Chapter I: Introductory (2)

The sun was sinking below the horizon when we boarded the steamer that was to take us to Haiti and Santo Domingo. As we passed under El Morro, that has so long and faithfully guarded the entrance to the placid harbor, and looked towards the setting sun where Cervera's proud fleet was scattered, we could not but recall the prophetic words of Las Casas penned in his last will and testament. Speaking of the Indians, to whose care and protection he had devoted a long and fruitful life, the holy bishop writes: "As God is my witness that I never had earthly interest in view, I declare it to be my conviction and my faith--I believe it to be in accordance with the faith of the Holy Roman Catholic Church, which is our rule and guide--that by all the thefts, all the deaths, and all the confiscations of estates and other uncalculable riches, by the dethroning of rulers with unspeakable cruelty, the perfect and immaculate law of Jesus Christ and the natural law itself have been broken, the name of our Lord and His holy religion have been outraged, the spreading of the faith has been retarded, and irreparable harm done to these innocent people. Hence I believe that, unless it atones with much penance for these abominable and unspeakably wicked deeds, Spain will be visited by the wrath of God, because the whole nation has shared, more or less, in the bloody wealth that has been acquired by the slaughter and extermination of those people. But I fear that it will repent too late, or never. For God punishes with blindness the sins sometimes of the lowly, but especially and more frequently the sins of those who think themselves wise, and who presume to rule the world. We ourselves are eyewitnesses of this darkening of the understanding. It is now seventy years since we began to scandalize, to rob and to murder those peoples, but to this day we have not come to realize that so many scandals, so much injustice, so many thefts, so many massacres, so much slavery, and the depopulation of so many provinces, which have disgraced our holy religion, are sins or injustices at all." [22]

Were the tragic scenes enacted in these waters and in the harbor of Manila the fulfillment of the prophecy? If we should be disposed to think so, let us not forget, in contemplating the humiliation and punishment of Spain, that we too have sinned as Spain sinned. And let us pray that the blood of the millions of Indians that have been exterminated in our own land may not call down the vengeance of Heaven on our children and our children's children. Nations, like individuals, are punished where they have sinned. [23]

HAITI AND SAN DOMINGO

A short sail eastwards and we found ourselves crossing the Windward Passage. Not far from our port quarter was Cape Maisi, which Columbus, on his first voyage, named Cape Alpha and Omega, as being the easternmost extremity of Asia; Alpha, therefore, from his own point of view, and Omega from that of his Portuguese rivals. On his second voyage Columbus came down through this passage to satisfy himself that he had actually reached Mangi, the land of the Great Khan, and coasted along the island of Cuba, as he reckoned, for a thousand miles. But as fate would have it, he stopped short in his westward course within a few hours' sail of the present Cape San Antonio, the westernmost promontory of the island. If he had only journeyed on a few miles further, he would have detected the insularity of what he considered a continent, and thus have anticipated the discoveries of Vespucius and Ocampo. And he would have done more. He would have reached the shores of Yucatan and Campeachy and had an opportunity of exploring the famous ruins of Chichen Itza and Uxmal. How different, too, it would have been, if, after discovering Guanahuani, he had directed the prow of the Santa Maria slightly to the northwest, when a short sail would have brought him to the coast of Florida! It is interesting to speculate not only how much his own life, but also how greatly the entire course of American history would have been affected by these slight changes in his course on these momentous occasions.

But during his four voyages among these mysterious islands the great navigator was as one groping his way in the Cretan labyrinth. On his return eastward from the Cape of Good Hope--the name he gave to the westernmost point of Cuba attained by him--he found, almost before he was aware of it, that he had actually circumnavigated what he had imagined to be Cipango, the great island of Japan. This surprised and puzzled him beyond expression. Evidently, either he was mistaken or the authorities on whom he had been relying were mistaken. If the island--Española--was not Cipango, what was it? He soon learned that gold mines existed in the interior of the country and that there was evidence of excavations that had been long abandoned. [24] What more natural, then, than his conclusion that this was the far-famed Ophir whence King Solomon had obtained the gold used in the adornment of the temple of Jerusalem!

Whatever may be said of the Admiral's theory, one thing is certain, and that is that the discovery of gold in Española [25] was directly or indirectly the cause of untold misery to the aborigines, and eventually led up to the present unfortunate condition of this hapless island. It was, as the reader knows, the work in the mines that was the chief factor in the gradual decimation and the final extinction of the Indians in Española. When there were no longer Indians to do the work, negroes were imported from Africa, and thence dates that hideous period of cruel traffic in human beings which, for more than three centuries, was the blackest stain on the vaunted civilization of the Caucasian race. But in this, as in other similar cases, an avenging Nemesis has either already overtaken the offending nations or is giving them grave concern regarding the future. In the black republics of Haiti and Santo Domingo the slave has replaced the master, and there are already indications that the day of reckoning is approaching for the powers that are in control of the other islands of the West Indies. We saw evidences of this during our visit in Cuba, and are convinced that, if it were not for the strong arm of the United States, it would not be long before we should have another black republic at our doors. And what is said of Cuba may be said of all the islands of the Lesser Antilles from Trinidad to Puerto Rico. The race question is one that will have to be met sooner or later. The whites are decreasing in numbers and the blacks are rapidly increasing and becoming more insistent on what they claim to be their rights, especially to that of a greater representation in government affairs, and to a larger share of the emoluments of public office.

It was only a few years after the colonizing of Española when negro slavery was introduced into the island. The motive was, in some measure, a humane one--namely, to spare the Indians the arduous labor in the mines for which they were physically incapacitated. The African was much stronger and had much greater powers of endurance than the native. According to Herrera, "the negroes flourished so well in Española, that it was thought that if a negro was not hanged he would never die, for no one had ever seen one die of disease. Thus the negroes found, like the oranges, a soil in Española better suited to them than their own country, Guinea." [26]

Monopolies of licenses were granted by the Spanish monarchs for the importation of negro slaves to the West Indies, first to their own subjects, and later on to certain Genoese and Germans, and finally, by a special asiento, or contract, the Spanish government conveyed to the English the "exclusive right to carry on the most nefarious of all trades between Africa and Spanish America." The British engaged to transport annually to the Spanish Indies during a term of thirty years, four thousand and eight hundred of what, in trade language, were called "Indian pieces," that is to say, negro slaves, paying a duty per head of thirty-three escudos and one-third. [27] So great was the number of negroes imported into America from 1517, when Charles V first permitted the traffic, until 1807, when the slave trade was abolished by an act of the English Parliament, that it has been computed that their total number was not less than five or six millions. In one single year, 1768, it is said that the number torn from their homes and country and transported to Spain's new colonies was no less than ninety-seven thousand. [28]

But the inevitable soon came to pass--much sooner than even the wisest statesman could have foreseen. The great Cardinal Ximenes, it is true, realized from the beginning the risk incurred by sending negroes to the Indies. He contended that it was wrong to send beyond the ocean people so "apt in war" as the blacks, who might at any time stir up a servile war against Spanish rule. He insisted that "the negroes, who were as malicious as they were strong, would no sooner perceive themselves to be more numerous in the New World than the Spaniards, than they would lay their heads together to put on their masters the chains they now carried." [29]

The cardinal's prediction soon came true. In all parts of the Indies--in the islands of the sea and on Tierra Firme--there were massacres and uprisings and "servile wars," without number, and both the colonies and the mother country had often occasion to regret the introduction within their boundaries of so dangerous and warlike subjects. But it was too late to rectify the mistake. It was impossible to drive them out of the country, or to return them to the land whence they had been brought against their will. So rapidly had they increased in numbers that they now, in many places, constituted a great majority of the population. Española, to-day constituting the two republics of Haiti and Santo Domingo, was the first island of which they got supreme control. Which will be the next? The question is not an idle one. It is one frequently asked in the West Indies. The unrest and agitation of the blacks are much greater than we in the North imagine. Their ambition is greater and their political aspirations higher than those who have not been among them are prepared to admit. The situation is certainly not one that justifies supine indifference on the part of the governments now in control, nor is the difficulty one whose solution can be indefinitely postponed. Every lover of law and order must hope that some modus vivendi can be arrived at whereby, while all the legitimate claims of the negro are conceded, the world will he spared another "decline and fall" like that which has been witnessed in Española.

We called at several of the ports of Haiti and Santo Domingo but we found little to interest us outside of the capital of the latter republic. Santo Domingo is not only the oldest city in the New World--the early abandoned settlement of Isabella never deserved the name of city--but is, in many respects, the most interesting. Founded by Bartholomew Columbus in 1496, and named Santo Domingo after the patron saint of his father, Domenico, it was, for a while, the seat of the vice-royalty. It was to this place that Don Diego Colon, the son of the Admiral, brought his lovely bride, Doña Maria de Toledo, a daughter of one of the oldest and proudest families of Spain. Here he set up a vice-regal court that excited the envy of his enemies, and was by them made the basis of charges preferred against him that he meditated establishing a government independent of the mother country. Of the viceroy's palace, Oviedo writes to Charles V, it "seemeth unto me so magnificall and princelyke that yowr maiestie maye bee as well lodged therin as in any of the mooste exquisite builded houses of Spayne." [30]

From Santo Domingo radiated the lines of discovery and conquest that culminated in the achievements of Cortes, Balboa and Pizarro. Here Columbus was loaded with chains and imprisoned by Bobadilla. Here was established the first university of the New World. Here, within the walls of the Convent of San Domingo, prayed and labored that noble "Protector of the Indians," Las Casas, and here he planned and began work on his monumental Historia de las Indias. Until the last assault by Drake in 1586, it was the centre of commercial activity in the Indies, for it was the chief port of call to and from Spain and the place where merchants, miners, and planters disposed of their commodities and amassed fortunes.

But Santo Domingo's halcyon days were of short duration. Before the end of the sixteenth century the city began to decline. The theatre of activity, that had hitherto been confined to Española, was transferred to Cuba and Mexico, Panama and Peru, and to-day the once gay and prosperous capital exhibits but a shadow of its pristine glory.

Homenage Castle, the crumbling palace of Don Diego Columbus, and the few churches and monasteries that still, even in their neglected condition, attest the former importance of the place, present a pathetic picture, and tell, in mute but elegant language, of the reverses and evil days that have been the lot of America's first city.

Besides the buildings just named we were especially interested in the Cathedral. It is a noble structure and its interior decorations compare favorably with similar edifices in Spain and Mexico. But there was one attraction there that had for us, as it must have for all Americans, a special interest, and which alone would well repay a pilgrimage to Santo Domingo--the last resting place of the one "who to Castile and Leon gave a new world."

As the reader is aware, there has been a long and spirited controversy as to the location of los restos--the remains--of the illustrious discoverer. We have been shown his sepulchre in the Cathedral of Havana, and in that of Seville, yet it has been demonstrated beyond question that his ashes have never reposed in either of these places. Without entering into details, it may now be stated, as facts which no longer admit of any reasonable doubt, that after his death in 1506, the remains of Columbus were interred in the Franciscan monastery of Valladolid, whence, in 1508, they were transferred to the monastery of Las Cuevas, at Seville. In 1541, at the request of "Doña Maria of Toledo, Vicereine of the Indies, wife that was of the Admiral Don Diego Columbus," Charles V, by a special cedula, granted permission for the transfer of the remains of Christopher Columbus to Española, to be interred in the capilla mayor of the Cathedral of Santo Domingo. Here they have since reposed, with the exception of the short time during which they were kept in the adjoining church, when the Cathedral was undergoing certain necessary repairs in 1877 and 1878. The supposed remains of the first Admiral, that were taken to Havana in 1795, and finally transferred to Seville in 1899, have been shown to be those of his son, Don Diego, who, together with Don Luis Columbus, the third Admiral, and the first Duke of Veragua, was also buried in the capilla mayor of the Cathedral, where the remains of Don Luis still lie near those of his illustrious grandfather. [31]

As our steamer moved out of the water of Santo Domingo our eyes remained fixed on the Cathedral, whose Spanish tiled roof reflected the vermilion rays of the setting sun, and afford shelter for one of the world's greatest heroes and benefactors.

"Hic locus abscondit præclari membra Coloni,"

This place hides the remains of the illustrious Columbus, of him who, in the language of one of the many epitaphs devoted to his memory,

"Dió riquezas immensas á la tierra,
Innumerables almas al cielo." [32]

And then, as the last vestiges of this noble old temple vanished from our vision, we thought of the words of Humboldt, than whom no one was better qualified to pronounce a fitting eulogy on one of the world's immortals.

"The majesty of great memories," he declares, "seems concentrated in the name of Christopher Columbus. It is the originality of his vast conceptions, the compass and fertility of his genius, and the courage which bore out against the long series of misfortunes, which have exalted the Admiral high above all his contemporaries." [33]

And we dreamed--or was it a telepathic intimation of a future reality?--when the precious remains, that have so long been guarded in this distant and rarely visited island, should be transferred for a third and a last time, but this time where they might be visited and venerated by millions instead of the few hundred that now find their way hither, and where they might occupy a noble sarcophagus, like that which beneath the dome of the Invalides, holds all that is mortal of the great Corsican, and in a temple worthy alike of the man and of the greatest nation in the world. There is one edifice in which all the nations of the hemisphere discovered by Columbus have a common interest, the splendid structure now being erected in Washington, for the special use and benefit of the North and South American Republics. Here in the capital of the nation, in the district named after the discoverer, in sight of the tomb of the "Father of his Country," should the remains of "The Admiral of the Ocean Sea," find an abiding place of sepulture commensurate with the magnitude of his achievements. Alongside and in connection with this Pan-American building, in the heart of what is to be "the City Beautiful," and there alone, let there be erected a mausoleum that, as a monument of art, shall rank, as did those of Hadrian and Mausolus, amongst the world's wonders, and be a fitting culmination of the architectural creations that have been planned for the great and growing capital of the New World, the world of Columbus.

PUERTO RICO AND CURAÇAO

From Santo Domingo we went to Puerto Rico. As is well known, this island was discovered by Columbus during his second voyage in 1493. Sixteen years later a settlement was founded here by Ponce de Leon. It was from here that he set forth in quest of the "Fountain of Youth," and it is in San Juan, in the Church of Santo Domingo, that he was buried after a poisoned arrow from the bow of an Indian brave had terminated his existence during his second expedition to Florida. Over his tomb was inscribed the following epitaph:--

"Mole sub hac fortis requiescunt ossa Leonis
Qui vicit factis nomina magna suis." [34]

After sojourning a week in Puerto Rico, we called at the little Dutch island Curaçao and spent the greater part of the day in the quaint little town of Willemstad. The harbor is perfectly landlocked and was at one time the favorite rendezvous for pirates and buccaneers. In strolling through its streets, we could easily fancy ourselves in some quiet section of Rotterdam or Amsterdam. The island is known for its much prized liqueur, Curaçao, which, however, strange to say, is not made here but in Holland. Curaçao supplies only the orange rind with which the liqueur is flavored. Willemstad is a popular resort for smugglers, who do an extensive business on the mainland, and the temporary home of a colony of exiled Venezuelan generals and colonels, who here eke out a precarious existence in the hope that one of their periodical revolutions may soon give them the eagerly desired opportunity of enjoying some of the spoils of office, that, for the time being, are monopolized by their enemies.

ON THE SPANISH MAIN

We arrived in the roadstead of La Guayra early in the morning, after our departure from Curaçao, and our vessel was soon moored alongside a splendid breakwater, which extends out from the shore for more than a half mile, and gives this port a fairly good harbor, which even the largest ships may enter. We were now on the Spanish Main where we had our first view of the great continent of South America.

As the phrase, "The Spanish Main," has been given many and different significations since it was first introduced, I shall employ it, in what was long its generally accepted meaning, as designating the southern part of the Caribbean Sea, and the coast line of what, on the early maps of South America, was known as Tierra Firme--the Firm Land--namely, that part of the present republics of Venezuela and Colombia on which the Spaniards effected their first settlements.

The first thing to attract our attention and that which impressed us most, was the apparently stupendous height of the mountains in the rear of the town. Before us were La Silla and Pico de Naiguata, sheer and precipitous, rising almost from the water's edge and piercing the clouds at an altitude of more than eight thousand and two hundred feet. They are thus apparently higher than any of the peaks of the Rocky Mountain chain. The summits of the latter are attained only after traveling over a long and gradual incline, that is scarcely perceptible, and after scaling numerous foothills that conceal and dwarf the giants which tower behind and above them. Thus, while the summit of Pike's Peak is more then fourteen thousand feet above sea level, it is less than seven thousand feet above the charming town of Manitou, that nestles at its feet. For this reason, and because the sides of the Colorado peak are not so steep as those behind La Guayra, La Silla and the Pico de Naiguata give an impression of height and majesty that is not experienced even when contemplating the loftiest monarchs of the Alps.

The distance from La Guayra to Caracas, in a straight line, is less than six miles; by rail it is twenty-three. There has been talk of connecting the capital and its port by a tunnel but under the existing conditions of the country it will be a long time before such an undertaking shall be realized.

From sea level to the summit of the range, the railroad is conspicuous for its heavy grade--about four per cent.--its sharp curves, its cuts and tunnels, but above all for the magnificent scenery everywhere visible. From the car window one may look over precipitous cliffs into yawning abysses far below the track on which the train slowly and carefully winds its way. On the beetling rocks above, in the dark and wild gorge below--what a wealth of vegetation, what luxuriance of growth, what a gorgeous display of vari-colored fruit and flower, of delicate fern and majestic palm!

As a feat of engineering the road is quite equal to any of the kind that may be seen in Europe or the United States; but for scenic beauty and splendor it is absolutely unrivaled. On the lofty flanks of the Rockies, and in the deep cañons of the Fraser and Colorado rivers, where the shrill whistle of the locomotive startles the falcon and the eagle, one can have fully gratified one's sense of the grand and the sublime in nature; but here it is beauty, grandeur, sublimity all combined. And what marvelous perspectives, what delightful exhibitions of color, what superb and ever-changing effects of light and shade--scenes that would be the despair of Claude Lorrain and Salvator Rosa, and as difficult to catch on canvas as the glories of the setting sun.

No where else in the wide world can one find such another picture as greets one's vision when, rising into cloudland, one gets one's last view of the Caribbean circling the mountain thousands of feet beneath the silent and awe-stricken spectator. It is matchless, unique--like Raphael's Madonna di San Xysto, impossible to duplicate.

As we reached this point, the sea disclosed itself as a vast mirror resplendent under the aureate glow of the quivering beams of the departing lord of day. Fleecy clouds of every form and hue flitting over sea and land, by a peculiar optical illusion, magnified both objects and distances, and unfolded before the astonished beholder a panorama of constantly varying magnitude and of surpassing loveliness. On the foreground Nature shed her brightest green, and imparted to flower and foliage the flush of the rainbow. Of a truth,

"Never did Ariel's plume
At golden sunset hover
O'er scenes so full of bloom."

Away and beyond was the boundless, glimmering sea, ravishing in its thousand tints, and in its harmonious dance of vanishing light and color.

So occupied were we in observing the beauties of the everchanging landscape, that, before we realized it, we were in Caracas. And so momentary was the twilight-- a characteristic of the tropics--that the transition from daylight to darkness was almost startling. We found an unexpected compensation, however, in the friendly glow of the electric lights which illumine the street and plazas of Venezuela's capital.

We spent a month in and about Caracas, finding every hour enjoyable. It is, in many respects, a beautiful city and located near the base of the mountains La Silla, the saddle--from its fancied resemblance to an army saddle--and El Cerro de Avila, in a charming valley from one to three miles wide and about ten miles long. The valley was at one time, seemingly, the bed of a lake, and its soil is, consequently, exceedingly fertile, and admirably adapted to cultivation of the farm and garden produce of both tropical and temperate climates.

A friend, who had traveled much, once told us that he regarded Taormina, in Sicily, as the best and most beautiful winter resort in the world. We are familiar with both places, and can say, in all candor, that we prefer Caracas. True, Taormina is one of the beauty spots of the world, but one expects to find more than beauty in a winter resort. Some years before our visit to Caracas we were in Taormina, and during the same time of the winter as marked our visit to Caracas, and we found it so cold that, during our entire stay, we were obliged to have our rooms heated by steam. In the latter place we could leave the doors and windows of our room open day and night, and enjoyed, during all the time we tarried there, the name soft, balmy, fragrant air, and the same equable temperature. The mean temperature we found to be about 70° F., the thermometer seldom rising above 75° F. and rarely falling below 65° F. The only place where we over had a like experience was on the slope of a mountain in one of the Hawaiian Islands, where the temperature is so constant that the native language has no word to express the idea of weather--what we call "weather" being always the same.

Considering the many natural beauties of the valley of Caracas, its rich, tropical vegetation, its matchless climate, its soft, balmy atmosphere, the rippling brooks and purling rivulets that everywhere gladden the landscape, we can understand how an early Spanish historian, Oviedo y Baños, [35] was in his enthusiasm led to declare this location of the capital of Venezuela to be that of the home of perpetual spring--nay, more, that of a terrestrial paradise. If he could revisit these scenes to-day, he would find but little change in their general physical aspect, but he would see at once that the serpent's trailing has cast a blight over its former beauty, and that the people, as a whole, have sadly degenerated since his time. Then, as he tells us, the stranger that had spent two months in this Eden would never wish to leave it. Alas, that one cannot say this now! [36]

After a month's sojourn in Caracas we felt the Spiritus movendi again upon us, urging us onward, we knew not whither. We were under the spell of what the Germans so aptly call the Wanderlust and it did not make much difference what direction we took so long as the road we traveled enabled us to enjoy new scenes and visit peoples whose manners and customs were different from our own.

Having thoroughly rested and recuperated the strength we so much needed, we felt that we should like to take a trip to the Orinoco, in order that we might have an opportunity of studying the fauna and flora of its wonderful valley and of meeting some of the many Indian tribes that rove through its forests. In spite of all our efforts, however, we could find no one who could give us any satisfactory information about the best means of reaching the river or the time that would be required to make the journey. We consulted government officials and merchants that had business relations along the Orinoco, but their information was vague and contradictory.

We purposed going first to San Fernando de Apure, on an affluent of the Orinoco, and thence by water to Ciudad Bolivar and the Port-of-Spain. We were told that there were steamers plying between San Fernando and Ciudad Bolivar--the chief city on the Orinoco--during the wet season, our summer, but not during the dry season, our winter. That meant that if we went to San Fernando we should be obliged to use a canoe to reach Ciudad Bolivar, and this implied a long, tiresome, and somewhat dangerous voyage under a burning sun and in what we were assured was a malarious region. The time necessary to reach the river on horseback varied, according to our informants, from one to two weeks. One well known general, it was stated, had by an extraordinary tour de force made the trip the preceding year in four days. Some assured us we could go by carriage the entire distance. Others were equally positive that there was nothing more than a trail connecting the points we wished to visit, and that mules would be better than horses for such a journey. Outside of one or two small towns, there were no hotels along the route. But this did not matter. We had our camping outfit with us, and rather preferred to live in our tent to risking our night's rest in such uninviting posadas--lodging houses--as we should meet with in the way.

Finding that we could not get in Caracas the information we desired, we resolved to go to Victoria, an interesting town southwest of the capital, and accessible by rail in a few hours. But our success in Victoria was no better than it had been in Caracas. In spite of all our efforts we could elicit no information that would warrant us in starting on so long a journey as that to the Orinoco, and one that might involve many hardships and dangers without adequate compensation.

Yet, notwithstanding our ill success so far, we did not for a moment think of abandoning our contemplated trip to the valley of the Orinoco. Far from it. The more we thought of it the more fascinating the project became. Now that we had gone so far, we were determined to see the famous river at all hazards. If we could not reach it by one route we would go by another. We accordingly concluded to continue our journey by rail to Puerto Cabello, and thence go by steamer to Trinidad. Once there, we felt reasonably sure we should find some means of attaining our goal--the grassy plains and vast forests of the Orinoco basin. As proved by subsequent events, it was for us a most fortunate occurrence that we did not adhere to our original plan of reaching the Orinoco by San Fernando de Apure, as our change of programme enabled us to see far more of South America and under more favorable auspices, than we had before deemed possible.

Instead of going directly to Puerto Cabello, we spent a week at the quiet old city of Valencia, Nueva Valencia del Rey, as it was originally called, and which, according to the Valencianos, should be the capital of the republic. It was begun in 1555, by Alonzo Diaz Moreno, twelve years before Santiago de Leon de Caracas--the original name of the capital--was founded by Diego de Losada. As a matter of fact, Valencia was designated as the capital of Venezuela at the time of the revolt against Spain, and congress was actually in session there at the time Caracas was destroyed by an earthquake in 1812. Five years after its foundation, Valencia was captured by the infamous Lopez de Aguirre and his sanguinary band, who treated its inhabitants with the greatest atrocity. Near by, on the plains of Carabobo, was fought the decisive victory which resulted in Venezuelan independence. [37]

As a port of entry, Puerto Cabello is incomparably superior to La Guayra, and has one of the finest harbors on the Caribbean. The climate, however, is far from salubrious. Situated, as it is, in low, marshy ground, surrounded by countless pools of stagnant water, it is not surprising to find that malarial fevers are prevalent here, and that El vómito--yellow fever--is a frequent visitant. The "nymphs that reign o'er sewers and sinks" can here count more fetid effluvia and putrefactive ferments than in any place we had so far seen in Venezuela.

THE PEARL COAST

A most delightful voyage was ours from Puerto Cabello to the Port-of-Spain, the capital of Trinidad. The sea was as placid as an inland lake on a windless day, and the air as balmy as in a morning of June. The coast of the mainland was nearly always in sight, and at times the peaks of the Coast Range rose far above the fleecy clouds that encircled their lofty flanks. The days were beautiful but the nights were glorious. All our youthful dreams about the delights of sailing on southern seas, amid emerald isles, and under bright starlit skies, where soft spice-scented zephyrs blow, were here realized. The serenity and transparency of the azure vault of heaven, with its countless shooting stars, had their counterpart in the smooth, unruffled Caribbean, to whose water millions of Noctilucæ imparted a phosphorescent glow which rivaled that of molten gold. We were at last in the favored home of the chambered nautilus, happily, dreamily gliding along on an even keel

"In gulfs enchanted, where the siren sings,
And coral reefs lie bare,
Where the cold sea-maids rise from crystal springs
To sun their streaming hair."

Yes, we were skirting along the Pearl Coast, [38] celebrated in legend and story--darkened by deeds of barbarous cruelty and resplendent in records of heroic achievement. I shall not tell of our second visit to La Guayra and of the day we spent at Macuto or describe the present conditions of the historic old towns of Barcelona, Cumana and Carupano, which lay on our course. Much might be said of all these places, distinguished, since their foundation, both in peace and war.

I cannot, however, pass this part of the Pearl Coast without recalling the fact that it was near Cumana that the earliest settlements in Venezuela were effected and that here it was that one of the first--if not the first--permanent colonies on the mainland of the New World was established. Columbus, during his fourth voyage, attempted to make a settlement in Veragua, that might serve as a base of future operations, but the attempt resulted in complete failure. Similar efforts had been made by Alonso de Ojeda and others, but without lasting results. Panama was not founded until 1516 or 1517. Nombre de Dios, it is true, was founded somewhat earlier, but in the beginning was little more than a blockhouse. But here, as early in 1514, on the Rio Manzanares, then the River Cumana, only "a cross-bow-shot" from the shore, the zealous Sons of St. Francis had erected a monastery, and a short time subsequently the Dominicans established another monastery, not far distant, at Santa Fe de Chiribichi. Here they gathered the simple children of the forest around them, and soon had the beginnings of flourishing missions. [39] The trusting and unspoiled Indians welcomed these apostles of the gospel of peace and love, and soon learned to regard them as friends and fathers. So peaceful did all this land become under the influence of the benign teaching of the gentle friars, that, according to Oviedo and Las Casas, a Christian trader could go alone anywhere without ever being molested. [40]

It was to the Pearl Coast that Las Casas came, after he found, by sad experience, that his efforts in behalf of the Indians in Cuba, Española and Puerto Rico were frustrated by influences he was unable to control. It was here, aided by Franciscans and Dominicans, who had preceded him by only a few years, that he purposed laying the corner stone of that vast Indian commonwealth, for which he had secured letters patent from Charles V.

For this great experiment in colonization, the greatest the world has ever known, he had received a grant of land extending from Paria to Santa Marta, and from the Caribbean Sea to Peru. In his colossal undertaking he planned to have the coöperation of an order of knights--the Knights of the Golden Spur--specially created to aid him in the work of civilizing and christianizing the Indians. It was his dream to bring within the fold of the Church all the Indians of Central and South America, and to establish for their behoof and benefit an ideal Christian state such as a century and a half later was realized in the fertile basins of the Parana and Paraguay. [41]

If the noble philanthropist had been properly supported by the rich and the powerful, the entire course of subsequent events in South America would have been altered, and the historian would have been spared the task of penning those dark annals of injustice and iniquity which, for long centuries, were such a foul blot on humanity. But from the time he set foot on the Pearl Coast, in pursuance of his noble plan, he found himself beset by untold difficulties, and his designs thwarted at every turn, and that, too, by his own countrymen. Blinded by lust of gold and pleasure, they left nothing undone to insure the failure of his project, and in the end succeeded in their nefarious purpose.

Abandoned by those on whose coöperation he fully relied, he was, in its very inception, forced to relinquish his heroic enterprise, and return to Española. Discomfited and heartsick, but not crushed, he sought an asylum in the monastery of Santo Domingo. There for eight years he devoted himself to prayer and study, and, true Christian athlete that he was, he was always preparing himself for a final struggle in a new arena. When his enemies least expected it, he came forth from his retirement, and, clad in the habit of a Dominican, proclaimed himself again the champion of the downtrodden Indian. And from that moment until the day of his death, at the advanced age of ninety-two, whether as a simple monk or as the bishop of Chiapa, [42] his voice was always raised in behalf of the children of the forest, and against their enslavement by cruel, soulless seekers after fortune. [43]

He was, if not the first, the world's greatest abolitionist, and if there are still many millions of red men in the New World to-day who have escaped the bond of servitude, it is mainly due to their illustrious protector, Bartolomé de Las Casas. [44]

THE PEARL ISLANDS

Within sight of the land where Las Casas went to lay the first foundation-stone of his ideal commonwealth is a group of islands which had a special claim on our attention--islands which, during four centuries, have been the scene of many a romance and have been stained, no one can tell how often, by the blood of tragedy.

These islands are Coche, Cubagua and Margarita. They were discovered by Columbus during his third voyage, and the larger of the two was called Margarita--pearl--from the number and beauty of the pearls found in the waters that wash its shore. Even before he had left the Gulf of Paria, between Trinidad and the mainland, he had observed that the aborigines of Tierra Firme were decked with bracelets and necklaces of pearl, and soon discovered, to his great satisfaction, that these much-prized gems could be obtained in great abundance, and that many of them were of extraordinary size and beauty. Peter Martyr, as translated by Eden, tells us, "Many of these pearls were as bygge as hasellnuttes, and oriente (as we caule it), that is lyke unto them of the Easte partes." [45] During the first third of the sixteenth century the value of the pearls sent to Europe was equal to nearly one-half of the output of all the mines in America. [46] In one year--1587--after the pearl fisheries of the Gulf of Panama had been discovered, nearly seven hundred pounds weight of pearls was sent to the markets of Europe, some of them rivaling in beauty of sheen and perfection of form the rarest gems ever found in the waters of Persia or Ceylon. It was from these fisheries of the New World that Philip II obtained the famous pearl, weighing two hundred and fifty carats, of the size and shape of a pigeon's egg, mentioned by the early chroniclers.

So great was the commercial activity among these little islands, especially in Cubagua, that the Spaniards built a town there, which they called New Cadiz, although the site chosen was without water, and so sterile that the Indians had never lived on it. Toward the end of the sixteenth century the pearl fishery in these parts diminished rapidly, and in the early part of the century following, the industry, according to Laet, had died out altogether, and the islands of Coche and Cubagua fell into oblivion. But while it lasted, sad to say, it meant untold misery for the thousands of Indian and Negro slaves who were forced, at the sacrifice of their health and often of their lives, to enrich their cruel masters by work that was almost as fatal as that in the mines of Española.

For more than two hundred years the pearl fisheries in the waters around these islands were practically abandoned. Even during the last century comparatively little work was done to develop an industry that, during the sixteenth century, contributed so much to the coffers of Spain. About the year 1900, however, a French company secured a concession from Venezuela to fish in the neighborhood of these islands. According to agreement, it is to pay the government ten per cent. royalty, and to employ divers and diving apparatus so as to select only the larger oysters and avoid the destruction of those that are immature.

From the estimates available, about $600,000 worth of pearls are annually sent to the Paris market from Margarita. While a large proportion of them are cracked and of poor color, there are, nevertheless, many of the finest orient, and these find ready purchasers. As for ourselves, we saw few of large size, and none of great value. Even in Caracas, where we made diligent inquiry about them, we did not find a single one from these waters that would attract attention for either size or lustre. [47]

The weather could not have been more delightful than it was during our all too brief cruise among these islands around which at one time, as has been truly remarked, "all the wonder, all the pity and all the greed of the age had concentrated itself." They are now shorn of all their former glory, and there is little to indicate their pristine importance. They are practically deserted, with the exception of Margarita, which, on account of the arid and unproductive soil, is but sparsely inhabited. And yet, as they lay clustered there on the calm bosom of the Caribbean, without a ripple to disturb its mirror-like surface, they possessed a certain undefinable beauty that defied analysis. Besides, there was still hovering over and around them the glamour of days long past, when they were visited for the first time by the great Admiral of the Ocean Sea, and later on, by Cristobal Guerra and Alonzo Niño, and by Francisco Orellana, after his memorable voyage down the Amazon.

The sun was sloping down to his ocean bed--the air was glimmering with a mellow light, as we drifted from these waters over which Merlin seemed to wave his enchanting wand. As the orb of day touched the distant horizon, and sank into the crimson mist that floated above the placid sea, it assumed strange oval and pear-shaped figures that grew larger in their waning splendor. The rainbow hues that steeped in molten lustre the receding shores seemed to float on clouds from spirit-land.

A scene it was to swell the tamest bosom, a fairy realm where Fancy would

"Bid the blue Tritons sound their twisted shells,
And call the Nereids from their pearly cells."

Below us, beneath the dark depths of the crystal sea, illumined by the lamps of the sea-nymphs, were living flower beds of coral, the blooms and the palms of the ocean recesses, where the pearl lies hid, and caves where the gem is sleeping, the gardens, fair and bewildering in their richness and beauty, of Nereus and Amphitrite. It was indeed such a scene as the poet has painted for us in these charming verses:--

"Wherever you wander the sea is in sight,
With its changeable turquoise green and blue,
And its strange transparence of limpid light.
You can watch the work that the Nereids do
Down, down, where their purple fans unfurl,
Planting their coral and sowing their pearl."