ALONG THE PACIFIC COAST
IN PERU, BOLIVIA AND CHILE
Our course still lies southward. The steamer, at times approaching
sufficiently near the coast or calling at the small seaports to set
down passengers or to embark merchandise--of ores, cotton, sugar,
cattle and so forth--permits glimpses of the littoral, the long
stretches of desert alternating with fruitful vales, irrigated
by the rivers descending from the Cordillera. Here and there the
curious _médanos_, or moving sand-dunes, arrest the eye;[15] here
and there are olive-groves and vineyards and other cultivation of
Southern Peru, where excellent wines are produced. Soon we shall
pass the Chilean frontier, and away in the interior lies Bolivia,
among the distant Andes, whose grey and solemn wall looks down
eternally upon the seaboard.
[15] Their movement is not readily apparent.
Let us ascend from the coast by one of the railways here, that
running from the Peruvian port of Mollendo, an exceedingly bad and
exposed roadstead, in which, at times, it is difficult to gain
the shore at all from the heavy surf.
[Illustration: CULTIVATED LANDS ON THE PACIFIC COAST OF PERU.
Vol. I. To face p. 176.]
The Southern Railway, ascending the dreadful volcanic wastes, and
barren, rocky spurs which mark this region, reaches the pleasing
city of Arequipa, lying at nearly 8,000 feet elevation. It stands at
the foot of the Misti, a high, snow-covered volcano, whose conical
form reveals its geological structure, a prominent landmark in this
part of Peru, seen far over the surrounding deserts. The tonic
breezes and blue sky give to Arequipa an invigorating environment.
The cathedral, a handsome structure, and the houses, are built of
volcanic freestone, which gives an air of solidity and repose to the
place.
In including Arequipa in our survey of the coast we shall be
consulting the wishes of the people of the city, who prefer to
consider themselves as of the coastal region--with all that such a
position conveys--for the coast represents a more advanced culture
here, as contrasted with the _Sierra_, or Cordillera.
The fortunate traveller will retain pleasing impressions of Arequipa
and its society--its
Bright skies and brighter eyes.
The railway, leaving Arequipa, passes the main range of the
Cordillera at an elevation of nearly 15,000 feet, and descends to
Lake Titicaca, whence fresh-water navigation on this high inland sea
carries the traveller into Bolivia.
Lake Titicaca is perhaps the most remarkable lake in the world. A
body of fresh water, 12,500 feet above the sea, and two hundred
miles long, upon which we navigate out of sight of land, is perhaps
unique. From the steamer the imposing range of the White Cordillera
of Bolivia is seen, the snow-covered Andes, from Sorata to Illimani,
whose crests or peaks rise to over 20,000 feet. We remark the craft
of the natives, the curious _balsas_ of woven grass, sometimes with
mat sails, in which they navigate the lake. Titicaca is peculiar in
being a hydrographic entity, having no outlet except that the water
flows for a few miles along a channel to the adjacent Lake Poopo.
Fed by the melting snow of the Andes, the waters are kept down
solely by the agency of evaporation and some possible seepage.
Beyond these high lake basins and the mountain crests to the east
stretch the illimitable forests of the Amazon, partly unexplored, a
lure to the traveller.
But we must return to the seaboard. We have already remarked that
Bolivia possesses no ports. She is isolated from the coast, having
lost the port of Antofagasta in the Nitrate War of last century.
In passing, it might be remarked that the comity of the South
American nations on the coast might be consolidated if this seaport
could be restored to Bolivia. Nothing in the future is likely to
cause more enmity than the arbitrary cutting-off of peoples by
adjoining nations from access to seas and navigable rivers, whether
in America or Europe. The nitrate region, which was the scene of
the bloody struggle between Peru and Chile, and in which Bolivia
took part, stretches like a veritable Sahara upon the littoral here,
south of Tacna and Arica. These two last-named provinces were,
students of South American polity will recollect, possessions of
Peru, and are now held by Chile. They are still the cause of bitter
controversy between the two nations, which periodically threatens
to bring about war between them. It is greatly to be lamented
that this fruitful source of contention cannot now be settled,
and an era of neighbourly feeling brought about, instead of the
hypocritical diplomatic expediency and veiled hatred which do duty
for international relations on this coast. The matter might well
be made the subject of arbitration, with friendly nations (perhaps
Britain or the United States) as umpires.
The sun-baked rocks and sands of this part of South America have
been stained with the blood of thousands of Chileans and Peruvians,
and the same events might occur again. Yet both these nations have
more territory than they can efficiently develop.
But the Spanish American people have ever much difficulty in
settling their quarrels. Their traits of pride and over-individualism,
inherited from the Spaniard, render it difficult to give way. If one
performs an act of magnanimity, the other may suspect or accuse it
of weakness or cowardice. Both wrap themselves in haughty reserve,
both invoke the high gods to bear witness to their own truth, both
are quixotic and quick-tempered. Yet they are people of the same
civilization, speech, laws, literature and culture, with splendid
qualities and a promising future, and if these quarrels could be
composed, the progress of the region would be hastened.
The port of Iquique (with Pisagua), south of Arica, is well known to
many travellers and other persons interested in the Chilean nitrate
fields, of which it is the principal shipping centre.
The greater share of the business of nitrate production is in
British hands. The _oficinas_ are establishments peculiar to
Northern Chile, forming small colonies or localities, whose
workers consist of the Chilean _rotos_--a hardy and turbulent but
industrious folk--headed by English managerial staffs.
Around these centres of industry, on every hand, broken here and
there by small oases where water-springs occur, stretches some of
the most dreadful desert land in the world. Such, for example, are
the desert of Tarapaca, and those intervening between the nitrate
pampas and the Cordillera, where neither man nor animal can live,
nor blade of herbage can flourish. Nature here, as far as the
organic world is concerned, is dead, or has never lived.
Iquique is a town of wooden houses, overlooked by sand-dunes
that threaten it from the wind-swept desert, but it has pleasing
features, and the English colony here, with its well-known
club--it has a reputation for hospitality, and, incidentally, the
consumption of cocktails--has its own marked characteristics. The
Nitrate Railway ascends through high, broken country to the east to
the Pampa. Indeed, the life and thought of the region is largely
embodied in the words "Nitrate" and "Pampa."
The deposits of this mineral are unique in geology. There is
none other of the same nature on the globe. The mineral lies in
horizontal beds a few feet beneath the surface. We may be riding
over the flat, absolutely barren _pampa_, or plain, floored with
nothing but fragments of clinkstone, eroded by the ever-drifting
sand and unrestful wind, gleaming in the metallic sunlight, for
no shower of rain ever visits this wilderness, a place where we
might think Nature has nothing to offer of use or profit. But we
should be mistaken. An excavation will reveal the sheet of white
salts beneath, deposited in geological ages past by marine or lake
action, under conditions not clearly understood--deposits which
cover many miles of territory. The material is blasted out in
open mining and conveyed to the oficinas--large establishments of
elaborate machinery and appliances--where it is boiled, refined,
re-crystallized and thence shipped for export.
Still farther afield through the deserts here are vast areas of
salt, the ground presenting the appearance of a suddenly arrested,
billowy sea, over which the horseman makes his way like a lost
spirit in Hades. Upon the horizon are the steely Andes, upon whose
plateaux here, reached by the highest railway in the world, we
find rich copper mines, such as those of Colhuahuassi, and various
deposits of the salts of copper.
But to return to the coast. It was upon this melancholy seaboard,
the coast of Tarapacá, that a sea-fight, classic in the annals
of South America, and indeed one of the very earliest of battles
between ironclad ships, took place--an engagement which has rendered
the names of Pratt and Grau, the Chilean and the Peruvian admirals,
immortal in the memory of their respective countrymen.
Peru and Chile were engaged in life and death struggle with each
other on land and sea. Iquique, then a Peruvian port, was blockaded
by Chile. Grau, having sailed from Callao for Arica with the
_Huascar_ and _Independencia_, which vessels practically constituted
the Peruvian Navy, heard of the blockade, and proceeded to Iquique
to engage the enemy. The day was breaking as the Peruvian vessels
arrived off the port. The approach was seen by the _Esmeralda_ and
the _Covadonga_, two Chilean ships, and Captain Pratt, on board
the _Esmeralda_, decided to give battle, notwithstanding that the
Peruvian vessels were ironclads, whilst his own commands were
unarmoured. It was a brave resolution, but the Chileans were born
sea-fighters.
The _Huascar_ was a turret-ship, built at Birkenhead in 1866, but
of only 1,130 tons, armed with Whitworth and Armstrong guns, but
with armour-plating incapable of resisting any heavy cannonade. The
_Independencia_ was an older type ironclad, of 2,000 tons, built in
London in 1865.
The _Esmeralda_ was a wooden corvette, and the _Covadonga_ a wooden
gunboat which had been captured from the Spaniards in the expedition
sent by Spain against Chile and Peru in 1866. They carried Armstrong
and Nordenfelt guns. The Chileans had some powerful ironclads, as we
shall see later, but they were investing Callao at the moment.
Thus unequally armed, the contestants began the engagement. The
_Huascar_ opened fire upon the _Covadonga_ and the _Independencia_
strove to ram her. The _Huascar_ then turned her attention to the
_Esmeralda_, and so the battle proceeded for a space. At length, the
_Esmeralda_, feeling the inferiority of her structure, adopted the
ruse of steaming into shoal water, hoping to draw her antagonist of
greater draught ashore. But ill-fortune frustrated this attempt.
There was a loud explosion on board, and it was found that a boiler
had burst, crippling her. The _Huascar_ rapidly closed in to 1,000
yards, and at this range the two vessels continued to bombard each
other in a struggle to the death, Chilean and Peruvian each serving
their guns with equal valour. The noise of the cannonade resounded
over the crisp waves of the Pacific and rumbled far inland over the
desolate wastes of Tarapacá.
Fortune was against the Chilean. A shell struck her, set her on
fire, killing a number of her crew and practically putting her
out of action. But the gallant Pratt was not of the stuff that
surrenders, notwithstanding the condition of his ship--littered
with dead and wounded and in imminent danger of sinking. He would
not strike his flag, whilst the Araucanian blood of his sailors,
which never gives way, would first go down to death, and the vessel
continued her now enfeebled fire.
The _Huascar_, protected by her armour, was little injured, and
Grau, to end the struggle, determined to ram. The ironclad rushed in
upon the wooden hull of her victim, ramming her on the port side.
Seeing that all was lost and determined at least to sell his life
dearly, Captain Pratt leapt from his own craft upon the Peruvian's
deck. But a single man had time to follow him before the ships
separated again, and "Surrender! surrender!" the Peruvians shouted.
For reply, Pratt rushed along the deck, attacked all who opposed
him, and, engaging a Peruvian officer, slew him. But so unequal a
contest could not last, and, pierced by a dozen bullets, the gallant
Pratt fell dead.
But the _Esmeralda_ refused to strike her flag, the standard of the
single star, which still waved proudly from her peak. Her second in
command swore he would follow the example of his chief, and so it
befel. The vessels closed again, the beak of the Peruvian ramming
the _Esmeralda_ on the starboard bow, opening a breach. The waters
rushed in, the furnace fires were extinguished, the seamen were
killed at their posts, but ere they separated, the commanding
officer and a sailor leaped upon the _Huascar's_ deck and died
fighting, falling as Pratt had fallen. Again the _Huascar_ rammed,
simultaneously discharging her guns into the bowels of the doomed
corvette. It was the end; the _Esmeralda_ went down, carrying with
her to a sailor's grave all but fifty of her crew of two hundred
souls. As for the _Covadonga_, she fled into shoal water, and the
_Independencia_ following, ran aground on the rocks, a total wreck,
and the _Covadonga_ opened fire upon her.
Notwithstanding this loss, Grau harassed the enemy for months with
his single ironclad, until excitement in Chile caused the dispatch
of the Chilean fleet, which, having been overhauled, was sent to
hunt down this brave and persistent unit to the death.
A misty morning off the coast of Tarapacá. Two Peruvian war vessels,
the _Huascar_ and the _Union_, are steaming quietly to the north.
The mist lifts, and to the east disclosed the sandy desert shore
and the far, faint, grey range of the Andes. To the west, what?
Three lines of smoke from as many hostile funnels. The _Union_ was
an indefensible vessel, and Grau signalled her to escape. And now
on the north-west three other ominous trails of smoke appear--smoke
from the Chilean vessels--the _Almirante Cochrane_, so named after
Lord Cochrane, the Englishman famous in Chilean history; the
_O'Higgins_, named after the Irish President of Chile; and the _Loa_.
Escape was impossible, unless it were by fighting a way through
the line, and, against these odds, the brave Grau prepared his ship
for action. He opened fire, striking the _Cochrane_, whose armour,
however, was too strong to pierce, and, at a thousand yards, the
Chilean replied. His shot struck the old hand-worked turret of
the _Huascar_ so that it ceased to revolve. Grau closed in and
strove to ram, but the _Cochrane_ was a twin-screw steamer, and was
manipulated well. The _Cochrane's_ armour was thick, her armament
heavy, her weight three times that of the old _Huascar_. For two
hours the unequal fight raged on; shot and shell rained from both
vessels, often doing but little damage.
Grau was in the conning-tower when his end came, directing the
action of his ship, calm and collected. Suddenly there was a crash,
and when the smoke cleared away it was seen that the conning-tower
had been struck by a shell. It was blown to pieces, as were the
brave Peruvian admiral and his officer, nothing remaining of their
bodies but a few ghastly fragments.
And now the powerful _Blanco Encalada_, one of the Chilean
ironclads, closed in. A shell from her guns at six hundred yards
took off the head of the _Huascar's_ second in command and wounded
the third officer. Scarcely had the fourth had time to take his
place when he was injured by a shell, and the junior lieutenant
assumed command of a ship littered with the dead and dying. Yet
though the guns in the tops were silent and those below disabled,
the turret injured, the deck strewn with mutilated bodies, the
Peruvians kept up the fight, the dying _Huascar_ striving at least
to ram one of her enemies before she sank. But at length, being
utterly disabled, the vessel hauled down her flag.[16]
[16] See the Author's _Peru_, in the South American Series; also
Markham's _History of Peru_.
Thus ended this epic sea-fight, and with it went the sea-power of
Peru. Thus, moreover, was the value of the ironclad demonstrated--the
armoured vessel, the forbear of the _Dreadnought_. The torpedo was
also used in this fight, one fired by the _Huascar_ turning back
upon the vessel itself, where it would have caused disaster earlier
had not a sailor jumped overboard and diverted its course.
The attack on Lima by the Chileans and its defence by the Peruvians,
and other episodes of the war following on the above events, make
terrible reading--a history of which, however, we cannot here enter
upon.
We continue to pass the coasts of the nitrate-bearing lands, whose
working and export yield the Republic of Chile their greatest source
of revenue.
It was off the Chilean coast, it will be recollected, that another
and more modern engagement between vessels of war took place, when
a weaker British squadron was overpowered by the German Pacific
Fleet--a disaster amply wiped out off the Falkland Isles, a little
later on.
The railway that ascends from the port of Antofagasta also enters
upon the nitrate pampas, and there are copper-bearing districts
tributary to the line. At 10,000 feet elevation the River Loa is
crossed, and beyond we approach the ever-smoking, snow-capped cone
of San Pedro, one of the Andean volcanoes here. Then the gleaming
surface of the borax "lake" of Cebollar, the largest borax deposit
on the face of the globe, catches the eye. The great snow-clad
Cordillera, with the giant Ollague, 20,000 feet, on the border of
Chile and Bolivia, is passed, and the railway reaches the Bolivian
plateau, the southern portion of the Titicaca basin, and passes the
town of Unini, with its rich silver mines, skirts Lake Poopo, and
reaches the town of Oruro, famous for its tin.
Beyond, this interesting line reaches La Paz, the capital of
Bolivia. The same place is now served by the railway recently built
from Arica, and thus the interior of the mountainous Republic
of Bolivia is rendered more accessible. Recent construction has
effected a juncture with the railway system of Argentina, thus
affording a further transcontinental route.
After the Tropic of Capricorn is passed, the Andes approach nearer
to the sea, revealing their snowy crests from the steamer's deck,
and from Valparaiso the fruitful valleys of Chile unfold, watered
from the mountains--a more temperate zone, where the flowers as
of Europe may be seen and the culture of the Chilean people is
displayed.
Of his native land a Chilean poet sings that its bulwarks are the
mighty Cordillera, its frontiers the sea--a romantically expressed
conception of the position of Chile which is geographically correct.
A zone of territory three thousand miles in length and nowhere
broader than two hundred miles, and, in general, only a hundred,
confined between the Andes and the Pacific Ocean, the Republic has
perhaps the most curious form of any country in the world. Under his
own flag the Chilean may journey from the heat of the Tropics to the
cold of the Antarctic by taking steamer up and down his coast or
by a more or less arduous land journey along the littoral. Such is
the topography of this interesting land--interspersed with burning
deserts, fruitful valleys and with glimpses of delightful landscape,
snowy mountains and profound forests.
To have opened a sketch of Chile with a reference to a poetical
conception is not to argue that the Chileans are a dreamy and
over-poetical folk. They are, on the contrary, practical, hardy, and
courageous--courage which, in their conflicts with their neighbours
in the past, and in their own internecine strife and revolution, has
at times given way to cruelty and savagery--a condition, however,
not confined to these more southern inhabitants of the South
American Continent.
By reason of their more practical ideas and enterprise in commercial
matters, their ability--which is largely absent from the Spanish
American people as a rule--of forming successful joint-stock
companies to exploit this or that field of industry or finance,
their superior navy and seamanship, and for diverse reasons, the
Chileans have been termed, or have liked to term themselves, the
"English of South America" a soubriquet varied by the appellation of
the "Americans or _Yanquis_ (Yankees) of South America." The Chilean
Navy was modelled after that of Britain; the army, however, after
the German style.
The early history of Chile, if less picturesque than that of Peru,
is full of incident--often dreadful--and doughty deeds. Bluff old
Almagro it was who set his eyes upon Chile--Almagro, the partner of
Francisco Pizarro, partners whose quarrels finally resulted in the
death of both.
The Indians of Cuzco had told their conquerors of a land that lay
beyond the desert and the mountains to the south, reaching no man
knew whither; a land not a great empire, but one of many tribes,
and so easily to be subdued, and, moreover, overflowing with gold
and silver. This land they called Chile. Fiery spirits flocked to
Almagro's standard from Panama for another of those "dare-devil
heroic marches into the unknown world which only greed and faith
could inspire." Almagro's band consisted of 600 white men and 15,000
Indians, and it left Cuzco in 1535.
"To have descended to the coast and thence march by the lowlands
would have been the easiest way, but it was the longer, and
the adventurers were as impatient to reach their goal as the
Pizarros were to see them gone: so Almagro marched straight
along the Inca road, past Lake Titicaca, across part of Bolivia
and what is now Argentina, and then over the Andes. Daring
and difficult as some of the Spanish marches had been, none
hitherto had had to encounter the hardships that faced Almagro
on his Andean progress. Cold, famine, and toilsome ways killed
his followers by thousands, and to the frost and snow of the
mountain sides succeeded hundreds of miles of arid deserts,
where no living thing grew and no drop of water fell.
"At length, with but a small remnant of his host, Almagro found
himself in a well-defined region, consisting roughly of a vast
valley running north and south, the giant chain of the Andes
enclosing it on the east with foothills and spurs projecting
far into, and in some places almost intersecting, the narrow
plain, and a lower range of mountains bordering it upon the
west, and shutting it off from the sea, except here and there,
where a break in the chain occurred. The valley was relatively
narrow, so narrow that in many places the hills on either side
were clearly visible, but the adventurers as yet knew not that
this curious strip of broken plain between two mountain ranges
extended with its immense line of coast for well-nigh 2,000
miles, and was destined to become, from its natural formation,
the first maritime nation of South America.
"Almagro found the sturdy, skin-clad tribesmen of the mountain
slopes and elevated plains far different foemen from the soft,
mild slaves of the Incas in the tropical north. Their very name
of Chile came from the word meaning cold; and their temperate
climate had hardened them and made them robust. Gold and silver,
it is true, they had in plenty, and held them in no very high
esteem, but they fought with a fierceness of which the Spaniards
had had no experience in America in defence of their liberty and
right to live. This, it was clear, was to be no easy conquest,
and Almagro, learning that the Peruvians of the north had risen
in a mass against the Spanish oppression, abandoned Chile, and
marched back to Peru to fish in troubled waters, and in due time
to meet a felon's death at the hands of vengeful Pizarro.
"But the tales of the rich and fertile land of the south had
whetted the greed of the victor, and when old Almagro was
finally disposed of, Pizarro set about adding Chile to his own
vast domain, held for Charles the Emperor and King of Spain,
with the sanction of Holy Mother Church. The news of Almagro's
formal annexation of Chile to the Spanish Crown, as usual in
such cases, set the hungry courtiers of Madrid clamouring for
a share of the spoil and glory, and an incompetent nonentity
called Pedro Sanchez de la Hoz was sent out from Spain to
complete the conquest of the new domain in the name of the
Emperor. Pizarro knew well how to deal with such folk, and
whilst appearing to respect the imperial orders, really
stultified them. What he needed to do his work were iron
soldiers, dour Estremenians, like himself; who knew neither ruth
nor fear, and one he found after his own heart in Pedro de
Valdivia, who in the five years since he had joined the chief
in Peru, had proved that he possessed all the qualities for
repeating in Chile the success of Pizarro in the empire of the
Incas. Sanchez de la Hoz, nominally the leader, promptly became
the cipher that nature had intended him to be, and Valdivia took
the lead.
"This time, in 1540, the safer way by the coast desert was
taken, and with a mere handful of 150 Spanish soldiers, but
accompanied by a great host of Indians, Valdivia marched through
the interminable valley, carrying with him rapine and oppression
for the gold he coveted. A great pitched battle for a time,
early in 1541, decided the supremacy of the white men, and
Valdivia, with superhuman energy and cruelty unexampled, set
tens of thousands of Indians to work washing auriferous sand,
delving in mines, cutting roads that still exist, and clearing
the way for the advance of the Spaniards southward. In a lovely,
fertile, elevated plain, with the eternal snow-capped Andes
looking down upon it, Valdivia founded the capital of his new
domain, the city of Santiago, on the morrow of his victory in
February 1541, and from the height of St. Lucia above, upon the
spot where the conqueror overlooked the building of his city,
his gallant figure in bronze still dominates the fair scene of
his prowess.
"Fighting almost constantly for years, Valdivia, with
ever-growing forces, pushed farther south. Valparaiso was
founded in 1544 as the main seaport for the capital, and
two years afterwards the conqueror crossed the Biobio River
and entered the fertile agricultural and pastoral country of
the Araucanians. Refined and cultivated as the Incas of the
north had been, these stalwart Indians of the temperate south
surpassed them in the sterner virtues and in the arts of war.
Tales of their lofty stature and mighty strength grew with
the telling, and the Spaniards acknowledged that at last they
had met in America a people who were more than their match.
Concepcion, Talcahuano, Imperial, Valdivia, one city after the
other rose in this land of forests and fighters, to be destroyed
again and again, only to be rebuilt. Gold in abundance,
surpassing the visions even of the Spaniards, was to be had for
the digging or washing, but the Indians would only dig or wash
the metal whilst a white man with a harquebus stood over them,
and not always then. Poison and treachery were common to both
sides, and cruelty surpassed itself. In one battle Valdivia cut
off the hands and noses of hundreds of Indian prisoners and
sent them back as an object lesson, and the Araucanians, with
devilish irony, killed the Spaniards by pouring molten gold down
their throats.
"The lands through which the Spaniards passed were teeming
with fertility, and tilled like a garden, and the sands of the
frequent rivers abounded in gold; but the people were hard to
enslave, and the leader that at last aroused them for a final
successful stand was Valdivia's own Araucanian serf, Lautaro.
The Christian chief fell into an ambush led by him in 1553, and
though Valdivia begged and bribed hard for his life, vengeance
sated itself upon him. His heart was cut out, and the Indian
arrows soaked in his blood, the heart itself, divided into
morsels, being afterwards eaten by the braves, whilst his bones
were turned into fifes to hearten the tribesmen to resist the
invaders.
"For well-nigh a hundred years the fight went on in the country
extending from the Biobio to the archipelago of Chiloé, and it
ended at last in the formal recognition of the independence
of this splendid race, who had withstood in turn the Inca and
the white man. Even then the struggle was not over, for the
Spaniards could ill brook the presence of an independent Indian
people in their midst as civilization and population grew in
South America. But what force and warfare could never compass,
time, intermarriage and culture have gradually effected, and in
our own times the Araucanians have become Chilean citizens."[17]
[17] _Chile_, Scott Elliot (Martin Hume's Introduction), South
American Series.
Chile threw off the yoke of Spain in 1810. The yoke upon the Indies
was really falling off itself. Spain was too weak to coerce her
colonies much longer. But in 1814 Spain tried again. A half-Irish
Chilean patriot was the hero of this struggle, a patriot who,
his ammunition giving out, charged his guns with coin in lieu of
grapeshot and cut his way to Santiago, and he on land and the
Englishman Cochrane on the sea caused Chile to become one of the
foremost factors in the final liberation.
Many travellers have rendered homage to the beauty of the Chilean
landscape. "The appearance of the Andes from the Central Valley is
always imposing, grandiose and magnificent. They are unique: it is
worth crossing half the world to see them. The dry, stimulating
air and the beautiful cloudless sky in themselves provoke
enthusiasm."[18]
[18] _Chile_, loc. cit.
Elsewhere I have spoken of "the beautiful Andes and the
death-dealing Andes." Almagro's terrible march across the Chilean
Andes, as described elsewhere, shows these characteristics of the
Cordillera vividly.
Much of the early history of Chile is made up of the rebellion
of the Indians; their attacks upon the coastal towns, such as
Concepcion and Valdivia, which they sacked, massacring the Spaniards.
The town of Concepcion, in 1751, suffered something of the fate
that overtook Lima and Callao in the earthquake and tidal wave,
and Santiago, too, suffered greatly. With a crash the tower of the
cathedral fell, awakening the inhabitants at midnight. There were
horrible rumbling noises--those curious subterranean earthquake
voices in the Andes. "There was scarcely time to pray to God," say
the chroniclers. Every single church and house was thrown down, and
nobody could even stand upright. Those who could, flew: they fled to
the hills for refuge--refuge from the sea, the dreadful tidal wave.
For the ocean retreated, as if mustering force for the deluge. Then
it returned, not once, but thrice, washing over Concepcion as if the
day of doom indeed had come.
The destruction of Valparaiso in August 1906 was the last terrible
disaster of this nature.
"The day had been unusually calm and pleasant. At about 8 p.m.
there was a sudden, unexpected shock, immediately followed by
another; the whole city seemed to swing backwards and forwards:
then there was a horrible jolt, and whole rows of buildings
(about thirty blocks of houses, three to five stories high,
in the Avenida Brasil alone) fell with a terrific crash. The
gas, electric-light and water mains were at once snapped, and
the whole city was plunged in darkness. This, however, did
not last long, for, five minutes after the shock, great fires
started in the ruined buildings about the Plaza del Orden, and,
aided by a violent storm wind, which began about the same time,
spread northwards over the city. Between the earthquake and the
subsequent fire ninety per cent. of the houses are said to have
been destroyed. The Arsenal, station, custom-house, hospitals,
convents, banks, club-houses and Grand Hotel were for the most
part ruined, for without water, and in the horrible confusion
that at first prevailed, it was almost impossible to check the
fires.[19] But the authorities showed no lack of energy and
presence of mind. Patrols of troops and armed citizens kept
watch; thieves and marauders attempting to loot were shot. The
fire was, where possible, checked by dynamite. Messengers on
horseback were sent to Santiago and other places, appealing
for help, and especially for provisions. The telegraph lines
were destroyed; the railways were wrecked for miles--bridges
had twisted and tunnels had caved in--but communication with
Santiago seems to have been re-established within a wonderfully
short time. This was all the more creditable, for the shocks
continued on Friday and Saturday, and apparently did not cease
until about 6 a.m. on Tuesday morning.
[19] The Central and South American Cable Office, built of
_tabique_, stood the shock. One telegraph operator seems to
have pluckily stuck to his post throughout the confusion. The
_Mercurio_ newspaper office also stood firm, and indeed this
paper was regularly issued.
"The condition of the wretched inhabitants was most pitiable.
Some 60,000 were encamped on the barren hills above the town
without food or clothing; others took refuge on boats or
steamers in the bay, for mercifully there was no tidal wave such
as commonly accompanies great earth tremors on that coast, and
no damage was done to the shipping in harbour.[20] The number
of people killed has been variously estimated at from 300 to
10,000 persons; it is probable that from 500 to 1,000 were
killed and another 1,000 wounded. The damage done was at least
£20,000,000."[21]
[20] The disturbance produced a tidal wave 5 feet high at
Hawaii, Mani and Hilo.
[21] _Chile_, loc. cit.
[Illustration: THE LANDING STAGE AT VALPARAISO.
Vol. I. To face p. 198.
]
From earliest times the history of Chile upon this coast has been a
tortured one--the barbarities and the sufferings both of the early
Spanish conquerors, the reprisals of the Indians, the bloodthirsty
and unsubduable Araucanians, the feuds between the Spaniards
themselves, the toll of earthquakes and tidal waves, the battles
between Spaniard and colonist and between Chilean and Peruvian and
Bolivian, the dreadful pages of revolutionary and civil strife. It
is veritably a blood-stained coast, and both man and nature might
well cry to Heaven for surcease. Yet to-day there hangs a menace
over it--the feud with Peru over Tacna and Arica: and for the
future the savage strikes of the workers against the oligarchies of
industry.
But we need not dwell too much on this aspect. There are many
beautiful and peaceful attributes about the land, much to admire in
its people. It has been said that Chile seems to rise more vigorous
and more enterprising after every disaster.
Let us turn for a space to view somewhat more in detail the Chilean
capital, as described by a recent writer:
"Santiago, 'most noble and most loyal,' is a mixture of Paris,
Madrid and Seville. It is far ahead of Spanish towns in its
electric tramways, broad avenues and brisk movement. But the
larger houses are all characteristically Spanish. They are built
round a central court or patio, which is usually open to the sky
above and full of flowers and graceful shrubs. Very often there
are sparkling fountains and statuary also. In fact, through
the great gateway of a large Santiago house the most delicious
little views of water, flowers and greenery can be gathered in
passing. This gateway has heavy wooden doors, carefully locked
at night; the windows opening on the street are usually heavily
barred, which is by no means a useless precaution.
"The design of these houses is a very ancient one. Four stone
huts, placed so as to enclose a square, and with but one opening
to the outside, form a miniature fort; even the mansions of the
great Santiago families, with four or more stories, and with the
street front elaborately decorated, are but a development of
this very simple arrangement.
"It is in Santiago that one discovers what marvellous and
gorgeous results can be obtained by the use of stucco. Very
often it is tinted by rose-pink or terracotta, and it is simple
and easy to make Corinthian, Doric or Ionic columns, to model
flowers, wreaths, vases, and Cupids, and other classical figures
by means of this plastic material.
"The streets run, as is almost invariably the case in South
America, at right angles. The Alameda is a delicious avenue
planted with trees, and traversed by little streams of running
water which give a pleasant, murmuring sound and cool the hot
air of midday. Amongst the trees are statues such as those of
Bernardo O'Higgins, San Martin and many others.
"The Plaza da Armas has colonnades along the sides which
are famous in Chilean history, but is possibly a little
disappointing. Most of the other public buildings, though fine
and magnificent, do not show any very special distinctive
character. It is the enormous size, business-like character and
thoroughly business-like tone that distinguish Santiago. It is
quite obviously a metropolis, and indeed, to the upper classes
in Chile, it is what Paris is to every Frenchman.
"The Quinta Normal, with its library, Herbarium and Zoological
Gardens, where the Niata cattle mentioned by Darwin are still
maintained, is a sort of Jardin d'Acclimatation and Jardin des
Plantes in one.
"In fact, the French, or rather Parisian, instincts of the upper
classes in Santiago can be noticed at every turn.
"It is the fashion of books on Chile for the author to wax
eloquent on the Cerro de Santa Lucia. This rugged, projecting
rock overlooking Santiago should remind one vividly of Pedro
de Valdivia, of Señora Suarez, and of the heroical little band
that starved out there the first two momentous years of Chilean
history.
"'In this valley, two leagues from the great Cordillera, by
the side of the River Mapocho, God has planted a mountain of
a beautiful aspect and proportion which is like a watch-tower
from which the whole plain is discovered with the variety of its
culture in arable and meadow.'
"That is how Ovalle describes the hill of Santa Lucia in his
time.
"But what has been done with it? Stucco vases, balconies,
balustrades, gardens, restaurants, and even a theatre, make it
impossible, even for a moment, to remember the Conquistadores.
The view is, however, still magnificent, and it is from the
Santa Lucia that one can obtain the best possible idea of
Santiago itself.
"In the mornings, one may see the Santiago ladies hurrying to
the churches. The power of the clergy is perhaps most easily
realized from the fact that no woman dares to enter the church
in a hat or bonnet. Every one, rich or poor, noble or lowly,
wears the inevitable Manto. This is a sort of black shawl; it is
sometimes of very rich and beautiful material, and it is always
folded in such a manner that it is as becoming as possible.
"In the afternoons there are fine horses and carriages to be
seen, and the _jeunesse dorée_ may be observed sauntering
through the streets and staring in an open and unabashed manner
at every lady that passes. It is not considered bad form;
indeed, it is supposed to be the correct thing to make audible
remarks on a lady's personal appearance. 'How beautiful is the
little one! What sympathetic eyes has the elder lady!' and so
on.
"The physical appearance of some of these young aristocrats
(if they really belong to the highest social circles) is not
impressive. One notices everywhere the narrow chest, sloping
shoulders and effeminate appearance of the typical Parisian
_roué_. The corner-boys, even, resemble the _apache_ of
the boulevards, and are as dangerous and cowardly as these
degenerate types of city life.
"Perhaps the most characteristic custom of Santiago and of all
Chilean cities is the evening 'Paseo,' or promenade. After
dinner, in the cool of the evening, people saunter under the
trees, very often in some public garden where a good band is
playing, and gossip over the events of the day.
"There does not seem to be much jealousy or ill-feeling between
the upper and lower classes in Chile, for the masses keep to
a different part of the Plaza, and do not intrude upon the
pacing-ground of the richer or better-dressed people.
"This evening promenade is attended by quite small boys and
girls. They do not mix, but keep quite separate paths. Yet
even the little girls of seven or eight years old are finished
coquettes. Their eyes languishingly observe every man and boy
in the Plaza, and they take care that each shall receive a due
share of their smiles!
"The governing classes of Chile are, for the most part,
descendants of the Spanish Conquistadores. They preserve in
their own hands not merely all important government posts
(civil, military and naval), but also they own most of the
large landed estates. A few of them, which is very unusual in
Spanish American countries, not only own but take some part
in the management of nitrate oficinas, banks, mines and other
industries. Almost all the lawyers and doctors are of Chilean
birth. There are two Universities, which supply, in a very ample
and generous manner, advocates, solicitors and medical men.
"On the other hand, mercantile business of all kinds, both
on the large and on the small scale, is carried on almost
invariably by foreigners. The old Spanish prejudice against
traders is by no means dead. Even the small shopkeepers seem to
be usually Spanish Basques and Italians.
"In the south there are many small farms owned by Germans,
French, Swiss, British, and some Danes, Swedes and Norwegians;
even Indians own much of the land in the south. But the
working-class throughout Chile, in the mines, in towns, on the
farms, and, indeed, everywhere, are Chilenos. Chile is not the
place for a British or Continental workman.
"There is a very well-marked difference between the Chileno
inquilino or peon and the better classes, whether Chilean or
foreign. But amongst the Chilean or Santiago aristocracy one
finds such names as Edwards, Simpson, Walker, Rogers and Porter.
These, of course, are of British or Irish descent. Towards
the end of the eighteenth century, many exceptionally gifted
foreigners drifted to Chile. They were educated, business-like
and capable people. If one remembers that the first line of
steamers to Europe only began to run some fifty years ago,
it is obvious that such men should have been able to acquire
wealth. They were respected, even liked and appreciated, by the
Chilians of those days. Many distinguished themselves in the
Army and Navy. But their descendants are pure Chilenos now,
and very likely quite unable to read or speak any tongue save
Spanish. This is not surprising, for one can see the process of
assimilation going on even at the present day.
"Any young foreigner who has business instincts and ordinary
common sense will, of course, learn to speak Spanish. Should
he possess the necessary industry and talent, he may find
himself early in life in a position of some importance, which
involves dealing with the better-class Chilenos. He will in all
probability marry a Chilean señorita. The truth is that it is
not very easy to resist a Chilean girl when she is inclined to
be gracious.
"She is not at all an advanced woman; she is not inclined to
tyrannize over her husband, but is quite content to leave him to
manage his affairs and his house as he pleases. She never dreams
of contesting his marital authority. It is true that she is not
very energetic, but then, is not that an agreeable change?
"Our young Scotchman's or Englishman's children will be entirely
Chilean in ideals, in aspiration and in training. They may be
sent home for education, but a few months after their return to
Chile no one could distinguish them from the Chilean _pur sang_.
The father will, no doubt, retain a sentimental regard for the
old country, but in Chile it is exceedingly unlikely that he
would ever desire to return permanently to the rain, snow, slush
and fogs of Britain, where he will be, not a leading aristocrat,
but merely a business man of sorts.
"But though the somewhat Frenchified Chilean aristocracy and
cosmopolitan foreigners are of interest, the really important
person is the Chileno peon, inquilino or huaso of the working
class.
"There is no country in the world which has so valuable a
working class (with the possible exception of Japan and China).
They are descended from the Araucanian Indian and the Spanish
Andalusian or the Basque. They are hardy, vigorous and excellent
workmen, and their endurance and patience are almost Indian.
Of their bravery and determination it is unnecessary to speak,
for these qualities appear on every page of the stormy history
of Chile. Generally, they are short, dark-eyed and black-haired
people. They are intelligent, and quick to learn anything
requiring handiness and craftsmanship. They have, of course,
many faults: at intervals they drink to excess when they can,
and they are hot-blooded and quarrelsome; knives will be drawn
and a fight started on very small provocation. As regards
honesty, they are certainly no worse than others of their kind,
and in the country districts they are better than most. Perhaps,
economically speaking, the fact that they live and work
contentedly on exceedingly low wages (chiefly on beans) is one
of their most important characteristics."[22]
[22] _Chile_, loc. cit.
[Illustration: THE MALLECO RIVER AND BRIDGE, CHILE.
Vol. I. To face p. 206.
]
Of the vineyards and pastures, the many industries, the famous
wines of the country, the cattle, the industrious folk, the forests
and the fishing, the great mining enterprises, copper and all ore,
the rivers and the railways, the German colony of Valdivia and the
pleasing towns of the coast we cannot here speak in detail.
Chile is fortunate, industrially, in her great coalfields at Lota
and elsewhere in the south, which form the basis of considerable
industry. The seams in some cases dip beneath the Pacific.
Chile is a land that offers much by reason of its temperate climate,
and these more southern regions may be expected to attain to greater
importance in the future.
For a thousand miles, perhaps, the littoral still unfolds to the
south, with great fiords and forests, terminating in a maze of
channels which line the coast of Patagonia to Magellan Strait
and Cape Horn. There is a race of hardy Indian boatmen here,
a tribe which, it is said, "throw their women overboard in a
storm to lighten the canoe." It is a land cold and stormy, with
a little-known interior, which the early explorers described as
being inhabited by giants or people with big feet--hence the name
of Patagonia. For hundreds of miles the Pacific slope is a thick,
continuous forest. Nevertheless, in the Strait of Magellan lies a
prosperous Chilean colony, where vast flocks of sheep thrive--the
colony of Punta Arenas, the world's southernmost seaport.
Magellan, the intrepid Portuguese navigator of early times, whose
name the Strait bears, bore bravely out into the great south sea
which he named the Pacific. His crew were weak with cold and hunger.
But he would push on, "even if they had to eat the leather of the
rigging." Ox-hides, rats and sawdust, indeed, they did eat. On to
the west the vessels sailed, across the unknown sea--"almost beyond
the grasp of man for vastness"--to circumnavigate the globe for home.
Magellan himself did not finish the voyage, although he crossed
the Pacific, for his earthly race was run; he left his bones in
the Philippines. But the ship and his pilot, Sebastian del Cano, a
Spaniard, reached home, and Cano was given the arms of nobility,
with the device of a ship and globe and the inscription _Tu Solus
circumdedesti me_.
* * * * *
From the Pacific coast we shall now ascend to the great chain of the
Andes, to follow the same series of countries in that high region.