.
Mitre Bartolome, 191.
Mogrovejo Pio, 320.
Mojo, 84.
Mollendo, 175, 210-214.
Mollepata, 286, 320.
Monasteries, 129;
Dominican, 259;
Franciscan, 219, 220, 265.
Monobamba, 335.
Monroe Doctrine, 42-43.
“Monroe Palace,” 19.
Montes, Pres. of Bolivia, 242, 287.
Montevideo, 29, 30.
Montt, Pres. Pedro of Chile, viii, 194.
Moromoro, 150.
Moses, Professor Bernard, 183.
Mosquitoes, 341.
Mountain sickness, 113, 165.
Mules, 110, 134, 149, 281, 326, 342, 360, 372, and passim.
“Mur triomphal,” 321.
Napoleon, 48.
National Bank of Bolivia, 88.
National Bank of Francisco Argondaño, 88.
National City Bank of New York, 242.
Negroes in South America, 13.
Nevada of Chillihua, 331.
Newspapers in Rio, 22;
Buenos Aires, 34;
Tupiza, 90.
New York Herald, 338-340.
Niches, Inca, 310, 311.
Nictheroy, 16.
Nitrate Association, 203.
Nitrates, Chilean, 173, 202-205.
“North Americans,” 40-43, 381.
North Central Railway of Argentina, 69.
Notre Dame University, 130.
Novoa, C. A., ix.
Nuñez, J. J., vii, 290.
Oahu, 341.
Ocros, 344.
Ocurí, 152.
Oddo, the hotel, 182.
O’Driscoll, Mr., 75.
Olinda, 5.
Ollaneta, General, 108.
Ollantaytambo, 284, 309, 318.
Ollawe, volcano of, 172.
“O Paiz,” 22.
Oranges, 326.
Oropeza, 258.
Oroya, 369, 371, 374.
Oruro, 79, 80, 162, 164-172, 241, 245, 248.
---- climate of, 166.
---- population of, 170.
Oruro-Antofagasta Line, 79, 173.
Pachacamac, 252, 312.
Pachachaca, 325.
Pacific Steam Navigation Co., 174.
Paintings, religious, 252.
Pajonal, 343.
Pampa de Islay, 215.
Pampa Tambo, 138.
Pampas, the Argentine, 62-66.
Pampas River, 341, 370.
Pan-American, railway, 76, 369;
Scientific Congress, 183;
Union, viii.
Pan de Sucre, 248.
Paraguay, 50, 139.
Paraguay River, 139.
Paramo, 329, 335, 345, 367.
Paraná River, 63, 139.
Parodi Brothers, 343.
Parrots, 284, 288.
Patagonia, 63.
Paucara, 366.
Paucartambo, 318.
Paz Soldan, 322.
Peaches, 219.
Pears, 246.
Peas, 219.
Pederneiras, Col. A. de, ix.
Pernambuco, 3-10, 14.
Peru, 42, 49-52, 57, 211-224, 254-378, and passim.
Peru, Upper, 73, 86, 143, 144.
Peruvian Corporation, ix.
Peruvian engineers, 125.
Petticoats of Quichuas, 147.
Physicians in Bolivia, 168;
South America, 270.
Pianos, 287.
Pigs, 110, 152.
Pilcomayo, 78, 100, 137, 139, 140.
Pilsbry, Dr. H. A., 342.
Pincos River, 329.
Pine, Oregon, 242.
Pino Toranzo, Arturo, ix.
Pisac, 310, 318.
Pisagua, 205.
Pisculco, 150.
Pizarro, 106, 259, 280, 351, 358;
followers of, viii, 260;
remains of, 377.
Plata, Juan Manuel Rivas, 320.
Plums, 219.
Pneumonia, 167.
Polo, 203.
Ponchos, 327, 372.
Ponchos, vicuña, 234, 333.
Pongora River, 352.
Poopo, lake, 161, 164.
Popcorn, 354.
Poplar trees, 332.
Pork, 371.
Porteños, 34, and passim.
Portuguese in Brazil, 5, 7, 8, 20, 46.
Postes, 99, 104, 149, and passim.
Postilions, 104, 136, 137, 149, 159.
Potatoes, 110; in Potosí, 128.
Potosí, 73, 79, 92, 100, 112, 115-133, 169, 233, 252, 338;
Cerro of, 115, 120;
La Paz and Peruvian Mining Association, 61;
stage, 109.
Pottery, 308, 312, 316.
Prescott’s “Conquest of Peru,” 205.
Prices, in Santos, 23;
Buenos Aires, 33;
Montevideo, 30;
Tupiza, 89.
Prince and Princess of Glorieta, 141.
Prison. _See_ Jail.
Projection, cylindrical stone, 313.
Pucará River, 255, 371.
Pucyura, 322.
Pulque, 372.
Punilla, 149.
Puno, 112, 225, 254.
Punta, 371.
Puquiura, 283.
“Quand L’Amour Meurt,” 287.
Quebracho, 70-71.
Quebrada Honda, 138.
Quichua garments, 128.
Quichua tongue, 266.
Quichuas, 84, 86, 95, 98, 104-108, 124, 130, 153-54,
232, 255, 267, 268, 277, 287, 317, 348, 357.
Quinoa, 100, 110.
Quinta Normal, 192.
Quinua, 351, 352.
Quirve, 104, 108, 109.
Railroads, in Argentina, 32, 61-79;
Bolivia, 79-80, 164-65, 170-74, 225, 227, 230, 241, 249, 252;
Brazil, 8, 9, 21, 23;
Chile, 170-74, 178, 179, 205, 208;
Peru, 206, 211, 215, 216, 224-25, 254-58, 370, 372-76;
Uruguay, 30.
Raimondi, 321, 322.
Rainy season, in Bolivia, 84, 87, 138, 240;
Peru, 282.
Recife (Pernambuco), 4-10.
Redwood, California, 242.
Restaurants in South America, 380.
Revolutions, 68, 222.
Rio Bebribe, 7.
Rio de Janeiro, 16-22.
Rio de la Plata, 31, 37, 46, 56, 160.
Rio Piedras, 71.
Riots, 387.
Rivas, Rafael, 109.
River Alto, 240.
Rodadero, 278.
Rodriguez, Dr. J. C., 22.
Romero, Carlos A., 323.
Roosevelt, President, 331.
Root, Elihu, viii, 183.
Rosario, 31, 63.
Roses, 151, 337.
Rowe, Leo S., viii, 183.
Rua Ouvidor, 19.
Rubber, 24.
Ruins, 115, 121, 250, 272, 291, 307, and passim.
Ruis de los Llanos, 70.
Rurrenabaque, 239.
Sacsahuaman, 206, 263, 272-279.
Salta, 72.
Salvia, 290.
Samanez, José Benigno, 320.
San Antonio, Port, 240.
Sand-dunes, crescent shaped, 215.
Sandstone, 366.
San Geronimo, 258, 329.
San Martin, José de, 50-52, 155, 200.
San Pedro, 227.
San Sebastian, 258.
Santa Fé, 66.
Santa Lucia, 181.
Santiago, Chile, 35, 47, 180-196, 386.
Santiago del Estero, 66.
Santo Domingo, Convent of, 258.
Santos, 22-23.
Saõ Paulo, 21, 23, 25.
Sapallauga, 371.
Saracocha, 224.
Sargantay, Mt., 290, 304, 320.
Sarmiento, 66.
Saropalca, 110.
Sartiges, Eugène de, 319.
Schaefer, J. Louis, viii.
Schmidt, Emilio, 338-340.
School, Manual Training, 192.
School of Mines in Potosí, 130.
Schools, Public, 97, 154.
Schuchert, Prof. Chas., 369.
Scots in South America, 4.
Sea-lions, 175, 202.
Shawl-pins, 294.
Sheep, 37, 75, 137, 161, 334, 364, 366.
Shells, land, 341.
Shepherd, Wm. R., 183.
Sicuani, 255.
Siesta, 326.
Silver. _See_ Mines.
Silversmiths, 147.
Singing of Quichua women, 354.
Skulls, 316.
Skulls, Deformation of, 246, 317.
Slate, 313.
Sleet, 345.
Sling of llama wool, 156.
Smallpox, 210, 214;
in Rio, 18.
Smelters in Bolivia, 112, 115, 124.
Smith, Emilio, 338-340.
Smith, Huntington, Jr., ix, 61, 257.
Smith, U. S. Grant, ix.
Snow, 112, 335, 345, 367.
Snyder, A. G., ix.
Sorata, 239.
Soray, Mt., 304, 320.
Soroche, 113, 143, 165, 376.
Sotomayor, 192.
South Americans, characteristics of, 52;
manners of, 379, 391.
Spain, 53-55.
Spanish Armies, 67, 144, 354.
Spanish in South America, 12, 29, 33, 45-52, 61, 67.
Speyer & Co., 242.
Spindle wheel, 312.
“Spitting,” 383.
Sport, 214.
Squier, E. G., 251, 259, 261, 342.
Stage coach, 83.
Steamers, Atlantic, 3, 6, 10, 17, 26, 29-31, 44;
Chilean, 200-203;
Lake Titicaca, 227;
West Coast, 175-177.
Stewards, Chilean, 176.
Stone, cylindrical blocks of, 311.
Stone-cutting, game of, 278.
Succotash, 347.
Sucre, city of, 108, 112, 133, 142-148, 158, 248.
Sucre, General A. J., 52, 108, 144, 325, 341, 352, 354.
Sugar, 5, 9, 14, 156, 290.
Sugar-cane, 66, 286, 290, 295, 325, 343.
Suipacha, 85.
Sulphur springs, 111, 134.
Sweet potatoes, 302.
Tablachaca, 368.
Tacna, 187, 206-209, 330.
Talavera, 330, 334.
Talcahuano, 178.
Tambillo, 346.
Tambo River, 215.
Tambobamba, 318.
Tambos, 99, 149.
Taraco, peninsula of, 226.
Tarija, 86.
Tea, 125.
Tejada, José Maria de, 319.
Temperature, 98, 113, 143, 178, 366.
Temple, Edmund, 61, 76, 144, 228.
Temple of the Sun, 258.
Tenientes, Indian, 284.
Tennis, 203.
Terraces, 110, 307, 313, 315.
Textiles, 252.
Theatres, 34-35.
Thompson, paymaster, 276.
Tiahuanaco, 228, 249-253.
Ties from Oregon, 225.
Tigre River, 62.
Tin. _See_ Mines.
Tiquina, straits of, 227.
Titicaca, island of, 226, 334.
Titicaca, Lake, 86, 164, 224-227, 249, 310.
Tobacco, 14.
Tombs, ancient, 164, 246, 315.
“Tonquinoise,” 287.
Toropalca, 111.
Totora, 99.
Toys, Ayamará, 234;
German, 372.
Trade and commerce, 10, 14, 20, 24-28, 38-39, 46, 127, and passim.
Trade Routes, 49, 60, 73, 93, 239-240, 280.
Trancapata River, 289.
Transportation, difficulties of, 387.
Treasure-seekers, 250, 292, 308, 321.
Tres Cruces, 77.
Tucuman, 66-69, 73.
Tucuman Express, 64.
Tumusla River, 108.
Tunja, 148.
Tupac Amaru, 106, 266.
Tupiza, 79-80, 87-92, 100, 172, 338.
Ucayali, 297.
United States and Peru, 209, 337.
Uquia, 77.
Uribe, General Uribe, 195.
Urubamba, 284-85, 320.
Uruguay, 29-30.
Urumyosi, 366.
Uspallata Pass, 51, 57.
Uyuni, 80, 92, 100, 172.
Vaca de Castro, 351.
Valparaiso, 178, 179, 198-201.
Vargas, Moises, ix.
Velarde, Don Lino, 218.
Venezuela, 56, 57, 70, 378.
Ventilla, 228.
Viachi, 241-42, 248.
Vicuña Ponchos, 234, 327.
Vicuñas, 159, 160, 172, 246.
Vilcabamba, 322.
Vilcanota Mts., 255.
Vilcanota River, 256, 257.
Vilcapujio, 162.
Villazon, Pres. of Bolivia, viii.
Vineyards, 181.
Viracocha, 276, 310, 351.
“Virgins of the Sun,” 314.
Viscachani, 246.
Volcan, 75-76.
Von Tschudi, 250.
Wages, 243.
War between Chile, Bolivia, and Peru, 173, 206.
War-Club, stone, 346.
Wars of Emancipation. _See_ Wars of Independence.
Wars of Independence, viii, 46-58, 67, 86, 89, 100, 162, 200, 273, 353.
Wateree, U. S. S., 206.
Waterfalls, 288, 299.
Water power, 370.
Whirl-bob, 312.
Whirlwinds, 70.
Wiener, Chas., 318, 320.
Wilson, Chas. L., ix.
Wind, the prevailing, 77.
Wine, 181.
Wool, 30.
Yavarí, 225, 254.
Yellow fever, 214.
“Yes, sir,” 382.
Yllanya, 325.
Yotala, 112, 140.
Yscuchaca, 367-68.
Yuatquinia, 320.
Yucaes River, 352.
Zurita, 284-85.
The Riverside Press
CAMBRIDGE . MASSACHUSETTS
U . S . A
FOOTNOTES:
[1] His sudden death in August, 1910, is a very great loss to Chile.
[2] Mr. Thomas Barbour, of the Museum of Comparative Zoölogy, Harvard
University, tells me these are generally _Dasypus vellurosus_. Colored
plates of many of the interesting Aymará toys and textiles can be
found in Stubel’s _Kultur und Industrie Süd Amerikanischer Völker_.
[3] In Paymaster Thompson’s report of his visit to Easter Island,
he gives drawings and photographs of walls that bear a striking
resemblance to Sacsahuaman. There is the same peculiar close fitting
of one stone to another, the same striking size of the stones and lack
of cement in the joints. See also Cook’s _Voyage Around the World in
1772-1775_, London, 1777.
[4] E. G. Squier, _Peru_, p. 503.
[5] _Perou et Bolivie_, pp. 293-5.
[6] Raimondi, _Peru_, vol. ii, p. 161.
[7] “On some Land Shells Collected by Dr. Hiram Bingham, in Peru”;
Proceedings of the U. S. Nat. Mus., xxxviii. 177-182. The shells
“comprised various species and varieties of Bulimulus and a single
species of Clausilia.” The latter was described by Dr. H. A. Pilsbry.
Typographical errors corrected by the etext transcriber:
It it to be hoped=> It is to be hoped {pg 76}
the sevententh century=> the seventeenth century {pg 121}
When the Antogafasta=> When the Antofagasta {pg 171}
late Bartolome Mitré=> late Bartolome Mitre {pg 191}
port been devasted by earthquakes=> port been devastated by earthquakes
{pg 206}
More deaths occuring=> More deaths occurring {pg 214}
Futhermore, they were=> Furthermore, they were {pg 278}
surmouted an exceedingly bleak plateau=> surmounted an exceedingly bleak
plateau {pg 335}
in this vicintiy=> in this vicinity {pg 369}