Mines of Morococha—A Yankee's house—Mountain of
Puy-puy—Splendid view—Pachachaca—Lava stream—Chain bridge
at Oroya—Descent into the valley of Tarma—Tarma—American
physician—Customs—Dress—Religious observances—Muleteers
and mules—General Otero—Farming in the Sierra—Road to
Chanchamayo—Perils of travel—Gold mines of Matichacra—View of
the Montaña—Fort San Ramon—Indians of Chanchamayo—Cultivation.
We arrived at Morococha at 5 p.m. This is a copper mining hacienda,
belonging to some German brothers named Pflücker, of Lima, who own,
also, several silver mines of the neighborhood. The copper and silver
of these mountains are intimately mixed; they are both got out by
smelting, though this operation, as far as regarded the silver, had been
abandoned, and they were now beginning the process of extracting the
silver, by the mode of grinding and washing—such as I have described
at Párac—after having tried the _via humida_ (or method of washing in
barrels, used in Saxony) and failed.
The copper ore is calcined in the open air, in piles consisting of
alternate layers of ore and coal, which burn for a month. The ore thus
calcined is taken to ovens, built of brick imported from the United
States, and sufficient heat is employed to melt the copper, which runs
off into moulds below; the scoria being continually drawn off with long
iron hoes. The copper in this state is called _exe_; it has about fifty
per cent. of pure copper, the residue being silver, iron, &c., &c. It is
worth fifteen cents the pound in England, where it is refined. There is
a mine of fine coal eighteen miles from the hacienda, which yields an
abundant supply. It is bituminous, but hard, and of great brilliancy.
The hacienda employs about one hundred hands; more are desired, but
they cannot be had at this time, because it is harvest, and the Indians
are gathering the corn, barley, and beans of the valleys below. A man
will get out about one thousand pounds of copper ore in a day. I do not
think the mines were at work during our stay; at least, I saw or heard
nothing of them. I could not either get statistics concerning the yield
of these mines or the cost of working them, and I thought that I noticed
some reserve upon this subject. The director told me that the silver
ore of this region was very rich, and spoke of specimens that yielded
one thousand, and even fifteen hundred, marks to the caxon.
The mining business of the hacienda is conducted by a director, an
intelligent and gentlemanly young German, named Richard Von Durfeldt;
and its fiscal affairs and general business, by an administrator,
a fine-looking young Spaniard, Don Jose Fco. de Lizarralde, whose
kindly courtesy we shall long remember. The engineer, or machinist,
is my friend and schoolmate Shepherd, who seemed to be a "Jack of all
trades"—blacksmith, carpenter, watch-maker, and doctor. His room was
quite a curiosity, and bespoke plainly enough the American. I never saw
so many different things gathered together in so small a place: shelves
of fine standard books; a dispensary for physic; all manner of tools,
from the sledge-hammer and the whip-saw to the delicate instruments of
the watch-maker; parts of watches lying under bell-glasses; engravings
hanging around the walls, with a great chart, setting forth directions
for the treatment of all manner of diseases and accidents; horse
furniture, saddle-bags, boots, shoes, and every variety of garment,
from the heavy woollen poncho of the man to the more delicate cotton
petticoat of the woman; for my friend has a pretty young Sierra wife,
who took great pleasure in talking to me about the home and relations
of my "_paisano_." Shepherd's warm room and bed, with plenty of
covering, was a princely luxury in that cold climate. These things are
comparative, and I had not slept under a roof but twice since I left
Lima. An old Englishman from the Isle of Guernsey, named Grant, who
seemed to be a sort of factotum, and knew and did everything, and who
was unwearied in his kindness and attention to us, made up the sum of
our pleasant acquaintances at Morococha. We had beef and mutton for
dinner, with good butter and cheese; vegetables scarce; Gibbon not well;
Richards very sick, and under treatment from Shepherd.
_June 3._—We all went to see the Mountain of _Puy-puy_, said to be
higher than Chimborazo. The place of view is about three miles from
Morococha. We passed the openings of a copper and silver mine, and rode
along a boggy country, where turf is cut for fuel. We saw many snipes,
ducks, and other aquatic birds. This upset all my preconceived notions;
I had no idea that I should see, at fifteen thousand feet above the
level of the sea, anything that would remind me of duck-shooting in the
marshes of the Rappahannock. To see the mountain, it was necessary to
cross a range of hills, about seven or eight hundred feet in height.
The road went up diagonally, but the ascent was the most toilsome
operation I had ever undertaken. We were obliged to dismount, when about
three-fourths of the way up, and lead the mules; the path was muddy and
slippery, and we had to stop to blow at every half-dozen steps. Gibbon
declared that this was the only occasion in which he had ever found the
big spurs of the country of any service; for when he slipped and fell,
as we all frequently did, he said that he should inevitably have gone
to the bottom had he not dug his spurs into the soil, and so held on.
I think that I suffered more than any of the party. On arriving at the
top, I was fairly exhausted; I thought my heart would break from my
breast with its violent agitation, and I felt, for the first time, how
painful it was
"To breathe
The difficult air of the iced mountain's top."
I soon recovered, however, and was amply repaid by the splendor of
the view. The lofty cone-shaped mountain, clad in its brilliant mantle
from the top even to the cylindrical base upon which it rested, rose
in solitary majesty from the plain beneath us; and when the sunlight,
bursting from the clouds, rested upon its summit, it was beautiful,
indeed. Gibbon almost froze taking a sketch of it; and the rest of us
tired ourselves nearly to death endeavoring to get a shot at a herd of
shy vicuñas that were seen feeding among the distant rocks. We had a
fatiguing ride, and enjoyed a late dinner and a good night's rest.
_June 4._—We took leave of our hospitable friends, (whom I could no
longer intrude our large party upon,) and started at meridian, leaving
Richards too sick to travel. We rode down the "Valley of the Lakes" in
about an E. N. E. direction, visiting the silver mining hacienda of
Tuctu as we passed, which belongs to the establishment of Morococha.
We travelled over a heavy rolling country; the southern sides of
the hills clothed with verdure, and affording tolerable pasture; the
northern sides bare and rocky—no trees or bushes. About nine miles from
Morococha, we crossed a range of hills to the right, and entered the
village of _Pachachaca_.
This is situated in a valley that comes down from Yauli. The stream
of the Valley of the Lakes at this place joins with the larger and
very serpentine stream of the Yauli valley. This valley has a flat
and apparently level floor of half a mile in width, affording a
carriage-road of two or three miles in length. There is a hacienda for
smelting silver here; but having no letters, and but little time, (for
the arriero begins very justly to complain that we are delaying him an
unreasonable time upon the road,) I did not visit it.
Pachachaca is a small village of two hundred inhabitants. The people
seem more industrious than those of the villages on the other side.
There are fine crops of barley here, and we saw cabbages, onions,
peaches, and eggs, in the shops. We were greater objects of curiosity
in this place than we had been before. The people, I believe, took us
for peddlers, and the woman from whom we got our supper and breakfast
seemed offended because we would not sell her some candles, and
importuned Gibbon for the sale of his straw hat. The men wore short
woollen trousers, buttoned at the knee, together with, generally, two
pair of long woollen stockings. The woollen articles of clothing are
woven in this neighborhood, except the ponchos, which come from Tarma.
Printed cottons from Lima sell for eighteen and three-quarter cents the
vara, (33 inches;) a cup and saucer of the commonest ware are held at
thirty-seven and a half cents, but purchasers are few; sewing-cotton,
a dollar the pound. Shoes come from Jauxa; also candles and potatoes.
Fuel is the "taquia," or dried cattle manure. Gibbon and I had occasion
afterwards to laugh at our fastidiousness in objecting to a mutton-chop
broiled upon a coal of cow-dung.
_June 5._—We travelled down the valley about east. At about one and a
half mile we passed a very curious-looking place, where a small stream
came out of a valley to the northward and westward, and spread itself
over a flat table-rock, soft and calcareous. It poured over this rock
in a sort of horse-shoe cataract, and then spread over an apparently
convex surface of this same soft rock, about two hundred and fifty
yards wide, crossing the valley down which we were travelling. This rock
sounded hollow under the feet of the mules, and I feared we should break
through at every instant. I am confident it was but a thin crust; and,
indeed, after crossing it, we observed a clear stream of water issuing
from beneath it, and flowing into the road on the farther side. We saw
another such place a little lower down, only the stream tumbled, in
a variety of colored streaks, principally white, like salt, over the
metallic-looking rock, into the rivulet below. I presume there must have
been some volcano near here, and that this rock is lava, for it had all
the appearance of having once been liquid.
[Illustration: HACIENDA DE MAYOC.
Pl. 3.
Lt. Gibbon del.
Wagner & McGuigan's Lith. Phila.]
[Illustration: SAN MATEO.
Pl. 4.
Lt. Gibbon del.
Wagner & McGuigan's Lith. Phila.]
[Illustration: CORDILLERA FROM THE HIGHEST POINT OF THE ROUTE.
Pl. 5.
Lt. Gibbon del.
Wagner & McGuigan's Lith. Phila.]
[Illustration: MOUNT PUYPUY.
Pl. 6.
Lt. Gibbon del.
Wagner & McGuigan's Lith. Phila.]
The valley about two miles from Pachachaca is cut across by rocky hills.
Here we turned to the northward and eastward. The country at first
offered some pasturage, but became more barren as we advanced, only
showing, now and then, some patches of barley. We travelled till noon
on the left bank of the Yauli stream, when we crossed it by a natural
bridge, at a little village of a few huts, called Saco. At half-past
two, after a ride over a stony and dusty plain, bordered on each side
by rocky mountains, we arrived at the bridge of Oroya. This is a chain
suspension bridge, of about fifty yards in length, and two and a half
in breadth, flung over the river of Jauxa, which is a tributary of the
Ucayali. The Yauli stream, into which emptied the stream from the lakes
at Morococha, joins this river here, and this is the connexion that I
spoke of between those lakes, near the very summit of the Andes and the
Atlantic ocean.
The bridge consisted of four chains, of about a quarter of an inch
diameter, stretched horizontally across the river from strong stone-work
on each side. These are interlaced with thongs of hide; sticks of about
one and a half inch in diameter are laid across them and lashed down,
forming a floor. Two other chains are stretched across about four feet
above these, and connected with them by thongs of hide; these serve for
balustrades, and would prevent a mule from jumping off. The bridge was
about fifty feet above the water when we passed. It seemed very light,
and rocked and swayed under the motion of the mules in crossing it. The
heavy cargoes are taken off and carried over on the shoulders of the
bridge-keeper and his assistants. The toll is twelve and a half cents
the mule; and the same, the cargo. The bridge-ward seemed astonished,
and somewhat annoyed, when I told him that one of the cargoes, which he
left on the mule, was the heaviest I had, being a box filled with bags
of shot, balls, and powder, together with the specimens of ore and rocks
we had collected.
The river at this place turns from its southern course and runs to
the eastward, by the village of Oroya, where we camped. This village
contains about one hundred inhabitants, though we saw only five or
six men; most of the male inhabitants being away to the harvest on the
plains above. The women seemed nearly all to be employed in spinning
wool; holding the bundle of wool in the left hand and spinning it out
by a hanging broach. Very few of them spoke Spanish, but a corrupt
_Quichua_, or language of the Incas. We bought barley straw for the
mules, and got a beef chupe, with eggs and roasted potatoes, for
ourselves. We saw some small trees within the deserted enclosures where
houses had been, bearing a very fragrant flower, something resembling
the heliotrope, but much larger, and tinged with a reddish color. We
also saw flocks of sheep, but got no mutton for dinner.
_June 6._—Got under way at 9 a. m., steering N. N. E., and making a
considerable ascent for about two miles. We then rode over a plain,
with rolling hills on each side, covered with a short grass, giving
pasturage to large flocks of sheep and some cows. The road then rose
again, taking our column of mercury in the barometer out of sight, till
half-past eleven, when we stood at the head of a ravine leading down
to the valley of Tarma. The height of this spot above the level of the
sea was eleven thousand two hundred and seventy feet. We rode down this
ravine, north, for three-quarters of an hour, and at an angle to the
horizon of full thirty degrees. The road was filled with fragments of
white calcareous rock, and the rocky hills on each side were pierced
with many a cavern. When nearly at the foot, the plants and flowers
familiar to us on the other side began to make their appearance, and
in such quick succession, that it seemed that an hour's ride carried us
over many a mile of the tedious ascent to the westward of the mountains.
First appeared the hardy little flowers of the heights above San Mateo;
then, the barley; the alfalfa; the Indian corn; beans; turnips; shrubs,
becoming bushes; bushes, trees; flowers growing larger and gayer in
their colors, (yellow predominating,) till the pretty little city of
Tarma, embosomed among the hills, and enveloped in its covering of
willows and fruit trees, with its long lawns of alfalfa (the greenest
of grasses) stretching out in front, broke upon our view. The ride of
to-day was a long and tiresome one, being mostly a bone-shaking descent;
and we hailed with pleasure the sight of the little town as a resting
place, after the tedious passage of the Cordillera, and felt that one of
the inconveniences and perils of the expedition was safely and happily
passed.
We arrived at 4 p. m., and rode straight to the house of a gentleman,
Don Lorenzo Burgos, to whom I brought a letter of introduction from
friend Shepherd, of Morococha; which letter contained the modest
request that Don Lorenzo should place his house at my disposal. This
he acceded to without hesitation, removing his sick wife, in spite of
remonstrance, into another room, and giving us his hall for our baggage,
and his chamber for our sleeping room. This I would not have acceded
to, except that this is not Don Lorenzo's place of residence, but a new
house which he is constructing here, and which he is only staying at
for a few days till his wife is able to travel to their regular place
of residence. There is no public house in the town, and it is customary
to take travellers in. When I (next morning) presented a letter of
introduction from the Bishop of Eretria to the Cura of Tarma, his first
question was, "Where are you lodged?" And when I told him, he seemed
annoyed, and said that I had not treated him properly in not coming to
his house. Don Lorenzo gave us some dinner, and we slept well after the
fatigues of the day.
Tarma, a town of some seven thousand inhabitants, belonging to the
province of _Pasco_ and department of _Junin_, is beautifully situated
in an amphitheatre of mountains, which are clothed nearly to the top
with waving fields of barley. The valley in front, about half a mile
wide, and two miles long, appears level, and is covered with the
greenest and richest pasturage. Its borders are fringed with fruit
trees; and the stream which waters it plunges, in a beautiful little
cataract, of some thirty feet in height, over a ledge of rocks at the
farther end. Its climate is delicious; and it is the resort of sickly
people from Lima, and the cold and inclement mining districts, who find
comfort and restoration in its pure atmosphere and mild and equable
temperature. I was told, although the district contains nearly twenty
thousand inhabitants, and its villages are close together, and easily
accessible, that it could not, of itself, support a physician, and that
the government had to appropriate the tax on spirits, and the surplus
revenue of the bridge at Oroya, to this purpose. A young American
physician, recently established in Tarma, gave me this account; but said
that not even this had been sufficient to keep one here; that the custom
had, therefore, fallen into desuetude, and that he was then engaged,
with hope of success, in endeavoring to have this appropriation renewed
and paid over to him.
I cannot vouch for this story. It has an apocryphal sound to me. I only
know that it is a very healthy place, and that my medical friend is a
person of repute there. When I proposed to carry him off with me, the
ladies of my acquaintance raised a great outcry, and declared that they
could not part with their _Medico_. I think there is no apothecary's
shop in Tarma, for I supplied the Doctor with some medicines, those
which he had brought from Lima being nearly exhausted. I am satisfied,
though there are so few diseases, that a good-looking young graduate
of medicine, who would go there with money enough to buy him a horse,
might readily marry a pretty girl of influential family, and soon get a
practice that would enrich him in ten years. I afterwards knew a young
American at Cerro Pasco, who, though not a graduate, and I believe
scarcely a student of medicine, was in high repute as a doctor, and had
as much practice as he could attend to; but who, like several of our
countrymen whom I met abroad, was dissipated and reckless, and, as he
himself expressed it, "slept with the pump."
The houses of Tarma are built of adobe; and the better sort are
whitewashed within and without; floored with gypsum and tiled. The
wood and iron work is of the rudest possible description, although the
former, from the Montaña of Chanchamayo, is pretty and good. The doors
of the house we are living in very much resemble "birds-eye maple." Some
of the houses are partially papered, and carpeted with common Scotch
carpeting. Most of them have _patios_, or enclosed squares, within, and
some of them flat roofs, with a parapet around them, where maize, peas,
beans, and such things, are placed in the sun to dry.
Sunday is the great market-day, and the market-place is filled with
country people, who come in to sell their manufactures of ponchos,
blankets, shoes, hats, (made of the vicuña wool,) &c., and to buy coca,
cotton goods, and _agua diente_, as well as to attend mass and get
drunk. It is quite a busy and animated scene. The men are generally
dressed in tall straw hats, ponchos, breeches, buttoned at the knee,
and long woollen stockings; the women, in a blue woollen skirt, tied
around the waist, and open in front, to show a white cotton petticoat,
the shoulders covered with a mantle consisting of two or three yards
of gay-colored plush, called "_Bayeta de Castilla_," or Spanish baize.
Everything foreign in this country is called "_de Castilla_," (of
Castile;) as in Brazil, it is called "_da Rainha_," (of the Queen.)
The skirt of a lady of higher quality consists of a colored print, or
mousseline. She rarely, unless dressed for company, takes the trouble
to put on the body of her dress, which hangs down behind, and is covered
with a gay shawl, passed around the bust, with the end thrown gracefully
over the left shoulder. The hair, particularly on Sundays, is in perfect
order; parted in the middle, and hanging down in two plaits behind. It
is surmounted by a very neat, low-crowned straw-hat, the crown being
nearly covered with a broad ribbon; and she is always "_bien calzada_,"
(well shod.) The women are generally large and well developed; not
very pretty, but with amiable, frank, and agreeable manners; they
have, almost invariably, a pleasant smile, with an open and engaging
expression of countenance.
Religion flourishes in Tarma; and the Cura seems to have a busy time
of it; though it is said he is cheated of half his rights in the way
of marriage fees. I think that no day passed while we were here that
there was not a "_fiesta_" of the church; for, although there are not
more than twenty-five or thirty feast days in the year insisted upon by
the church and the government, yet any piously-disposed person may get
up one when he pleases. The manner seems to be this: A person, either
from religious motives or ostentation, during or after Divine service in
the church, approaches the altar, and, kissing one of its appendages,
(I forget which,) proclaims his intention of becoming mayordomo or
superintendent of such and such a _fiesta_—generally that of the Saint
after whom he is named, and thereupon receives the benediction of
the priest. This binds him and his heirs to all the expenses of the
celebration, which, in the great functions in Lima, may be set down
at no small matter—the heaviest item being the lighting of one of
those large churches from floor to dome with wax. The jewels and other
adornments of the images borne in procession are generally borrowed from
the devout Señoras of the higher and richer class; but I am told that
many a person impoverishes his family for years by paying the expenses
of one of these festivals.
The _fiestas_ in Tarma are generally celebrated with music, ringing of
bells, firing of rockets, and dances of Indians. A dozen vagabonds are
dressed in what is supposed to be the costume of the ancient Indians.
This consists of a red blanket hanging from one shoulder, and a white
one from the other, reaching nearly to the knee, and girded around the
waist; the usual short blue breeches, with a white fringe at the knee;
stockings of an indifferent color, and shoes or sandals of raw-hide,
gathered over the toes with a draw-string, and tied around the ankles.
The head-dress is a low crowned, broad-brimmed round hat, made of wool,
and surrounded with a circlet of dyed feathers of the ostrich. Thus
costumed, the party march through the streets, and stop every now and
then to execute a sort of dance to the melancholy and monotonous music
of a reed pipe, accompanied by a rude flat drum—both in the hands of the
same performer. Each man has a stick or club, of hard wood, and a very
small wooden or hide shield, which he strikes with the club at certain
periods of the dance, making a low clattering in time with the music.
They have also small bells, called "cascabeles," attached to the knees
and feet, which jingle in the dance. They and their company of Indians
and Mestizos smell very badly on a near approach. Connected with this
there is a great deal of riot and drunkenness; and I felt annoyed that
the church should patronize and encourage so demoralizing a procedure.
The secular clergy of Peru, with a few honorable exceptions, have not
a high character, if one is to believe the stories told of them by
their own countrymen; and I had occasion to observe that the educated
young men, as well of Chili as of Peru, generally spoke of them in
terms of great contempt. I judge that the case is different with the
clergy of the monastic orders, particularly the missionaries. Those
I met with were evidently men of high character; and to their zeal,
energy, and ability, Peru owes the conquest of by far the largest and
richest part of the republic. It happens, unfortunately for the Peruvian
character, that nearly all of these are foreigners—generally Spaniards
and Italians.
_June 7._—I suffered all day with violent pain in the head and limbs,
from the ride of yesterday. These Peruvian saddles, though good for the
beasts, and for riding up and down hill, stretch the legs so far apart
as for a long time to give the unaccustomed rider severe pains in the
muscles of the thighs; and I had to ride a large portion of the distance
with my leg over the pommel, like a lady.
We paid off and parted with the arriero, Pablo Luis Arredondo. I did not
find him so great a rascal as I expected; for, except the disposition
to get all out of me he could, (which was very natural,) and an
occasional growl, (which was also to be expected,) I had no reason to
be dissatisfied with Luis. Ijurra was always quarrelling with him; but
I think Ijurra has the fault of his countrymen generally, and wants the
temper and patience necessary to manage ignorant people. By soft words
and some bribery, I got along well enough with the old fellow; and he
loaded his mules beyond their usual cargoes, and drove them along very
well. I was frequently astonished at the difficulties they surmounted,
loaded as they were. The usual load is two hundred and sixty pounds;
and these animals of ours, with, I am sure, in some instances, a heavier
load, and of a most incongruous and heterogeneous description, ascended
hills and descended valleys which one would scarcely think an unloaded
mule could travel over. Our riding mules were perfect treasures.
Sure-footed, steady, strong, and patient, they bore us along easily and
with comfort; and Gibbon says that he will part with his with tears,
when we are compelled to give them up and take to the boats.
The market at Tarma is tolerably good, though the meat is badly
butchered. Beef costs six cents a pound; a small leg of mutton, eighteen
and three-quarter cents; good potatoes, nearly a dollar a bushel;
cauliflowers, three small heads for twelve and a half cents; oranges,
pineapples, and peaches are abundant and cheap, but not good; bread,
very good, is baked in small loaves, by a Frenchman, four for twelve
and a half cents; flour comes from Jauxa; eggs are ten cents a dozen.
We had a visit from the Cura, and went to see the sub prefect of the
province, a gentleman named Mier, who promised me such assistance as
I needed in my visit to Chanchamayo. Both of these gentlemen earnestly
deprecated the idea of trusting myself and party among the "_Chunchos_"
Indians on the other side of the river Chanchamayo, saying that they
were very hostile to the whites, and dangerous. The Cura promised
to look out for a servant for us. We had visits, also, from several
gentlemen of the town; among them a Señor Cardenas, who gave me a copy
of the memorial of Urrutia. All seemed much interested in my expedition
to Chanchamayo, and hoped a favorable report.
_June 11._—We rode about a league down the valley which leads to
Chanchamayo, to the farm of General Otero, to whom we brought letters
from Mr. Prevost, and Pasquel, bishop of Eretrea. We found this farm a
different sort of affair from anything we had hitherto seen in this way
in our travels. This is in a high state of cultivation, well enclosed
with mud walls, and in beautiful order. The General—a good looking,
farmer-like old gentleman—met us with great cordiality, and showed us
over the premises. He has a very large house, with all the necessary
offices attached, which he built himself. Indeed, he said he had made
the farm; for when he purchased it, it was a stony and desolate place,
and he had expended much time, labor, and money on it. There were two
gardens: one for vegetables and fruit, and one for flowers. They were
both in fine order. The fruits were peaches of various kinds, apples,
strawberries, almonds, and some few grapes. The flowers were principally
roses, pinks, pansies, jessamines, and geraniums. There were a few
exotics, under bell-glasses. Both fruit and flowers were of rather
indifferent quality, but much better than one would expect to see in
so elevated and cold a situation. The nights here, particularly in the
early morning, are quite cold.
This is the harvest season, and the General was gathering his crop
of maize. About twenty peons or laborers were bringing it in from the
fields, and throwing it down in piles in a large court-yard, while boys
and women were engaged in "_shucking_" it. In one corner of the square,
under a snug little shed attached to one of the barns, with stone seats
around it, sat the General's three daughters, sewing, and probably
superintending the "shucking." They were fair, sweet-looking girls. The
General had a tray of glasses, with some _Italia_ (a cordial made of a
Muscatel grape that grows in the province of Ica, and hence called Ica
brandy) and paper cigars, brought out for us; and the whole concern had
a home look that was quite pleasing.
I cannot give a good idea of farming in this country, for want of
information of the value of land; this depending so entirely on its
situation and condition. The mountain sides are so steep, and the
valleys so rocky, that I imagine there is no great deal of cultivable
land in all this district, and therefore it is probably high. According
to Gen. Otero, land here is measured by "tongos," which is a square
of thirty-three varas. (A vara is thirty-three English inches.) Three
tongos make a "yuntada," or as much as it is calculated that a yoke
of oxen can plough in a day. About half an arroba, or twelve and a
half pounds of seed, is planted to the tongo. In maize, the yield is
between forty-five and fifty for one. Wheat yields about forty for
one, but is so subject to the rust as to be an uncertain crop, and is
therefore little cultivated. The price of maize is five dollars the
_carga_ or mule-load, of two hundred and sixty pounds. From these data
it appears, then, that an acre will yield about forty-three bushels,
which is worth one dollar and twenty-five cents the bushel. Quantities
of barley are cultivated on the mountain sides, but the grain does not
come to perfection, and it is generally cut green for fodder; though the
General says that it is not good for that, the straw being coarse and
hard. Potatoes are a good crop; they are worth now in Tarma one dollar
and fifty cents the hundred pounds, and in times of scarcity have been
known to run up as high as seven dollars. One of the principal articles
of food of the laborers of this country is "_cancha_," or toasted maize.
They mix a little lime with the grains before putting them in the hot
ashes, which makes them whiter and improves their flavor. It is really
very sweet and good, and I liked it better than the green corn roasted,
which is such a favorite dish with us. _Chicha_, a fermented liquor, is
also made from Indian corn, and much drunk by all classes. The General
gave us some that he had prepared and bottled himself. It was very good,
rose-colored, and sparkled like Champagne. He told us that our corn,
which he called "_mais morocha_," was not so good as this for making
either cancha or chicha; this being softer and sweeter.
We visited the stables, which were very clean, and paved, and contained
some ten or fifteen fine-looking young horses; and there were thirty
or forty more, mares and colts, in a spacious corral or enclosure near,
with an American farrier from Tarma attending to some of them. There is
also a neat little chapel occupying a corner of the "patio," with the
inscription over the door, "_Domus mea, domus orationis est_." It was
neatly papered and carpeted, and had colored prints of the "Stations"
hung around the walls. The altar-piece was a figure of our Lady of
Mercy, with the figures of St. Francis and St. Peter on each side; these
Saints being the patrons of the general and his lady, Don Francisco and
Doña Pedronilla. The General's manners were exceedingly courteous and
affable; and he possessed that suavity and gentleness of bearing that
seems to me always to characterize the military man of high rank when
in retirement. The whole establishment reminded me of one of our best
kept Virginia farms, where the owner had inherited the homestead of his
father, and was in easy circumstances.
_June 12._—Dined with our countryman, Dr. Buckingham, and a couple of
young ladies, one of whom seemed to be his housekeeper. The dinner was
after the Peruvian fashion: first, a sort of thick soup; then, roasted
ribs of mutton, served with salad; this succeeded by a dish of stewed
Guinea pigs, mixed with a variety of vegetables, and which would have
been very good but for the addition of a quantity of _aji_, or red
pepper, which made it unendurable to the unaccustomed palate; winding
up with the invariable chupe, and the invariable dessert of _dulces_,
or sweetmeats. A Limenian never thinks of taking water during dinner,
and always eats sweetmeats after dinner, that he may then safely take
water; so that "_Tomar dulces, para beber agua_" is a sort of dietetic
proverb with them.
_June 13._—Rode out on the Oroya road, with the intention of visiting
a cave, or what is reported to be a subterraneous passage made by the
Incas, and reaching as far as Jauxa, twenty-seven miles; but, after
riding about five miles, we determined that we were too late to explore
the cave for that day, and meeting Richards, from Morococha, we turned
back. I suspect that this cave is nothing more than the cañon, or
opening, of some long-deserted mine.
_June 14._—Rode out to the southward, in the direction of Jauxa.
This valley, which rises very rapidly, is thickly settled, and well
cultivated. Road bad. Another valley debouches from this, about four
miles above Tarma, to the southward and eastward, leading to the Montaña
of Vitoc.
_June 15._—Had a long visit from General Otero. The vivacious old
gentleman discoursed very pleasantly. He said that it was difficult to
get at the population of the town proper, the census being generally
taken of the Doctrina, or district over which the Cura had religious
jurisdiction; that this was about ten or twelve thousand, of which
one-twelfth part were pure white, about one-half Mestizos, (descendants
of whites and Indians,) and the balance Indians, there being very few
negroes. I asked him to account for the number of blind people we had
noticed in the streets. He said that most of the blind people came from
Jauxa, in which country much wheat and barley are produced; that they
sifted these grains, and got rid of the chaff by throwing them up in the
air, and he believed that the blindness arose from the irritation caused
by the chaff and barbs flying into the eyes of the people who sifted.
_He_ also said that he thought I should not attempt to cross the
Chanchamayo amongst the Indians, for that I would not be able to defend
myself against their attacks; but thought that, if I wished to descend
the Ucayali, I had better take a more southern tributary, called the
Pangoa; (this is Biedma's route, by Andamarca and Sonomora;) that there
the Indians were not so much irritated against the whites, and that the
river was known to be navigable for canoes, for he himself had known
a friar of Ocopa who, in 1817, had descended it for the conversion of
the Indians of the Ucayali, and had afterwards established a missionary
station at Andamarca, where the Indians came at stated periods to
be baptized and receive presents of hatchets, knives, beads, &c.,
but that, on the occasion of the war in 1824, the supplies had been
stopped, and the Indians would come no more. He, as did the sub-prefect,
liked my idea of ascending from the mouth of the Ucayali, with a
properly-equipped Indian force, and looking into the navigability of
the _Perené_ and Chanchamayo that way.
The latitude of Tarma, by mean of Mer. altitudes of α and β _Centauri_,
is 11° 25' 05" S.
_June 16._—We left Tarma for the Chanchamayo. This is the first time
I have applied to authority for the means of locomotion. I did it
inadvertently, and was sorry for it; for, though I would probably have
been cheated in the price, yet I should not have been the cause of
injustice and oppression. I had said to the sub-prefect, a few days
before, that I wanted the means of transportation for some baggage to
Chanchamayo, which he promised to furnish me. Yesterday I went to ask
for it for to-day, and he referred me to the governor of the district,
who was present, and who told me that he would have what I required—viz:
two asses and a saddle mule, with two peons—ready by to-morrow morning.
Accordingly, this morning he sent for me, and presented to me the owner
of the mule, the owner of the asses, and the two peons. The wages of
these were to be four reals, or half a dollar, a day; and I paid each
three dollars in advance. To the governor I paid a dollar for each ass,
and two for the mule, with the understanding that I was to pay as much
more on my return. The peons were then lectured on their duties, and
sent round to my house with an escort of half a dozen _alguaziles_, or
constables, armed with sticks, to prevent their escaping or getting
drunk before the start. The asses and mules were also sent round
under a similar guard, so that my patio seemed filled with a clamorous
multitude, who created such a confusion that I had to turn out all but
my own people. I ordered these to load up; but they said that the owners
of the asses had sent no _lassos_, or thongs, to bind on the burdens;
and I soon discovered that there was a general unwillingness for the
job, and that the governor had pressed the animals into the service
against the will of the owners.
Strong efforts were made to get the mule away from me. The woman of the
house, who, it appears, was a sister of the owner, advised me not to
take it; and said that it was a bad, vicious animal, that would do me a
mischief. I was surprised at this, as he looked particularly docile; and
I directed my new servant (one recommended by the Cura, and who looked
twice as vicious as the mule) to mount and ride him around the patio.
The fellow grinned maliciously, and proved my judgment correct. Finding
this would not do, the owner (who had put his sister up to making this
attempt) then came forward, and said I must pay him half a dollar more,
as the governor had kept back that much of the price. This being "no
go," he tried to steal away his mule while our backs were turned; but
being prevented, he went off, got drunk in about fifteen minutes, and
came back maudlin; embracing, kissing, and weeping over his mule, crying
in piteous tones "_Mi macho, mi macho_," (my mule, my mule.) We shoved
him aside and rode off, followed, I have no doubt, by the curses of the
community.
This was all very annoying to me. I afterwards mentioned these
circumstances to the commandant of the fort at Chanchamayo, telling him
how much I would prefer to pay double price and get voluntary service.
He said that my sympathies were all thrown away upon these people,
that I _must_ go to the governors for the means of transportation;
for that the Indians would not let me have their beasts at any price;
and related instances of his having to use threats, and even force, to
induce a sulky Indian to give him and his beast food and shelter when in
the Cordillera, and the approach of night made it impossible to go on.
Several travellers in these parts have also told me that they have been
compelled to shoot the poultry of an Indian, who with a large stock,
would refuse to sell at any price; but who, after the thing was done,
would good humoredly accept a fair value.
Ijurra also related instances of oppression and tyranny on the part of
the governors, particularly in the province of Mainas, where commerce
is carried on by transportation of the goods on the backs of Indians.
A travelling merchant goes to the governor and says, "I have such and
such a cargo; I want so many Indians to transport it." The governor,
generally a white or Mestizo, sends for the _Curaca_, (the lineal
hereditary governor of the tribe of Indians of that district, who has
great authority, and without whose assistance the whites probably could
not govern at all,) and orders him to have so many Indians detailed for
a journey. The Curaca drums them up, directing them to toast their corn
and prepare their "fiambre" (food for the road) for a journey of so many
leagues; and they are taken from their occupations and sent off, for
probably many days, at a pay of anything that the governor may direct.
If a man wishes to build a house or open a farm, he may be supplied
with laborers for six months, at a hire, per month, of as many yards of
cotton cloth as will make each a shirt and pair of trousers; the patron
or master furnishing them with food; but, as may be imagined, this is
of the coarsest and commonest description that will support life.
It would seem that men could never improve under a system of such
absolute slavery as this; yet to give them liberty, is to abandon them
and return them to a state of barbarity, shutting out all prospect of
improvement; and the only hope seems to be in the justice and moderation
of the rulers—a slim hope here.
We got off at noon; stopped at the "chacra" of Gen. Otero, and received
a letter of introduction to the commandant of the fort. When the old
gentleman saw our new servant "_Mariano_," he crossed himself most
devoutly, and ejaculated "_Satanas!_" He then told us that this was a
notoriously bad boy, whom nobody had been able to manage, but that we,
being strangers and military men, might get along with him by strictness
and severity; and he gave the boy a lecture upon his duties and the
faithful performance of them.
A mile and a half beyond Gen. Otero's is the town of Acobamba. I judge
that it contains twelve or fifteen hundred inhabitants; but it is
situated in a thickly-settled district, and the "Doctrina" is said to be
more populous than that of Tarma. Six more miles brought us to Palca,
a straggling town of about one thousand inhabitants. We merely passed
through, and a mile further on "brought up" at the chacra of Don Justo
Rojas, to whom I had a letter from Lizarralde, the administrator at
Morococha. Don Justo was engaged in extracting, by boiling, the juice
of the rhatany root for an apothecary of Lima. He supplied us with a
capital supper of chicken soup and boiled eggs, with alfalfa for the
beasts. He also sold us, from his establishment in town, sugar and
bread. We pitched the tent in an old corn-field, and slept delightfully.
Tent-pegs for this country should be of iron. Although those we used
were made of the hardest wood that could be found in Lima, we had used
them all up by this time, beating off their heads by driving them with
a hatchet into the hard and stony ground.
Don Justo's is the last chacra in the valley, which now narrows,
and allows no room for cultivation. Though going down hill by the
barometer, we were evidently crossing a chain of mountains, which
the stream at the bottom of the valley has saved us the trouble of
ascending and descending, by cleaving a way through for itself, and
leaving the mountains on either hand towering thousands of feet above
our heads. The ride was the wildest we have yet had; the road sometimes
finding room along the borders of the river, and then ascending nearly
to the top of the hills, and diminishing the foaming and thundering
stream to a noiseless, silver thread. The ascents and descents were
nearly precipitous; and the scene was rugged, wild, and grand beyond
description.
We saw some miserable huts on the road, and met a few asses carrying
reeds and poles from Chanchamayo. It seemed a providence that we did not
meet these at certain parts of the road, where it is utterly impossible
for two beasts to pass abreast, or for one to turn and retreat; and the
only remedy is to tumble one off the precipice, or to drag him back by
the tail until he reaches a place where the other can pass. Von Tschudi
relates an instance of his shooting a mule which met him at one of these
places.
We met with a considerable fright in this way to-day. We were riding in
single file along one of these narrow ascents, where the road is cut
out of the mountain side, and the traveller has a perpendicular wall
on one hand, and a sheer precipice of many hundreds of feet upon the
other. Mr. Gibbon was riding ahead. Just as he was about to turn a sharp
bend of the road the head of a bull peered round it, on the descent.
When the bull came in full view he stopped, and we could see the heads
of other cattle clustering over his quarters, and hear the shouts of
the cattle-drivers, far behind, urging on their herd. I happened to be
abreast of a slight natural excavation, or hollow, in the mountain side,
and dismounting I put my shoulder against my mule's flank and pressed
her into this friendly retreat; but I saw no escape for Gibbon, who had
passed it. The bull, with lowered crest, and savage, sullen look, came
slowly on, and actually got his head between the perpendicular rock
and the neck of Gibbon's mule. I felt a thrill of agony, for I thought
my companion's fate was sealed. But the sagacious beast on which he
was mounted, pressing her haunches hard against the wall, gathered her
feet close under her and turned as upon a pivot. This placed the bull
on the outside, (there was room to pass, though I did not believe it,)
and he rushed by at the gallop, followed in single file by the rest of
the herd. I cannot describe the relief I experienced. Gibbon, who is as
gallant and fearless as man can be, said "It is of no use to attempt to
disguise the fact—I was badly scared."
At 2 p. m., we arrived at a place called Matichacra, where there was
a single hut, inhabited by a woman and her child; the husband having
gone to Cerro Pasco to exhibit some specimens of gold ore which he
had found here. The woman was afflicted with an eruption on her face,
which she thought was caused by the metallic character of the earth
around, particularly the antimonial. She took a knife, and, digging
earth from the floor of her hut, washed it in a gourd, and showed us
particles of metal like gold sticking to the bottom. I showed some of
this earth to General Otero, who pronounced that there was no gold in
it; but Lieutenant Maury, who examined some that I brought home with
a powerful magnifier, has declared that there was. The mountains have
an exceedingly metallic appearance, and the woman said that there
were still in the neighborhood traces of the mining operations of the
Spaniards.
About a mile and a half above Matichacra commenced the steep regular
descent of the mountain range, and from just above it we could discern
where the valley debouched upon an apparent plain, though bounded and
intersected by distant mountains, bearing and ranging in different
directions. This place we judged to be the "Montaña." We stopped an
hour at Matichacra, (Gourd Farm, from half a dozen gourd vines growing
near the house,) and made a chupe with a leg of mutton we had bought
the night before at Palca. We saw a few patches of Indian corn on the
side of the mountain opposite, and the tops of the mountains are clad
with small trees. We passed on five miles further, and camped on a level
plat near the banks of the stream, with bushes and small trees growing
around us.
_June 18._—This was the longest and hardest day's ride. The road was
very bad; rocky and rough where it descended the river, and steep and
difficult where it ascended the mountain side. We thought that the
engineer who planned and constructed the road had frequently "taken
the bull by the horns," and selected the worst places to run his road
over; and that he would have done much better had he occasionally have
thrown a bridge across the stream, and led the road along the flank of
the mountains on the other side. In seven and a half miles we arrived at
_Utcuyacu_, (cotton water,) the first hacienda where we saw sugar-cane,
yucca, pine-apples, and plantains. It had just been opened, and nothing
yet had been sold from it.
The road, by which we had descended the valley of Chanchamayo, turned at
this place sharp to the right, and faced the mountains that divide this
valley from that of the Rio Seco. We were near the junction of the two
valleys, but a rock had fallen from the hills above and blocked up the
road on which we were travelling, so that we had to cross the mountain
on our right and get into the other valley. The ascent was steep, and
trying to man and beast. It is called the "_Cuesta de Tangachuca_," or
"Hill of take care of your hat," and is about three miles in length.
The road, after passing through a thick forest, brought us out upon a
bald eminence, the termination of the spur of the Andes that divides
the two valleys. The rivers Seco and Chanchamayo unite at its base and
flow off through a valley, rapidly widening out, covered with forests,
and presenting an appearance entirely distinct from the rocky and stern
sterility that characterizes the country above. This is the "Montaña"
of which I had thought so much. I was wofully disappointed in its
appearance. I had taken the impression that I should behold a boundless
plain, alternating with forest and prairie, covered with waving grass,
and with a broad and gentle river winding its serpentine course through
it, between banks rich with the palm and plantain. In place of this, the
view from the mountain top showed a country broken still into mountain
and valley, (though on a much smaller scale than above,) shaggy with
trees and undergrowth of every description, and watered by a small
stream, still foaming and roaring over its rocky bed.
We descended the hill by a very circuitous and precipitous path, most of
us on foot, though it may be ridden over, for Mr. Gibbon did ride over
the worst parts of it, and only dismounted where a fallen tree made an
obstruction that he could not pass. The descent brought us to the rocky
bed of the Rio Seco, crossing which we were clear of the eastern chain
of the Andes and in the Montaña of Chanchamayo.
As far as the traveller is concerned there are not, on the route we have
travelled, two ranges of the Andes—that is, he has not to ascend and
descend one range, and then ascend and descend another. From the time
he crosses the Cordillera at Antarangra, his progress is downward till
he reaches the plain. Really there are two. The streams from the first,
or western range, have broken their way through the second, making
deep gorges, at the bottom of which the road generally runs, and leaves
the peaks of the second range thousands of feet above the head of the
traveller.
A league from the crossing of the Rio Seco, we passed a bad and broken
bridge, that spans a small stream called "_Punta Yacu_," coming down a
valley from the southward, and halted at the hacienda of Don Jose Manuel
Cardenas, the first of the Montaña, where we camped for the night.
_June 19._—Six miles of travel brought us to the fort of San Ramon.
The road is a black mud bridle-path through the woods, much obstructed
with the roots and branches of trees, but level. Comparatively few
rocks are seen after leaving Cardenas. We were kindly received by the
commandant, Don Juan Noel, a fine-looking young man, Captain of Frigate
and Lieutenant Colonel in the Army, and his officers, Major Umeres and
Lieutenant ——.
Fort San Ramon is, by Mer. alt. of "γ Crusis," in latitude
11°.07 S. Its height above the level of the sea, as given by barometer,
is two thousand six hundred and ten feet.
From the first of March to the last of August the climate is delightful;
but the heavy and almost continuous rains of the other six months of
the year make it disagreeable, but not unhealthy.
As we are now near the foot of the mountains, on the eastern slope, I
give a table of the distances and elevations of various points on the
route. The _B. P._ opposite some of the elevations show that these were
indicated by the temperature of boiling water:
---------------------+------------+--------------------
Places. | Distances. | Height above the
| | level of the sea.
---------------------+------------+--------------------
| Miles. | Feet.
| |
Callao | |
Lima | 6 | 476
Pacayar | 12 | 1,346
Yanacoto | 10 | 2,337
Cocachacra | 16 | 4,452
Moyoc | 15 | 7,302
San Mateo | 13 | 10,200
Acchahuarcu | 9 | 12,898 B. P.
Pass of Antarangra | 6 | 16,044
Do. do. | 6 | 16,199 B. P.
Pachachaca | 13 | 12,786 B. P.
Oroya | 12 | 11,654
Do. | 12 | 11,825 B. P.
Tarma | 18 | 9,738
Palca | 11 | 8,512
Matichacra | 12 | 7,091
Huacapishtana | 4 | 5,687
Challuapuquio | 12 | 3,192
Fort San Ramon | 6 | 2,605
Do. do. | | 2,953
---------------------+------------+--------------------
The barometer gave the height of a point, four miles above Tarma,
at eleven thousand two hundred and seventy feet. So that there is a
descent in these four miles of distance of one thousand five hundred and
thirty-five feet. The ascent, however, between Acchahuarcu and the top
of the hill on which we observed, at the Pass of Antarangra, is steeper
than this, being three thousand three hundred and fifty-eight feet in
six miles.
From Yanacoto, on the western slope of the Andes, to the top of the
Pass, is fifty-nine miles; from the top of the Pass to Fort San Ramon,
on the eastern slope, which is two hundred and seventy feet higher than
Yanacoto, is eighty-eight miles. This gives the ascent of the Andes, on
its western slope, at 232 feet to the mile, and on its eastern slope at
152.
[Illustration: OROYA.
Pl. 7.
Lt. Gibbon del.
Wagner & McGuigan's Lith. Phila.]
[Illustration: TARMA.
Pl. 8.
Lt. Gibbon del.
Wagner & McGuigan's Lith. Phila.]
Yanacoto is only twenty-eight miles from the ocean that washes the base
of the slope on which it is situated. Fort San Ramon, (at nearly the
same elevation as Yanacoto,) by the winding of the river, cannot be much
less than four thousand miles from its ocean, and in the direct course
of the river is at least two thousand five hundred miles. But I am of
opinion, from some observations made afterwards with a boiling-point
apparatus, that the indications of the barometer, at the eastern foot of
the Andes, are not to be depended upon; and that San Ramon has a greater
elevation than is shown by the barometer.
The fort is a stockade, embracing about six acres, armed with four brass
four-pounders, and garrisoned with forty-eight men. It is situated at
the junction of the rivers Chanchamayo and Tulumayo—the former about
thirty and the latter forty yards wide—both shallow and obstructed with
rocks. The current seemed about five or six miles the hour. A canoe,
well managed, might shoot down the Tulumayo as far as we saw it.
The fort was constructed in 1847, under the direction of President
Castilla, for the purpose of affording protection to the cultivators
of the farms in its rear. It doubtless does this against the unwarlike
Indians of this country; but I imagine that North American Indians,
actuated by the feelings of hostility which these people constantly
evince, would cross the rivers above the fort and sweep the plantations
before the soldiers could reach them. The Indians have abandoned all
idea of reconquering the territory they have lost, but are determined to
dispute the passage of the rivers and any attempt at further conquest.
They never show themselves now in person, but make their presence
evident by occasionally setting fire to the woods and grass on the
hill-sides, and discharging their arrows at any incautious person who
may wander too near the banks of the rivers.
Noel told us that many attempts had been made to establish friendly
relations with them. In former times the Indians used to advance out
of the forest, to the further bank of the river, and hold conversations
and exchange presents with the officers of the post. They gave bows and
arrows, rare birds and animals, and received in return, knives, beads,
and looking-glasses. But these parleys always ended with expressions of
defiance and insult towards the whites on the part of the Indians, and
frequently with a flight of arrows.
He related to us, that a year or two ago a General Castillo, with
some officers, came to visit the fort, and wished to try their skill
at negotiation. Accordingly, whilst they were at dinner, the sentinel
reported that an Indian had made his appearance; whereupon the party
rose from the table and went down to the river-side to have a talk. The
Indian, after salutations, made signs for a looking-glass, which was
thrown over to him; then, for a knife, with which he was also gratified.
He then asked for a tinder-box. There being none at hand, Noel went up
to his quarters for some. On his return, he met an officer coming up
the bank, with an arrow through his arm; and shortly after, another,
with one planted deep in his back, between the shoulders. It appears
that, as soon as the Indian had received his presents, he drew his bow
at the general. The party turned to fly; but a flight of arrows from
the forest wounded the two officers; and the one who was shot in the
back died of the wound eight days afterwards. These arrow-shots are of
frequent occurrence; and several of the soldiers of the fort have been
severely wounded. A number of arrows were discharged at some soldiers,
who were washing their clothes near the banks of the river, whilst we
were here. We picked them up, and the commandant made us a present of
them.
These arrows, as are the arrows of all the Indians I have met with, are
so heavy that, at a greater distance than twenty or thirty yards, it is
necessary to discharge them at an elevation, so that they shall describe
a curve in the air; and it is wonderful to see with what precision the
Indians will calculate the arc, and regulate the force so that the arrow
shall fall upon the object. On the Amazon many fish and turtle are taken
with bows and arrows. An Indian in a canoe discharges his arrow in the
air. It describes a parabola, and lights upon the back of a fish, which
the unpractised eye has not been able to see. The barb, with which the
arrow is armed, ships on the end of it, and is held in its place by
a cord which wraps around the shaft of the arrow, and is tied to its
middle. The plunge of the fish shakes the arrow clear of the barb; the
cord unwinds, and the arrow floats upon the water—an impediment to the
fish, and a guide to the fisherman, who follows his arrow till the fish
or turtle is dead. The motion of the arrow is so slow, and it is so
readily seen in its course, that I imagine there would be no danger in
the reception of single arrow-shots in front; for an abundance of time
is allowed to step aside and avoid them. I have seen boys shooting at
buzzards on the beach; and the arrow would alight upon the very spot
where the bird had been sitting, some seconds after he had left it.
Whilst here, we visited the haciendas of the Brothers Santa Maria, Padre
Saurez, and Zapatero—all, I believe, inhabitants of Tarma. That of the
last seemed the largest, and the best order of any that I had yet seen.
A description of the method of cultivating the staples of the country
practised on this farm, will give an idea of the general system of
farming in the Montaña.
Zapatero has about one hundred acres cleared, and most of it planted
in cane, coca, yucca, pine-apples, plantains, coffee, and cotton. The
farm employs a mayordomo, or steward, and four resident laborers. These
are serfs, and cost the employer their support and seven dollars a
year each for their contribution to the government, or poll tax. When
more land is to be cleared, or the coca crop gathered, laborers are
hired from the neighboring villages of Tarma, Ocsabamba, or Palca, at
nominal wages of half a dollar a day; but their support is charged to
them, at such prices as to swallow up nearly all the wages. A sheep,
for example, is charged to them at three dollars: its price in Tarma is
one; yucca at thirty-seven and a half cents the arroba, of twenty-five
pounds; potatoes at fifty cents; maize at sixty-two and a half cents.
This is the maize of the hacienda; if it is supplied from the Sierra
it is one dollar and fifty cents. The laborers who live on the estate
seem contented with their lot; they dwell in small, filthy cane houses,
with their wives and children; do very little work, and eat _chalona_,
(or dried mutton,) _charqui_, (or jerked beef,) yucca, cancha, sweet
potatoes, and beans; and drink "_huarapo_," (the fermented juice of the
cane,) and sometimes a glass of bad rum made from it. They occasionally
desert; but if they do this, they must get some distance off, or custom,
if not law, would return them as debtors to their masters.
_Sugar-cane_ is propagated, not from seed but from the top joints of
the old plant, and is planted at the commencement of the rainy season
in September. It is ready for cutting in a year; it yields again every
ten months, improving in quality and size every crop for a number of
years, according to the quality of the land and the care bestowed upon
it. It will continue to spring up from the roots for fifty or sixty
years, with one or two light workings with hoes in the year. The field
is set fire to after every cutting, to burn up the rubbage, weeds, &c.
The average height of the cane is about ten feet, though I have seen a
stalk of sixteen feet.
Two men to cut and two to carry, will supply a mill called "_Trapiche_,"
which consists of three upright wooden rollers, in a rude wooden frame.
These rollers are cogged and placed close to each other. The head of the
middle one extends above the frame, and is squared, so as to allow the
shipping on it of a long beam, to the end of which an ox is harnessed,
which, walking in a circle, gives motion to the rollers. The end of
the cane is placed between the rollers, and is drawn in and crushed by
them; a wooden trough is placed below, to catch the juice. Such a mill
will yield fifteen hundred pounds of _caldo_ or juice in a day. These
fifteen hundred pounds will give from two hundred and fifty to three
hundred pounds of sugar, which is worth in Tarma twelve and a half cents
the pound.
Sugar-cane is the most valuable and useful product of the Montaña. The
leaves of the cane, when green, serve for food for the cattle; when
dry, to make wrappings for the _chancaca_ and sugar. The crushed stalk
is used as fuel for the oven. The hogs fatten on the foam at the top of
the boiling. From the first boiling is made the chancaca or brown sugar
cake, which is eaten after dinner by almost all classes, and in great
quantities by the lower class; it is worth six and a quarter cents the
pound in Tarma. From one thousand pounds of the caldo boiled ten hours,
is made four hundred pounds of chancaca. Very little sugar is yet made
in the Montaña of Chanchamayo; indeed, I did not see a nearer approach
to it than chancaca in all the route.
_Coca_ is a bush of about four feet high, producing a small light-green
leaf, which is the part used. The blossom is white, and the fruit a
small red berry. The seed is sown in beds at the end of the rainy
season—about the first of March. The earth should be well broken
up and cleaned. Arbors of palm leaves are frequently built over the
young shoots to protect them from the sun, and they are watered, if it
continues clear, for five or six days. It is transplanted in September,
a year and a half after planting, and gives its first crop in a year,
and every four months thereafter. The bush, if not destroyed by ants,
will continue to give leaves for many years. Sometimes, but rarely,
the leaves wither and the crop fails. It is necessary to gather the
leaves and dry them as quickly as possible, and, if a shower comes on,
to gather them up at once, as they are injured by getting wet. Every
hundred plants will give an arroba of leaves, which is worth, in Tarma,
from six to seven dollars. Some persons do not transplant, but sow
several of the seed together, and, when they come up, pull up all but
the one most flourishing, and leave that in its original place.
The leaf of this plant is to the Indian of Peru what tobacco is to our
laboring classes in the South—a luxury, which has become a necessity.
Supplied with an abundance of it, he sometimes performs prodigies of
labor, and can go without food for several days. Without it, he is
miserable and will not work. It is said to be a powerful stimulant to
the nervous system, and, like strong coffee or tea, to take away sleep;
but, unlike tobacco and other stimulants, no one has known it to be
injurious to the health. Von Tschudi thinks that an immoderate use of it
is injurious, but that, taken in moderation, it is in no way detrimental
to health; and that without it the Peruvian Indian, with his spare diet,
would be incapable of going through the labor which he now performs.
The coca plant he therefore considers as a great blessing to Peru.
He relates that an Indian, employed by him in digging, worked hard for
five nights and days without intermission, except for two hours each
night—and this without food. Immediately after the work the Indian
accompanied him on a two days' journey of twenty-three leagues on foot,
and then declared that he was ready to engage in the same amount of
work, and go through it without food, if he were allowed an abundance
of coca. This man was sixty-two years of age, and had never been sick
in his life.
_Coffee_ is propagated from suckers or slips, and it is necessary
to protect the plants from the sun by cultivating the broad-leaved
plantain among them till they have grown up to about four feet in
height. No care, except an occasional cleaning about the roots, is
taken of them here, and yet the finest coffee I have ever drunk was
from this district. The bush grows to seven or eight feet in height,
and is very beautiful in appearance. It has a small and very dark green
leaf, pure white blossoms, and green, red, and dark purple fruit on
it at the same time. It gives its first crop in two years; but this
is small in quantity, and indifferent in quality. The bush is not in
perfection until four or five years after planting, and will then last
for an indefinite period. The fruit has the size and appearance of
a small cherry. Two seeds are contained in each berry. Each seed is
wrapped in a thin paper-like envelope, and both together are covered
with another, and then surrounded by a sweet, pleasant-tasting pulp,
which is covered with a thin skin. Having no machines for getting rid
of this pulp, the cultivators gather the fruit, dry it in the sun,
and then soak it in water till all the envelopes come off, except the
paper-like skin surrounding each seed. The seeds are again dried in the
sun, and sent to market with this skin on. It is worth eight dollars
the hundred pounds in Tarma. In Lima it generally commands twenty, and
sometimes twenty-five and twenty-seven dollars, on account of its great
superiority to the coffee of Guayaquil and Central America, which is
generally used there.
"_Cotton_" may be planted at any time. It does not grow on a bush or
plant, as with us, but on a tree some eight or ten feet high. It gives
its first crop in a year, and will continue to give for three years;
after which the tree dries up, and it is necessary to replant. It bears
cotton all the time; but this is not good nor gathered during the rainy
season. I could not ascertain how much cotton a tree will give in its
lifetime, but, from the quantity of blossoms and bolls I saw on them,
I should think its yield was great. The quality, particularly that of
Chanchamayo, is very superior. It is the black-seed cotton, and when
picked off leaves the seed perfectly bare and clean.
There is also nankeen-colored cotton here, (the tree seeming in every
respect like that of the white;) and afterwards, in Brazil, I saw
green-seed cotton, in which the seed (generally seven in number for each
boll, or rather for each division of it, for the boll seemed to hold
the cotton in four distinct parts) were aggregated in a single knot, and
enveloped by the cotton. An active man will pick one hundred pounds of
cotton a day.
"_Yucca_," (cassava root,) which is grown from the stalk of the plant,
is planted at any time. It yields in nine months. The plant runs up to
fifteen or twenty feet in height, with about the thickness of a man's
wrist. It is difficult to distinguish this plant, or its fruit, from
the mandioc. The mandioc is called in Peru "yucca brava," or wild yucca;
and this yucca dulce, or sweet yucca. This may be eaten raw; the juice
of the other is a deadly poison. The yucca answers the same purpose in
Peru that the mandioc does in Brazil. It is the general substitute for
bread, and roasted or boiled is very pleasant to the taste. The most
common drink of the Indians, called "masato,"[6] is also made from it.
Each plant will give from twenty to twenty-five pounds of the edible
root, which grows in clusters like the potato, and some of which are as
long and thick as a man's arm.
Three crops of "_Indian corn_" are made in the year. It is of good
quality, but much care is necessary to preserve it from weevil and other
insects after it is gathered and put away. It is generally placed in an
upper story of a house, and a fire is kindled underneath from time to
time to smoke it, or it will all be destroyed.
"_Platanos_"—which is the general name for all kinds of plantains, or
bananas, of which last there are several species, called respectively
"_guineas_," _de la isla_, &c.—are the most common fruit of the country.
The people eat them raw, roasted, boiled, baked, and fried. There can
be no dinner without them; and a vile rum is also made of them. By the
Indians the fruit is generally cut green and roasted. It is propagated
from suckers or young bulbs, and gives fruit with such facility and
abundance as to foster and minister to the laziness of the people, who
won't work when they can get anything so good without it.
I have frequently thought that a governor would do a good act, and
improve the condition, or at least the character, of the governed, who
would set fire to, or grub up every "platanal" in his district, and thus
compel the people to labor a little for their bread.
The other fruits are _pine-apples_, of tolerable quality, which
doubtless would be very fine with care and attention; _sour sop_, a
kind of bastard _chirimoya_; and _papayo_, a large fruit, about the
size of a common muskmelon, with a green skin and yellow pulp, which is
eaten, and is very sweet and of delicate flavor. It has seed like the
muskmelon, and grows under the leaves of a kind of palm in clusters like
the cocoanut. There are a few orange trees, but no fruit. An orange tree
does not give good fruit under six years, and most of the haciendas have
been under cultivation but three.
The only farming utensils used in Chanchamayo are short coarse sabres,
with which weeds are cut up, and holes dug in the earth in which to
plant the seed.
This is not a good grazing country, though there were some cattle
belonging to the fort which seemed in good condition. All the meat used
is brought from Sierra. It seems difficult to propagate cattle in this
country. All the calves are born dead, or die soon after birth with a
goitre or swelling in the neck. I had no opportunity of investigating
this; but I saw afterwards, in an account of a missionary expedition
made by an Italian friar, Father Castrucci de Vernazza, to the Indians
of the Pastaza, in 1846, "that cattle were raised with great difficulty
about Mayobamba, on account of the 'subyacuro,' a species of worm, which
introduces itself between the cuticle and cellular tissue, producing
large tumors, which destroy the animal."
The houses on the haciendas are built of small, rough hewn, upright
posts, with rafters of the same forming the frame, which is filled in
with wild cane (caña brava,) and thatched with a species of narrow
leafed palm, which is plaited over a long pole and laid athwart the
rafters. The leaves lie, one set over the other, like shingles, and
form an effectual protection against the rain and sun; though I should
think the rain would beat in through the cane of the sides, as few of
the houses are plastered. The commandant of the fort was anxious to
have his buildings tiled, as this palm thatch, when dry, is exceedingly
inflammable; and he felt that the buildings of the fort were in constant
danger from the not distant fires of the savages. Señor Zapatero told me
that he had contracted with a workman to build him a large adobe house
on his hacienda, well fitted with doors and windows of good wood, and
tiled, to make it fire-proof, for eight hundred dollars. The same house
in Tarma would cost him between three and four thousand, on account of
the exceeding difficulty of getting the wood from the Montaña. He is
a Catalan, and seems a resolute fellow. He thinks that the government
may withdraw the troops from the fort at any time; but says that he has
four swivels, which he means to mount around his house; and, as he has
expended much labor and money on his hacienda, he will hold on to the
last extremity, and not give up his property without a tussle.
It is a pity that there are not more like him, for many acres of fine
land are lying uncultivated in Chanchamayo on account of this fear;
and several of our Tarma friends offered us title deeds to large tracts
of land there, because a feeling of insecurity regarding the stability
of the government prevented them from expending time and money in the
cultivation of them. Another such administration as that just closed
under President Castilla will dissipate this apprehension; and then, if
the Peruvian government would invite settlers, giving them the means of
reaching there, and appropriating a very small sum for their maintenance
till they could clear the forest and gather their first fruits, I have
no doubt that fifty years would see settlements pushed to the navigable
head waters of the Ucayali, and the colonists would find purchasers for
the rich and varied products of their lands at their very doors.
_June 23._—We started on the return to Tarma, accompanied by the
commandant and his servant. We walked up a part of the hill at Rio Seco.
This is very hard work. I could not stand it more than half way, and
made the mule carry me over the rest. It takes one hour to ascend, and
an hour and a quarter to descend. Camped at Utcuyacu.
_June 24._—Missing my saddle bags, which had some money in them, we
sent Mariano, (our Tarma servant,) accompanied by the servant of the
commandant, back to a place some distance the other side of the big
hill, where the saddle bags had been taken off to adjust the saddle.
He started at six; we at eight, following our return track. We made the
longest and hardest day's ride we had yet made; and were much surprised
at being joined by the servants with the saddle-bags by nine p. m. They
must have travelled at least thirty-six miles over these terrible roads,
crossing the big hill twice, and ascending quite two thousand feet.
Gibbon did not believe it. He thought—and with much probability—that
the boy had hid the saddle-bags at Utcuyacu, and after we left there
had produced them and followed in our track, persuading or bribing the
soldier to keep the secret. The commandant, however, thought his servant
incorruptible, and that this was no great feat for these people.
One of our peons carried on his back, for a whole day, (fifteen
miles,) a bundle of alfalfa that Gibbon could not lift with ease, and
pronounced, upon trial, to be heavier than I am, or upwards of one
hundred and twenty-five pounds.
_June 26._—Discharged Mariano because we could not trust him. Though
clever and active, he is neglectful and dishonest. We thought it rather
hard that the "Cura" should have recommended him to us, as his character
was notorious in the town. We believed that the "Cura," with the people
generally, was glad to get rid of him, and was disposed to palm him off
on any body.
We delighted the Tarma people with our favorable reports of the
Chanchamayo, and they loaded us with civilities and kindness. They did
not like the idea of my visiting the Montaña of Pozuzu and Mayro; and
seemed to fear that I might find there a better communication with the
Amazon.