THE MUISCA TRAIL
Our sojourn in Bogotá was much briefer than we could have wished it to
be. Its intellectual atmosphere impressed us deeply, and the culture
and refinement of its people charmed us beyond expression. During our
journey, we had visited many places in which we would have desired
to tarry longer, had it been possible, but so far no place had so
completely captivated us as Colombia's famous metropolis--no place
from which we were so loath to depart.
"What a pity," we said, "that Colombia and Colombians are not better
known in our own country! It would be better for them and better for
us." With special truth can one reiterate of the inhabitants of this
little-known republic what Senator Root has said of the people of
South America in general:--
"Two-thirds of the suspicion, the dislike, the distrust, with which our
country was regarded by the people of South America, was the result
of the arrogant and contemptuous bearing of Americans, of people of
the United States, for those gentle, polite, sensitive, imaginative,
delightful people."
The Senator, as President Roosevelt's representative, did much,
during his visit to our sister continent, to remove misunderstandings
and establish more cordial relations between the United States and
Latin America. And the Bureau of American Republics is contributing
much towards completing and extending his work. It is, therefore,
to be hoped, that soon "the suspicion, the dislike, the distrust"
will be eliminated forever and succeeded by an era of mutual respect
and indissoluble friendship.
Our luggage--small in amount, be it said--was conveyed from our
hotel to the depot, a few blocks distant, by a good-natured
Chibcha Indian. He asked for his service the sum of forty
dollars, which, to his great delight, was paid promptly and without
question. "Muchisimas gracias, mi amo. Que Vd vaya bien!" Many thanks,
my master. Farewell! were his parting words, as he passed out of the
station with his hat in his hand and a smile lighting up his face.
"Forty dollars for carrying a little luggage a few squares! Why,
that," one would say, "was down-right robbery." Not at all, when
you are accustomed to paying such prices, and we had become quite
accustomed to them, ever since we had entered Colombian territory. As
a matter of fact, we found the peon's bill very moderate.
In the beginning, however, it must be confessed that we were surprised
at some of the bills presented us for payment. The first one was for
the washing of some linen in a town on the Meta. The work was done
by an Indian woman, for which a charge was made of two hundred and
forty-five dollars. This bill, large as it was, did not frighten us
as much as one that Mark Twain tells of in his Innocents Abroad, when
during his visit to the Azores, one of his traveling companions was
charged some thousands of milreis for a modest repast. We should have
paid it without comment, but found that the articles in question had
been washed only and not ironed. When we remarked upon this apparent
forgetfulness or neglect, the tawny laundress informed us that it
was not the custom there for the same person to do both washing and
ironing, and referred us to a neighbor of hers as one quite competent
to complete the work she had begun. Unfortunately, as it had been
raining continuously for several days, and our laundress had no way
of drying the things she had washed, except in the sun--which had
obstinately refused to appear--and as we were obliged to take our
departure without delay, the wearing apparel aforesaid was neither
ironed nor dried.
But the washer-woman's bill, which seems exorbitant, requires an
explanation. It was all a mere matter of the rate of exchange, which,
in Colombia, during the time of our visit, was ten thousand. That
means that the peso--dollar--had a value of just one centavo--one
cent. Some years ago the rate of exchange was much higher. Now,
however, there is a well-founded hope, that the financial condition
of the country will soon be on a more satisfactory basis, and that
before many years elapse, it can be put on a gold basis. The present
legal tender of the country is paper currency and gold coin. Outside
of the large cities one never sees anything but paper money. I have
known the peons in several cases to refuse coin because they thought it
was counterfeit--so long is it since gold coin has been in circulation.
The present financial condition of the republic is a striking
commentary on the havoc wrought by the numerous revolutions that have
devastated the country and ruined its credit. One of the most difficult
of the many difficult tasks that confront the administration is that of
restoring the nation's credit, and of getting the rate of exchange back
to par. It is, however, making a noble effort, and all well-wishers
of Colombia trust its endeavors will be crowned with success.
As one may imagine, it is necessary for the traveler to carry with
him quite a bulky package of bills in order to live in even the
most modest fashion. A mule or a cart was not, however, required
to transport our funds, as Hazard, in his work on Haiti, says was
indispensable in that ill-fated land, where a hundred dollars in
gold was exchanged for several sacks of bills--huge bags--not unlike
bundles of rags or waste paper.
To us it was always interesting to hear the peons talk of their fortune
of hundreds or thousands of dollars. It seemed to give the poor
fellows special satisfaction to deal in large figures and to speak
of large sums, as if they were all rising millionaires. The monetary
crisis had this redeeming feature, if no other, that it afforded the
beggar in the street the pleasure of seeing dollars in his alms where,
before the revolution, he would have found only so many cents. The
sturdy market women we saw on the way from Caqueza to Bogotá talked
in a most happy way of their prospects of realizing forty dollars a
piece for their chickens and fifteen dollars a dozen for their eggs,
while their husbands were rejoicing in the thought that they would
receive a thousand dollars for a heifer and two thousand or more
for a milch-cow. They never used the words "cents"; it was always
"pesos"--dollars. Happy people, who find such delight in names and
appearances!
There are but few railroads in Colombia, and their total mileage
at the time of our visit was less than five hundred miles. Many
roads are projected and have been for decades past, but the numerous
revolutions have prevented their construction. The one from Bogotá to
Facatativá, our first objective point on the way to the Magdalena, is
only twenty-five miles in length. There is, however, a well-grounded
hope that this can at an early day be connected with the line that is
building from Girardot. [218] When this shall have been accomplished
it will be possible to reach Bogotá without the long overland ride on
horse- or mule-back that has been necessary since the time of Quesada.
But far from regretting the lack of a through train to the Magdalena,
we were rather glad that we were obliged to have recourse to a
less expeditious mode of locomotion. It required more time, it
is true, to make the trip, and was more fatiguing, but it gave us
an opportunity of seeing the country to greater advantage and of
getting better acquainted with its people. Indeed, the journey down
the Cordillera from Bogotá to Honda was but the proper complement of
that from the llanos up to the Sabana that lies at the foot of the
nation's capital. It gave us an opportunity of comparing conditions
on the eastern slope of the Oriental Andes with those prevailing on
the western, and we have always considered ourselves fortunate in
having been able to explore from the saddle the interesting country
that lies between the Meta and the Magdalena. As I now think, it was,
in many respects, the most delightful and instructive part of our
wanderings in South America.
The track and rolling-stock of the Sabana railway are, as might
be expected, of the most primitive kind. The roadbed has received
little attention, and the cars and engine are scarcely fit for
service. But all this can be condoned when one is familiar with the
untoward conditions that, for so many years, have militated against
improvements of all kinds. The transportation of the rails, cars and
locomotives from Cambao, on the Magdalena, to the plateau, when the
cart road between the two points was little better than a bridle-path,
was in itself a Herculean task, and as we journeyed to Honda, it never
ceased to excite our wonder. Great improvements, however, are promised
as soon as connection shall be made with the branch, now approaching
completion, from Girardot. Then the transportation of heavy freight
will be a trifling task in comparison with what it has been hitherto.
The Sabana of Bogotá resembles somewhat the plain of Caracas except
that it is far more extensive than the Venezuelan plateau. Both
have been regarded as the beds of lakes that have long since
disappeared. Whatever may be said about the existence of a lake in the
vale of Caracas, it seems now quite certain that there never was any
great body of water, such as has so long been imagined, occupying the
region now known as the Sabana de Bogotá. [219] Recent investigations
appear to have decided this much-debated question against Humboldt
and those who accepted his views regarding this matter.
We were much interested in the haciendas through which the
train passed, as well as in the homes of their owners and in
the picturesque villages along the road. There were broad acres
devoted to the cultivation of wheat, barley, maize and potatoes,
and extensive pastures, over which roamed large flocks of sheep
and herds of cattle. These cattle, so we fancied, were the lineal
descendants of those brought to Española by Columbus at the time of
his second voyage. And the swine we saw--there could be little doubt
about it--could claim, as their ancestors, those which Belalcazar had
brought with him from Quito, as the hens, that cackled and clucked as
we sped by, were the offspring of those carefully guarded by Federmann
during his famous expedition from Coro to Santa Fe de Bogotá. [220]
Aside from the Humboldt oak, with its majestic crown of ever-green
foliage, and the ubiquitous Eucalyptus, there are no trees of
any magnitude in the Sabana. Its flora, however, is particularly
rich in shrubs and plants. Among them were the beautiful passion
flower, Passiflora Antioquensis, blossoming the year round, and
a peculiar species of blackberry--Rubus Bogotensis--ever clothed
with a vari-colored mantle of snow-white bloom and ripening fruit,
realizing Shelley's idea of the millennium, where
"Fruits are ever ripe, and flowers ever fair."
The meadows are carpeted with various species of clover and succulent
grasses, and, along the hedges and walls, one finds an endless variety
of fuchsias, verbenas, mallows, asters, buttercups, lupines, lilies,
lobelias, irises, morning-glories and passion flowers. The last two
plants and certain varieties of roses are great favorites in the
garden and around the house, as are also violets, pinks, jasmines and
heliotropes. We observed several habitations, some of them the humble
cots of poor Chibchas, that were almost concealed in magnificent
bowers of climbing clematis, passion flowers and morning-glories.
On the eastern slope of Suma Paz, we frequently had occasion to admire
the wealth and brilliancy of bloom around some of the homes which we
passed, or when we enjoyed the hospitality of their courteous inmates,
but nowhere did we see more beautiful floral exhibits than greeted
us on the Sabana de Bogotá.
Much, however, as we were interested in the fauna and flora of
this region, and the people who now inhabit it, we found our minds
constantly reverting to pre-Colombian times, and picturing to ourselves
the condition of this plain and its inhabitants at the period of the
arrival of the conquistadores.
When Quesada and his intrepid followers reached this beautiful
plateau, they found it inhabited by a tribe of Indians to whom they
gave the name Muiscas, because they frequently heard them pronounce
this word, or Moscas, a Spanish word, similar in sound, signifying
flies, because they said these Indians were as numerous as flies. [221]
They occupied the tablelands in the central part of New Granada. The
territory under the jurisdiction of their zipas--chiefs--was elliptical
in form and equaled in area the kingdom of the Netherlands. They
numbered about one million inhabitants, and, according to the early
chroniclers, they counted no fewer than a hundred and thirty thousand
warriors. The number of fighting men was doubtless far below this
figure. It seems certain, however, that at the date of the arrival
of the Spaniards they were in the apogee of their power, and were
making progress towards a condition of culture approaching that of
the Aztecs and Incas.
The dominions of the last zipas of Bacatá extended from Simijaca
to Pasca and from Zipacon to the llanos. Although united by ties
of language and beliefs, customs and laws, similar in character and
revealing a common origin, they formed an aggregation of small states,
generally independent, rather than a compact and well-organized
commonwealth.
The Chibchas, or Muiscas, were preëminently an agricultural
people. They had no domestic animals, except the dog--not even the
llama. Their chief articles of food were maize, potatoes [222] and
quinoa, which the natives of Colombia have long since discarded for
rice. Besides these staples they had many other vegetables peculiar to
the country and a great variety of luscious and wholesome fruits. They
also had game in abundance.
They cultivated cotton, from which they made their clothing, the
material of which often exhibited various colored designs. In this
respect they were far in advance of the surrounding tribes, who had
no more to cover them than have the wildest children of the tropical
forest to-day.
Their houses were of wood, with thatched roofs not unlike many
of those we saw along our route from the llanos to the Magdalena
valley. When the Spaniards arrived they had just begun to use stone
in the erection of a few of their buildings, presumably temples,
which apparently were never completed.
As might be surmised, their commerce was limited. They bartered to
some extent with the neighboring tribes, especially those west of
the Magdalena. From these they obtained gold in exchange for salt,
emeralds and textile fabrics. With the Chimus of Peru, they were the
first to use gold as a medium of exchange. Their currency consisted not
of stamped coins, but of disks of the precious metal without any kind
of marking. They had a limited intercourse with the people of Quito
and had some slight knowledge of the great Inca kingdom farther south.
Regarding the culture of the Chibchas, we can say what the Marquis de
Nadaillac says of the people in general--"We know very little." [223]
But we know enough to be warranted in affirming that many erroneous
notions have long prevailed concerning them, and that the claims
that have been made for them as a civilized people have been greatly
exaggerated.
According to Duquesne--to whose fanciful theories the great Humboldt
unfortunately gave his support--and to the school that for a century
made Duquesne's views their own, the Chibchas were acquainted with
the use of the quipus, and had a system of numbers and hieroglyphics
and a complicated calendar. Their priests were represented as the
depositaries of astrological and chronological science, and as experts
in astronomical and meteorological observations. The people were
lauded for their advanced knowledge of architecture and praised for
their courts of justice. In the temple of Sogamuxi, they would have
us believe, were preserved the national annals and the chronicles of
their civilization. Their general material progress and intellectual
status was commented on as something quite comparable with the best
that obtained in Mexico or Cuzco.
We have but two sources of information respecting the much-debated
question of Chibcha culture. These are a comparative study of the early
chronicles--no one or two of them will suffice--and an examination
of the few stone monuments the Chibchas have left us, together with
their pictographs, ceramic ware and objects of gold and copper found
in their places of sepulture. The chronicles that we must rely on are
those left us by Quesada, Castellanos, Padre Simon and Piedrahita,
all of which have already been quoted, together with those left us
by Padre Bernardo Lugo, Juan Rodriguez Fresle, a son of one of the
conquistadores, and Fray Alonso de Zamora, of Bogotá.
As a result of a critical study of these chronicles and monuments, the
distinguished Colombian writer, Don Vicente Restrepo, has demonstrated
that most of the claims that have been made for Chibcha culture are
utterly devoid of foundation in fact. His conclusions, which can be
given in a few words, are:--
"The Chibchas had no stone buildings and their knowledge of
architecture was therefore limited to the erection of the simplest
structures of wood.
"They had no quipus, like that of the Incas, no alphabet,
and no writing of any kind, either figurative, symbolic or
ideographic. Neither had they any chronology or archives.
"The petroglyphs and pictographs found in limited [224] numbers in
various parts of the country, far from recording the migrations and
hunts of the aborigines and the cataclysms which they are supposed to
have witnessed, are nothing more than rude geometrical designs and
fantastic figures which are repeated in the most confused manner,
according to the infantile caprice of the one who carved or painted
them."
Concluding his discussion of these meaningless figures, which certain
writers have so long insisted were true hieroglyphics, awaiting
some Champollion or Rawlinson to decipher, Sr. Restrepo does not
hesitate to assert that the rude "attempts at drawing these ill-formed
figures of animals, and these pothooks, similar to those traced by
an inexperienced child, can reveal nothing to historic science. They
never exhibit that order and sequence which are the certain index
of genuine writing. They never reproduce even the simplest scenes
of Indian life, such for example as a religious ceremony, the chase,
or warriors fighting.
"Mute by reason of their origin, and condemned to eternal silence by
the unconscious hand that traced them, the magic wand of science will
never be able to make them speak." [225]
If we accept the classification and definitions of the various grades
of culture, as given by Morgan in his great work on Ancient Society,
[226] as many profound thinkers do, we shall be forced to conclude
not only that the Chibchas were not civilized, but that they had not
even reached the upper status of barbarism.
Civilization implies the existence of a phonetic alphabet or, at least,
of hieroglyphics akin to those of the Egyptians, and the use of these
in the production of written records. The Chibchas, as we have seen,
had neither an alphabet nor written records of any kind.
Neither had they any knowledge of the process of smelting iron ore. As
the use of iron is the chief characteristic of the third, or upper,
period of barbarism, the Chibchas, according to Morgan, should be
considered as representatives of the middle status of barbarism,
like the Zuñis and the Mayas, or like the lake-dwellers of ancient
Switzerland, or the early Britons before they learned the use of iron
from their more advanced neighbors in Gaul. [227]
It took us two hours to make the run from Bogotá to Facatativá, the
western terminus of the Sabana railway. Here we took luncheon. For
a place that has so long been the centre of traffic between the
capital and the Magdalena, the town has no reason to boast of its
restaurants or hotels. They are about as poor in every way as could
well be imagined. A town in Italy or Switzerland, frequented by so
many travelers as Facatativá, would have not one but several hostelries
where its patrons would have every convenience and comfort. Let us hope
that Colombia will soon witness an improvement in this respect, not
only in this place but all along the chief lines of travel. It is much
needed, and along no route more than that connecting Bogotá with Honda.
At the time of the conquest, Facatativá was a Muisca stronghold,
and what are said to be the ruins of an old Indian fortress are still
shown to the curious visitor. One may also see some rocks on which are
carved certain figures long supposed to be Chibcha hieroglyphics. We
have already learned what value is to be ascribed to these and similar
inscriptions in other parts of the country.
After luncheon we prepared to start for Chimbe, where we intended to
pass the night. We had telegraphed the day before to our arriero to
have in readiness the necessary saddle and sumpter mules. They were
waiting for us on our arrival and we were much gratified to find
that both animals and peons were all that could be desired. Those
who have traveled in the Andes know how important it is to have good
mules and servants, and how much it adds to the comfort and pleasure
of one's journey.
From the time we had left our launch on the Meta, we had been
singularly fortunate in always having good animals and honest, reliable
men to take care of them and attend to our wants on the way. To our
devoted and watchful muleteers and their assistants we owed much of
the enjoyment that was ours during our wanderings over mountain and
plain, and we shall always hold their obliging disposition and prompt
service in grateful remembrance.
It affords me special pleasure to render them this tribute, as they
are often, I have reason to believe, much misunderstood, especially
by people who are not familiar with their language, and frequently
held responsible for delays and contretemps of which they are in no
wise responsible. Judging by our own experience, the arieros and
peons of South America are, as a class, far better than they are
usually represented and are deserving of more recognition and better
treatment than is usually accorded them by those who require their
humble but often too poorly recompensed services.
The saddle generally used in the mountains closely resembles the
McClellan saddle and is called a galápago. For obvious reasons an
English hunting saddle--silla--could not be used where the roads are
constantly leading up and down steep mountains--bergauf, bergab, as
a German traveler phrases it--and where even on a cavalry saddle it
is at times extremely difficult for one to retain one's position. [228]
The saddle is usually covered by a pellon or shabrack, made either
of sheepskin, or horsehair dyed black and neatly braided at the
ends. Attached to the saddle are several bags or pockets--bolsas. These
are of the greatest convenience for carrying many things necessary on
long journeys. In them the natives stow away cheese, cakes of maize,
papelon, and the never-forgotten supply of aguardiente, without which
a journey of any length is considered impossible.
The stirrups are curiosities. They are usually of brass or bronze in
the shape of a shoe, but frequently they are in the form of the basket
hilt of a claymore. The stirrups of one of the saddles I used were
curiously embossed, and as large as a good-sized bell. But whatever
their design, they are admirably adapted for service in the mountains
where the paths are so narrow that one is frequently exposed, without
such protection, to having one's feet crushed when his mule approaches
too near the rocky wall that flanks one side of the road. The danger
is especially great when one meets a herd of cattle or a caravan
of pack-mules. Then the rider suddenly finds his mule crushing him
against the steep rocks on one side of the path, to avoid being thrown
over a precipice which is yawning beneath him on the other side along
which the approaching animals pick their way with a skill that is
marvelous. We often had reason to be thankful that our feet were
protected by these fantastic and cumbersome estribos--stirrups--as
otherwise we should have suffered serious bodily injury. Like the
leather hoods of wooden stirrups, such estribos also keep the feet dry.
The riding equipment, however, of a Colombian horseman is not complete
without huge brass or bronze rowel-spurs--espuelas--and a pair of
zamoros--bag-trousers--often made of leather or goatskin. They are
not unlike the chaparejos [229] of a New Mexican cowboy, and serve
as a protection against rain and mud, and the thorns of the shrubs
and brush along the wayside.
From Facatativá to El Alto del Roble, some miles to the west, the
road slightly rises. At the latter point, nearly five hundred feet
above Bogotá, one has a glorious view of the Sabana, of the chain of
Suma Paz, and of the Central Cordillera away beyond the Magdalena.
From El Roble--the oak--so named from the number of ever-green oaks
seen there, the descent towards Chimbe is marked by quite a steep
grade. A good carretera, or carriage road, extends from Factativá to
Agua Larga, and this much-needed highway is to be prolonged as far
as the Magdalena. The present plan is to construct the road in such
wise that traction cars can be used on it for the transportation of
both freight and passengers, and at the time of our passage the road,
under the direction of English engineers, was being pushed forward
towards completion with a display of energy that augured well for
ultimate success.
Only a few minutes after we began our descent on the western declivity
of El Roble we observed a change in the temperature. We were passing
from the tierra fría to the tierra templada, and a thermometer was
scarcely necessary to indicate our rate of progress towards lower
altitudes. Aside from the marked change in the atmosphere, there was
a corresponding one in the flora.
Near the summit of El Roble we were gratified in finding large
patches of strawberries. They were sweet reminders of home, as they
were of the same species as our own fragrant Fragaria. These slender
mountain runners did not, however, bear the large fruits afforded
by our Illinois or Florida plants, but rather the small scarlet,
but richly flavored, berries one meets in an uncultivated state in
Italy and Russia.
Further on our way we came across another reminder of our own
country. This time it appeared in the form of long, dark-gray tufts
and festoons of that curious epiphyte--Tillandsia usneoides--popularly
known in the Gulf States as Spanish moss and in Jamaica as old man's
beard. The natives in Colombia call it barba de palo--tree-beard--a
much more picturesque epithet than any of those mentioned, and another
one of countless instances of the wonderful faculty the Indian has of
giving expressive names to the objects that specially strike his fancy.
As we reached a still lower level, our attention was arrested by
the beauty and luxuriance of the palms and tree ferns that graced
our path. The fern trees were as remarkable for their size as for
the delicacy of their plume-like fronds. The trunks of some of them
were twelve to fifteen feet high and the leaves of their wondrous
crowns--like veritable leaves of emerald gauze--were at times as long
as the trunk was high. Gazing at these bizarre forms of vegetable
life, with their dark, rough, leaf-scarred trunks, so unlike those of
surrounding trees, we could easily imagine ourselves in a forest of
those giant paleozoic Sigillariæ and Lepidodendrons that contributed
so largely towards the formation of the lower coal measures.
We never made any attempt to enumerate the divers species of palms that
were ever in view from the paramo to the ocean. But wherever we saw
them, whether on the elevated Andean plateau or in the humid valleys
of the Orinoco and the Magdalena, they were for us, as they were for
Linnæus, "the princes of the vegetable world." Decked with a mantle of
eternal youth, with smooth, straight trunks like the marble shafts of
Athens or Palmyra, they were not only the glory of forest and savanna,
but they were also for us, as for Martius, a symbol of immortality.
At Agua Larga our road bifurcated, the new and better branch veering
off to the right at a slight angle, and the old one continuing with
a similar turn to the left. Although a bright young señorita, who
happened to be near the parting of the ways, declared that the old
road was the one that led to Chimbe, our objective point, we chose the
new one, and for the first time since we had left the Meta, we went
astray. We did not discover our error until we had gone several miles,
when an old man, who was repairing his humble cot by the wayside,
corroborated the señorita's information.
There was then nothing left for us but to retrace our steps. The
mistake was quite a blow to the topographical instinct of one of our
party, who had, during our long trip, particularly prided himself on
the unerring indications of his organ of locality, which rendered,
he said, the assistance of a guide superfluous. At the same time,
it was quite trying to the patience of all of us, as we were tired,
hungry, and wished to arrive at Chimbe before sundown. It was now
quite evident that we could not possibly reach our destination before
nightfall. We then realized to our sorrow the truth of Balboa's words,
when writing to the King of Spain--"Llega el hombre hasta donde puede
y no hasta donde quiere"--One goes as far as one can and not as far
as one wishes to go. And, recalling what the señorita had told us,
we had likewise a forcible reminder of the verity of Sancho Panza's
saying: "Though a woman's counsel isn't worth much, he that despises
it is no wiser than he should be."
After getting back to the bifurcation of the road, we found that the
older branch, which we should have taken, was little better than a
rough, rocky stairway, the steps of which had been rendered extremely
slippery by a heavy rainfall a few hours before. C., our dashing
and debonair cavalier, was still suffering from the effects of this
downpour, for having lost his waterproof sombrero, specially designed
for travel in the tropics, he had nothing left but a light straw hat,
which afforded the head no more protection than a sieve.
Truth to tell, he was suspected of intentionally discarding his
waterproof headgear, as, in his estimation, it did not comport with
the dignity of a caballero who would trace his lineage back to one
of the noblest grandees of Spain, and who, during his journey from
Trinidad, had been the recipient of special attention from young
and old as well. He seemed to be the special favorite of well-to-do
matrons, particularly in the towns and cities in which our sojourn
was somewhat protracted. Was it that they would fain have seen in
the handsome young traveler a prospective son-in-law? Not being a
mind reader, I must leave the question unanswered. As a veracious
narrator of occurrences by the way I can only state facts and let
the reader draw his own conclusions.
But what a road it was, that now lay between us and Chimbe! To us, in
the declining rays of the setting sun, it appeared like a cobblestone
track after it had passed through a dozen earthquakes and had then been
set at an angle of forty-five degrees with the horizon. [230] Even
our mules, which were usually prepared for any kind of a path where
they could find a foothold, frequently balked at the more difficult
sections of this much-neglected highway. Comparing the part we were
now traversing with the more improved road we had left at Agua Larga,
we could not but recall the words of an Irish engineer, regarding
certain highland roads, as recorded in Scott's A Legend of Montrose:--
"Had you but seen those roads before they were made,
You would have held up your hands and blessed General Wade."
And yet this was the camino real, the royal highway from the Magdalena
to the national capital. President Reyes was doubtless right when he
publicly stated, some years ago, that it was now in a worse condition
than it was before the War of Independence.
But it was also, and this afforded us some compensation for our
discomfort, the Muisca trail--the same that the subjects of the
Zipa of Bacatá and those of the Caciques of Hunsa and Sugamuxi made
use of during their bartering expeditions to the tribes beyond the
Magdalena. Along this trail they, for generations, carried their stores
of salt, textile fabrics and emeralds, and brought back, in exchange
for them, from the placers of what is now known as Antioquia, those
treasures of gold that so excited the cupidity of the conquistadores,
and which, by many of them, were considered as an adequate reward
for all the hardships they had endured to secure their possession.
Finally, after a long, tiresome breakneck ride over that "royal"
but infinitely rugged road--
"Arduus, obliquus, caligine densus opaca,--" [231]
We arrived at Chimbe where, fortunately, we found an appetizing repast,
and what we were then willing to consider clean and comfortable beds,
awaiting us.
Early the next morning, after a refreshing sleep, we were again in
the saddle and on our way to Guaduas, where we purposed spending
the night. After a brisk ride of a few hours through a picturesque
country, we reached the town of Villeta, situated in a charming and
fertile valley. Here we had a hasty breakfast and were then on our
way up the prolonged and precipitous slopes of Cune and Petaquero.
The Muisca trail, like the path we followed from the llanos to the
Sabana de Bogotá, was to us an interesting example of the manner in
which the Indians traced out their roads. Having neither blasting
powder nor dynamite, they were perforce obliged to go around the
rocks that were in their way. But in spite of this, owing to their
thorough familiarity with the country, they always succeeded in
finding the shortest routes from one point to another. They made
it a rule, however, never to get far away from a water supply, and,
for this reason, their roads nearly always kept close to the water
courses of the regions through which they passed. The conquistadores,
who had to be always on the alert against the Indians, and who took
every precaution against surprise and ambuscade, avoided swamps and
lowlands, and kept rather to the commanding ridges of the country
on their line of march. As a consequence, the best roads in Colombia
to-day are those traced out by the old Muisca traders and by Quesada in
the north and Robledo, Almaguer and Belalcazar in the west and south.
On our way to Guaduas from Chimbe, we observed a number of small
plantations of sugar cane, and near by there was usually a trapiche,
a primitive contrivance for extracting the juice from the cane. It
consisted of a thatched shed under which was a cumbersome, creaking
machine consisting essentially of three vertical cylinders of wood
which were kept in motion by a span of mules or a yoke of oxen driven
by a boy. The cane was fed into the machine by a couple of women,
and the juice was received into a wooden trough. From this it was
transferred into a boiler, if panela--crude sugar--was desired. More
frequently, however, it was conveyed to a still, in order to be
converted into aguardiente, a crude distillate, rich in alcohol,
of which the natives, the country over, consume large quantities.
But fond as the inhabitants are of aguardiente, and guarapo, the
fermented juice of the sugar cane, or a mixture of sugar and water
which has undergone fermentation, the most popular drink, especially
among the poorer classes, is chicha. This is to the greater part
of South America what pulque is to Mexico and beer to Germany--the
national beverage. It has been so from time immemorial. Chicha was as
much esteemed by the Muiscas, before the arrival of the Spaniards,
as it is to-day; for then, as now, no festivity or celebration was
considered complete without a liberal supply of this enlivening
potation.
Padre Rivero, referring to the love of drink, especially of chicha,
among the Indians, says, "Drink is their life, their glory, and the
acme of their happiness." The earlier historians have much to say
of the frightful orgies, as the result of over-indulgence in chicha,
that obtained among all classes on the occasions of national festivals,
or the celebration of a victory over an enemy. It is said to be used to
excess to-day, as much as in former times, but of this I cannot speak
from personal observation. All the way from Villavicencio to Honda,
we saw countless estancos and estanquitos--licensed bars--of the type
of our lowest dram shops, where chicha is the principal drink sold;
but, although we saw many people, men and women, congregated about
these places, we never saw a single case of drunkenness or any serious
disturbance of any kind. This was not because no one had been drinking
while we were present. All had been imbibing more or less freely, but
they seemed so accustomed to the use of their favorite beverages that
they were no more affected by them than are the people of France and
Italy by the drinking of the wines of their respective countries. [232]
From what, the reader will ask, and how, is chicha prepared? It is
made from Indian corn and by an extremely simple process. It is,
indeed, the same method as was employed before the conquest.
First of all, the grains of maize are moistened by water and allowed
to sprout, just as barley is treated in the manufacture of beer. After
this the product is dried and roasted in a large earthen jar. Then by
means of a piedra de molar--a kind of crude mortar--like the metate,
which the Mexican uses for reducing maize to meal, the grains are
ground, and then put into hot water and allowed to ferment. As a result
of germination and the action of hot water, the starch of the maize
is converted into sugar. This, by fermentation, is next changed into
alcohol, which gives to chicha its intoxicating property. This is less
noxious than that which is produced by boiling the maize and adding to
the chicha thus obtained a certain amount of panela, or molasses. [233]
When properly prepared, it is an agreeable and wholesome drink,
not unlike cider or light beer. I have frequently seen it used at
meals by the best families--people who would never think of serving
at their table a harmful or intoxicating beverage. Bürger, I know,
condemns it, because he asserts it is rich in fusel oil, and because,
he maintains, it has a brutalizing effect on those who use it as a
beverage. Not having seen a reliable chemical analysis of chicha,
I am not prepared to accept his view of the subject. The same writer,
it may be remarked, decries cassava bread, because, he will have it,
it is composed for the most part of cellulose.
On our way from Villeta to Guaduas, we were obliged to pass two
lofty mountain crests, El Alto del Trigo and El Alto del Raizal. It
was then again for the hundredth time that we admired the sagacity
of the mule, and the importance of having one that is familiar with
service in the mountains. If the camel deserves the epithet--"ship of
the desert," the mule is entitled to being considered the aeroplane
of the mountains. For the way he scales the highest peaks, almost
rivaling the condor in the altitudes he is capable of attaining,
and the manner in which he, with perfect security, glides along
the narrow, dizzy paths of the precipitous mountain slopes, is a
matter of ever-increasing wonder. We never, I confess, became quite
reconciled to the habit all mules have of keeping on the side of the
path next to the precipice--except when they meet animals coming from
the opposite direction, when they instinctively crowd closely to the
over-hanging mountain--but we soon learned that the mule had as much
care for his safety as we had for our own, and then the danger, we at
first so much dreaded, became more apparent than real. It is curious,
but a fact, that a mule left to himself will almost always follow in
the footsteps made by his predecessor, and no persuasion can induce
him to deviate from the beaten path. So regular and so constant is
his pace that one could almost determine in advance the number of
steps he will make from one point to another.
He rarely stumbles and still more rarely does he fall. And no matter
how deep may be the chasm along whose brink he carefully feels his
way, he never suffers from vertigo nor makes a false step. Certain
travelers tell us blood-curdling stories about their mules losing
their balance and plunging headlong into dark, deep ravines, but
during all my travels among the Andes, I never heard of such a thing
and, from what I know of the supreme carefulness of the mule when
in dangerous places, such an accident seems most unlikely. If he is
overloaded, he files a protest by lying down and refusing to rise until
relieved of a part of his burden. Occasionally, too, when he reaches
a suitable level spot, he may take it into his head to have a roll,
and he incontinently proceeds to gratify this inclination before his
rider is aware of his intention.
I recall particularly how disconcerted and disgusted C. was on one
occasion, when his mule, on arriving at a specially dusty place in
the road, lay down without giving the slightest notice of his purpose
and proceeded to take a roll, before his rider was able to extricate
himself from his uncomfortable position. For a proud caballero who,
when he happened to be the cynosure of a group of admiring señoritas
and faded dames of quality, would fain pose as a scion of Castilian
nobility, this was an indignity that merited condign punishment. The
consequence was that whenever, thereafter, C. noticed a suspicious
movement in his mount, he forthwith proceeded to ply him with a tough,
pliable rod from a coffee bush, which had the effect of distracting, at
least temporarily, the mule's attention to matters of greater moment.
Among the many objects that were to us a source of constant wonder
and delight in the tropics were the butterflies. We met them in
countless species in the most unexpected places, especially during
our journeyings in the lower altitudes. Here we found them of the most
brilliant hues and of every color of the spectrum. In some districts,
as for instance between the Nevada de Santa Marta and the sea, there
are at times clouds of them, and their number is then comparable only
with the millions of medusæ that people certain parts of the ocean. At
times owing to their prodigious numbers and their gorgeous colors,
one could, without a great stretch of the imagination, fancy one's
self gazing at fluttering bits of a shattered rainbow. The largest
and most beautiful is the Morpho Cypris, having an expanse of wing of
fully six inches, a bright cobalt-blue above, and ocellated underneath.
According to Hettner, [234] the people around Muso, where the
celebrated emerald mines are located, will have it that there is a
mysterious relationship between the mineral emeralds buried in the
earth and "animal emeralds" that flit through the air. How like the
fancy of the aborigines of Trinidad--that the glittering colibris
formerly occurring in such numbers in that island were the souls of
departed Indians!
Quite rivaling the butterflies in splendor and adornment are the
beauteous humming birds that are met with from ocean level to mountain
summit. Poets and naturalists have essayed in vain to portray their
marvelous richness of coloring and their magic evolutions as they dart
from flower to flower, or balance themselves above some bright fragrant
corolla while drawing from it its precious nectar. As well might the
painter try to transfer to canvas the glories of the setting sun as
to copy the iridescent hues of such glowing mites of the feathered
tribe as the Ruby Throat or the Fiery Topaz. Truly, they as well as
the noted paradiseines of New Guinea should come under the expressive
designation of birds of Paradise. [235]
After a hard day's ride we reached Guaduas just as the sun had dropped
behind the mountain to the west. Guaduas in Spanish signifies bamboos,
and the town was given this name on account of the large number of
these giant, tree-like grasses that formerly grew in and about the
place. Even now numerous clumps of bamboo may be seen here, especially
along the many water courses which intersect the delightful valley
in which the town is located.
It is really remarkable for how many purposes the bamboo is used in
the equatorial regions. It is employed in building houses, bridges,
rafts, fences, for making planks, beams, rafters, bedsteads, benches,
tables, buckets and small vessels for holding molasses, aguardiente
and other fluids, and for various other domestic utensils too numerous
to mention. Indeed, to the poorer classes of the Colombian Andes, it
is almost as useful as is the banana plant to the native of Uganda,
who contrives to get from it everything he uses except meat and iron.
In the plaza of the town there is a monument erected to the patriotic
heroine, Policarpa Salavarrieta, who was shot in Bogotá during
the War of Independence, by order of the viceroy, for the part
she took in assisting those who were fighting against the mother
country. Throughout Colombia her memory is held in benediction, and
the story of her tragic death has been a favorite theme for poet and
historian as well.
Our first view of Guaduas, in its charming setting of perennial
verdure, illumined by the crimson glow of the setting sun, was a
picture of surpassing charm. It bodied forth all the tranquillity,
verdancy and loveliness which Humboldt found in Ibague than which
"Nil quietius, nil muscosius, nil amoenius."
The spell was broken, however, when we entered the town. We then
found to our regret that it was another of so many instances where
"Distance lends enchantment to the view."
So favorably situated and with so agreeable a climate, it could
easily be made one of the most delightful places of residence in the
republic. Let us hope that this is what it shall be in the approaching
dawn of a new era.
Before leaving Bogotá, we had been told by a noted English traveler
to be on the lookout for a remarkable view towards the west, from the
summit of El Alto del Sargento. "Be sure not to miss it," he said, "for
from that point you will behold one of the most magnificent panoramas
in the world." We were at first inclined to regard this statement as
the usual exaggeration of the tourist, but were, nevertheless, eager
to contemplate a prospect so famed for beauty and sublimity. [236]
In order to reach the crest of the mountain, before the clouds
gathered about El Sargento, which usually occurs about midday, we
made an early start from our posada, where we had found commodious
and fairly comfortable quarters, and were soon on our way up the
last of the Serranias--mountain ridges--that separated us from the
Magdalena valley.
It was about eleven o'clock when we arrived at the summit of El
Sargento. We had just rounded a tree-covered eminence, that concealed
the view towards the west, when all of a sudden, there burst upon
our vision, what was, to me at least, the most superb spectacle I
had ever contemplated. C. and I instinctively stood still in silent
rapture. As the picture appeared to us, it surpassed by far all
that had been said in its praise. Not even half the truth had been
told. Our emotion was too great for words, and, as we paused in mute
admiration, one of us at least recalled a similar experience enjoyed
by three other travelers in the Guadarrama mountains of Spain. It is
thus recorded in Longfellow's The Spanish Student: [237]
"Victorian. This is the highest point.
Here let us rest.
See, Preciosa, see how all about us,
Kneeling, like hooded friars, the misty mountains
Receive the benediction of the sun.
O glorious sight!
Preciosa. Most beautiful indeed!
Hypolito. Most wonderful!"
In the foreground beneath our feet, was the wooded slope of
El Sargento. In the distance, near the mountain's base, were the
picturesque towns of San Juan and Ambalema. Further on, like an immense
opalescent band, was the meandering Magdalena. Beyond it were the
broad plains of Mariquita, which extended as far as the foothills of
the Central Cordillera. Over and above these, veiled in an azure haze,
and piercing the clouds, were the snow-crowned mass of Ruiz and the
Mesa de Herveo, and slightly to the left, but towering above all the
neighboring peaks, was Tolima, the giant of the Colombian Andes. [238]
But it was not merely the physical features just mentioned, that
produced the admirable picture that held us spellbound. It was the
marvelous combination of light and shade, the position of the sun in
the heavens, and the strange optical illusions caused by the bright and
fleecy clouds that constantly swept over the landscape. These factors
gave rise to an ever-changing perspective, and at times, exaggerated
distances and magnitudes in the most extraordinary manner. Each
change developed a new picture and each one was, if possible, more
beautiful than that which it replaced. It seemed as if the genius
of the Andes wished to give us, as we were leaving his domain,
a series of dissolving views on a stupendous scale. View succeeded
view with kaleidoscopic rapidity, all distinguished by color-schemes
of supreme delicacy and splendor. At one time we caught a glimpse
of a cloud-grouping that recalled Raphael's Disputa. Perhaps in his
Umbrian home Nature had gladdened the great artist's soul with a
similar view. Perhaps he had caught it from some lofty peak of the
Apennines while gazing at the apparition of the morning sun from
beneath the blue waters of the Adriatic.
Who can tell? What we do know is that he has reproduced in the
exquisite creations of his transcendent genius just such cloud-effects
as rejoiced our vision on that memorable day when we bade adieu to
the Eastern Cordilleras. Never before had mountain scenery occasioned
us keener delight. Only once before had it been my privilege to
contemplate a vista at all approaching the one that unfolded itself
before us in the picturesque valley of the Magdalena. That was long
years ago, as I stood on the summit of Mt. Parnassus. It was a balmy
morning in summer. "Rosy-fingered dawn" was just making her appearance
beyond the plain where Troy once stood, and was hastening to gladden
by her smile the islands of the Ægean and the one-time famous land
of Hellas. Then I beheld, spread out before me, the greater part of
Greece, together with the countless islands that engirdle it. It was
a panorama which I then thought was unequaled in the wide world. But
beautiful, sublime, glorious as it undoubtedly was, it has since
yielded the palm to the unrivaled vista that greeted us from the
summit of El Sargento.
"How Turner and Ruskin," we exclaimed, "would have reveled in
such scenic splendor! How it would have delighted the heart of
Claude Lorrain, the painter of idyllic scenes and the master of
aerial perspective! What ecstatic joy would not Gaspard and Nicholas
Poussin, Ruysdael and Corot, have experienced in the presence of such
exuberant vegetation, such sparkling streams and fleece-like clouds,
such grandiose mountains with their spotless mantles of eternal snow!"
And how such a spot as El Sargento would have appealed to the esthetic
soul of St. Benedict or to such lovers of wild nature as St. Bruno,
or St. Francis, the poverello of Assisi! Had they found such a place,
it would undoubtedly have been chosen as a site for a temple, like
our Lady of the Angels, or a monastic retreat like that of Monte
Casino or the Grande Chartreuse. [239]
We were still under the spell of the matchless pictures engraved on our
memories long after we had started on our way down the mountain. Before
we had realized it, we had passed from the tierra templada to the
tierra caliente. We were again in the dense and luxuriant forests of
the lowlands--in a region of perpetual summer, like unto that which
we had left behind us in the valleys of the Meta and the Orinoco. We
had left the habitat of the coffee plant and the oak and were now in
the territory of the cacao and the tolu tree, the vanilla vine and
the moriche palm. Far above and behind us, on lofty mountain peaks
where sunbeams "glide apace with shadows in their train," were the
favorite haunts of the fleet and sporting Oreades. Our path was now
through a dense, gloomy forest where Silence and Twilight,
"Twin sisters keep
Their noonday watch, and sail among the shades,
Like vaporous shapes half seen." [240]
It was in such a sombre forest as this, we fancied, where, under
the influence of a fertile soil, perpetual warmth and humidity, the
teeming earth, in later geologic time, fed the countless monsters that
depended on her bounty. It was amid such surroundings that they were
wont to hold high carnival, or engage in that struggle for existence
which resulted in the survival of the fittest, until finally all were
swept away by some fatal agency of which we know so little. Had we
seen a megatherium or a mylodon or a megalonyx crossing our path,
or observed a mastodon pushing his bulky form through the dense
underbrush; had we seen a screaming pterodactyl passing over our heads,
or beheld a giant iguanodon floundering in the morass by the wayside,
or browsing on the succulent crowns of the Mauritia flexuosa, we
should have regarded it all as in perfect keeping with our environment.
Our reveries were suddenly disturbed by the soft, dulcet notes of the
tiple. Only a short distance ahead of us, reclining against a mango
tree, was an amorous young mestizo, who was fondly gazing on his dusky
querida, while thrumming his instrument. She, during the serenade [241]
of her ardent suitor, sat on the door-sill of a bamboo dwelling with
a palm-thatched roof, having seemingly no thought beyond satisfying
the cravings of two little nude, paunchy, bananniverous urchins,
apparently her brother and sister--Pablo and Julia by name--who, like
ebony statuettes, were standing at her knee and clamoring for another
banana from a bunch suspended from a rafter above the cabin door.
Farther on was another cabin, from which issued coarser notes of
shouts and laughter. It was a chicheria, and the chicha there served
was evidently the cause of the good nature and general merriment that
prevailed. We then discovered that we were on the outskirts of a small
pueblo, just across the river from the goal of our day's journey. Our
long, yet delightful ride across the oriental Andes was at an
end. Crossing a steel suspension bridge, the noblest structure of the
kind in the republic--which here spans Colombia's great waterway--we
were in Honda, the head of navigation for the lower Magdalena.