Valparaiso—Excursion to the Foot of the Andes—Structure of the
land—Ascend the Bell of Quillota—Shattered masses of greenstone—Immense
valleys—Mines—State of miners—Santiago—Hot-baths of
Cauquenes—Gold-mines—Grinding-mills—Perforated stones—Habits of the
Puma—El Turco and Tapacolo—Humming-birds.
CENTRAL CHILE
_July_ 23_rd._—The _Beagle_ anchored late at night in the bay of
Valparaiso, the chief seaport of Chile. When morning came, everything
appeared delightful. After Tierra del Fuego, the climate felt quite
delicious—the atmosphere so dry, and the heavens so clear and blue with
the sun shining brightly, that all nature seemed sparkling with life.
The view from the anchorage is very pretty. The town is built at the
very foot of a range of hills, about 1600 feet high, and rather steep.
From its position, it consists of one long, straggling street, which
runs parallel to the beach, and wherever a ravine comes down, the
houses are piled up on each side of it. The rounded hills, being only
partially protected by a very scanty vegetation, are worn into
numberless little gullies, which expose a singularly bright red soil.
From this cause, and from the low whitewashed houses with tile roofs,
the view reminded me of St. Cruz in Teneriffe. In a north-easterly
direction there are some fine glimpses of the Andes: but these
mountains appear much grander when viewed from the neighbouring hills:
the great distance at which they are situated can then more readily be
perceived. The volcano of Aconcagua is particularly magnificent. This
huge and irregularly conical mass has an elevation greater than that of
Chimborazo; for, from measurements made by the officers in the
_Beagle_, its height is no less than 23,000 feet. The Cordillera,
however, viewed from this point, owe the greater part of their beauty
to the atmosphere through which they are seen. When the sun was setting
in the Pacific, it was admirable to watch how clearly their rugged
outlines could be distinguished, yet how varied and how delicate were
the shades of their colour.
I had the good fortune to find living here Mr. Richard Corfield, an old
schoolfellow and friend, to whose hospitality and kindness I was
greatly indebted, in having afforded me a most pleasant residence
during the _Beagle’s_ stay in Chile. The immediate neighbourhood of
Valparaiso is not very productive to the naturalist. During the long
summer the wind blows steadily from the southward, and a little off
shore, so that rain never falls; during the three winter months,
however, it is sufficiently abundant. The vegetation in consequence is
very scanty: except in some deep valleys there are no trees, and only a
little grass and a few low bushes are scattered over the less steep
parts of the hills. When we reflect that at the distance of 350 miles
to the south, this side of the Andes is completely hidden by one
impenetrable forest, the contrast is very remarkable. I took several
long walks while collecting objects of natural history. The country is
pleasant for exercise. There are many very beautiful flowers; and, as
in most other dry climates, the plants and shrubs possess strong and
peculiar odours—even one’s clothes by brushing through them became
scented. I did not cease from wonder at finding each succeeding day as
fine as the foregoing. What a difference does climate make in the
enjoyment of life! How opposite are the sensations when viewing black
mountains half-enveloped in clouds, and seeing another range through
the light blue haze of a fine day! The one for a time may be very
sublime; the other is all gaiety and happy life.
_August_ 14_th._—I set out on a riding excursion, for the purpose of
geologising the basal parts of the Andes, which alone at this time of
the year are not shut up by the winter snow. Our first day’s ride was
northward along the sea-coast. After dark we reached the Hacienda of
Quintero, the estate which formerly belonged to Lord Cochrane. My
object in coming here was to see the great beds of shells which stand
some yards above the level of the sea, and are burnt for lime. The
proofs of the elevation of this whole line of coast are unequivocal: at
the height of a few hundred feet old-looking shells are numerous, and I
found some at 1300 feet. These shells either lie loose on the surface,
or are embedded in a reddish-black vegetable mould. I was much
surprised to find under the microscope that this vegetable mould is
really marine mud, full of minute particles of organic bodies.
15_th._—We returned towards the valley of Quillota. The country was
exceedingly pleasant; just such as poets would call pastoral: green
open lawns, separated by small valleys with rivulets, and the cottages,
we may suppose of the shepherds, scattered on the hill-sides. We were
obliged to cross the ridge of the Chilicauquen. At its base there were
many fine evergreen forest-trees, but these flourished only in the
ravines, where there was running water. Any person who had seen only
the country near Valparaiso would never have imagined that there had
been such picturesque spots in Chile. As soon as we reached the brow of
the Sierra, the valley of Quillota was immediately under our feet. The
prospect was one of remarkable artificial luxuriance. The valley is
very broad and quite flat, and is thus easily irrigated in all parts.
The little square gardens are crowded with orange and olive trees and
every sort of vegetable. On each side huge bare mountains rise, and
this from the contrast renders the patchwork valley the more pleasing.
Whoever called “Valparaiso” the “Valley of
Paradise,” must have been thinking of Quillota. We crossed over to the
Hacienda de San Isidro, situated at the very foot of the Bell Mountain.
Hacienda, condor, cactus, etc.
Chile, as may be seen in the maps, is a narrow strip of land between
the Cordillera and the Pacific; and this strip is itself traversed by
several mountain-lines, which in this part run parallel to the great
range. Between these outer lines and the main Cordillera, a succession
of level basins, generally opening into each other by narrow passages,
extend far to the southward: in these, the principal towns are
situated, as San Felipe, Santiago, San Fernando. These basins or
plains, together with the transverse flat valleys (like that of
Quillota) which connect them with the coast, I have no doubt are the
bottoms of ancient inlets and deep bays, such as at the present day
intersect every part of Tierra del Fuego and the western coast. Chile
must formerly have resembled the latter country in the configuration of
its land and water. The resemblance was occasionally shown strikingly
when a level fog-bank covered, as with a mantle, all the lower parts of
the country: the white vapour curling into the ravines, beautifully
represented
little coves and bays; and here and there a solitary hillock peeping up
showed that it had formerly stood there as an islet. The contrast of
these flat valleys and basins with the irregular mountains gave the
scenery a character which to me was new and very interesting.
From the natural slope to seaward of these plains, they are very easily
irrigated, and in consequence singularly fertile. Without this process
the land would produce scarcely anything, for during the whole summer
the sky is cloudless. The mountains and hills are dotted over with
bushes and low trees, and excepting these the vegetation is very
scanty. Each landowner in the valley possesses a certain portion of
hill-country, where his half-wild cattle, in considerable numbers,
manage to find sufficient pasture. Once every year there is a grand
“rodeo,” when all the cattle are driven down, counted, and marked, and
a certain number separated to be fattened in the irrigated fields.
Wheat is extensively cultivated, and a good deal of Indian corn: a kind
of bean is, however, the staple article of food for the common
labourers. The orchards produce an overflowing abundance of peaches,
figs, and grapes. With all these advantages the inhabitants of the
country ought to be much more prosperous than they are.
16_th._—The mayor-domo of the Hacienda was good enough to give me a
guide and fresh horses; and in the morning we set out to ascend the
Campana, or Bell Mountain, which is 6400 feet high. The paths were very
bad, but both the geology and scenery amply repaid the trouble. We
reached, by the evening, a spring called the Agua del Guanaco, which is
situated at a great height. This must be an old name, for it is very
many years since a guanaco drank its waters. During the ascent I
noticed that nothing but bushes grew on the northern slope, whilst on
the southern slope there was a bamboo about fifteen feet high. In a few
places there were palms, and I was surprised to see one at an elevation
of at least 4500 feet. These palms are, for their family, ugly trees.
Their stem is very large, and of a curious form, being thicker in the
middle than at the base or top. They are excessively numerous in some
parts of Chile, and valuable on account of a sort of treacle made from
the sap. On one estate near Petorca they tried to count them, but
failed, after having numbered several
hundred thousand. Every year in the early spring, in August, very many
are cut down, and when the trunk is lying on the ground, the crown of
leaves is lopped off. The sap then immediately begins to flow from the
upper end, and continues so doing for some months: it is, however,
necessary that a thin slice should be shaved off from that end every
morning, so as to expose a fresh surface. A good tree will give ninety
gallons, and all this must have been contained in the vessels of the
apparently dry trunk. It is said that the sap flows much more quickly
on those days when the sun is powerful; and likewise, that it is
absolutely necessary to take care, in cutting down the tree, that it
should fall with its head upwards on the side of the hill; for if it
falls down the slope, scarcely any sap will flow; although in that case
one would have thought that the action would have been aided, instead
of checked, by the force of gravity. The sap is concentrated by
boiling, and is then called treacle, which it very much resembles in
taste.
We unsaddled our horses near the spring, and prepared to pass the
night. The evening was fine, and the atmosphere so clear that the masts
of the vessels at anchor in the bay of Valparaiso, although no less
than twenty-six geographical miles distant, could be distinguished
clearly as little black streaks. A ship doubling the point under sail
appeared as a bright white speck. Anson expresses much surprise, in his
voyage, at the distance at which his vessels were discovered from the
coast; but he did not sufficiently allow for the height of the land and
the great transparency of the air.
The setting of the sun was glorious; the valleys being black, whilst
the snowy peaks of the Andes yet retained a ruby tint. When it was
dark, we made a fire beneath a little arbour of bamboos, fried our
charqui (or dried slips of beef), took our maté, and were quite
comfortable. There is an inexpressible charm in thus living in the open
air. The evening was calm and still;—the shrill noise of the mountain
bizcacha, and the faint cry of a goatsucker, were occasionally to be
heard. Besides these, few birds, or even insects, frequent these dry,
parched mountains.
_August_ 17_th._—In the morning we climbed up the rough mass of
greenstone which crowns the summit. This rock, as
frequently happens, was much shattered and broken into huge angular
fragments. I observed, however, one remarkable circumstance, namely,
that many of the surfaces presented every degree of freshness—some
appearing as if broken the day before, whilst on others lichens had
either just become, or had long grown, attached. I so fully believed
that this was owing to the frequent earthquakes, that I felt inclined
to hurry from below each loose pile. As one might very easily be
deceived in a fact of this kind, I doubted its accuracy, until
ascending Mount Wellington, in Van Diemen’s Land, where earthquakes do
not occur; and there I saw the summit of the mountain similarly
composed and similarly shattered, but all the blocks appeared as if
they had been hurled into their present position thousands of years
ago.
We spent the day on the summit, and I never enjoyed one more
thoroughly. Chile, bounded by the Andes and the Pacific, was seen as in
a map. The pleasure from the scenery, in itself beautiful, was
heightened by the many reflections which arose from the mere view of
the Campana range with its lesser parallel ones, and of the broad
valley of Quillota directly intersecting them. Who can avoid wondering
at the force which has upheaved these mountains, and even more so at
the countless ages which it must have required to have broken through,
removed, and levelled whole masses of them? It is well in this case to
call to mind the vast shingle and sedimentary beds of Patagonia, which,
if heaped on the Cordillera, would increase its height by so many
thousand feet. When in that country, I wondered how any mountain-chain
could have supplied such masses, and not have been utterly obliterated.
We must not now reverse the wonder, and doubt whether all-powerful time
can grind down mountains—even the gigantic Cordillera—into gravel and
mud.
The appearance of the Andes was different from that which I had
expected. The lower line of the snow was of course horizontal, and to
this line the even summits of the range seemed quite parallel. Only at
long intervals a group of points or a single cone showed where a
volcano had existed, or does now exist. Hence the range resembled a
great solid wall, surmounted here and there by a tower, and making a
most perfect barrier to the country.
Almost every part of the hill had been drilled by attempts to open
gold-mines: the rage for mining has left scarcely a spot in Chile
unexamined. I spent the evening as before, talking round the fire with
my two companions. The Guasos of Chile, who correspond to the Gauchos
of the Pampas, are, however, a very different set of beings. Chile is
the more civilised of the two countries, and the inhabitants, in
consequence, have lost much individual character. Gradations in rank
are much more strongly marked: the Guaso does not by any means consider
every man his equal; and I was quite surprised to find that my
companions did not like to eat at the same time with myself. This
feeling of inequality is a necessary consequence of the existence of an
aristocracy of wealth. It is said that some few of the greater
landowners possess from five to ten thousand pounds sterling per annum:
an inequality of riches which I believe is not met with in any of the
cattle-breeding countries eastward of the Andes. A traveller does not
here meet that unbounded hospitality which refuses all payment, but yet
is so kindly offered that no scruples can be raised in accepting it.
Almost every house in Chile will receive you for the night, but a
trifle is expected to be given in the morning; even a rich man will
accept two or three shillings. The Gaucho, although he may be a
cutthroat, is a gentleman; the Guaso is in few respects better, but at
the same time a vulgar, ordinary fellow. The two men, although employed
much in the same manner, are different in their habits and attire; and
the peculiarities of each are universal in their respective countries.
The Gaucho seems part of his horse, and scorns to exert himself
excepting when on its back; the Guaso may be hired to work as a
labourer in the fields. The former lives entirely on animal food; the
latter almost wholly on vegetable. We do not here see the white boots,
the broad drawers, and scarlet chilipa; the picturesque costume of the
Pampas. Here, common trousers are protected by black and green worsted
leggings. The poncho, however, is common to both. The chief pride of
the Guaso lies in his spurs, which are absurdly large. I measured one
which was six inches in the _diameter_ of the rowel, and the rowel
itself contained upwards of thirty points. The stirrups are on the same
scale, each consisting of a square, carved
block of wood, hollowed out, yet weighing three or four pounds. The
Guaso is perhaps more expert with the lazo than the Gaucho; but, from
the nature of the country, he does not know the use of the bolas.
_August_ 18_th._—We descended the mountain, and passed some beautiful
little spots, with rivulets and fine trees. Having slept at the same
hacienda as before, we rode during the two succeeding days up the
valley, and passed through Quillota, which is more like a collection of
nursery-gardens than a town. The orchards were beautiful, presenting
one mass of peach-blossoms. I saw, also, in one or two places the
date-palm; it is a most stately tree; and I should think a group of
them in their native Asiatic or African deserts must be superb. We
passed likewise San Felipe, a pretty straggling town like Quillota. The
valley in this part expands into one of those great bays or plains,
reaching to the foot of the Cordillera, which have been mentioned as
forming so curious a part of the scenery of Chile. In the evening we
reached the mines of Jajuel, situated in a ravine at the flank of the
great chain. I stayed here five days. My host, the superintendent of
the mine, was a shrewd but rather ignorant Cornish miner. He had
married a Spanish woman, and did not mean to return home; but his
admiration for the mines of Cornwall remained unbounded. Amongst many
other questions, he asked me, “Now that George Rex is dead, how many
more of the family of Rexes are yet alive?” This Rex certainly must be
a relation of the great author Finis, who wrote all books!
These mines are of copper, and the ore is all shipped to Swansea, to be
smelted. Hence the mines have an aspect singularly quiet, as compared
to those in England: here no smoke, furnaces, or great steam-engines,
disturb the solitude of the surrounding mountains.
The Chilian government, or rather the old Spanish law, encourages by
every method the searching for mines. The discoverer may work a mine on
any ground, by paying five shillings; and before paying this he may
try, even in the garden of another man, for twenty days.
[Illustration]
It is now well known that the Chilian method of mining is the cheapest.
My host says that the two principal
improvements introduced by foreigners have been, first, reducing by
previous roasting the copper pyrites—which, being the common ore in
Cornwall, the English miners were astounded on their arrival to find
thrown away as useless: secondly, stamping and washing the scoriæ from
the old furnaces—by which process particles of metal are recovered in
abundance. I have actually seen mules carrying to the coast, for
transportation to England, a cargo of such cinders. But the first case
is much the most curious. The Chilian miners were so convinced that
copper pyrites contained not a particle of copper, that they laughed at
the Englishmen for their ignorance, who laughed in turn, and bought
their richest veins for a few dollars. It is very odd that, in a
country where mining had been extensively carried on for many years, so
simple a process as gently roasting the ore to expel the sulphur
previous to smelting it, had never been discovered. A few improvements
have likewise been introduced in some of the simple machinery; but even
to the present day, water is removed from some mines by men carrying it
up the shaft in leathern bags!
The labouring men work very hard. They have little time allowed for
their meals, and during summer and winter they begin when it is light,
and leave off at dark. They are paid one pound sterling a month, and
their food is given them: this for breakfast consists of sixteen figs
and two small loaves of bread; for dinner, boiled beans; for supper,
broken roasted wheat grain. They scarcely ever taste meat; as, with the
twelve pounds per annum, they have to clothe themselves and support
their families. The miners who work in the mine itself have twenty-five
shillings per month, and are allowed
a little charqui. But these men come down from their bleak habitations
only once in every fortnight or three weeks.
Cactus; Cereus Peruviana
During my stay here I thoroughly enjoyed scrambling about these huge
mountains. The geology, as might have been expected, was very
interesting. The shattered and baked rocks, traversed by innumerable
dikes of greenstone, showed what commotions had formerly taken place.
The scenery was much the same as that near the Bell of Quillota—dry
barren mountains, dotted at intervals by bushes with a scanty foliage.
The cactuses, or rather opuntias, were here very numerous. I measured
one of a spherical figure, which, including the spines, was six feet
and four inches in circumference. The height of the common cylindrical,
branching kind, is from twelve to fifteen feet, and the girth (with
spines) of the branches between three and four feet.
A heavy fall of snow on the mountains prevented me, during the last two
days, from making some interesting excursions. I attempted to reach a
lake which the inhabitants, from some
unaccountable reason, believe to be an arm of the sea. During a very
dry season, it was proposed to attempt cutting a channel from it for
the sake of the water, but the padre, after a consultation, declared it
was too dangerous, as all Chile would be inundated, if, as generally
supposed, the lake was connected with the Pacific. We ascended to a
great height, but becoming involved in the snow-drifts failed in
reaching this wonderful lake, and had some difficulty in returning. I
thought we should have lost our horses; for there was no means of
guessing how deep the drifts were, and the animals, when led, could
only move by jumping. The black sky showed that a fresh snowstorm was
gathering, and we therefore were not a little glad when we escaped. By
the time we reached the base the storm commenced, and it was lucky for
us that this did not happen three hours earlier in the day.
_August_ 26_th._—We left Jajuel and again crossed the basin of San
Felipe. The day was truly Chilian: glaringly bright, and the atmosphere
quite clear. The thick and uniform covering of newly-fallen snow
rendered the view of the volcano of Aconcagua and the main chain quite
glorious. We were now on the road to Santiago, the capital of Chile. We
crossed the Cerro del Talguen, and slept at a little rancho. The host,
talking about the state of Chile as compared to other countries, was
very humble: “Some see with two eyes, and some with one, but for my
part I do not think that Chile sees with any.”
_August_ 27_th._—After crossing many low hills we descended into the
small land-locked plain of Guitron. In the basins, such as this one,
which are elevated from one thousand to two thousand feet above the
sea, two species of acacia, which are stunted in their forms, and stand
wide apart from each other, grow in large numbers. These trees are
never found near the sea-coast; and this gives another characteristic
feature to the scenery of these basins. We crossed a low ridge which
separates Guitron from the great plain on which Santiago stands. The
view was here pre-eminently striking: the dead level surface, covered
in parts by woods of acacia, and with the city in the distance,
abutting horizontally against the base of the Andes,
whose snowy peaks were bright with the evening sun. At the first glance
of this view, it was quite evident that the plain represented the
extent of a former inland sea. As soon as we gained the level road we
pushed our horses into a gallop, and reached the city before it was
dark.
I stayed a week in Santiago and enjoyed myself very much. In the
morning I rode to various places on the plain, and in the evening dined
with several of the English merchants, whose hospitality at this place
is well known. A never-failing source of pleasure was to ascend the
little hillock of rock (St. Lucia) which projects in the middle of the
city. The scenery certainly is most striking, and, as I have said, very
peculiar. I am informed that this same character is common to the
cities on the great Mexican platform. Of the town I have nothing to say
in detail: it is not so fine or so large as Buenos Ayres, but is built
after the same model. I arrived here by a circuit to the north; so I
resolved to return to Valparaiso by a rather longer excursion to the
south of the direct road.
_September_ 5_th._—By the middle of the day we arrived at one of the
suspension bridges made of hide, which cross the Maypu, a large
turbulent river a few leagues southward of Santiago. These bridges are
very poor affairs. The road, following the curvature of the suspending
ropes, is made of bundles of sticks placed close together. It was full
of holes, and oscillated rather fearfully, even with the weight of a
man leading his horse. In the evening we reached a comfortable
farm-house, where there were several very pretty señoritas. They were
much horrified at my having entered one of their churches out of mere
curiosity. They asked me, “Why do you not become a Christian—for our
religion is certain?” I assured them I was a sort of Christian; but
they would not hear of it—appealing to my own words, “Do not your
padres, your very bishops, marry?” The absurdity of a bishop having a
wife particularly struck them: they scarcely knew whether to be most
amused or horror-struck at such an enormity.
6_th._—We proceeded due south, and slept at Rancagua. The road passed
over the level but narrow plain, bounded on
one side by lofty hills, and on the other by the Cordillera. The next
day we turned up the valley of the Rio Cachapual, in which the
hot-baths of Cauquenes, long celebrated for their medicinal properties,
are situated. The suspension bridges, in the less frequented parts, are
generally taken down during the winter when the rivers are low. Such
was the case in this valley, and we were therefore obliged to cross the
stream on horseback. This is rather disagreeable, for the foaming
water, though not deep, rushes so quickly over the bed of large rounded
stones, that one’s head becomes quite confused, and it is difficult
even to perceive whether the horse is moving onward or standing still.
In summer, when the snow melts, the torrents are quite impassable;
their strength and fury are then extremely great, as might be plainly
seen by the marks which they had left. We reached the baths in the
evening, and stayed there five days, being confined the two last by
heavy rain. The buildings consist of a square of miserable little
hovels, each with a single table and bench. They are situated in a
narrow deep valley just without the central Cordillera. It is a quiet,
solitary spot, with a good deal of wild beauty.
The mineral springs of Cauquenes burst forth on a line of dislocation,
crossing a mass of stratified rock, the whole of which betrays the
action of heat. A considerable quantity of gas is continually escaping
from the same orifices with the water. Though the springs are only a
few yards apart, they have very different temperatures; and this
appears to be the result of an unequal mixture of cold water: for those
with the lowest temperature have scarcely any mineral taste. After the
great earthquake of 1822 the springs ceased, and the water did not
return for nearly a year. They were also much affected by the
earthquake of 1835; the temperature being suddenly changed from 118° to
92°.[1] It seems probable that mineral waters rising deep from the
bowels of the earth would always be more deranged by subterranean
disturbances than those nearer the surface. The man who had charge of
the baths assured me that in summer the water is hotter and more
plentiful than in winter. The former circumstance I should have
expected, from the less mixture, during the dry season, of cold water;
but the latter statement appears very strange and contradictory. The
periodical increase during the summer, when rain never falls, can, I
think, only be accounted for by the melting of the snow: yet the
mountains which are covered by snow during that season are three or
four leagues distant from the springs. I have no reason to doubt the
accuracy of my informer, who, having lived on the spot for several
years, ought to be well acquainted with the circumstance,—which, if
true, certainly is very curious: for we must suppose that the
snow-water, being conducted through porous strata to the regions of
heat, is again thrown up to the surface by the line of dislocated and
injected rocks at Cauquenes; and the regularity of the phenomenon would
seem to indicate that in this district heated rock occurred at a depth
not very great.
[1] Caldcleugh, in _Philosoph. Transact._ for 1836.
One day I rode up the valley to the farthest inhabited spot. Shortly
above that point, the Cachapual divides into two deep tremendous
ravines, which penetrate directly into the great range. I scrambled up
a peaked mountain, probably more than six thousand feet high. Here, as
indeed everywhere else, scenes of the highest interest presented
themselves. It was by one of these ravines that Pincheira entered Chile
and ravaged the neighbouring country. This is the same man whose attack
on an estancia at the Rio Negro I have described. He was a renegade
half-caste Spaniard, who collected a great body of Indians together and
established himself by a stream in the Pampas, which place none of the
forces sent after him could ever discover. From this point he used to
sally forth, and crossing the Cordillera by passes hitherto
unattempted, he ravaged the farm-houses and drove the cattle to his
secret rendezvous. Pincheira was a capital horseman, and he made all
around him equally good, for he invariably shot any one who hesitated
to follow him. It was against this man, and other wandering Indian
tribes, that Rosas waged the war of extermination.
Cordilleras from Santiago de Chile
_September_ 13_th._—We left the baths of Cauquenes, and, rejoining the
main road, slept at the Rio Claro. From this place we rode to the town
of San Fernando. Before arriving there, the last land-locked basin had
expanded into a great plain, which extended so far to the south that
the snowy summits of the more distant Andes were seen as if above the
horizon of the sea. San Fernando is forty leagues from Santiago; and it
was my
farthest point southward; for we here turned at right angles towards
the coast. We slept at the gold-mines of Yaquil, which are worked by
Mr. Nixon, an American gentleman, to whose kindness I was much indebted
during the four days I stayed at his house. The next morning we rode to
the mines, which are situated at the distance of some leagues, near the
summit of a lofty hill. On the way we had a glimpse of the lake
Tagua-tagua, celebrated for its floating islands, which have been
described by M. Gay.[2] They are composed of the stalks of various dead
plants intertwined together, and on the surface of which other living
ones take root. Their form is generally circular, and their thickness
from four to six feet, of which the greater part is immersed in the
water. As the wind blows, they pass from one side of the lake to the
other, and often carry cattle and horses as passengers.
[2] _Annales des Sciences Naturelles_, March, 1833. M. Gay, a zealous
and able naturalist, was then occupied in studying every branch of
natural history throughout the kingdom of Chile.
When we arrived at the mine, I was struck by the pale appearance of
many of the men, and inquired from Mr. Nixon respecting their
condition. The mine is 450 feet deep, and each man brings up about 200
pounds weight of stone. With this load they have to climb up the
alternate notches cut in the trunks of trees, placed in a zigzag line
up the shaft. Even beardless young men, eighteen and twenty years old,
with little muscular development of their bodies (they are quite naked
excepting drawers) ascend with this great load from nearly the same
depth. A strong man, who is not accustomed to this labour, perspires
most profusely, with merely carrying up his own body. With this very
severe labour, they live entirely on boiled beans and bread. They would
prefer having bread alone; but their masters, finding that they cannot
work so hard upon this, treat them like horses, and make them eat the
beans. Their pay is here rather more than at the mines of Jajuel, being
from 24 to 28 shillings per month. They leave the mine only once in
three weeks; when they stay with their families for two days. One of
the rules of this mine sounds very harsh, but answers pretty well for
the master. The only method of stealing gold is to secrete pieces of
the ore, and take them out as occasion may offer. Whenever the
major-domo
finds a lump thus hidden, its full value is stopped out of the wages of
all the men; who thus, without they all combine, are obliged to keep
watch over each other.
When the ore is brought to the mill, it is ground into an impalpable
powder; the process of washing removes all the lighter particles, and
amalgamation finally secures the gold-dust. The washing, when
described, sounds a very simple process; but it is beautiful to see how
the exact adaptation of the current of water to the specific gravity of
the gold so easily separates the powdered matrix from the metal. The
mud which passes from the mills is collected into pools, where it
subsides, and every now and then is cleared out, and thrown into a
common heap. A great deal of chemical action then commences, salts of
various kinds effloresce on the surface, and the mass becomes hard.
After having been left for a year or two, and then rewashed, it yields
gold; and this process may be repeated even six or seven times; but the
gold each time becomes less in quantity, and the intervals required (as
the inhabitants say, to generate the metal) are longer. There can be no
doubt that the chemical action, already mentioned, each time liberates
fresh gold from some combination. The discovery of a method to effect
this before the first grinding would without doubt raise the value of
gold-ores many fold. It is curious to find how the minute particles of
gold, being scattered about and not corroding, at last accumulate in
some quantity. A short time since a few miners, being out of work,
obtained permission to scrape the ground round the house and mill; they
washed the earth thus got together, and so procured thirty dollars
worth of gold. This is an exact counterpart of what takes place in
nature. Mountains suffer degradation and wear away, and with them the
metallic veins which they contain. The hardest rock is worn into
impalpable mud, the ordinary metals oxidate, and both are removed; but
gold, platina, and a few others are nearly indestructible, and from
their weight, sinking to the bottom, are left behind. After whole
mountains have passed through this grinding mill, and have been washed
by the hand of nature, the residue becomes metalliferous, and man finds
it worth his while to complete the task of separation.
Bad as the above treatment of the miners appears, it is
gladly accepted of by them; for the condition of the labouring
agriculturists is much worse. Their wages are lower, and they live
almost exclusively on beans. This poverty must be chiefly owing to the
feudal-like system on which the land is tilled: the landowner gives a
small plot of ground to the labourer, for building on and cultivating,
and in return has his services (or those of a proxy) for every day of
his life, without any wages. Until a father has a grown-up son, who can
by his labour pay the rent, there is no one, except on occasional days,
to take care of his own patch of ground. Hence extreme poverty is very
common among the labouring classes in this country.
There are some old Indian ruins in this neighbourhood, and I was shown
one of the perforated stones, which Molina mentions as being found in
many places in considerable numbers. They are of a circular flattened
form, from five to six inches in diameter, with a hole passing quite
through the centre. It has generally been supposed that they were used
as heads to clubs, although their form does not appear at all well
adapted for that purpose. Burchell[3] states that some of the tribes in
Southern Africa dig up roots by the aid of a stick pointed at one end,
the force and weight of which are increased by a round stone with a
hole in it, into which the other end is firmly wedged. It appears
probable that the Indians of Chile formerly used some such rude
agricultural instrument.
[3] Burchell’s _Travels_, vol. ii, p. 45.
One day, a German collector in natural history, of the name of Renous,
called, and nearly at the same time an old Spanish lawyer. I was amused
at being told the conversation which took place between them. Renous
speaks Spanish so well that the old lawyer mistook him for a Chilian.
Renous alluding to me, asked him what he thought of the King of England
sending out a collector to their country, to pick up lizards and
beetles, and to break stones? The old gentleman thought seriously for
some time, and then said, “It is not well,—_hay un gato encerrado aqui_
(there is a cat shut up here). No man is so rich as to send out people
to pick up such rubbish. I do not like it: if one of us were to go and
do such things in England, do not you think the King of England would
very soon send us out of his country?” And this old gentleman, from
his profession, belongs to the better informed and more intelligent
classes! Renous himself, two or three years before, left in a house at
San Fernando some caterpillars, under charge of a girl to feed, that
they might turn into butterflies. This was rumoured through the town,
and at last the Padres and Governor consulted together, and agreed it
must be some heresy. Accordingly, when Renous returned, he was
arrested.
_September_ 19_th._—We left Yaquil, and followed the flat valley,
formed like that of Quillota, in which the Rio Tinderidica flows. Even
at these few miles south of Santiago the climate is much damper; in
consequence there were fine tracts of pasturage which were not
irrigated. (_20th._) We followed this valley till it expanded into a
great plain, which reaches from the sea to the mountains west of
Rancagua. We shortly lost all trees and even bushes; so that the
inhabitants are nearly as badly off for firewood as those in the
Pampas. Never having heard of these plains, I was much surprised at
meeting with such scenery in Chile. The plains belong to more than one
series of different elevations, and they are traversed by broad
flat-bottomed valleys; both of which circumstances, as in Patagonia,
bespeak the action of the sea on gently rising land. In the steep
cliffs bordering these valleys there are some large caves, which no
doubt were originally formed by the waves: one of these is celebrated
under the name of Cueva del Obispo; having formerly been consecrated.
During the day I felt very unwell, and from that time till the end of
October did not recover.
_September_ 22_nd._—We continued to pass over green plains without a
tree. The next day we arrived at a house near Navedad, on the
sea-coast, where a rich Haciendero gave us lodgings. I stayed here the
two ensuing days, and although very unwell, managed to collect from the
tertiary formation some marine shells.
24_th._—Our course was now directed towards Valparaiso, which with
great difficulty I reached on the 27th, and was there confined to my
bed till the end of October. During this
time I was an inmate in Mr. Corfield’s house, whose kindness to me I do
not know how to express.
I will here add a few observations on some of the animals and birds of
Chile. The Puma, or South American Lion, is not uncommon. This animal
has a wide geographical range; being found from the equatorial forests,
throughout the deserts of Patagonia, as far south as the damp and cold
latitudes (53° to 54°) of Tierra del Fuego. I have seen its footsteps
in the Cordillera of central Chile, at an elevation of at least 10,000
feet. In La Plata the puma preys chiefly on deer, ostriches, bizcacha,
and other small quadrupeds; it there seldom attacks cattle or horses,
and most rarely man. In Chile, however, it destroys many young horses
and cattle, owing probably to the scarcity of other quadrupeds: I
heard, likewise, of two men and a woman who had been thus killed. It is
asserted that the puma always kills its prey by springing on the
shoulders, and then drawing back the head with one of its paws, until
the vertebræ break: I have seen in Patagonia the skeletons of guanacos,
with their necks thus dislocated.
The puma, after eating its fill, covers the carcass with many large
bushes, and lies down to watch it. This habit is often the cause of its
being discovered; for the condors wheeling in the air, every now and
then descend to partake of the feast, and being angrily driven away,
rise all together on the wing. The Chileno Guaso then knows there is a
lion watching his prey—the word is given—and men and dogs hurry to the
chase. Sir F. Head says that a Gaucho in the Pampas, upon merely seeing
some condors wheeling in the air, cried “A lion!” I could never myself
meet with any one who pretended to such powers of discrimination. It is
asserted that if a puma has once been betrayed by thus watching the
carcass, and has then been hunted, it never resumes this habit; but
that having gorged itself, it wanders far away. The puma is easily
killed. In an open country it is first entangled with the bolas, then
lazoed, and dragged along the ground till rendered insensible. At
Tandeel (south of the Plata), I was told that within three months one
hundred were thus destroyed. In Chile they are generally driven up
bushes or trees, and are then either shot, or baited to death by dogs.
The dogs employed in this chase
belong to a particular breed, called Leoneros: they are weak, slight
animals, like long-legged terriers, but are born with a particular
instinct for this sport. The puma is described as being very crafty:
when pursued, it often returns on its former track, and then suddenly
making a spring on one side, waits there till the dogs have passed by.
It is a very silent animal, uttering no cry even when wounded, and only
rarely during the breeding season.
Of birds, two species of the genus Pteroptochos (megapodius and
albicollis of Kittlitz) are perhaps the most conspicuous. The former,
called by the Chilenos “el Turco,” is as large as a fieldfare, to which
bird it has some alliance; but its legs are much longer, tail shorter,
and beak stronger: its colour is a reddish brown. The Turco is not
uncommon. It lives on the ground, sheltered among the thickets which
are scattered over the dry and sterile hills. With its tail erect, and
stilt-like legs, it may be seen every now and then popping from one
bush to another with uncommon quickness. It really requires little
imagination to believe that the bird is ashamed of itself, and is aware
of its most ridiculous figure. On first seeing it, one is tempted to
exclaim, “A vilely stuffed specimen has escaped from some museum, and
has come to life again!” It cannot be made to take flight without the
greatest trouble, nor does it run, but only hops. The various loud
cries which it utters when concealed amongst the bushes are as strange
as its appearance. It is said to build its nest in a deep hole beneath
the ground. I dissected several specimens: the gizzard, which was very
muscular, contained beetles, vegetable fibres, and pebbles. From this
character, from the length of its legs, scratching feet, membranous
covering to the nostrils, short and arched wings, this bird seems in a
certain degree to connect the thrushes with the gallinaceous order.
The second species (or P. albicollis) is allied to the first in its
general form. It is called Tapacolo, or “cover your posterior;” and
well does the shameless little bird deserve its name; for it carries
its tail more than erect, that is, inclined backwards towards its head.
It is very common, and frequents the bottoms of hedgerows, and the
bushes scattered over the barren hills, where scarcely another bird can
exist. In its general manner of feeding, of quickly hopping out of the
thickets
and back again, in its desire of concealment, unwillingness to take
flight, and nidification, it bears a close resemblance to the Turco;
but its appearance is not quite so ridiculous. The Tapacolo is very
crafty: when frightened by any person, it will remain motionless at the
bottom of a bush, and will then, after a little while, try with much
address to crawl away on the opposite side. It is also an active bird,
and continually making a noise: these noises are various and strangely
odd; some are like the cooing of doves, others like the bubbling of
water, and many defy all similes. The country people say it changes its
cry five times in the year—according to some change of season, I
suppose.[4]
[4] It is a remarkable fact that Molina, though describing in detail
all the birds and animals of Chile, never once mentions this genus,
the species of which are so common, and so remarkable in their habits.
Was he at a loss how to classify them, and did he consequently think
that silence was the more prudent course? It is one more instance of
the frequency of omissions by authors on those very subjects where it
might have been least expected.
Two species of humming-birds are common; Trochilus forficatus is found
over a space of 2500 miles on the west coast, from the hot dry country
of Lima to the forests of Tierra del Fuego—where it may be seen
flitting about in snow-storms. In the wooded island of Chiloe, which
has an extremely humid climate, this little bird, skipping from side to
side amidst the dripping foliage, is perhaps more abundant than almost
any other kind. I opened the stomachs of several specimens, shot in
different parts of the continent, and in all, remains of insects were
as numerous as in the stomach of a creeper. When this species migrates
in the summer southward, it is replaced by the arrival of another
species coming from the north. This second kind (Trochilus gigas) is a
very large bird for the delicate family to which it belongs: when on
the wing its appearance is singular. Like others of the genus, it moves
from place to place with a rapidity which may be compared to that of
Syrphus amongst flies, and Sphinx among moths; but whilst hovering over
a flower, it flaps its wings with a very slow and powerful movement,
totally different from that vibratory one common to most of the
species, which produces the humming noise. I never saw any other bird
where the force of its wings appeared (as in a butterfly) so powerful
in proportion to the weight of its body. When hovering by a flower, its
tail is constantly expanded and shut like a fan, the
body being kept in a nearly vertical position. This action appears to
steady and support the bird, between the slow movements of its wings.
Although flying from flower to flower in search of food, its stomach
generally contained abundant remains of insects, which I suspect are
much more the object of its search than honey. The note of this
species, like that of nearly the whole family, is extremely shrill.
[Illustration: Chilian spurs, stirrup, etc.]
[Illustration: Old Church, Castro, Chiloe]