LIMA AND THE CORDILLERAS
_Pleasing Historic Memories--Moorish Churches and Andalusian
Art--Pizarro’s Remains in the Cathedral--Transmitted Incidents
of the Earthquake--The Palace, or Government Building--General
Castilla’s Humor--Decay of the Bull-Fight--Cultured
Society of the Capital--Foreign Element--San Francisco
Monastery--Municipal Progress--Chamber of Commerce--A Trip up
the Famous Oroya Railway--Masterwork of Henry Meiggs--Heights
and Distances--Little Hell--The Great Galera Tunnel--Around
Oroya--Railroad to Cerro de Pasco Mines--American Enterprise
in the Heart of the Andes._
Pleasant Lima! Fairest of transplanted capitals! The Moorish memories
of Andalusia linger over the City of the Kings which Pizarro founded.
The stern monuments of the Inquisition are yet with her. Seek them
in the Senate Chamber, where the inquisitors sat in judgment;
search for them just over the bridge, where the doomed victims
after condemnation awaited their fate; or in the Plaza Mayor, where
the _autos de fe_ were celebrated and the condemned were burned or
hanged. Reflect, the last victim of the stake was a woman, Madame
Castro. She was burned, in 1736, “for being a Jewess.” She would
talk heterodoxy!
Historic Lima! Seat of the viceroyalty; throbbing heart and
scourging soul of the Spanish colonial empire; home of the Royal
Audiencia, centre of law-giving and delegated authority, whence the
Ordenazas--the minute code of government and administration alike
for subjugated savage and freebooting colonist--were promulgated for
all the vast territory from Panama to the Straits of Magellan and
from the Pacific far beyond the Andes to the Amazon and La Plata!
But the glory of rulers perishes. Few can name their quota of those
forty-four viceroys of Spain who held the sceptre on the Pacific
coast. After Pizarro, the Conquistador, of the iron fist and will
of steel, and as his superior, came--who? Blasco Nuñez Vela was the
first of the viceroys,--a harsh, haughty, obstinate servant of the
Crown, whose blundering nearly overwhelmed Spain with the sunset
of the splendid colonial empire at its very dawn. Who came between
and who was the last?
The sentimental antiquarian grieves over the destruction of the
viceregal residence of this last delegated ruler. It lay in a grove
of palms and orange trees under the shadow of Mt. San Cristobal,
with the ancient garden of the Descalzos, or Barefoot Friars,
neighboring it. The mansion was mediæval and tropical. But the big
brewery encroached on it. The horses and mules of the big brewery
had to be stabled; the beer wagons had to have room. Mr. Champion
Jones, the English manager of the industry, gave a breakfast to
foreign and resident society one Sunday morning. We revived the
memories of the viceroys over an exquisite French menu, and some of
us carried away a few mementos. The next day the vandal destroyer
pulled down the walls. The mules are stabled there now.
Yet there is cheer for the sentimentalist who mourns over departed
glories. The mansion never really was the residence of the viceroy.
It was only the bower of his favorite mistress, who dispensed
hospitality and received the recognition that the stern society of
the times gave to power and place without questioning the private
morals of the high and mighty. Besides, it was long after the
Inquisition, for the viceroyalty lasted till the young years of
the nineteenth century.
But the fourscore churches, with their minarets and towers, their
tessellated mosaics and blending of bright colors,--they are
Andalusian adaptations of Moorish art. Very shabby are most of
them and not kept in good repair. There are too many mosque-like
worship-places, and too few devout and open-pursed worshippers.
From the roof of the American Legation I counted thirty of these
churches. The artist might preserve all the charm of antiquity
and yet satisfy the craving for the picturesque if the means were
provided and the disposition to do it existed. These edifices are
of Spain in the colonial epoch, and Spain never repaired church
or castle or dwelling. Let them rust and fall apart, for have not
crumbling stone and fading colors a graphicness of their own? Yet
with these decaying and neglected Moorish churches in Lima the ruin
discloses too much that is tawdry, too much veneer.
The Cathedral is modern, not moth-eaten or weather-rusted within
or without. It took the place of the old structure, which was
destroyed by earthquake. The interior is tile-paved and clean; there
are antique mural paintings, fine examples of wood-carving in the
pulpit, solid silver altar fixings, the money value of which the
guide recites with swelling pride; and, greatest of all memorials,
the bones of Francisco Pizarro.
On my first visit to Lima, in the hurry of business matters and
social engagements, I indulged in no sightseeing. The hotel runner
who was piloting me about was puzzled. The Cathedral was only a block
distant. “Won’t you go to the Cathedral,” he said, “and see the
bones of _Mister_ Pizarro?” The lingering and respectful emphasis
on the “Mister” was almost too much for my gravity. The Pizarros,
as my recollection runs, were swineherds, and the appellation Don
never was theirs. But if respect were lacking for their family tree
in their lifetime, no descendant could complain of irreverence or
want of courtesy in this volunteer guide who sorrowed because of
my apparent indifference regarding the late Mr. Pizarro.
On a subsequent visit I went to view the remains. The caretaker
irreverently draws the curtains from the niche in the little chapel
of the Virgin. I am sure the hotel runner would not do so. But
habit in satisfying tourist curiosity has made the Cathedral guide
a showman. The remains are in a marble casket. The skeleton is well
preserved. The frame is that of a big man; the brains are kept apart
in a jar. Rolled in a metal case is the parchment certificate of
authenticity. This is what was the mighty conqueror, the most heroic
of the Conquistadores, the peer of the indomitable Cortez. Shall
we muse curiously, or shall we give way to the physical sensation
of being in the anatomical museum of a medical school? It depends
on the temperament.
The Cathedral has more than Pizarro’s remains. It possesses the
manuscript records of the Municipality of Lima. They are bound in
modern calf, though the original parchments are sear and rusty
and yellow. There is also a modern library which is open to the
public. I found among its attractions, in one of the stairway
vestibules, a unique painting on the wall typifying life in Lima
in the sixteenth century. It represents a scene in the plaza. It
pictures the gay cavalier of Spain in his fancy habiliments; the
sedate matron demurely wearing the historic mantilla; the maid in
the same head-dress, but coquettish and answering the sly glances
of the cavalier; the native Indian race in groups of individuals;
women market-venders; the Indians from the country with the llamas
and burros,--all as we may guess it was in the sixteenth century
and much of it as it is to-day with the native race.
[Illustration: Interior of Cathedral, Lima]
Lima’s earthquake record is a continuous one from 1683, when the
great trembling was experienced, until the present day. One of the
most memorable of these seismic disturbances was that of October,
1746. The memoirs of the viceroy, Count Superunda, tell a curious
story of those days of wonder and terror and the scenes enacted,--how
debtors sought for their creditors in order to pay them; how
enemies became reconciled and embraced one another in fraternal
forgiveness; how slanderers on their knees besought the pardon of
those whom they had slandered; and how courteous cavaliers, seeking
injured husbands who until then had been ignorant of their wives’
transgressions, asked forgiveness, which the injured husband, in
spite of his surprise, would grant with an effusive embrace. A
strange picture of morals--ten years after the Inquisition had
burned Madame Castro for being a Jewess!
The balconies and arcades of Lima, the _façades_ and graceful arches,
are Andalusian, yet there is a trace of Greece in the adaptations
of Doric and Ionic columns. The _paseos_, or walks and drives, the
parks and gardens, in their grace and symmetry are Moorish again;
so are the kiosks.
The Palace, or Government Building, which is to be supplemented by
a new structure, is neither archaic nor modern. It is somewhere
midway between two epochs. The tree which Pizarro planted, a fig, is
in one of the inner courts. I saw the tree, but was more interested
in the pictures in the anteroom of the Foreign Office--old prints
of American subjects. One of them was of Washington crossing the
Delaware.
In the Palace is a portrait of Joaquin Castilla, one of the sturdy
characters in Peruvian history. He was a Spanish soldier without
education but of great natural ability who joined the patriots in
the struggle for independence and afterwards became President. He
had the humor of Sancho Panza. Once a delegation of women waited
on him. The request they had to make related to some matter of
administration to which an answer would be embarrassing. The old
warrior, though he was of low birth, had all the courtesy of a
Castilian hidalgo. “Why, ladies,” he said, “you chatter like birds,
all trying to talk at once. Now let’s have silence and let one
of you speak for all.” A pause. “Let the oldest lady speak.” The
tradition is that the delegation at once filed out and bothered
the grim soldier no more.
I have encountered many evidences of poverty in Lima, but the
poorer classes seem to be contented. When the nights are chilly,
they gather their blankets or shawls around them, according to the
sex, and huddle in the Plaza. When the day is bright, they bask in
the sunshine. The beggars are a nuisance in their obtrusiveness,
but they are tolerated.
On a down voyage a party of young foreigners persuaded the captain
to hurry the ship into Callao Saturday night, so that they could
get ashore and go over to Lima to attend the Sunday bull-fight. The
spectacle did not meet their expectations, which had been whetted
by what they had seen in Spain. Once the bull-fight in Lima was
a recognized social institution and was very brilliant, but its
glory has faded. Humane impulses have found place in the municipal
regulations, and the horrible spectacle of the bull goring a few
poor old horses is not permitted. This takes away much of the
excitement. The bull-fight has to be tolerated, and the President of
the Republic attends the function given in his honor, but I noticed
in the newspaper accounts that it was an indifferent affair. In
time the bull-fight will entirely disappear. The races, which are
popular, will take its place.
The lottery will stay longer. The drawings are held on the public
square every week. The lottery is legalized, and a portion of the
proceeds goes to the charitable institutions. That is why it is so
difficult to grapple with this evil which demoralizes all classes.
Lima always has been noted for its cultured society. The Spanish
spoken is the purest heard in South America. It is as pure as that
of Andalusia or Madrid. Music, art, and literature,--these always
have had their place. At the hospitable board of Dr. Isaac Alzamora,
the former Vice-President, the wittiest host in Peru, I met many
persons whose talents and accomplishments hardly could be equalled.
The life of the rich families is refined, and notwithstanding its
seclusion comes nearer to the American ideal of home than anywhere
else in Spanish America.
Lima has two leading clubs. The National is the more conservative,
and is where all that is solid in business, politics, and
professional life is met. The Union Club is composed of the younger
element, and one of its attractions is that more liberty is permitted
in gambling.
The foreign society of Lima I found to be more in sympathy with
the native society than almost any other place. Its dean, and the
most popular foreigner, is Mr. Richard Neill, for twenty years
the Secretary of the American Legation, affectionately called Don
Ricardo by his Peruvian friends. French, Germans, Italians, even the
English, find something in common with the Peruvians. The British
colony is numerous enough to be split into factions. The Scotch
element, very masterful in business, predominates.
Among the Europeans the Italians are by far the most numerous. They
have very largely the retail trade and they are property-holders
in an unusual degree. A Little Italy lies across the Rimac River.
A very large Chinese population exists in Lima. Much of it is the
second and third generation. Originally the Chinese were brought to
Peru as contract coolie laborers, but of late years the immigration
has been of a normal kind. The Chinese of this period have discarded
the queue and have adopted the conventional dress. Some wealthy
Chinese merchants have an appreciable influence in the commerce
of the country. These rich merchants are antagonized by another
faction which objects to their assumptions of superiority. This
element also is getting rich. China keeps a Consul-General in Peru
with semi-diplomatic functions, and usually he has enough to do.
I went one day in company with Minister Dudley to call on one of the
notable figures in the cultured life of Lima. This was Dr. Ricardo
Palma, Director of the National Library, the learned author of an
instructive History of the Inquisition and of many other books,
both historical and literary. Dr. Palma, during the war with Chile,
lost his own library and had the anguish of seeing the accumulated
historic treasures of the National Library sacked by the victorious
invaders, but he set to work at once to form a new collection. He
has gathered together 400 manuscripts, and the Library itself is
the best arranged and most easily accessible that can be consulted
on the West Coast.
The University of San Marcos also has played a notable part in the
intellectual life of Peru.
Of the many churches, convents, and monasteries, the most interesting
is that of San Francisco. I went there one afternoon with Mr.
Alejandro Garland, the best-informed man in Peru, to learn in a
scant half-day something of the ancient institution, though a week
would not have been long enough to wander through the cloisters.
[Illustration: Church of San Francisco, Lima]
[Illustration: Church of San Augustin, Lima]
The monastery covers several squares. The contemplative, meditative
life of the Middle Ages no longer exists. The friars are engaged
chiefly in charitable work. The jovial priest who was assigned
to be our guide enjoyed having visitors. He explained that the
incandescent electric lights had been adopted because they were
cheaper than candles, and the Order, being poor, had to economize.
But the monks in their cells are still restricted to the tallow
dips. He courteously asked us to take afternoon tea with him. Here
certainly was an innovation. We hesitated, but he pressed us so
heartily that there was no escape. When the bell sounded, we passed
into the refectory, were seated on a wooden bench alongside the
board table, and were served with coffee and a slice of bread. The
friars filed in, bowed politely, and took their places. Some of
them looked with evident surprise at our host and his guests, but
none with reproof. To ourselves our presence seemed incongruous,
yet as a variation of the monotonous routine of their daily life
it did not appear unwelcome to the Franciscans. We chatted in an
undertone for a while, and on our departing the monks all rose and
bowed. My companion, though a _persona grata_ to the monastery and
well acquainted with the priests, was as much surprised at our novel
experience as myself. He never had heard of a layman or a visitor
taking afternoon tea or coffee with the friars.
The patron saint of Lima was Father Francis Solano, the founder of
the Franciscan Order in Peru, and the missionary who went through
toils unutterable in seeking to Christianize the Indians. I was shown
the cell in which he died, and then (a somewhat rare privilege)
was permitted to see his skull. Newspapers are received within the
walls of the monastery, because, as the good father explained to
me, in these stirring days it is necessary to be _en rapport_ with
what is going on in the outside world in order to do good works.
Some of the friars read English.
[Illustration: Independence Monument, Lima]
Until recently Lima was not a progressive municipality. It preserved
the old Spanish traditions of dirt and indifference. But it had
an awakening. Public works, such as befit a city of its political
and commercial importance, were initiated. A loan for municipal
improvements was taken by the local banks. This was gratifying,
but the improvements themselves were more gratifying. The town is
becoming an industrial centre, with many small factories as the
basis.
A very important factor in the progress is the Lima Chamber of
Commerce, whose members include all the leading merchants, both
native and foreign. The Chamber has exercised a marked influence on
the fiscal policy of Peru, and the Government with its coöperation
has been able to strengthen the credit of the country abroad and to
carry through the measures which are the basis of the commercial and
industrial revival that has been enjoyed. Without the aggressive
support of this body the establishment of the gold standard scarcely
would have been secured. Its advice with regard to the negotiation
of commercial treaties to which Peru aspires is valuable, and its
suggestions concerning administrative reforms in the customs usually
receive respectful attention. I do not know any nation where the
business man in public affairs--not in partisan politics--fulfils
his proper functions so well as in Peru, and this is done through
the concentration in the Chamber of Commerce.
In the public works municipal sanitation is a leading feature. That
is good. The death rate of Lima, in spite of a healthful climate,
is disproportionately high. The returns show a birth rate of 28.37
as compared with a death rate of 37.43. The ignorance of the poorer
classes of the proper means of living is not the only cause of this
high death proportion, but they have to be taught hygiene, and the
municipality has to lead the way.
The climate of Lima merits the praises given it, yet the Winter
season from June to September is raw and disagreeable and especially
bad for rheumatism. Tuberculosis claims many victims. The legend
is that rain never falls, that the dews and the moisture from the
clouds, which is not precipitated, and the fogs on the coast, take
the place of rain. This is not quite true. Sometimes there is actual
rain and sometimes a drizzle. Minister Dudley and I had the proof
two successive evenings, when we were out to dinner and had our
high hats spoiled through our failure to carry umbrellas.
Peru, as far as the main Cordillera of the Andes, is bisected by the
Central Railway, which runs from the seaport of Callao to Oroya,
following the course of the Rimac River. The distance is 138 miles.
In these later days of mechanical triumphs it is still possible to
declare that this railroad is the engineering marvel of the world.
It is an often told story, but one that bears re-telling.
The name of Henry Meiggs in the Yankee mind is vaguely identified
with something big in South America and with something wrong in the
United States. Meiggs was a fugitive financier from California. He
had been the treasurer of San Francisco County, had loaned the public
funds to his friends, and when they failed to pay up had been forced
to flee as a defaulter. He afterwards made good the defalcation. He
first went to Chile, but in a few years settled in Peru. He built
the Southern Railway from Mollendo to Lake Titicaca, which is itself
a marvellous work. But his fame as a captain of industry and his
reputation as a benefactor to Peru rest on the Central Railway.
Meiggs was not an engineer. He was a financial genius with a bold
imagination and daring mind. He had the capacity to get other men
of genius, among them the Polish engineer Malinowski, to carry out
his ideas on the side of construction. He could win the confidence
of the money-bags of London and float South American bonds at good
prices, when the countries issuing those bonds could not give them
away.
In 1869 Henry Meiggs signed the contract with the Peruvian government
to build the Oroya Railway for $29,000,000 in bonds, which he took
and floated at 79, thus making the actual price $22,000,000. He
carried the railroad construction as far as Chicla, 88 miles, and
built the great Galera tunnel ready for the rails, though they were
not laid through it till years after his death, when the extension
of the road from Chicla was carried to the terminus at Oroya by the
Peruvian Corporation. The road climbs to its greatest elevation in
a distance of 88 miles without a single down grade. The ascent is
from the tropical ocean border to everlasting snow, through the
sublimest scenery that the eyes of man ever dwelt on. There are
curves, tunnels, bridges, viaducts, switchbacks, almost without
number.
[Illustration: Scene on the Oroya Railway, Chicla Station]
What the railway is as a marvel of engineering construction can
be exhibited in no better way than by a simple table giving the
distances and heights above sea-level and the “V’s” and “V V’s,”
or switchbacks and double switchbacks.
DISTANCES AND ELEVATION ABOVE SEA-LEVEL OF THE CENTRAL RAILWAY OF
PERU
+----------------------------------------+----------+-----------+
| Name of station | Distance | Elevation |
| | in miles | in feet |
+----------------------------------------+----------+-----------+
| Callao | 0.0 | 8.7 |
| Lima | 7.7 | 499.9 |
| Santa Clara | 18.3 | 311.7 |
| Chosica | 33.6 | 2,800.6 |
| Cocachacra | 45.0 | 4,622.6 |
| San Bartolomew, station and switchback | 47.1 | 4,959.4 |
| Agua de Verrugas, bridge | 51.9 | 5,839.4 |
| Cuesta Blanca, tunnel | 52.8 | 6,001.1 |
| Surco | 56.5 | 6,660.9 |
| Challapa, bridge | 61.8 | 7,504.1 |
| Matucana | 63.9 | 7,788.8 |
| Quebrada Negra, bridge | 65.5 | 8,054.1 |
| Tambo de Viso, bridge | 68.8 | 8,706.5 |
| Chaupichaca, bridge | 73.0 | 9,472.6 |
| Tamboraque, switchback | 74.9 | 9,826.9 |
| Aruri, switchback | 76.3 | 10,094.5 |
| San Mateo | 78.7 | 10,534.1 |
| Infiernillo, bridge, and tunnels | 80.4 | 10,919.9 |
| Cacray, double switchback | 81.6 | 11,033.1 |
| Anchi, bridge | 83.9 | 11,306.4 |
| Copa, bridge | 84.8 | 11,638.8 |
| Chicla, lower switchback | 88.0 | 12,215.5 |
| Chicla, upper switchback | 90.0 | 12,697.1 |
| Casapalca | 95.5 | 13,606.2 |
| Galera, tunnel | 106.4 | 15,665.0 |
| Yauli | 120.5 | 13,420.8 |
| Oroya | 138.0 | 12,178.7 |
+----------------------------------------+----------+-----------+
I travelled up the road tourist fashion in the regular passenger
train, but that gives only a faint idea of the wonders of the
railway or the splendor of the scenery. The down trip is the best for
observation. This can be taken on an open flat car which is used for
the bags of ore. Sometimes the railway officials transport favored
guests part of the way down in hand cars, but while the experience
is thrilling enough to satisfy the craving of the most exacting
nature, the pace is too swift to give a chance for observation. I
repeat, the proper way is on an open freight car.
[Illustration: Scene on the Oroya Railway, San Bartholomew Switchback
and Grade]
The tunnel and bridge, or viaduct it might be called, like a cobweb
reaching from the gorge up to the sky, which generally is most
sought after for experiences, is Infiernillo, or Little Hell, also
called the Devil’s Bridge. The elevation here is 10,920 feet. The
road plunges out of one tunnel and across the great cobweb of steel
and iron into another tunnel.
The principal station is Casapalca. It is here that the biggest
smelting-works are located. Both silver and copper are treated.
Black Mountain Peak is the dominating spur in this neighborhood. Its
height is 17,600 feet. San Bartolomew and Verrugas are the places
that have a sad fame for the peculiar malady known as _verrugas_,
or bleeding warts. It is a deadly and malignant disease of the
blood, is of native origin and confined to a limited area. Its
ravages were frightful among the laborers who built the road, but
it rarely is heard of now.
The most glorious views of the valleys shut in by the colossal
precipices are at San Mateo and Yauli. On the up trip, until
Chosica is reached, the valley of the Rimac is broad and regular, a
panorama of green and yellow and white,--alfalfa, corn, sugar-cane,
and cotton. Here, too, the ruined terraces on the steep mountain-sides,
vestiges of the Inca system of aqueducts and irrigation,
are numerous.
Mt. Meiggs, 17,575 feet high, is the marker for the Galera tunnel.
The mountain is snow-clad. Ordinarily the flagstaff on the peak is
visible. The tunnel is three-quarters of a mile long. On the down
trip I noticed that we were four minutes in passing through it. The
time, it might be supposed, would seem longer than it is, yet my
guess was three minutes, and I was surprised when the watch showed a
minute more. The cold air draughts were invigorating, like tempered
blasts from an ice furnace, and there were to me no disagreeable
sensations. I merely wondered when and how we would get out.
Many persons who take this journey complain of the _siroche_, or
mountain sickness, the nausea and headache destroying their pleasure.
For those who suffer from this distemper a good plan is to allow
two days for the trip and stop over night at one of the stations
half-way up, Matucana being the most convenient.
Night trains never have been run on the line, but this innovation may
be made. Practical railroad men say that there is no more danger in
the night than in the day, for in the daytime, with so many abrupt
curves and tunnels, it never is possible to see very far ahead, and
the locomotive headlight might really be an advantage. The chief
trouble of the railway management is in preventing landslides, but
the greatest damage has been wrought by cloudbursts.
The Central Railway was built in order to cheapen the transportation
of the ores and the minerals to the seaboard. The bulk of the traffic
always will be in one direction, though with the development of
the Andine region a considerable increase in agricultural products
and general merchandise in both directions may be expected. The
management has not always been alive to its own opportunities as
a freight carrier. Various companies formed to exploit the coal
deposits were discouraged by the railway officials on the ground
that the railroad would be put to too much trouble in hauling the
output if the mines proved successful!
Oroya is snuggled in among four _cañons_, which branch off almost at
the points of the compass. There are gigantic granite and limestone
wedges which split the town into triangles and have resulted in two
distinct villages on the bends of the river. The elevation of Oroya
is 12,179 feet, but the peaks around are easily a thousand feet
higher, and a climb up one of them gives the most splendid view of
mountain grandeur that I have seen in any quarter of the world. I
have pleasing memories of several days spent in this neighborhood
in amateur explorations.
Oroya is a good place in which to observe the native life, both
that of the _cholos_, or mixed race, and the pure Indians. All that
is characteristic of civilization or partial civilization in the
heart of the Andes may be seen here. The Quichua, or aboriginal
Indian race, seems to have preserved its identity side by side
with the tincture of Spanish or Caucasian blood which has produced
the _cholo_. They appeared to me a reasonably industrious people,
especially the women.
Oroya is the mining-centre for all this district and is the outlet
for Cerro de Pasco. It used to be a vastly interesting trip by
the highway from Oroya to Cerro de Pasco, and the interest is not
greatly lessened now that the American syndicate which controls
the copper and silver mines has built a railway 87 miles long. The
railroad follows the _cañon_ for 15 miles, and then strikes across
the great level plain, or pampa, of Junin, which it leaves at the
foothills in order to climb up to Cerro de Pasco. The elevation of
this mining-town is 14,200 feet.
A pyramid on this plain catches the eye, and the inquiry is made as
to its significance. It is the historic monument marking the last
battle between the Spanish forces and the patriots in the war for
Independence. The town of Junin near the lake of the same name,
while it is one of mud huts and grass-thatched dwellings, is clean
and pleasing in appearance.
[Illustration: Pyramid of Junin]
I never met quite so many weather changes as were encountered in
riding across this pampa of Junin. We were in the midst of clouds
so thick that they wet us through. Just ahead was a broad level of
sunlight, and beyond that a driving snow-storm, and we found the
sunlight and the snow exactly as they had appeared. There was a
hail-storm which we also saw ahead of us. When it was pelting us,
we could look back and through the snow see the sunlit plain and
then the violet mantle of the clouds.
Cerro de Pasco is a cold place, but the Montana people who are
engaged in developing the mines say that they like the climate, and
they compare it approvingly to that of their own State. Heretofore
the silver output has been the great source of the wealth of this
region. It is a story of the romance of always romantic mining
history. It was in 1630 that an Indian shepherd, having made a fire
to cook his humble meal and warm his hands, found the stones
covered with silver threads. That was the beginning of the silver
mining, and since then 450,000,000 ounces are known to have been
taken out. The quantity was probably much larger, because the Spanish
tax of one-fifth was so heavy that it put a premium on evading it.
The American capitalists who invested in the Cerro de Pasco region
did so chiefly with the purpose of developing the copper deposits.
By the burros and other pack animals the freight for the copper
ore down to the railway at Oroya amounted to $40 per ton. That is
why the first move of the Americans was to build the railway to
connect Cerro de Pasco with Oroya. The coal outcroppings also gave
encouragement that the smelters which were erected could secure cheap
fuel. The money actually paid out in buying the mining properties
and in building the railway was understood to be $8,000,000. The
probability is that at the present time the cash investment is not
less than $10,000,000, and the capitalists are considering another
outlay to the amount of $15,000,000, to build a railway paralleling
the Oroya road down to the coast, unless the London directors of
the Peruvian Corporation make satisfactory traffic arrangements for
freighting the copper and the bullion turned over to their line.
Should the yet untouched mineral wealth of the Cerro de Pasco
district prove a fraction of what the mining-experts have declared
it to be, the output of ore will be only in its initial stages when
the interoceanic canal is opened and the advantages of this route
are set off against the long course around Cape Horn to Liverpool
or New York. American private enterprise in the heart of the Andes
will respond to American national enterprise on the Isthmus of
Panama, and the pleasing historic memories of Lima will be blended
with the more pleasing prospect of the Cordilleras’ contribution
to the material progress of Peru and her people.