Chapter XIV: Front Matter (14)

In Chili there has been no confiscation of church property, as in some of the other States, and at the capital there are still over two thousand monks and as many nuns. The Jesuits have been expelled for engaging in conspiracy against the Government, but the outer orders of friars are permitted to remain. A dispute between the archbishop and the President some years ago caused the former to retire from Chili, and the Pope sent over a nuncio to try and arrange matters; but this legate criticised the Government so severely from the pulpit that he was given a passport and an escort of military, and now there are no relations whatever between the Pope and Chili, although the Catholic faith is still recognized by the Constitution as the established religion of the republic. The radical element of the Liberal party favors extreme measures, but the Conservative faction, of which Ex-President Santa Maria is the leader, wisely prefers to take steps slowly, and avoid revolution.

The Liberal party has a majority in Congress, and has passed several laws by which the authority and influence of the Church has been greatly crippled. The Liberal majority in Congress has placed the appointment of bishops in the hands of the President of the republic instead of the Pope; it has declared civil marriage to be the only legal one; it has opened the cemeteries to Jew and Gentile; taken the registers of births, marriages, and deaths out of the hands of the Church, and given them to civil magistrates; established non-sectarian schools, and passed a compulsory education law, under which all citizens who send their children to the priests and nuns to be taught have to pay a tax or fine to the State. These measures have all been bitterly fought by the clergy, but they have been compelled to yield in every instance. Just now the last act of Congress in this direction, establishing civil marriage, and recognizing the legitimacy of only those children born of parents wedded in this way, is the bone of contention, and has caused the bitterest struggle which the State has seen.

It formerly cost twenty-five dollars to be married by the Church, and a large part of its revenues came from that source. The peons, who scarcely ever are able to accumulate so much money, therefore lived in a state of concubinage, and more than half the children born in Chili were illegitimate. Now a marriage certificate can be secured from a civil magistrate for twenty-five cents, and persons cohabiting without it are subject to fine and imprisonment. The archbishop has issued a decree excommunicating from the Church all persons who are married by the civil right, and the Catholics of the country, comprising ninety-nine per cent. of the population, are in a serious dilemma. They are compelled to choose between excommunication and imprisonment, and therefore in the upper classes weddings are no longer fashionable. Some people go first to the church and then to the magistrate, and run the risk of excommunication; but the more conscientious prefer to remain single.

Just now in Santiago there is a young man of brilliant attainments, a member of Congress and a leader of the Liberal party, who wants to marry the daughter of a prominent merchant. The engagement has been existing for several years, and both parties are willing to fulfil it according to a civil law; but the girl’s mother is a devout Catholic, and will not consent to a wedding without the blessing of a priest. The young man is willing to go to the church as well as to the magistrate, but the archbishop has forbidden any priest to marry him without a full retraction by him of his political record. This he refuses to make, and the couple are preparing to go to the United States or some European country to have the ceremony performed.

Not long ago there was a marriage in high life in one of the southern provinces of Chili, which attracted wide attention from the fact that it was the first defiance of the Church in that part of the country. On the Sunday following the wedding the couple were denounced by the bishop from the pulpit of the cathedral, and the Catholic newspaper published some brutal comments to the effect that the young couple had placed themselves on the level of beasts by cohabiting without the blessing of the Church. The bride’s brother belabored the editor so that he will be a cripple for life, and would have given the bishop a similar chastisement had not the latter kept out of the way.

At the last Presidential election, which occurred in June, 1886, Señor Balmaceda, the Liberal candidate, was elected to succeed President Santa Maria, who had served his full term of four years. He was bitterly opposed by the priests, who realized that his success would be their permanent discomfiture, and there were several serious riots, in which many were killed and wounded. But Balmaceda was peacefully inaugurated in September, and the Congress which assembled at the same time has an overwhelming majority in sympathy with the Administration. The issue at the election was the enforcement of the civil marriage statute, and some measures will be taken to reduce the Church to subjection. A law to expel from the country priests who intimidate citizens from obeying the civil marriage act has already been proposed. This will be open war; but priests who threaten to excommunicate will be sent into exile, where they will shortly be followed by the monks and nuns, and a general confiscation of church property will be the next step. It is estimated that one-third of the entire property in Chili is owned by the Church. Much of this property is held in trust for certain saints, to whom it has been bequeathed by devout persons, or purchased by the gifts of the people. Saint Dominic, for example, is one of the largest property-holders in South America, and has an income of more than a million dollars a year from his estates, which are ably managed by the Dominican friars. It is proposed to assess a tax upon these estates, which now pay nothing towards the support of the Government; and if the monks refuse to pay, the property will be confiscated.

Protestantism is making rapid progress in Chili. There are several missions under the care of the Presbyterian Board of the United States, and a number of self-supporting churches and schools. There is also a Presbyterian College and Theological Seminary, and a Young Ladies’ Seminary with about one hundred and fifty boarding scholars; but the common people still cling to the superstitions and practices of the past. Crucifixes upon which the bodies of bleeding Christs are displayed, with all the symbols of the Crucifixion--the sponge, hammer, nails, spear, and other implements--are erected in the public streets. They are accompanied by an announcement from the archbishop that whoever says a certain number of prayers at these places will receive total absolution for all past sins.

A beautiful marble monument has been erected on the site of the church which was burned about twenty years ago on the Feast of the Virgins. As usual on that day, high mass was celebrated by the bishop, and at this particular church, which was that of the patron saint of maidens, there was a

very large attendance of girls from all classes of society. The church was handsomely draped, and cords to which candles were hung were stretched between the pillars. Being insecurely placed, these burning candles fell into the crowd below and set the clothing of the girls on fire. There was a panic, and the entire crowd became jammed against the doors, which, folding inward, could not be opened. The roof caught fire and, burning, fell with crushing destruction upon the heads of those below. The priests took no means to rescue the worshippers, but managed to get out unharmed themselves, carrying with them all the plate and other valuable contents of the altar. Their cowardice and neglect were universally condemned, and they were compelled to leave the country.

It is not known how many lives were lost, and the inscription upon the monument--which stands in the centre of a plaza occupying the site of the church--gives no clew; but it is estimated that at least three thousand young ladies perished, and there was mourning in almost every house in Santiago. After the fire the bodies were found packed in a solid mass of flesh, the heads and upper portions of the forms being destroyed, while the limbs and lower portions of the bodies were uninjured. Since that calamity the Feast of the Virgins has been celebrated with mourning in Chili.

It is one of the rules of the Church that no women shall participate in the services except as silent worshippers. All the music and singing is given by men, usually monks, who are well trained. Sometimes, as on Easter or Christmas, when mass is celebrated with more than usual magnificence, opera-singers of both sexes are introduced into the choir to assist in the performance; but the women are compelled to dress in the clothes of men, for fear of offending St. Paul or some other anti-woman’s rights potentate by wearing petticoats.

At the beginning of the fishing season at Valparaiso it is customary to take the image of St. Peter, the patron of fishermen, in a boat and row it over the bay, in order to bless the fish; and those who expect to reap the reward of this patronage are highly taxed to pay for this performance. Every method by which money may be extorted from the people, every pretence which their ingenuity can invent, is practised by the priests to enrich the Church, and the funds are wasted by them in riotous living. Their looks are sufficient to convict them of the gluttony and libertinism of which they are accused, and it is a common thing to see them reeling through the streets in a state of intoxication.

In the wall of one of the handsomest residences, by the side of the main entrance, is a niche in which a statue of the Mother of Christ has been placed--a gaudy, tinsel-covered figure, with a halo of gas-jets and a mantle of gilt-embroidered satin. An iron grating protects the image from the street, but through the bars have been thrust garlands of flowers and gifts of various sorts--votive offerings from people in bodily distress or mental disorder. The lady who lives in this house, the wife of a wealthy native merchant, some years ago became very ill, and made a vow to the Virgin that if her health was restored she would show her gratitude in this manner; and there the statue stands to illustrate the woman’s piety. Almost daily people who are ill, as its owner was, and others in distress of mind from some cause or another, come to it with such offerings as their condition permits them to make, and trustfully appeal to the Holy Mother for relief. It is said that many miraculous cures have resulted from faith in the power of this image, and people always lift their hats and reverently cross themselves as they pass it by.

The 13th of May is the anniversary of the most destructive earthquake Santiago has ever seen, which occurred about forty years ago. The responsibility for the calamity lay with a woman who had a private saint, a household idol, to whom she offered prayers. This image deemed fit to withhold from her some favor she had asked, and she, angry, cast it violently into the street. This caused the earthquake! and it did not cease until the fear-stricken people took the image to the Church of St. Augustine, near by, where it was placed in a niche of honor, and has since been devoutly worshipped by them as the patron or preventer of earthquakes. For the lack of a better name, and because the image bears no resemblance to any saint that was ever known or told of, the people call him “Señor May.” Originally he was “Señor Thirteenth of May,” but now plain “Señor May,” for short. Each year, as the 13th of May comes round--the anniversary of his “martyrdom,” as the people call it--the entire population assemble to pay honor to the saint, and appeal for his intercession in preventing a recurrence of the earthquake, and, as everybody knows, these appeals have never been denied. “Señor May” protects the city at least one day in the year. As the church is not large enough to accommodate the multitude, the saint is taken out into the street and carried at the head of a procession, in which the bishop, the municipal authorities, companies of military, religious orders, and others march. The occasion is recognized by the Government and the municipality, and by commercial circles. Business houses are closed, and factories dismiss their workmen to take part in the ceremonies. The day is celebrated as universally as Thanksgiving Day in the United States, and the saint receives rich gifts from people who are grateful that their houses have not been shaken to pieces.

I was present at the celebration in 1885. First in the procession came a squad of policemen to clear the way, for the entire population was jammed into the streets; and in the windows and upon the roofs of houses the nobility and gentry of the city stood, watching the performance as eagerly as the gamins of the streets, and throwing garlands and bunches of flowers into the path over which “Señor May” was to pass. Men fought and cursed, struck and stabbed each other in the struggle to do homage to the image, and all the police in the city were present to preserve order and arrest disturbers of the solemn scene. The Government offices were closed, and the President himself, the leader of the anti-Church party, did not go to the palace.

Following the policemen came a line of monks in cowls and frocks of all colors. There were monks in white, monks in black, monks in gray, and monks in brown--Carmelites, Capuchins, Franciscans, and every order being represented. Then came a procession of priests in their vestments, with novitiates, each bearing a lighted candle and chanting some monotonous service. Behind them were a dozen altar-boys, some with incense-lamps which perfumed the air, and others with trays of flowers, which were scattered in the street for the bishop, who came next, to tread upon. He walked under a crimson canopy, wearing his most resplendent vestments, and bearing in his hands the Host--the Holy Sacrament--the body and blood of the Redeemer. Behind him were other incense-burners, and more boys with flowers. Then came, borne upon the shoulders of twenty men, the image of “Señor May”--an ugly and repulsive-looking effigy, draped with the most fantastic garments, rich embroideries, and much gold lace. Upon the pedestal were packages and caskets containing the offerings received that day; and as he passed along one and another would be added, handed from the houses or the crowd to the priests of St. Augustine’s Church, who surrounded the image to collect them.

The crowd fell upon their knees as this ghastly feature of fanaticism passed by. Every head was uncovered, and every reverent tongue murmured a prayer. Men pushed and struggled, women screamed, and the policemen struck forward and backward with their swords to prevent the people from surging into the streets. Then came more chanting priests, and another battalion of monks, then more incense-bearers, and a spectacle of even greater repulsiveness--an image of a bleeding Christ upon a crucifix, naked, with the drapery of a ballet-dancer about his loins! More priests and more monks, and then a band of music and a regiment of infantry in parade uniforms, followed by a long line of bareheaded men, each with a lighted candle in his hand. This part of the procession received large and continual additions. People from the crowd fell into line at the rear, and were furnished with candles by attendants, who carried boxes of them in a cart, until the line reached out for a mile or more. After the parade the images were returned to the Church of St. Augustine, where high mass was celebrated by the bishop, to which admission was secured only by ticket.

The next morning the newspapers contained long descriptions of the procession. The contest then, as now, going on between the Liberal party and the clerical element for political control gives the utterances of the official organ of the Government (Liberal) peculiar significance. I quote the brief paragraphs in which reference was made to the event of the month:

“The procession of ‘Señor May’ took place yesterday, accompanied by many religious festivities in the temple of St. Augustine. The people and the municipality joined with the church to give a transcendent recognition in a most solemn and impressive manner of the historic ‘Señor May.’ From the early hours of the day the surroundings of the temple of St. Augustine were occupied by great throngs of the faithful, who awaited the inauguration of the parade. A little before four o’clock there arrived the forces of the army, with the national band at their head, and took position in front of the church in accordance with the orders from the commander-in-chief of the army.

“Having been put in motion, the procession filed with difficulty through the great number of people who crowded the streets and followed with many prayers and significant rejoicing. The pedestals of the saints were beautifully adorned and covered with many valuable and votive offerings, the tender gifts of piety from the faithful. A committee from the municipal authorities, appointed to contribute to the solemnity of the occasion, participated in the ceremonies. The bands of music played various sentimental airs during the march.

“To resume, the acts of recognition to the most potent ‘Señor May,’ made in compliance with the vows of the year 1847, after the terrible catastrophe of the 13th of the present month, have been perfectly carried out by the Catholic capital of Chili.”

Farming in Chili is conducted on the old feudal system, very much as it is in Ireland. The country is divided into great estates owned by people who live in the cities, and seldom visit the haciendas. There are only two classes of people, the very rich and the very poor, the landlords and the tenants. On each estate are a number of cottages with garden patches around them, which are occupied by the tenants, and in payment for which the landlord is entitled to so many days’ labor each year at his option. Should more labor than is due be required of the tenant, he is paid for it, not in money, but in orders upon the supply store or commissary of the estate, where he can get clothing or food or rum--especially rum. Tenants are usually given small credits at these stores, and are kept in debt to the landlords. As the law prohibits them from leaving a landlord to whom they owe money, the poor are kept in perpetual slavery, like the party in mythology who was always rolling a stone uphill. Even under this cruel system of peonage master and slave usually get along pretty well together, but old-fashioned feudal wars are kept up between estates, as was the case in England centuries ago. The peon will always fight for his landlord, and bloody encounters are constantly occurring. There are in Chili to-day the same old family feuds that existed in the Middle Ages of Europe between the Montagues and the Capulets. Somebody stepped upon the coat-tails of somebody else, or kicked his poodle dog, away back in the early history of the country, and the two families have been slashing and hacking at each other ever since, while nobody can explain what it is all about. The tenant will always cut a throat in his master’s honor, but he can never get any richer in Chili than he is to-day.

Everybody goes on horseback; even the beggars ride. The gear of the Chili saddle-horse--and horses are seldom broken to harness, all the teaming being done with oxen--is a most curious and complicated affair. The bit is a long, heavy, flat piece of iron, which rests on the horse’s tongue, and presses against the roof of his mouth. At each end is a hole, through which is passed a large iron ring about four inches in diameter, which encircles the lower jaw. At each side of the mouth is placed another iron ring to which the reins are fastened. The whole affair weighs about five pounds, and is sufficiently powerful to break a horse’s jaw if suddenly jerked. The reins are made of fine-plaited hide or horse-hair, about the thickness of the forefinger, and are joined together when they reach the pommel of the saddle, terminating in a long lash called a _chicote_, at the end of which is either a handsome tassel or a small piece of lead. When not in use the chicote hangs down the flank of the horse, often dragging on the ground. Sometimes the load of lead is heavy, and furnishes a weapon of offence and defence as formidable as a slung-shot, and the poor horse is often beaten with it without mercy. Fancy bits are made of plated or solid silver, and bridles plated with gold, with reins made of golden wire, can be found in the larger cities. I saw a bridle in Chili, belonging to Señora Cousino, that is said to have cost two thousand five hundred dollars; and one often hears of gifts of this sort that are worth one thousand dollars or more.

The Chili saddle is even more queer and complicated than the bridle. First, six or seven sheepskins are placed upon the horse’s back, one on top of the other; a leather strap is passed around them and firmly secured; a skeleton saddle, or rather a piece of wood cut in the shape of a saddle-tree, with a cantle at each end, comes next, and on top of this any number of sheepskins; or, if the owner is rich, rare furs furnish a seat, which is called the _montura_. The four corners are fastened down by broad leather straps, ornamented with silver or brass buckles, to enable the rider to wedge himself in, and the whole is bound around the horse’s belly with a broad band of leather or canvas. Sometimes aristocratic and wealthy riders have a high pommel like that of the Mexican saddle, which is covered with silver, and stamped on the top with his family coat of arms. The amount of silver on a man’s riding equipment is understood to indicate his wealth and station in life, and there is a great deal of competition in this direction among the swell caballeros. The stirrups of the ordinary citizen are made of two huge pieces of wood, with a hole cut through for the foot, while those of the aristocrat are brass or silver slippers. The wooden affair, the poor man’s stirrup, is rudely cut out of oak, or other hard wood, by hand, and usually weighs as much as four or five pounds. The brass one is quite as heavy, but much more ornamental.

When the rider is seated in the saddle his legs are entirely concealed by the furs and sheepskins, which add to his warmth, and on his back he wears the _poncho_ of the country, which is the most comfortable and convenient garment that human ingenuity has ever produced. It is about the size of the rubber poncho used in the United States, but is woven of vicuña hair or lamb’s-wool, and keeps the wearer cool by day, as the rays of the sun cannot penetrate it, and warm by night. It answers as well for an umbrella as for an overcoat, and sheds the rain better than rubber, for the oil is not extracted from the wool of which it is made. The vicuña is the mountain-goat of the Andes, but is becoming scarce, and nowadays a vicuña poncho is as rare and expensive as a camel’s-hair shawl, which it very much resembles, being worth from one hundred and fifty to five hundred dollars. A fully equipped saddle-horse of a caballero, or gentleman, with vicuña poncho and spurs of silver, with saddle and bridle mounted with the same metal, often represents an investment of four or five thousand dollars. Very often the stirrup is made of solid silver, beautifully chased, and those used by ladies are generally so. The English manufacturers are able to produce the ornaments and stirrups so much cheaper than the native workmen, who have no labor-saving machinery, that nearly all are now imported, and they have succeeded in imitating the poncho very well too. But among the aristocrats it is considered the height of vulgarity to use modern English saddlery or the imitation poncho, for these articles have been handed down from generation to generation, and the older they are the more valuable, no sort of usage wearing them out.

In Guatemala I was presented with a pair of stirrups which had been worn by the cavalry of Cortez when they made their raid into Central America and conquered that continent in 1535. This pair was handed down from generation to generation, in the family of Mr. Sanchez, the “Minister of Hacienda,” or Finance, of the Guatemala Government: they are made of iron, with wide flanges to protect the feet and legs of the cavalier from the high grass and brambles of the country through which he had to ride. This style was long ago abandoned, and is now only seen in museums.

He who wishes to make the journey from the Chilian to the Argentine Republic and the east coast of South America has a choice of routes. He may go by sea, around through the Strait of Magellan, which will cost him fifteen days’ time and two hundred dollars in money, or he may climb over the Andes on the back of a mule, a journey of five days, three of which only are spent in the saddle amid some

of the grandest scenery in the world. The highest mountain in the Western Hemisphere is Aconcagua, which rises 22,415 feet above the sea to the northward from Valparaiso and Santiago, and in plain view from both cities when the weather is clear. Chimborazo was for a long time supposed to be the king of the Andes, and in the geographies published twenty years ago it is described as the highest summit in the world. No one has ever reached the peak of either mountain, owing to the depth of snow and impassable gorges, but recent measurements, taken by means of triangulation, give Aconcagua an excess of about 2000 feet over old “Chimbo.” Scientists have reached an altitude higher than the summit of either in the Himalaya Mountains of India, where Mount Everest is claimed to rise between 27,000 and 30,000 feet. Humboldt made Chimborazo famous, and very few travellers have gone beyond the point he reached; but no serious attempt has ever been made to explore the summit of Aconcagua, as the Chillanos do not often go where their horses cannot carry them. In mountain gloom and glory Chimborazo is said to surpass all rivals, standing as it does within sight of the sea, and surrounded by a cluster of twenty peaks, like a king and his counsellors. But Aconcagua is grand enough, and has nothing near it to dwarf its size. The latitude in which it stands brings the snow line much lower than upon Chimborazo and the other peaks of Ecuador, which are almost upon the line of the equator, and the purity of the atmosphere gives the spectator an opportunity to see its picturesqueness at a long distance.

From Santiago, Chili, there is a Government railway as far as the town of Santa Rosa, which passes around the base of Aconcagua, and furnishes the traveller with a most sublime panorama of mountain scenery. There mules and men are hired for the ride over the Cumbre Pass to Mendoza, on the eastern slope of the Andes, to which a railroad has been recently opened by the Argentine Government. Here one can take a Pullman sleeper, and ride to Buenos Ayres as comfortably as he can go from New York to St. Louis, the distance being about the same.

This railroad was opened in May, 1885, with a grand celebration, in which the Presidents of Chili and the Argentine Republic, with retinues of officials, participated. The event was as important to the commercial development of Argentine as was the first Pacific Railway to the United States, as it opened to settlement millions of square miles of the best territory in the republic, and furnished a highway between the two seas.

The people of the United States have very little conception of what is going on down in that part of the world. They do not realize that there is in Argentine a republic which some day is to rival our own--a country with immense resources, similar to those of the United States, situated in a corresponding latitude, prepared to furnish the world with beef and mutton and bread, and stretching a net-work of railways over its area that will bring the products of the pampas to market. Geographers do not keep pace with the development of this part of South America, and to present accurate accounts of its condition should be rewritten every year. Who knows, for instance, except those who have been there, that a man can ride from Buenos Ayres across the pampas to the foot-hills of the Andes in a Pullman car?

The late war between Peru and Chili robbed Bolivia of all her sea-coast, and the ports from which her produce was shipped, and at which her imports were received, now belong to the Chillanos, who charge heavy export and import duties. The opening of this railroad has caused the trade of Bolivia to be diverted to the Atlantic, and the extension of the line to the northward, which is already in progress, will make Buenos Ayres and other cities on the river La Plata the _entrepots_ for Bolivian commerce. It is not much farther now from the centre of Bolivia to the Argentine Railway than to the Pacific coast, and the feeling of resentment towards Chili

makes the difference exceeding small. Long trains of mules are passing up and down the mountains, and their numbers will constantly increase until the Pacific sea-ports will see nothing that is grown or used in the country which Chili so ruthlessly robbed. One great difficulty, however, lies in the fact that from April to November the mountain passes are blockaded with snow, and it is always dangerous, and often impossible, to make the journey. Native couriers, who use snow-shoes, and find refuge in “casuchas,” or hollows of the rocks, during storms, cross them the year round, carrying the mails. Sometimes, indeed often, they perish from exposure or starvation, or perhaps are buried under avalanches. The passes are about thirteen thousand feet high, and are swept by winds that human endurance cannot survive. During the summer the journey is delightful, and though attended by many discomforts, has its compensations to those who are willing to rough it, and who are fond of mountain scenery. Ladies often venture, and enjoy it. Not long since a party of thirteen school-ma’ams from the United States, who are teaching under contract with the Argentine Government, crossed the mountains to Chili, and had “a lovely time.” Plenty of mules and good guides can be secured at the termini of the railways, but travellers have to carry their own food and bedding. There are no hotels on the way, but only “schacks,” or log houses, which furnish nothing but shelter. Very often people who are not accustomed to high altitudes are attacked with sirroche, from which they sometimes suffer severely.

The road over the mountains is always dangerous, clinging as it does to the edge of mighty precipices and upon the sides of mountain cliffs, and only trained mules can be used on the journey. During the winter season the winds are often so strong as to blow the mules with their burdens over the precipices, and leave them as food for the condors that are always soaring around. These birds know the dangerous passes, and keep guard with the expectation of seeing some traveller or mule go tumbling over the cliffs. Cowhide bridges, the construction of which is not satisfactory to nervous men, stretch across the ravines after the manner of modern suspension-bridges, and a floor or path, made of the branches of trees lashed together with hides, and just wide enough for a mule to pass, is laid. Travellers usually dismount and lead their mules when they cross these fragile structures, for the hide ropes which are intended to keep people from stepping off do not look very secure. The oscillation of these bridges is very great, and a man who is accustomed to giddiness will want to lie down before he gets half-way over. It is remarkable that so few accidents happen, and when they do occur it is usually because a traveller is reckless or a mule is green. The foxes sometimes gnaw the hides, but no accidents have occurred from this cause for many years.

The journey on mule-back usually takes five days of travel, at the rate of twenty or thirty miles a day, but good riders, with relays of mules, often make it in three days. The whole route is historical, as it has been in use for centuries. There is scarcely a mile without some romantic association, not a rock without its incident; and tradition, incident, and romance line the path from end to end. The Incas used the path before the Spaniards conquered the country, and Don Diego de Almagro crossed it in 1535 as he passed southward to Chili after the conquest of Peru.

PATAGONIA.

The spinal column of the hemisphere, extending from the Arctic to the Antarctic Sea, and called the Cordilleras, breaks suddenly at the foot of the Southern continent, and is divided by a narrow and deep ravine called the Strait of Magellan. Before the strait is reached, along the western coast of South America are numberless islands, cast into the sea by some convulsion of nature, like sparks flung from hammered iron. Few of these islands have ever been explored, but they all bear a close resemblance to the main-land in their geological formation, and it is believed that deposits of copper, silver, and other minerals, as well as coal, exist under their surfaces. On Chiloe, the largest of the Chili archipelago, mining companies are already operating to a small extent, but of the resources of the other islands little or nothing is known. They rise in picturesque outlines from the water, some of them to an elevation of several thousand feet, and the panorama presented to voyagers in what is known as Smythe’s Channel is beautiful and grand. This is a narrow fiord, named from its first explorer, scooped out, the geologists say, by the action of ice during the glacial epoch, running along the main coast, and protected against the violence of the ocean by the numerous fragmentary formations that line the shore. A glance at the map of Patagonia will show how many of these islands there are, and how slender is the thread of sea which separates them from the continent.

The water in the channel is deep and smooth, but the passage is avoided by navigators because of the powerful currents and the frequency of snow-storms, which prevail at all seasons of the year. Vessels that take this course are compelled to anchor at night, unless there is a very bright moon, and always lie up when the snow falls, because of the circuitous turns, and the danger of collisions with ships and icebergs. Smythe’s Channel is so narrow in places that two steamers cannot pass between the mighty rocks which rise on either side. Most of the steamships prefer to risk the storms which rage outside, where they can have plenty of sea-room, and shorten their voyages by sailing at night as well as by day. There is no more dangerous sailing in the world than off the west coast of Patagonia and around the Horn, and vessels bound southward from Valparaiso are very lucky if they enter the Strait of Magellan without catching a gale of wind.

The glaciers of Switzerland and Norway are insignificant beside those which can be seen from ships passing the Strait of Magellan. Mountains of green and blue ice, with crests of the purest snow, stretch fifteen and twenty miles along the channel in some parts of the strait. They are by no means as lofty as those of Europe, but appear more grand, rising as they do from the surface of the water in a land where winter always lingers, and where the sun sets at three o’clock in the afternoon. The line of perpetual snow begins at an elevation of only two thousand feet, and water always freezes at night, even in the summer-time. The highest mountains in Terra del Fuego are supposed to reach an altitude of seven thousand or eight thousand feet, but the eye of man has seldom seen them, covered as they are with an almost perpetual haze or mist, and presenting difficulties which the most ardent and experienced climber cannot surmount. The highest mountain known in this region is Mount Sarmiento, one of the most imposing of the Andean peaks, which rears a cone of spotless snow nearly seven thousand feet, almost abruptly from the water at its feet. It stands in what is known as Cockburn Channel, not far from the Pacific, and on clear days its summit can be distinguished from the decks of passing ships. The beauty of this peak is much enhanced by numerous blue-tinted glaciers, which descend from the snowy cap to the sea, and look, as Darwin the naturalist, who once saw it, said, “Like a hundred frozen Niagaras.” There are other mountains quite as beautiful, but they sit in an atmosphere which is seldom so clear as that which surrounds Sarmiento, and cannot often be seen by voyagers.

The Terra del Fuego Indians, the ugliest mortals that ever breathed, are always on the lookout for passing vessels, and come out in canoes to beg and to trade skins for whiskey and tobacco. The Fuegians, or “Canoe Indians,” as they are commonly called, to distinguish them from the Patagonians, who dislike the water, and prefer to navigate on horseback, have no settled habitation. They have a dirty and bloated appearance, and faces that would scare a mule--broad features, low foreheads, over which the hair hangs in tangled lumps, high cheek-bones, flat noses, enormous chins and jaws, and mouths like crocodiles’, with teeth that add to their repulsiveness. Their skin is said to be of a copper color, but is seldom seen, as they consider it unhealthy to bathe. They are short in stature, round-shouldered, squatty, and swelled, a physical deformity said to be due to the fact that most of their lives is spent in canoes. The women are even more repulsive in their appearance than the men, and the children, who are uncommonly numerous, look like young baboons. Their intelligence seems to be confined to a knowledge of boating and fishing, and they exercise great skill in both pursuits. Scientists who have investigated them say that they are of the very lowest order of the human kind, many degrees below the Digger Indians.

Although these people are in a perpetual winter, where it freezes every night, and always snows when the clouds shed moisture, they go almost stark naked! The skins of the otter and guanaco are used for blankets, which are worn about the shoulders and afford some protection; but under these neither women nor men wear anything whatever except shoes and leggings made of the same material, which protect the feet from the rocks. There is some little attempt at adornment made by both sexes in the way of necklaces, bracelets, and ear-rings made of fish-bones and sea-shells, which are often ingeniously joined together. The women will sell the skin blankets that cover their backs for tobacco, standing meantime as nude as a statue of Venus!

Their food consists of mussels, fish, sea animals, and similar sorts, which they catch with the rudest kind of implements. Their fishing-lines are made of grass, and their hooks of fish-bones. For weapons they have bows and spears, the former having strings made of the entrails of animals, and the latter being long, slender poles, with tips of sharpened bone. They also use slings with great dexterity, which are made of woven grass, and are said to bring down animals at long range. During the day they are always on the water in canoes or dugouts made of the trunks of trees, the whole family going together, and usually consisting of a man, two or three wives, and as many urchins as can be crowded into the boat. When night falls they go ashore and build a fire upon the rocks, to temper the frigid atmosphere. Around this fire they cuddle in a most affectionate way. The name of the islands upon which they live came from these fires. The early navigators, when passing through the strait, were amazed to see them spring up as if by magic all over the islands every night at sundown, and so they called them Terra del Fuego, or the Land of Fire. The English shorten the appellation, and thus the place is known as “Fireland.”

No one has ever been able to ascertain whether these people possess any sort of religious belief or have religious ceremonies. Across the strait the Patagonians, or Horse Indians, are of a higher order of creation, and perform sacred rites to propitiate the evil and good spirits, in which, like the North

American savages, they believe; but the Fuegians are too degraded to contemplate anything but the necessity of ministering to their passions and appetites. They eat fish and flesh uncooked, and appreciate as dainties the least attractive morsels. Their language is an irregular and meaningless jargon, apparently derived from the Patagonians, with whom they were, some time in the distant past, connected. Bishop Sterling, of the Church of England, a devoted and energetic man, who has charge of missionary work in South America, with headquarters on the Falkland Islands, has made some attempt to benefit these creatures, but with no great success. He has a little schooner in which he sails around, and has succeeded in ingratiating himself among the Fuegians by giving them presents of beads and twine, blankets and clothing. They use the first for ornaments, the second for fishing gear, but trade off the other things for rum and tobacco the first chance they get. As long as his gifts hold out he will be kindly received, no doubt, and his devotion will meet with encouragement, but if he should land among them without the usual plunder they would probably kill him at breakfasttime and pick his ribs for lunch. Towards the Atlantic coast the savages are of a higher order, and the bishop has established a missionary station in a little town in which they live. His assistants have succeeded in persuading the inhabitants of this village to wear clothing, and they run a primary school from which much good may come.

The Falkland Islands lie off the coast of Terra del Fuego about two hundred and fifty miles, and belong to the British crown. There is a town of about eight hundred inhabitants called St. Louis, where the Governor lives, and a coaling station is maintained for the benefit of English men-of-war. The chief use of the islands otherwise is sheep-raising, and the wool exports are becoming quite large. Nothing else grows there, however, because of the low temperature and the barrenness of the soil. One line of steamers touches at the Falklands once a month or so, carrying provisions to the colony and bringing away the wool.

One of the curious things about the Strait of Magellan is the Post-office. In a sheltered place, easy of access from the channel, but secluded from the Indians, is a tin box, known to every seaman who navigates this part of the world. Every passing skipper places in this box letters and newspapers for other vessels that are expected this way, and takes out whatever is found to belong to him or his men. All the newspapers and books that seamen are done with are deposited here, and are afterwards picked up by the next vessel to arrive, and replaced with a new lot. It is a sort of international postal clearing-house, and sailors say that the advantages it offers have never been abused during the half century the system has existed.

Every time a vessel passes through the strait the Fuegian Indians come out in their canoes to show their sociability,

and trade what property they are fortunate enough to be possessed of for tobacco and rum. The steamer we were on ran through several fleets of dugouts, greatly to the danger of those who occupied them, as they paddled across our course in the most reckless manner. In each of the frail canoes were three or four people and several children, who screamed and gesticulated in the most violent manner. They came so near the ship that we could distinguish their features and hear their words, which were clamors for _tabac_ (tobacco) and _galleta_ (food). In one canoe stood an old hag with long gray hair, and a face that reminded me of Meg Merriles. A more weird and witchlike being never presented itself to human eye, and she did not have a thread upon her dirty skin from head to foot. Stark, staring naked she stood in the group around her, with the thermometer about forty degrees above zero, and, as she saw the vessel did not propose to stop, shook her wrinkled arms at us, and uttered curses loud and deep. There was a fire in the boat in which she stood, and around it huddled another woman, naked, but with a guanaco robe over her shoulders, and several children, while the father sat in the stern and paddled his own canoe, leaving the wife or mother, whichever she was, to do all the talking.

In another canoe stood a repulsive-looking man, who had taken off his guanaco robe, and stood naked, flapping it at us, and yelling like a lunatic. His companions were two naked women and several youngsters, and they all joined in the chorus with a vigor that we expected would split their throats, leaving the canoe to drift as it would, finally coming into collision with another, at which there was a good deal of scrambling, and an exchange of Fuegian compliments, the nature of which we could not understand. What they wanted was rum and tobacco, having acquired a taste for this pernicious weed from the sailors. For a plug of “Navy” they would exchange a guanaco blanket that could not be bought in New York for seventy-five dollars, as the guanaco is one of the rarest and finest of skins. The anger and disgust that was pictured upon the faces of these creatures when they found that the vessel was not slackening her speed would have furnished a model for the expressions on the souls that are lost. The passengers were about as much disappointed as the Fuegians, for having all read and heard of them, we anticipated much gusto, as the Spaniards say, in making their acquaintance.

Scientists have long differed as to whether the Firelanders were cannibals, but this point has been recently settled by a practical demonstration, and there is no doubt that they actually eat human flesh when they can get it, and pick the bones very clean. In October, 1884, during a snow-storm, the steamer _Cordillera_, of the Pacific Steam Navigation Company’s line, struck a rock in the Strait of Magellan, about forty miles west of Punta Arenas, and to save as much as possible of the ship and cargo the captain drove her upon the beach, where she now lies, almost within a stone’s-throw of passing vessels. The wreck was soon after abandoned by all but two men, who were left in charge until wrecking machinery could be brought from Valparaiso. One of these men was William Taylor, a quartermaster or petty officer of the ship, and his companion, an ordinary seaman. They were well armed, and it was supposed were capable of protecting themselves, but it turned out that they were not. One night I was sitting upon the rickety old dock at Punta Arenas, waiting for the purser of our ship to take me on board, when Taylor was introduced to me, and told his story in a most graphic way.

He said that when he and his partner were left in charge of the vessel, it was with the understanding that they were to be relieved on the 21st of December, and they were given food enough to last until that time. After the captain and crew had gone, and the two men were alone on the ship, the Indians made their appearance nearly every day, and bits of food were thrown over the side of the vessel into their canoes. Taylor and his companion each carried two revolvers, and were not at all alarmed, as the vessel lay very high on the sand, and it did not seem possible that the Indians could climb up its iron sides. Although several canoes hovered around the place daily, the savages made no unfriendly demonstrations, and no notice was taken of them further than to exchange salutations, and give them meat and bread now and then. One day the Indians traded them a string of fresh fish for a plug of tobacco, and at other times gave them furs for the same consideration. About noon on the 15th of December, while the sailor was cooking dinner in the galley, Taylor, who was at work below, heard several shots fired from a revolver on deck, with shrieks and other sounds, which proved that a fight was going on there. He drew both of his pistols, and rushing up-stairs, saw the bleeding body of his companion lying upon the deck, and one of the savages hacking at it with the cook’s knife. About twenty or twenty-five others were performing a war-dance around one of their number who lay dead, and a single glance at the scene convinced Mr. Taylor that he could find no pleasure in attending the