The Project Gutenberg eBook of Chile today and tomorrow
This ebook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and
most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions
whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms
of the Project Gutenberg License included with this ebook or online
at www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States,
you will have to check the laws of the country where you are located
before using this eBook.
Title: Chile today and tomorrow
Author: L. E. Elliott Joyce
Release date: October 6, 2024 [eBook #74531]
Language: English
Original publication: New York: The Macmillan Company
Credits: Richard Tonsing and The Online Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This book was produced from images made available by the HathiTrust Digital Library.)
*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK CHILE TODAY AND TOMORROW ***
CHILE
TODAY AND TOMORROW
[Illustration: [Logo]]
THE MACMILLAN COMPANY
NEW YORK · BOSTON · CHICAGO · DALLAS · ATLANTA · SAN FRANCISCO
MACMILLAN & CO., LIMITED
LONDON · BOMBAY · CALCUTTA · MELBOURNE
THE MACMILLAN CO. OF CANADA, LTD.
TORONTO
[Illustration: Lake Llanquihue, South Chile.]
CHILE
TODAY AND TOMORROW
BY
L. E. ELLIOTT
AUTHOR OF “BRAZIL: TODAY AND TOMORROW,” “BLACK GOLD,” ETC.
=New York=
THE MACMILLAN COMPANY
1922
_All rights reserved_
PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA
COPYRIGHT, 1922,
BY THE MACMILLAN COMPANY
Set up and printed. Published October, 1922.
Press of J. J. Little & Ives Company
New York
CONTENTS
CHAPTER I
PAGE
CHILE, TODAY AND TOMORROW 1
Physical Characteristics—North, South, and Central
Chile—Brilliant Hues—Climate—Wet and Dry Seasons—Social
Problems—Far-flung Cities—Formation of Character—Animals and
Plants.
CHAPTER II
CHILEAN HISTORY 20
Inca Rule and Native Chiefs—Spanish Colonial Period—The Fight
for Independence—Republican Chile.
CHAPTER III
STRANGERS ON THE PACIFIC COAST 72
Drake and the _Golden Hind_—Thomas Cavendish—The Narborough
Expedition—Sharp and Dampier—Captain Betagh—The Loss of the
_Wager_—Juan and Ulloa—Resident Foreigners—Strangers and
Independence.
CHAPTER IV
THE INQUISITION IN CHILE 106
Escobar—Aguirre—Sarmiento—European Corsairs—Decay of Power.
CHAPTER V
THE STRAIT OF MAGELLAN 116
The First Navigators: Magellan, Sebastian del Cano, Loaysa,
Alcazaba—Sarmiento—The City of Philip—Cavendish—Port Famine
and Punta Arenas.
CHAPTER VI
THE TACNA QUESTION 135
The Storm Centre—Indeterminate Position of Tacna—Peru and
Chile—Boundary Problem—Guano and Nitrate—The War of
1879—Treaties—Appeal to the League of Nations—Discussions at
Washington.
CHAPTER VII
MINING 150
The Nitrate Industry—Copper—Iron—Gold and
Silver—Coal—Petroleum—Borax, Sulphur, Manganese, etc.
CHAPTER VIII
AGRICULTURE 199
Area under Cultivation—Oases in the Desert—Farming in Central
Chile—Vineyards—Wheatfields, Orchards and
Sheepfarms—Irrigation Canals.
CHAPTER IX
FOREST AND WOODLAND 220
Extent—Beech, Conifer and Bamboo—Trees in Northern and Central
Chile—Plantations.
CHAPTER X
COMMERCE 226
Home Factories—Chilean Market Needs—Sales to Foreign
Countries—Foreign Firms in Chile—Trade-marks.
CHAPTER XI
TRANSPORT SYSTEMS 243
Railroads—The Transandine Line—Sea Transport—Rivers and
Lakes—Roads.
CHAPTER XII
FINANCE 272
Conversion Fund—Currency—Debts—Public Revenues.
CHAPTER XIII
CHILE’S NAVAL POSITION 283
Chile and the World War—Strength of the Chilean Navy—The Army.
CHAPTER XIV
IMMIGRATION 291
The First Immigrants of the South—Araucanian Lands.
CHAPTER XV
CHILEAN LITERATURE 298
Conditions of Authorship—Historians—Politicians, Engineers and
Novelists—The Society Novel—Realistic School—Poets.
CHAPTER XVI
NATIVE RACES OF CHILE 309
Inca Control—Racial Divisions—The Southern
Tribes—Araucanians—Race Mixture—Archæology.
CHAPTER XVII
EASTER ISLAND 322
A Lost Culture—Fate of the Islanders—The Statues—The Bird
Cult—Wooden Carvings.
CHAPTER XVIII
A NOTE UPON VITAL STATISTICS 333
Provinces and Population of Chile—Chilean Terms.
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS
_Frontispiece_ Lake Llanquihue, South Chile
_Maps_ (at end of volume) Political Map of Chile
„ Railway Map of Chile
_Facing
page_
Lake Todos los Santos 4
Balmaceda Glacier 6
Volcano San Pablo. Desert in Atacama Province. In Northern
Antofagasta Province. The River Loa in the Dry Season 8
In the Strait of Magellan 10
Santa Lucia Hill, Santiago. Parque Forestal, Santiago.
Municipal Offices, Santiago 12
Viña del Mar, Valparaiso’s Residential Suburb. Valparaiso
Street, Viña del Mar. Race Course, Viña del Mar. Mira-Mar
Beach, Viña del Mar 18
_Reproductions from Gay’s “History of Chile”_: Más a Tierra
(Juan Fernández Group) Island in the 18th Century.
Capturing Condors in the Chilean Andes. O’Higgins’
Parliament with the Araucanian Indians, March, 1793.
Guanacos on the Edge of Laja Lake 42
In the Chilean Andes. A Chilean Glacier, Central Region. Rio
Blanco Valley, above Los Andes 52
San Juan Bautista, Village of Cumberland Bay, Más a Tierra
Island (Juan Fernández Group), 400 Miles West of
Valparaiso. The Plain of Calavera, Chilean Andes 66
Last Hope Inlet (Ultima Esperanza). Channel in the Territory of
Magellanes 94
Balmaceda Glacier, South Chile. In Smyth Channel, heading North
from Magellan Strait 124
The Nitrate Pampa: Opening up Trench after Blasting. General
View of Nitrate and Iodine Plant 152
Antofagasta. The Nitrate Wharves 174
Sewell Camp at Night. Sewell (El Teniente Copper Mines) near
Rancagua 178
Sewell in the Snows of June. Railway between Rancagua and El
Teniente 182
Curanilahue Coal Mine, Arauco Province. Dulcinea Copper Mine,
Copiapó Province. Chuquicamata Copper Mines, Antofagasta
Province 196
At Constitución, South of Santiago. San Cristobal Hill and
Parque Forestal, Santiago. Malleco Bridge, near Collipulli 228
The Post Office, Santiago. Santiago, with the Snow-capped Andes
in the Eastern Distance. Subercaseaux Palace, Santiago 242
On the Chilean Transandine Railway. Laguna del Portillo: near
the Transandine line. Santa Rosa de los Andes, Chilean
Terminus of the Transandine Railway 256
Coquimbo, the “Capital of North Chile.” Ancud, the Port of
Chiloé Island. Zapallar, a beautiful Chilean Watering Place 260
Taltal, a Nitrate Port of North Chile. Puerto Corral, the Port
of Valdivia, South Chile 264
Valdivia, a Flourishing New Southern City. Punta Arenas, the
Southernmost City in the World. Puerto Varas, facing Calbuco
Volcano, Lake Llanquihue 292
Araucanian Indian, spinning. Note the solid wooden wheel of the
country cart. Araucanian Mother and Child. The
hide-and-wood cradle is slung upon the woman’s back when
she goes outside the hut 318
CHILE
TODAY AND TOMORROW
CHAPTER I
_Physical Characteristics.—North, South, and Central Chile.—Brilliant
Hues.—Climate.—Wet and Dry Seasons.—Social Problems.—Far-flung
Cities.—Formation of Character.—Animals and Plants._
Chile is a ribbon of a country, an emerald and gold strip stretched
between the snow-crowned wall of the Andes and the blue waters of the
Pacific.
This ribbon is up-tilted all along its western edge to form the coastal
range defending the long central valley. It is lightly creased
transversely where, from east to west, streams fed with snow-water drain
down from the Andean peaks. Below the fortieth degree of south latitude
the ribbon is twisted and ragged, with the tilted edge half sunk in
stormy waters. Thirty times as long as it is wide, Chilean territory
runs from the seventeenth to the fifty-sixth degree of south latitude,
for, with a Pacific coast measuring nearly three thousand miles the
average breadth is no more than ninety. It is a land of extreme
contrasts; of great violence, of great serenity: but whether harsh or
smiling, Chile is a stimulating, a promising land holding the mind and
the heart. It is a breeder of men and women of forcible character.
To the north lie the tawny and burning deserts where not so much as a
blade of grass grows without artificial help, where no rain falls, year
after year, where every form of life is an alien thing. In the south are
broken, rocky islands and inlets, matted forests of evergreen trees with
their feet in eternal swamps, of furious gales and cruel seas, where
turquoise glaciers creep into the dark fiords. Eastward stands the great
barrier of the Andes, snow-covered for half the year, with proud peaks
rising at least eight thousand feet higher than the head of Mont Blanc.
To the west, Chile looks out upon a waste of waters, with New Zealand as
the nearest great country.
Shut in or defended by these barriers from each point of the compass, it
is plain that Chile has had no sisters closely pressing upon her
threshold. One might reasonably expect to find here a race possessing
characteristics in common with island folk, a homogeneous people with a
distinct nationality. Today, when all natural barriers have been
overthrown by mechanical transport, no nation escapes exterior
influence, but the Chilean does certainly retain the islander’s
self-contained habit, physical hardihood, and power of assimilating
rather than yielding to aliens. I do not think that the modern Chilean
owes his traits so much to inheritance from the Araucanian as to the
fact that he has been nurtured in the same cradle, for, without doubt,
here is a personality and attitude of mind that distinguishes the man of
Chile from his continental brothers.
Between the forbidding lands of the extreme north and far south and the
frontiers of mountain and sea, lies fertile Chile—fruitful, gentle,
brisk, well-watered. Nitrate and copper have their great populated
camps, but they are artificial towns; the Magellanic city of Punta
Arenas has a firmer root, but both north and south are new, and have
received rather than produced. The Central Valley of Chile is the great
garden of South America, one of the most enchantingly lovely, the most
frankly friendly, regions in all the world.
It seems as though nature had deliberately tried to compensate here for
the arid and the stormy end of the belt by showering beauty upon the
intervening strip. There is none of that strange illusory quality, the
sense of living in a mirage, that attends upon tropical regions. Central
Chile is fresh, dewy-bright, with the familiar sweetness of the
temperate zones of western Europe. Here are fine cattle, sheep and
horses, pleasant orchards of pears and plums and apples; olive groves
and grapevines; the long green lines of wheat fields, the spires of the
poplars, the blackberry hedges edged with gorse and bracken and
purple-headed thistles, are all familiar. The stock of the farms, every
kind of crop—except those invaluable American contributions to the
world’s list of foods, maize and potatoes—were introduced from overseas,
but they have long been absorbed into the economic life of Chile. If the
visitor is lulled into forgetfulness of his real milieu by the sight of
neat wooden fences, by the bramble-bordered and fern-edged lane, he is
recalled by the sudden glimpse of a shining white cone suspended in the
transparent air, the snowy head of a far volcano. Or he may see in the
thicket beside the road a trail of copihue with its bright rosy bell, or
note that the farmer, ruddy-cheeked and bright-eyed, riding a fine horse
along a deep muddy road, wears a gay poncho and a pair of enormous
silver spurs.
It is the Chilean south that has brought to the Pacific Coast its fame
as a land of beautiful pictures. Before Puerto Montt is reached, the
edge of Lake Llanquihue is skirted by the railway, and the sight of this
splendid sheet of water is an introduction to the wild and lovely
scenery that was still unknown fifty years ago. The mountain and lake
regions of Chile have even yet not been thoroughly explored, and that so
much of this magnificent territory has been charted is partly due to the
ancient uncertainty of exact boundary limits with Argentina, and, after
long negotiations, the surveying work of Holdich at the head of the
commission of 1898, reporting to King Edward VII as arbitrator. Between
Chile and Argentina lies a series of exquisite lakes, many lying in old
volcano cups. There is no more lovely body of fresh water in the world
than Todos los Santos, with emerald heights rising clear from the mirror
of the water; Rupanco, Riñihue, Ranco, and Viedma are beads upon a
splendid chain of fine waters.
Chile is a land of brilliant hues. The dark waters, shouldered by
tree-clothed mountains, of the Strait of Magellan, reflect yellow and
russet leaf-changes as bright as in the maple woods of Canada. Blue
glaciers, pure snow heads and the delicate green of fern brakes are
contrasted with the crimson of wild fuchsias and the mass of glorious
bloom of apple and cherry orchards. Farther north, where poplars stand
like tall flames against the background of the hills in the Chilean
autumn, and the willows line the rivers with gold, all is soft and
glowing; but beyond the northern limits of vegetation where nothing
meets the eye but masses of orange mountains that seem like glowing
draperies hung against the unchanging blue sky, there is an
extraordinary clarity of line and tint.
When the sun descends, quick flushes of pink and yellow, sheets of pale
green and violet, flood the burning desert and the deeply scored
heights; there is no movement, no sound, and yet the wide scene appears
instinct with life, to move beneath the waves of pure light.
[Illustration: Lake Todos los Santos.]
Every smallest thread of water is here edged with a lush growth of
bright emerald plants, every bush is a mass of orange or purple flowers.
And in the settled spots there is grace in every tree, a picturesque
quality in each little thatched hut by the wayside, an insouciance that
lends charm to ’dobe walls and maize patches. The beauty and the
kindliness of Chile are, in fact, apt to destroy one’s critical
faculties.
The weather in Chile may be called extremely obvious. It is impossible
to ignore it, as in some other countries, despite the situation of the
greater part of Chilean territory within the temperate zone. The
remarkable topographical conditions of this strip force each
barometrical change upon the attention.
In the rainless north, modifications are chiefly confined to the effects
of the curious sea-mist, the _camanchaca_, spreading over some parts of
the pampas to fifty miles inland; appearing about six in the evening,
these fogs screen the coast and promptly lower the temperature, so,
that, scorching at midday, one shivers under blankets at night. In the
extreme south, among the islands and channels of the Magellanic region,
boisterous seas and violent winds, cold and rain, made it the terror of
sailors for three hundred years. The prevailing weather displays traits
almost as unvarying as in the sharply contrasted north. Fine and calm
days are rarities, although the climate is certainly not unhealthy, as
Punta Arenas demonstrates.
But it is in the central region lying between Coquimbo and Valdivia that
changes of weather have the most spectacular effect. In the valleys of
the Aconcagua, the Mapocho, the Maule and the Bio-Bio we have perhaps
the most striking results when the rainy season begins, usually towards
the end of April. In the lowlands a blinding deluge descends that
promptly clears town streets of pedestrians and frequently reduces cabs
and street cars to temporary inactivity, while every country path and
highway is transformed by a few hours’ rain into a deep morass. But
whenever it rains in the central Chilean valleys snow is falling upon
the Andean heights, and presently the eyes that for months have glanced
with the indifference of custom at the far-distant, blue-shrouded, tawny
mountains are astonished with a vision of giant peaks and shoulders that
seem to have made an immense stride forward to the edge of the next
field, their serene magnificence covered with shining white.
The effect upon the foothills is no less striking. During the last
months of the dry season—enduring in the vineyard regions for some eight
months—every inch of ground that is not artificially irrigated has taken
on a uniform sandy hue. The whole earth is parched and the roads are a
foot deep in dust. But within a week of the first rain a shimmering veil
of light green tinges the land; in ten days every knoll and hillside has
its carpet of young grass, and in a month the whole face of the country
is changed, awakened, brilliant, bursting out with sturdy fertility.
Such rivers as the Aconcagua and the Mapocho, dwindled to rippling
threads among the wide stone-strewn beds, are changed in a night to
raging torrents, fed from the sides of the mountains. More than once
these silver streams have swept from their shallow banks, torn down
protecting barriers, and done serious material damage, besides changing
their courses—a matter of great import in regions where water-rights are
the chief causes of quarrel among farmers.
[Illustration: Balmaceda Glacier.]
With the setting in of the definite dry season at the beginning of
September, the upper part of Central Chile thenceforth forgets the sound
of rain for over half a year. Bright blue skies and unrelenting midday
heat are almost unchanged; the watered country is a series of orchards,
and the famous big black grapes, the peaches and plums and apples of
Central Chile, succeed the strawberry crops. Chile in the early part of
the dry season is a garden of flowers, and the fruitripening at the end
of the year fills the valleys with busy scenes. There are thousands of
workers in the orchards, grain fields and vineyards, and the
heavywheeled ox-carts send up swirling masses of dust in every lane.
Before the New Year the snow has melted under the summer sun from almost
every part of the Cordilleras, although I have seen it linger in deep
folds of Aconcagua and Tupungato until late February. Down south in
Magellanic territory the permanent snow line comes down to a couple of
thousand feet above sea level, and cold weather is the rule. The squalls
of the Strait are generally rain-laden.
Aconcagua, highest peak of South America, is not actually a Chilean
mountain, lying just across the Argentine frontier; but it is so
familiar a feature of Central Chile that it is constantly annexed in
thought. Mercedario, another magnificent height, also just escapes the
boundary line. Beautiful Tupungato, 21,300 ft., is outclassed among
Chilean peaks, as regards altitude, by Tocorpuri and Llullaico farther
north, and is closely rivalled by a number of less famous
mountains—Socompa, Baya, San Pedro and San Pablo, Peña Blanco, San
Francisco, Muerto, Solo, Salado, Tres Cruces and Toro; below Central
Chile the average height of the crests of the great volcanic wall drops
from fifteen to nine thousand feet, but even such comparatively modest
peaks as Osorno, Llaima, Calbuco, Lonquimay, Villa Rica, and the most
southerly Paine, Burney, Balmaceda and Sarmiento, are striking and
dignified with their snow crowns.
The long dry season of Mid Chile, and the violence of rains in the wet
months, render the construction of permanent roads a task necessitating
immense outlay. Chile has 35,000 kilometres of highroads, but reckons
only a few thousand kilometres in first-class condition: a recent Road
Law aims at a reform of vital importance to the Chilean farmer. But if
roads are scarce, Chile has an excellent system of railways, serving the
main length of her territory, connecting with all exporting points along
the coast, and linking Valparaiso to Buenos Aires. The adequate
equipment of ports—of which there are sixty, important or embryo—has
always presented difficulties, owing to the shallow character of almost
every indentation, with the notable exception of Talcahuano, and the
prevalence of heavy ground swells and strong gales from the north and
the southwest.
The social problems of Chile are no more and no less than the problems
of any other country of the temperate zone inhabited by a progressive
white population. The difficulties of adequate transport to serve her
growing industrial and farming regions; questions regarding a large
working population crowded into great mining camps; political and
educational problems, are all hers: but she is aided towards solution by
the homogeneity of her hardy race.
Chile has no “black” or “yellow” population. There are in the country
only four African Negroes, and the foreigners resident are mainly
Western Europeans and the nationals of sister states. Peruvians, prior
to the friction of 1920, formed 20 per cent of the foreign population;
Bolivians number 22,000 or 16 per cent; there are 20,000 Spaniards,
about 13 per cent; Germans, 11,000, or 8 per cent; French, 10,000;
British, 10,000; Italians, 13,000; Swiss, 2000; North Americans, 1000;
Chinese, 2000; Argentines, 7000.
[Illustration: Volcano San Pablo, on the Bolivian Border of Chile.]
[Illustration: In Northern Antofagasta Province.]
[Illustration: Desert in Atacama Province.]
[Illustration: The River Loa in the Dry Season.]
The various foreign elements are lost among Chile’s four million
native-born, and the majority of all newcomers remain in the country and
are presently added to the Chilean stock. There has never been,
fortunately for the country, any influx of unassimilable races; and
while there is plenty of room for a large population, increase is more
certain when it is from the inside rather than superimposed.
Chile has, in fact, enjoyed all the advantages of being known as a poor
country for many generations; there have been no periods of delirious
boom or extravagance, she has been comparatively little exploited, owes
comparatively little to the outside world, and has developed her soul
with a certain leisure.
Politically, she has been equally lucky. Most of her rulers have been
wise and cultivated men of high probity. The unhappy Balmaceda, against
whom was fomented the solitary revolt in Chile since she settled down to
work after Independence, bears a name that is today revered throughout
the country, with no accusation affecting his integrity. No Governor or
President of Chile has been assassinated during the whole history of the
country, before or since the close of the Spanish colonial régime.
The genuine exercise of the vote, and the temperamental cheerfulness and
sanity of the Chilean, have saved the country from many miseries
suffered by less unified lands.
Two special causes of the general level-headedness and sobriety of the
Chilean are, first, the strong position of women in family life, and
next the high standard of education. Education provides a channel
through which youth can flow, and here, where state elementary schools
are spread throughout the country to the number of 3000, with 1000
private and secondary schools, every boy and girl has a chance. The
Chilean Government has long followed a policy of sending a number of the
brightest students of the high schools and universities abroad for final
courses in languages and science, and for this reason is less dependent
than the majority of young countries upon the exterior world for
engineers, chemists and teachers.
The fine prosperous cities of Chile possess, of course, all the
equipment, all the luxury and grace, of modern cities all over the
world. If one were to shut out the background of snow-crowned mountains,
and happened to be out of sight of such streets as retain Spanish
balconies and tiled roofs, one might imagine many a district of Santiago
to be a part of a first-class French or English city. The tramways, the
common use of motor cars and electricity, the good paving and good
shops, the beauty and fashion of the Chilean women, the beautifully
built and equipped houses, the good restaurants, the plentiful supply of
newspapers, the appearance and avocations of the people, render
Valparaiso and the Chilean capital among the front-rank cities of the
world.
But Chilean cities vary greatly. In the central region is the great
group of centres of Spanish foundation, those of the extreme north
showing faces, for the most part, as youthful as those of Western
Patagonia or Punta Arenas on the Strait of Magellan. Temuco, built after
the final breaking-down of the Araucanian frontier, dates as a modern
town only from 1881. Old Tarata, in the still disputed Province of
Tacna, dreaming with its back to the hills and face to the desert, is a
link with the past, for although it is away from the traffic stream
today it was once a stopping-place on the direct Inca route between
Potosí and Arica on the Pacific; Tacna owes its modern existence to its
little railway; but Arica is newly alive, a busy port in a bower of gay
flowers, a garden on the edge of a waste.
[Illustration: In the Strait of Magellan.]
South of Arica lies a fringe of new nitrate towns along the sea-border
of the _pampas salitreras_; Pisagua, Junin, Iquique (not long ago the
greatest exporter of nitrate, but yielding pride of place to
Antofagasta), Caleta Buena, Tocopilla, Mejillones, also overshadowed
today by her younger sister, big, well-served, thriving Antofagasta;
Coloso, Paposo, Taltal—all lie baking in the bright aridity of the
rainless belt, precariously supplied with food and water from afar.
Inland there are no populations more permanent than those of the nitrate
_oficinas_, save here and there along the beds of snow-fed streams. Next
in order from north to south comes the string of copper ports, with
interior towns beginning to appear as the edge of the permanently
fertile lands is reached. Chañaral, Caldera, Carrizal, points where the
famous “Chile bars” of copper were smelted and shipped overseas; inland
Copiapó, dependent for wealth upon copper and silver mines, but clothed
with all the charm of a cloveredged oasis in the desert; the houses are
built low for fear of earthquakes, roofed with red tiles and washed pink
and blue; the gardens are full of scented flowers. Another oasis is
Vallenar, set in the Atacama desert beside its violet-shadowed ravine
and surrounded with a little ring of jade fields.
Still farther south, Coquimbo, a newer, busy little city, sweetly placed
upon its beautiful curving bay a mile or two from its Spanish-built,
slumbering elder sister La Serena. From this point southward the towns
lie closer together, and eastward along each fertile valley are clusters
of fine fruit farms with dependent villages, filling the railway cars
with figs and peaches, grapes and apricots; but where water fails, scrub
and cactus deny a living. Here is old Combarbalá, there Illapel with its
town-long avenue of orange trees hung with golden globes; Santa Rosa de
los Andes, highroad to the chief mountain crossing; and a number of
centres of the lovely grape country, younger sisters of San Felipe.
Santiago, spread beneath her two famous hills, Santa Lucia and San
Cristobal; Valparaiso, risen from the earthquake of 1906, solidly built
on its narrow stretch of sand beneath the thousand-foot cliffs, crowned
with new dwellings and reached by electric lifts, an energetic and
wealthy port with its brilliant suburb, Viña del Mar. Beyond these great
twin centres of movement lies all the fast-developing agricultural and
manufacturing south—Talca, a rapid and promising growth; dusty Rancagua,
looking towards the big interior copper camp; Chillán, head of a great
fruit region; Concepción, most agreeable of cities, nestled beside the
bright Bio-Bio in a bower of woods, with its fine port, Talcahuano; the
coal-mining sea-border towns, Coronel, Lota, Arauco, Lebu; Temuco, one
of the most prosperous of all the vigorous young southern towns, placed
in wonderfully productive country; handsome Valdivia, facing a
factory-covered island on the fine river flowing to Corral port, justly
proud of its equipment and buildings; Osorno, a rising centre of
industry; Puerto Montt, still in its youth but with good reasons for
sturdy growth. And last of all, Punta Arenas, the visibly growing city,
fine buildings shouldering little shacks, looking away from the
beech-covered hills of Brunswick Peninsula towards the pearly distance
of the Polar seas; Punta Arenas is not only a new city of Yugo-Slav and
Scots millionaires, of the tributary sheep-raising country: it is the
commercial key of Chile’s Far South.
[Illustration: Santa Lucia Hill, Santiago.]
[Illustration: Parque Forestal, Santiago.]
[Illustration: Municipal Offices, Santiago.]
The majority of these towns are more than convenient centres for
crowding populations; they owe their existence to special and widely
divergent causes that have also formed the character of the people. To
certain circumstances in Chilean history can be ascribed a powerful part
in making the Chilean—the disappearance of the Indian as a worker, and
consequent self-dependence; the great rise of the nitrate industry, and
the creation of national wealth and great private fortunes; and the
enlargement of the national horizon by war. But the effect of different
regions and their calls upon resources have been and are still equally
important. Much of the spirit of the Chilean is due to the independent
life of the mineral-hunter of the north, solitary, even-tempered,
enduring, deeply attached to the soil. The day of this class of miner
has departed almost as definitely as that of the cunning craftsmen who,
in colonial days, fashioned in copper or silver all domestic utensils of
Chilean homes: but his influence lives. Marked also is the influence of
the skilled horseman, the woodsman, the man of the camp who knows how to
kill and cook his food, how to cross mountain passes or trackless forest
or unbridged stream; the far-flung Chilean cities bear the stamp of the
Chilean character created by these special circumstances, and
generalisations must be made and received with this fact in mind.
The Santiaguino, occupied in finance, law, politics or trade, is
addicted to cheery club life, is a country and garden lover, and has a
keen understanding and affection for horses; his characteristics bring
him readily into sympathetic touch with the British, allied by many
blood-ties. He is famed as a charming host, a genial welcomer of the
stranger, and there is no city in the world where the visitor will be
more agreeably interviewed by an acute press, more quickly and
spontaneously greeted and made at home than by the frank and kindly
Chilean family.
The dweller in Santiago and Valparaiso possesses a marked characteristic
rare in any part of Latin America: he is a born speculator and
financier, and is an active attendant and operator upon the local Bolsa
(Stock Exchange). In some of the smaller and less developed states of
Spanish America the Stock Exchange is non-existent or negligible: but in
Chile the Bolsa is thronged daily, and the operations are active, eager,
and dictated by a highly intelligent appreciation of the market
conditions of the world. The cables are incessantly used in this
connection, and many a Chilean fortune has been made and lost by the
follower of exchange fluctuations. The Chilean understands and is
accustomed to investment, and is not alarmed as are many American
nations at the prospect of investing his money abroad. He has gone
afield for a century, and, operating in Antofagasta and Tarapacá long
before they were Chilean _de facto_, has since their acquisition ranged
farther into the mining districts of central Bolivia. Chilean capital
and technical skill are responsible for half the mines operated in that
sister state. Operations in Bolivian mining shares—such as the famous
and spectacular Llallaguas—form a considerable item in the work of the
Chilean Bolsa.
Behind the bright social life of the Chilean cities lie the great
farming and mining areas, with their dependence upon that hardy Chilean
worker nicknamed the _roto_—originally, the “out at elbows” class. Today
the term has lost its depreciatory meaning, and the workman in general
is a _roto_. He has fine qualities of hardihood, loyalty and endurance;
and although he has sometimes had a repute for free use of the _corvo_,
the deadly curved knife in whose use he has an extraordinary facility,
it is only upon too-festive occasions or during jealous quarrels that he
is apt to give way to passion. The measures taken by the Government and
by large employers of workmen in industries or mines to stop the traffic
in the worst forms of liquor, and to substitute the light and innocuous
Chilean wines, has lessened these troubles during recent years, and it
is true of Chile as of most parts of South America that there is no
organised crime. Cases of theft are common, but are ascribed mainly to
the lower class of South European who comes to Chile for work and forms
a part of the shifting population moving from camp to camp. Chile’s _Ley
de Residencia_, by which criminals are deported from the scene of
discovered ill-deeds to another part of the coast, means very often that
the north and south exchange ne’er-do-wells.
It is partly due to this perhaps too kindly system that Chile has
suffered considerably from strikes during the past few years. The entry
of malcontents bringing the flag and doctrines of the I. W. W. created
trouble in the coal mines of the south, the copper camps and the nitrate
fields of the north, and the ingenuous character of the native-born
lends itself to the ready acceptance of specious theories. I have seen
the flag of the Californian-bred Industrial Workers of the World paraded
in Santiago, while such “red” periodicals as _El Socialista_ of
Antofagasta spread a hash-up of violent and hysterical propaganda, a
medley of Marxian and Bolshevik ideas, amongst railway and port workmen.
The women, always an element to be reckoned with in Chile, were brought
into the Antofagasta railway strike in 1919, and when the first
strike-breaking train was run out of the port, the wives of the strikers
laid themselves down on the tracks in a theatrical attempt obviously
instigated by the practised foreign agitator.
The radical administration of Señor Arturo Alessandri, with its avowed
sympathy with the workers, was able to counteract the pernicious
influence of the exterior trouble-maker as, perhaps, a more conservative
government could not; and the firmness with which, in late 1921, the
President dealt with an attempted tie-up of Valparaiso port, declaring
his intention of redressing any genuine grievances but at the same time
making clear his determination that the work of the port should not be
interfered with, has been salutary. The powerful Workman’s Federation
(Federación de Obreros) of Chile has done much good work, and is likely
to do more if it is purged of foreign interference and retains the
sympathies of the middle class Chilean.
The best cure for red socialism in South America is the pleasant tonic
sport. No better sign of the real healthfulness of the Chilean race is
to be found than the enthusiasm with which football, cricket and the
recent introduction of American baseball have been taken up. All Chilean
newspapers have their page of _Deportes_, with much space devoted to
_futbolismo_, and the horse races at Viña del Mar and Santiago are
eagerly attended by the peasant as well as by the Chilean millionaire.
Such sports as river fishing and boating are denied to the dweller in
north, and most of central Chile, by the scarcity of streams, but there
are plenty of coarse, if few sporting, fish in all rivers of constant
flow. To the south, trout and salmon have been introduced with marked
success and the angler’s art has developed. Bull-fighting was never a
Chilean pastime; a fine breed of game-cocks was introduced about the
middle of last century (through the gifts of the celebrated Lord Derby,
who responded to the petition of a sporting Chilean priest) and has had
a marked effect upon country strains, but in its most popular day
cock-fighting was never to Chile what it is to Cuba. The whole national
tendency is towards out-of-door games and sport: the Chilean is a
wonderful rider, has bred an extremely fine type of small horses, is a
good polo player, and owes much of his sturdy health to the national
habit of horsemanship.
Chile has no noxious insects, with the exception of one venomous spider;
and she has no poisonous snakes or reptiles. But she is rich in strange
and beautiful birds, many singing with exquisite sweetness.
Large animals indigenous to the country are rare, although all European
domesticated animals, as horses, cattle, hogs and sheep, thrive
splendidly; a few forest deer are still found; the guanaco lives in the
more remote uplands and cold south, and there are jaguars in the
woodland.
Among plants, Chile’s special gift to the world has been the potato,
invaluable to millions of households today. Different varieties of
_Solanum tuberosum_ are found wild on the West Coast of South America
all the way from South Chile to Colombia, growing in Chile from
Magallanes to Arica, both near the seashore and in the foothills of the
Andes. The potato has a wide native habitat, and it was and is as useful
to the indigenous folk of Chile, Bolivia and Peru as to Western Europe
today. Of other foods, the mealy, chestnut-like kernel of the _Araucaria
Chiliensis_ is eaten only in the country, as in the case of its cousin,
the kernel of _Araucaria Brasilensis_. The strawberry, _Fragaria
Chiloensis_, appears to be wild in south Chile, with a number of small
sweet berries of the myrtle and berberis tribes.
Quantities of beautiful flowers and plants, herbs and shrubs, are native
to Chile and found wild only in this belt. Of them, none is more
striking and lovely than the _Copihue_, the rosy bell of a slim vine
clinging to trees in the southern woodland; the flaming _Tropœolum
speciosa_ is a bright mantle of the hedgerows, the brilliant blue crocus
(_Tecophilea_) lies in sheets on Andean foothills, the turquoise and
golden _Puyas_ are striking features of many a Chilean landscape, and
the lovely _Eucryphias_ are shrubs as beautiful as the Fire Bush
(_Embothrium coccineum_).
But of all Chilean offerings, none has been of more importance to the
world, apart from the potato, than that strange naturally produced
chemical of the northern rainless regions, nitrate of soda. Nitrate has
brought millions of exhausted or semi-productive acres into rich
fertility, employs a hundred thousand people in its production and
transport, and is today a necessity of the farmer. Artificial production
is unlikely to rival the natural deposits in the markets of the world,
owing to the cost of manufacture, and the Chilean fields, immense and
practically inexhaustible, form a natural treasure of prime industrial
importance. Other nations besides Chile are fortunate in possessing
copper, coal, iron and silver: in the possession of nitrate the West
Coast is without a competitor.
The only cloud upon the Chilean political horizon, remaining since the
War of the Pacific, is the problem of the two provinces now combined as
Tacna, with the city of Tacna as capital. That the future of this little
region troubles the West Coast is a striking illustration of the result
of leaving territorial questions unsettled, for no equal shadow is cast
by the provinces definitely added to Chilean soil, the valuable Tarapacá
and Antofagasta.
[Illustration: Viña del Mar, Valparaiso’s Residential Suburb.]
[Illustration: Race Course, Viña del Mar.]
[Illustration: Valparaiso Street, Viña del Mar.]
[Illustration: Mira-Mar Beach, Viña del Mar.]
Not only Chile and Peru are involved in the Tacna dispute: the question
of renewed access to the sea by Bolivia lends that country a lively
interest in settlement, and, in addition, every South American country
is concerned in the amicable resolution of a domestic problem affecting
the present credit and future peace of the continent. Nor can the
nationals of overseas countries investing in or trading with the West
Coast remain indifferent; when, in 1922, discussions were opened in
Washington between the representatives of Chile and Peru, all friends of
South America hoped for a happy result from these new and direct
conversations, in a region far removed from the acute feeling of the
Pacific Coast.
The whole story of the Tacna question is discussed in detail in other
pages.[1]
Footnote 1:
Chapter VI.
CHAPTER II
CHILEAN HISTORY
_Inca Rule and Native Chiefs.—Spanish Colonial Period.—The Fight for
Independence.—Republican Chile._
Neither in her deep woodlands nor upon her open plains does Chile
possess monuments of ancient civilisation. The foundations of her
flourishing cities date back no farther than 400 years at the most; the
arts and crafts of daily life are based upon imported concepts, owning
no native origin. As a settled, built, cultivated country, Chile is for
the main part genuinely new.
The old races of the south, whether nomad hunters of the interior or
fisherfolk of the coast and Magellanic waterways, built no towns,
constructed and carved nothing that serves today as a memorial; bones
hidden in caves, chipped spear and arrow heads, harpoons and fish-hooks,
remain as the only evidence of the life of past generations, the only
witnesses by which the condition of their present descendants can be
measured. Farther north, where Inca culture penetrated, are such ruins
of dwellings as those of Calama, with their burial sites. Traces of the
Inca highways are yet to be found as far south as the Atacama desert and
Copiapó. But in contrast with the archæological wealth of Bolivia and
Peru, of Central America and Mexico, Chile has not a single pre-Spanish
temple nor the rudest monolith to show. The north and central valley of
Chile as far as the present Talca were under Inca control for about one
hundred years before the Spanish conquest, Peruvian records yielding the
only historical accounts of events in Chile prior to Almagro’s
expedition.
A friendly connection between the Peruvian empire and the settled tribes
of the Chilean north seems to have been of old standing, a tradition
confirmed by the evidence of burial grounds. Upon the authority of the
historian Montesinos, the Inca Yahuar Huaccac gave a daughter and a
niece in marriage to two chiefs of Chile; these two princesses came
later, with their children, to visit Peru, their uncle Viracocha being
then Inca. A revolt took place during their absence, and the family was
only reinstated by the might of the Inca, and under his tutelage. It
was, however, the Inca Pachacuti who began the definite explorations and
conquests that, continued by his son Tupac Yupanqui and his grandson
Huayna Ccapac, increased the Inca dominion to a great empire extending
from the Ancasmayu River, north of Quito, to the banks of the Maule in
Chile.
Tupac Yupanqui (1439–75) conquered the Antis,[2] people of the Collao,
and from Charcas decided to go farther south. He entered Chile, defeated
the powerful Sinchi (chieftain) Michimalongo and later Tangalongo, the
latter ruling country down to the Maule. Here the same fierce tribes who
afterwards resisted the finest Spanish troops opposed him, and after
setting up frontier columns, or walls, as a mark of conquest on the
river banks, the Inca returned to Cuzco via Coquimbo. From this time
Chile was officially organised. Quechua-speaking colonists (_mitimaes_)
were sent here as throughout all the rest of the thousand leagues of
Inca territory, registering the population and imposing tributes of
country produce. Curacas were instituted as tribal leaders in lieu of
the Sinchis, who were in old Chile obeyed only in wartime. Extension of
this definite organisation was energetically carried on by the great
Inca, Huayna Ccapac, and it was during this period that the Peruvians
constructed the great roads that so astonished, and aided, the
Spaniards. The effective transport system and the success of the Inca
rulers in pacifying districts by the simple method of transporting the
original population where disaffection was suspected, replacing them
with settlers from a distance, the whole meticulous paternalism of the
Inca system, regulating every part of the social frame from the cradle
to the grave so thoroughly that initiative was stifled, rendered easy
the task of the invading European. He did no more than step into Inca
shoes, and the Inca’s subjects received the change of masters almost
with apathy.
Footnote 2:
From which name the word Andes, in whose lower folds the Antis dwelt,
was probably derived.
That careful observer Cieza de Leon, in Peru from 1532–50, leaves a
precise account of the Inca roads that ran south from Cuzco both along
the sierras and also throughout the coastal border. The highways were
made, he says, fifteen feet wide in the valleys, with a strong wall on
either side, the whole space being paved with cement and shaded with
trees. “These trees, in many places, spread their branches, laden with
fruit, over the road and many birds fluttered among the leaves.”
Resthouses containing provisions for the Inca officials and troops were
built at regular intervals, and it was strictly forbidden that Peruvians
should interfere with the property of natives in nearby fields or
houses.
In deserts where the sand drifted high, and paving was useless, huge
posts were driven in to mark the way. Zarate, who gives the width of the
roads as 40 feet, says that “broad embankments were made on either
side,” and all early travellers in Inca territory agree that these lost
highways were extremely well made. He adds that the posts in the desert
were connected with stout cords, but that even in his day the Spaniards
had destroyed many of the posts, using them for making fires. The road
of the coast, like that of the sierra, was 1500 miles long; and of
Chilean traces any traveller through the Atacama copper regions may see
a survival at the station of “Camino del Inca,” where the modern railway
cuts across the ancient road.
Along the Sierra highway came, in 1535, the first Spaniard to set foot
in Chile, Diego de Almagro. He was not the first European to explore
Chilean territory, for the Portuguese Fernão de Magalhães had discovered
the Strait bearing his name in 1520; but he was the pioneer explorer by
land. The name Chile is a native word which was probably the appellation
of a (pre-Spanish) local chief; it was the name by which the Incas
designated that part of the country under their control, and it
persisted in spite of Valdivia’s later attempt to call it “Nueva
Estramadura,” just as “Mejico” and “Cuba” survived and “Nueva España”
and “Española” faded out. It has been frequently but mistakenly said
that the word Chile actually does mean “chilly” in the Quechua tongue;
as a matter of fact the Quechua word meaning “cold” is _chiri_. In early
Spanish times the name Chile applied only to part of the central valley
with “Copayapu” in the extreme north, “Coquimpu” just below it, and the
central region partly ascribed to “Canconicagua.” But the name Chile was
simple and was so quickly adopted that Almagro’s adherents were soon
politically grouped as “los de Chile”—the men of Chile, and when the
country was definitely colonised the name was extended to denote all the
settled country south of Peru, that is, between Copiapó and Chiloé
Island.
The original spur to conquest of Chile was rivalry between the Pizarro
brothers and their fellow conquistador, the old Adelantado Diego de
Almagro. The Pizarros wanted to retain rich Cuzco, and Almagro was an
inconvenient claimant; the magnificent city of the Incas, today a
grievous sight with its shabby modern buildings superimposed upon the
stately stone walls of the Incas, was already a smashed and looted ruin;
but it had yielded so much treasure that it was probably impossible for
the conquistadores to give up search for other golden cities. Mexico,
Guatemala, Peru, and the Chibcha Kingdom, had followed in rapid
succession, and it is not surprising that when Indians spoke of the
riches of the south, Almagro, over seventy years old, should be ready to
march into Chile. Almagro had a commission from Charles V to conquer and
rule over 200 leagues of land south of Francisco Pizarro’s territory
(New Castille); it was to be called Nueva Toledo. At about the same
time, 1534, a grant was given to the ill-fated Alcazaba of 300 leagues
of land, commencing at the southern boundary of Almagro’s territory,
under the name of Nueva Leon.
Almagro set out with over 500 Spaniards and 15,000 Peruvian Indians,
after spending 500,000 pesos on equipment. He marched south from Cuzco,
crossed the Andes and went by Titicaca Lake, following the Inca route;
perhaps as a guide and a means of securing the loyal service of the
Peruvians, who would never desert a member of their ruling clan, the
Spanish leader took with him an Inca priest and the young Paullu Tupac
Yupanqui, son of the Huayna Ccapac and brother of the Inca Manco. The
latter had been crowned in Cuzco in early 1534 by Pizarro, probably with
the double object of quieting Peru and to obviate charges made by his
personal enemies in Spain. Both Charles V and the Pope emphasised their
possession of tender consciences with regard to native American rulers.
This young scion of the Incas survived the expedition into Chile, and
was with Almagro’s son at the battle of Chupas.
Terrible sufferings were experienced by the expedition in the bitterly
cold Andes, where deep snow and cruel winds killed the Peruvians by
thousands. Many of the Spanish soldiers too were frozen to death, and
food supplies failed. When at last they turned west an advance party of
horsemen went ahead to bring food, cheerfully yielded by the settled
natives, to their starving and exhausted comrades. Arriving in the green
Copiapó valley, Almagro was well received at first, but pressing his
search for gold to extremes, quarrels arose, the natives were
“punished,” and Almagro moved on, after receiving reinforcements brought
by Orgoñez. A strong party was sent forward to report on southerly
conditions, and marched as far as the Rio Claro (tributary of the Maule)
where savage Indians confronted the outposts of the old Inca empire.
When Almagro heard this report, and realised that neither treasures of
gold nor rich cities existed, he decided to return to Cuzco, making his
way back by the coastal road and traversing the scorching, waterless
deserts of Atacama and Tarapacá. At his arrival in Arequipa at the end
of 1536 he had lost 10,000 Indians and 156 Spaniards. The rest of
Almagro’s story—the news of the Peruvian revolt, his seizure of Cuzco,
and his execution at the age of seventy-five by Hernando Pizarro, when
fortune finally deserted him—belongs to the history of Peru. The fact
that a man had made the Chilean journey with Almagro was considered,
later on, as a claim upon royal consideration. The petition of Diego de
Pantoja, in 1561, makes this point, while that of Encinas, 1558, is even
more emphatic in speaking of the sufferings of the soldiers; he went
south, he says, with Captain Gomez de Alvarado, fighting Indians of the
“Picones, Pomamaucaes, Maule and Itata” and traversing painfully “snow
and water, swamps, creeks, crossing rivers by swimming or on rafts” and
with no food but wild herbs. For the moment the efforts of the Europeans
were without result; during another two years Chile remained in the
hands of her native rulers.
_Spanish Colonial Period_
There was no actual conquest of Chile by the Spaniards. Those native
tribes which had submitted to the Inca régime accepted the Europeans:
they who had defied the Inca continued to defy the Spanish.
There were angry outbursts on the part of certain northern and central
tribes when the Spaniards returned in force in 1540, but when these had
been overcome and peace made, the Indians remained consistently loyal.
The “Changos” of the coastal border took up a permanent position as
friends just as the Mapuches (“Araucanians”) took up a permanent
position as enemies. The Spanish settled Chile, organised a social
system, built cities and defences, cultivated the ground, brought in
blood and culture, created a nation; but South Chile was never a
conquered country in the same sense that Mexico and Peru were conquered
countries.
The next attempt to plant the Spanish flag in Chile following the
abortive expedition of Almagro was well planned and successful. Captain
Pedro de Valdivia, thirty-five years old, a campmaster of Hernando
Pizarro, and a man of formed and resolute character, wanted to increase
his fortune, consisting of an estate near Cuzco. He obtained without
difficulty from Francisco Pizarro a commission to open up Chile, a land
of poor repute since the return of Almagro; his appointment was that of
Lieutenant Governor. His chief difficulty was in raising men, for as he
says in a letter written in 1545 to Charles V, those who turned most
from the project were the soldiers who had accompanied Almagro on the
first unfortunate journey, when 1,500,000 pesos were spent “with, as the
only fruit, the redoubled defiance of the Indians.”
He set out at the beginning of 1540, however, with nearly 200 Spaniards
and 1000 Peruvian Indians, and avoiding the Andes traversed the coastal
deserts, arriving in the valley of the Mapocho at the end of the same
year. On the eve of departure a blow to his hopes threatened in the
arrival of Sanchez de la Hoz, armed with a royal commission for the
settlement of Chile; but Valdivia, equal to the occasion, induced his
rival to provide a couple of ships, equip a force with fifty horses,
supplies, arms, etc., and agreed to meet him at a small port just north
of the Atacama desert. The appointment was kept, but as soon as the new
arrival went ashore Valdivia arrested him, made him sign a renunciation
of his claims to leadership and henceforth obliged him to serve as a
common soldier. Eventually Sanchez de la Hoz joined a conspiracy against
Valdivia, was discovered, and was beheaded in Santiago de Chile.
In February, 1541, Valdivia founded Santiago “de Nueva Estremadura,”
Valdivia naming his province after Estremadura in Spain, where he was
born in the town of La Serena. The colony had a hard struggle for
existence, the Indians attacking the fortifications of Santa Lucia hill,
where the settlers built the first houses of wood and thatched grass; in
the letter mentioned above Valdivia says that the third year of the
colony was not so difficult, but that during the first two years they
had passed through great necessities. They ate roots, having no meat,
and the man who obtained fifty grains of maize each day counted himself
fortunate. He says also that they got a little gold, and gives Chile the
first praises, so often repeated subsequently, for its enchanting
climate. For people who want to settle permanently, there is no better
land in the world than Chile, he declares; there is good level land,
very healthy and pleasing, and the winter lasts but four months. In
summer the climate is delicious, and men are able to walk without danger
in the sunshine. The fields give abundant returns, and cattle thrive.
Live stock, in fact, throve so well that within twenty-five years of the
settlement the Indians of the south possessed flocks and herds, and,
learning from the Europeans, went mounted on horseback into battle.
Needing men and supplies, early in 1543 Valdivia sent six Spaniards by
land to Peru. Captured by Copiapó Indians, the Captain Monroy and a
soldier named Miranda escaped by an act of treachery against a friendly
Indian woman, and arrived safely in Cuzco after a terrible journey
through the deserts. But, to cajole Peru into giving help, Valdivia had
sent them with stirrups and bits made of gold, a display so successful
that by the end of the year sixty new settlers and a ship with stores
reached Chile, followed by captains Villagra and Escobar with 300 more
men. Valdivia was determined to overcome the south, and set out with 200
men by land while a ship followed along the coast. The Indians rose
behind him, burnt his embryo shipbuilding yard at Concon (mouth of the
Aconcagua River), trapped and killed his gold-miners at Quillota, and
besieged the little settlement of Santiago. It was here that Inez
Suarez, who had followed Valdivia from Cuzco, rendered her name immortal
by her active defence of the fort; tradition says that she cut off with
her own hands the heads of six Indian chieftain prisoners and threw them
over the palisades to intimidate the attackers. Valdivia returned, from
the Maule, where he had received a check, and re-established his colony.
He had founded La Serena as a check on the northern Indians and a post
on the road to Cuzco, in 1544, but saw that stronger assistance was
needed to colonise and hold Chile, and returned to Peru for more help in
1547. The country was in civil war, with Gonzalo Pizarro ranged against
Gasca, President of the Audience of Peru. Valdivia adopted the royal
appointee’s side, was an invaluable aid with his experience of Indian
wars, and helped turn the scale, taking the old Pizarro supporter,
Carbajal, prisoner. He got his reward when he received formal
appointment as Governor of Chile, in 1548. With a large force of
well-equipped men he started out anew, was stopped on the Atacama border
with orders to return to stand a trial on certain technical charges, was
acquitted, set out again, and reached Santiago in April, 1549. He found
that the Serena settlement had been destroyed, rebuilt it, and made an
agreement of peace with the northern Indians that was never again
broken.
With the central and northern colonies secure, Valdivia turned his face
south again, prepared a strong expedition and set out in January, 1550.
He was checked at the Bio-Bio River, fought for a year in that region,
attempting a settlement at Talcahuano, and built a constantly attacked
fort at Concepción, where the present Penco stands on a beautiful curve
of coast. In February, 1551, he went on, leaving fifty men in Penco;
founded Imperial, leaving forty men in a fort, and in early 1552 reached
the banks of the Callacalla River and founded Valdivia City, 1552. His
next step was to create a chain of forts—Arauco, on the sea; Villarica,
on the edge of Lake Lauquen; Osorno, opposite Chiloé Island some eighty
miles inland; Tucapel, Puren, and Angol, “la Ciudad de los Infantes de
Chile,” between Tucapel and the sea.
The fierce Araucanian Indians determined to destroy every settlement of
the invader, and, themselves hardy nomads, were well fitted for the work
of continual attack. The leaders Caupolican and the young Lautaro—the
latter trained in Spanish ways and speech during some years of service
as a groom of Valdivia’s—rose up, organised their people, adopting
certain Spanish military methods, and began a series of relentless and
systematic raids of destruction. Upon both sides, savage cruelties were
practised, and from this time began to date the deliberate seizure of
white women and children by the Indians. The courage with which many
Spanish wives accompanied their husbands did not save them from the huts
of the wild natives, and the children borne in course of time of Indian
fathers by European mothers were so numerous that certain tribes became
noted for their fair skins, pink cheeks and blue eyes.
In 1553, in attempting to stem the tide of Araucanian attacks on the
frail forts, of which Tucapel and Arauco had already fallen, Pedro de
Valdivia’s forces were overwhelmed by Lautaro and the Governor was made
prisoner and barbarously executed. He was then fifty-six years of age.
His policy in trying to establish settlements in the heart of Araucanian
territory was not justified by the necessities of his colonists, who had
more land than they could use in the fine central region. But he was
impelled by false stories of gold to be found in the south, by hope of
extending the territory under his jurisdiction for the Spanish crown,
and no doubt also held the belief, based upon former experiences, that
definite submission of the South American natives could be commanded by
vigorous action. This idea had been proved correct with regard to all
settled districts, but it did not apply to the elusive Mapuches.
Nevertheless it was persisted in for a long time, costing a river of
Spanish blood and an immense treasure in Spanish gold.
Flushed with success after the death of Valdivia, the Indians attacked
all the forts simultaneously; Concepción was twice ruined and restored,
in 1554 and 1555, and again smashed when Francisco de Villagra,
successor of Valdivia temporarily, was trapped on the seashore after
crossing the Bio-Bio and badly defeated. He redeemed his lost prestige
when he broke the armies of Lautaro and killed this leader at Santiago
soon afterwards, the Araucanians, emboldened, having ranged outside
their own territory to attack the invading Europeans.
In 1557 there came to Chile as Governor the young Garcia Hurtado de
Mendoza, son of the Marquis de Cañete, Viceroy of Peru. He brought from
Spain a well-equipped force of 600 Spaniards, and, arriving at
Concepción from the sea, rebuilt the stronghold, mounted guns for the
first time, restored all the southerly forts, and in the course of
fierce battles in 1558 took prisoner and killed Caupolican.
When Garcia Hurtado left Chile in 1560 the Indians took heart and
renewed attacks, and the anxious rule of Quiroga, with another interval
of Villagra’s control, was concerned almost exclusively with Indian
troubles. Quiroga, a determined man, was the first Spaniard to take
possession of Chiloé, founding the town of Castro; he carried war into
Araucanian territory relentlessly, shipping every able-bodied Indian he
could catch to the mines of Peru. But his experience, and that of his
successors, was that the natives were never more than momentarily
beaten, that they rose behind him when his troops passed from one region
to another, and that almost any fort could be overwhelmed by the
extraordinary numbers that the savage chiefs brought into the field. The
tactics of the Araucanians upon the battlefield, of attacking in great
numbers, but keeping back enormous quantities of men who came forward
when the first army was rolled back by Spanish guns, were disheartening;
every settlement remained in a constant state of siege, perpetually
harassed.
In 1567 Philip II of Spain authorized the establishment of a Royal
Audience in Concepción; it endured until 1574, but was then suppressed
owing to the insecurity of the colony. A year later the struggling
settlements were further discouraged by a terrible earthquake and tidal
wave that devastated the coast from Santiago to Valdivia, and in 1579
all western Spanish America was thrown into a state of consternation by
the amazing news that Drake had rounded the toe of South America and had
begun raiding the Pacific coast.
The enforcement of the “New Laws”—signed by Charles V in 1542, but
suspended or ignored by the various Audiences as long as was
possible—forbidding Spaniards to make the Indians work against their
will, infuriated the colonists of Chile, who saw no other way of
cultivating land or operating mines but by driving the natives to these
tasks; a few Negroes were sent on from Panama or Buenos Aires, but
transportation was expensive and farmers could not afford to import many
slaves. Chile never yielded a large quantity of gold; it was
pre-eminently an agricultural and stock-raising country, and therefore a
poor one compared with such regions as Peru with its golden treasure or
Charcas (Alto Peru) with its tremendous production of silver from the
wonderful mines of Potosí. That in the face of all hardships and
difficulties the colonisation of Central Chile steadily extended is a
standing tribute to the courage of the settlers, as well as to the
attractions of an exhilarating climate.
In 1583 came Alonso de Sotomayor, Marques de Villa Hermosa, setting out
with Sarmiento and a splendid Spanish fleet of twenty-three ships; the
original intention to pass through the Strait of Magellan was abandoned,
and Sotomayor with a strong army marched overland from Buenos Aires. He
too wasted lives and treasure in attempting to subdue the south, but
inevitably the Indians rose behind his forces, burning forts and
destroying the guard ships he placed upon the Bio-Bio River. By the time
that Martin Garcia Oñez de Loyola succeeded to the Governorship in 1592
the endless wars with the Araucanians had become bitterly unpopular; the
Indians had gathered new audacity under the _toqui_ (leader in war)
Paillamacu, and with him Oñez tried to make a treaty. Hope was also
placed in the pacifying influence of Jesuits, who entered in 1593, but
these first missionaries were killed, and an armed force sent south in
1598 was wiped out, the Governor Oñez being amongst the slain.
Paillamacu, jubilant, besieged all the forts at once, and Spanish rule
was further threatened by the appearance in the Pacific of Dutch
corsairs. The Cordes expedition of 1600 landed on Chiloé, sacked and
held Castro. A Spanish force under Ocampo took back the town, but
Spanish prestige suffered by the Indians’ realisation of quarrels among
white men. Ocampo also raised the siege of Angol and Imperial, but
carried away settlers and abandoned these places. Forts upon the sea
border, although safer than inland points, were not impregnable, and the
Araucanians had grown so bold that more than once when Spanish vessels
visiting the seaports ran aground the Indians swam out, killed the crew
and looted the ships in plain view of the settlers.
At the beginning of the seventeenth century, with Ramon as Governor, it
was practically decided to restrict Spanish occupation of the territory
south of the Bio-Bio River to seaports, and to maintain a line of forts
upon the frontier. For about 100 years 2000 Spanish troops were
maintained for defensive purposes, chiefly distributed throughout
fourteen frontier strongholds, of which the chief were Arauco, Santa
Juana, Puren, Los Angeles, Tucapel and Yumbel, and in Concepción and
Valdivia. Chilean revenues were insufficient for these army expenses,
and Lima contributed 100,000 pesos, for Valparaiso, Concepción and the
frontier, half in specie and half in clothes and stores; about 8000
pesos of this sum was used in repairing forts and in giving presents or
paying compensation to the Indians. Valdivia, with Osorno and Chiloé,
received an additional 70,000 pesos from the royal treasury of Lima, and
these points were governed and supplied direct from the viceregal
capital.
Determination upon none but defensive fighting was due largely to Jesuit
influence in Spain, under Philip II, III and IV; Father Luis de Valdivia
in 1612 brought a new band of missionaries, and the south was left to
them and their prospective converts. The Audience was restored, in
Santiago, in 1609, and the Governor of Chile, while subordinate to the
Lima Viceroyalty, was President of the Audience of Santiago as well as
Captain-General of the province, his jurisdiction including the
territory from the desert of Atacama, where Peru ended, to all the
southern country he could control (the Taitao peninsula was explored in
1618) and also the province of Cuyo, extending across the Andes and
embracing the city of Mendoza on the post-road to Buenos Aires.
Pirates harassed the authorities in 1616, when Le Maire found the small
strait bearing his name; in 1623, when L’Hermite, with thirteen ships
and 1600 men, troubled the coasts; and notably by the Dutchman Brouwer
in 1644, when Valdivia was seized and three strong forts built by the
invaders. The death of Brouwer, three months after his arrival,
disheartened the strong force of Dutch under his control; the region was
also discovered to be less promising of easy wealth than had been
imagined and the place was given up. The Spanish returned in 1645,
occupying and completing the excellent fortifications of the Dutch.
A terrible battle with Indians near Chillan ending with the defeat of a
new Araucanian leader, Putapichion, with great slaughter, the then
Governor of Chile, Francisco de Zuñiga, Marques de Baides, attempted to
make a definite peace, holding the celebrated first “Parliament of
Quillin” in 1641; the second Parliament of Quillin was held in 1647,
with reiterated understanding that the Araucanians were to be recognised
as owners of independent territory south of the Bio-Bio, but not to
invade territory to the north. A third peace meeting was held in 1650
and thenceforth it became customary for each new Governor of Chile to
call a meeting at the Bio-Bio border, where he repaired in state, met
thousands of Araucanians, feasted them for several days and gave
presents, with mutual compliments and speech-making. None of these
friendly conclaves, however, prevented the Spaniards from raiding in
Araucanian territory on occasion, or gave pause to Indian chiefs who saw
an opportunity. In the middle of the century a disastrous rising of all
the Indians, supposedly converted and friendly, took place between the
Maule and Bio-Bio Rivers; 400 farms were burnt, Concepción besieged, and
enormous quantities of cattle, women and children taken to Araucania.
Nevertheless, outside the troubled zone Chile prospered; the Spanish
colony grew from 1700 (with 8600 Indians and 300 Negroes) in 1613 to
30,000 in 1670. Vineyards and olive groves were planted, the wine of
Chile becoming so famous that it was shipped all the way to Panama,
Mexico and Central America, to Paraguay and Argentina. The Governor Juan
Henriquez, a native of Lima, was responsible for much of this
agricultural encouragement, and for construction of a bridge over the
Mapocho River and of a canal bringing spring water to Santiago. It was
this same governor who shipped hundreds of Araucanians as slaves to
Peru, and sent to Lima for execution the young Englishmen of
Narborough’s scientific expedition, treacherously captured at Corral in
December, 1670. By this time the coast forts had been rebuilt, partly on
account of anxiety regarding the activities of adventuring ships of
rival nations, which, forbidden lawful trade, ranged the Pacific as
corsairs and smugglers. The famous Captain Bartholomew Sharp, with one
ship and 146 men, terrorised the coast in 1680; he sacked Arica and
burnt Coquimbo among his exploits. After the day of the pirate Davis,
raiding about 1686, it was decided to render the fertile islands off the
coast less useful as rendezvous; Mocha was depopulated and an attempt
made to kill all the goats that thrived on Juan Fernandez.
Many times during the seventeenth century the Chilean colonies were
almost ruined by earthquakes; the live volcanos of the Andean backbone
broke out from time to time, and in many cases the overthrow of
dwellings by _temblores_ and _terremotos_ was accompanied at the
unfortunate coastal settlements by furious onslaughts of tidal waves,
when numbers of people were drowned. Santiago was badly damaged by the
earthquake of 1642, but suffered worse in 1647; ten years later a
terrible earthquake and tidal wave destroyed Concepción on its original
site where Penco village stands today, and the city was later moved to
its present situation on the north of the green-wooded, silver Bio-Bio,
with its banks of black volcanic sand.
In 1700 the Spanish were able to regard the danger of active aggression
on the part of the Dutch without alarm. Spain had preserved the
integrity of her enormous American colonies in the teeth of an array of
energetic rivals, sea-adventuring people with vigorous populations
lacking space for new settlements, sharing the most jealously guarded
regions of South America with but one country, Portugal. For sixty
years, indeed, after the tragic death of Sebastião at El Kebir in 1578,
Spain held Portugal and Portugal’s splendid colonies abroad, including
Brazil; until 1640 the Kings of Spain were absolute masters of South
America. The long-continued struggle with England and its constant
threat to the colonies was one reason why Spain reluctantly made
concessions from time to time in her dealings with Holland, a country
openly displaying a keen desire to share in American profits. The
formation of the Dutch West Indian Company, with comprehensive plans for
settlement as well as for trade, received strong government backing, and
the forcible occupation of the Brazilian coast region of Pernambuco
between 1624 and 1654 caused great anxiety to Spain. Nevertheless, a
commercial agreement for the supply of indispensable Negro slaves,
brought from the Portuguese colonies of West Africa, endured until
Holland’s sea power was definitely affected by reverses at the hands of
the English.
A sign of change of influence which had a significant and lasting effect
upon the South American Pacific Coast was displayed when early in the
eighteenth century Louis XIV of France induced Philip V of Spain to give
to French traders the right to supply slaves to the American colonies in
place of the Dutch. A certain amount of general commerce could not be
denied to vessels bringing slaves, and presently limited agreements were
made by which two French companies were allowed to do business with
South America. The monopolist companies of Seville and Cadiz, crying
ruin, protested vainly, for viceroys and governors as well as settlers
found the visits of the French ships convenient and profitable; the
corsairs of England too were being transformed by economic circumstances
into smugglers whose operations were welcome in many quarters. France
did not limit her interest in South America to commerce: we find from
about 1705 onwards an increasing number of French scientists and writers
visiting the West Coast—as Feuillée, the Jesuit Father and careful
botanist, who published the first account of Chilean plant life; and
Frezier, the distinguished engineer, who left a descriptive volume of
perennial interest. It was this most observant writer who first noted
the use of the Quechua word _maté_ as applied to the small gourd, often
beautifully carved and silver-mounted, from which it was and is usual to
drink an infusion of the “herb of Paraguay,” in Chile and Peru.
Sidelights of great value are also presented by the letters of French
Jesuit priests who came to the West Coast about this time, and many of
whom, like the devoted Father Nyel, thought that the supreme reward for
a laborious life spent among wild natives was to be killed—“meriting
reception of the crown of martyrdom as the worthy recompense of
apostolic work.” Father Nyel wrote, in 1705, when he was planning the
establishment of a mission among the Araucanians, that in spite of
having murdered the noble Father Nicolas Mascardi thirty years
previously the Indians begged for Jesuits to enter their land again to
instruct them. But in order to succeed with these people it was
necessary to have “a strong constitution, complete indifference to all
the comforts of life, a persuasive gentleness, strength, courage, and
determination in spite of insurmountable difficulties encountered amidst
a barbarous people.”
The most distinguished of the scientists who were, perhaps somewhat
grudgingly, given leave to enter the Spanish colonies were the French
Academicians, headed by La Condamine, who came to Ecuador in 1735 to
measure an arc of the meridian upon the Equator, and whose Spanish
associates, sent by Madrid, made a detailed, frank and brilliant report
of the condition of Peru, Ecuador and Chile. The _Noticias Secretas_
handed to the King upon their return are extremely illuminating,
especially in the light of the events of eighty years later, when the
irritation which they observed between “creoles” (native-born Americans
of European blood) and Spaniards from the Peninsula came to a head. The
voyage of Juan and Ulloa, the accounts of Frezier, Feuillée and the
Jesuits, were as eagerly read in Europe as the biographies of the
corsairs, for whatever official reports were made by Spanish officials
from Spanish America never saw daylight, strangers were forbidden to
enter, and in consequence South America had the magic of the unknown.
By the middle of the eighteenth century Chile was still a small country,
settled chiefly between Coquimbo and Concepción, yielding a little gold
and silver from surface veins, but with her greatest activity in
connection with agriculture; she was spared the feverish excitements and
reactions of wealthier countries. Most of her trade was conducted by
land, over the Andes into Argentina, with a brisk exchange of Chilean
woollen ponchos, honey, hams and lard for _yerba maté_ from Paraguay and
European goods imported at Buenos Aires; to Peru was shipped wheat and
wine and beef or pork fat (_grasa_), exchanged for cargoes of _aji_ (red
pepper) from Arica and silver from Potosí.
Commerce with the Araucanians, eager buyers of hardware, metal
implements and ornaments in exchange for guanaco skins and cattle, went
on in spite of the mistrust engendered by the events of 1723, when a
general rising of the Indians took place, the settled villages of
converts created by the Jesuit missionaries were deserted, and a new war
commenced. The Araucanians themselves sued for peace on this occasion, a
new Parliament was held with fresh agreements that the country below the
Bio-Bio should be intact to the Indians, and the Governor agreed to
withdraw the Spanish officials who had been posted in the villages of
Christian Indians.
Castro, on Chiloé Island, traded its famous bacon and lard and planks of
hardwoods (chiefly _alerce_) for manufactured goods, and maintained a
sturdy if isolated existence; Osorno was little but a fort; Valdivia,
with its port of Corral, was carefully guarded, since it was considered
as the key to the South Sea, and five or six forts covered the bay and
the waterway to the city. In 1720 there were a couple of thousand people
here, chiefly convicts of Peru and Chile sent south during their period
of punishment, and the garrisons were maintained by Spanish and Peruvian
Indian soldiers. Concepción was not only a Spanish stronghold, but a
genuine agricultural colony, its splendid soil and enchanting climate,
bright, balmy and temperate, bringing the settler who forms the backbone
of Chilean society. Valparaiso was nothing but a shabby port, lacking a
customhouse, all goods being shipped by mule-back to Santiago, ninety
miles inland, or rather, 120 miles by the Zapata pass and Pudahuel, the
only road then existing. It was fairly well defended by upper and lower
forts overlooking the curve on the bay’s south where the houses of
Valparaiso lay along a narrow strip of beach. Santiago was a well-built
city, the centre of a fortunate agricultural and pastoral region;
northwards lay but one settlement of note, La Serena (Coquimbo), with
Copiapó, a prosperous silver mining centre, farther north.
The changes affecting Spanish America were not limited to the entry of
the French. Philip V, to induce Queen Anne of England to sign the Peace
of Utrecht, agreed to give the right of supplying slaves (_asiento_) to
the South Sea Company, for thirty years, from 1713 to 1743; by this
agreement 4800 Negroes were to be annually taken to the Plate, and as a
further and extraordinary concession the company was allowed to send one
ship each year to the Porto Bello fair (below Panama, on the Atlantic
coast). At the same time a peremptory stop was put to the overseas
commerce of the French, who had been allowed by Louis XIV during the War
of the Spanish Succession to trade from St. Malo to the American
colonies of Spain, herself too much involved to aid them with supplies.
The war of 1739 between England and Spain put an end to the English
traffic for nine years, but the terms of peace included an indemnity to
be paid to the South Sea Company for their trading rights, a British
merchant in Buenos Aires carrying on for a few years (until 1752) the
transportation of African slaves; after this time a group of Spanish
merchants took up this traffic. It was in 1748 that Spain, finding her
commerce with the colonies greatly reduced by home troubles, and the
more or less legitimate efforts of other nations, from the 15,000 or
even 25,000 tons of shipping formerly sent each year under convoy across
the Atlantic, stopped the yearly visits of the famous galleons and the
protecting warships. This fleet had sailed annually for 200 years. A
system of unguarded merchant boats was licensed, ships sailing for the
Plate six times a year.
In 1774 the rules forbidding the Spanish American colonies to trade with
each other were relaxed by Charles III, and the effect of this is
illustrated by the figures of Spanish merchant shipping sailing for the
Americas in 1778, the year of the erection of a Viceroyalty in Buenos
Aires, the fourth of Spanish America; no less than 170 vessels sailed,
as against twelve to fifteen in the days of the yearly fleet of
jealously licensed vessels.
In 1785 there was further relaxation, all the ports of Spain and all the
ports of Spanish America being allowed to trade mutually, and as other
proof of liberal ideas there came, in 1788, the appointment of Ambrose
O’Higgins as Governor of Chile. This excellent organiser was born in
Ireland, in County Sligo, and spent part of his barefoot youth in
running errands for the great folk of his native village; he went as a
youth to Spain, enlisting in the Spanish army, as many adventurous Irish
did about this time, and later made his way to the Spanish American
colonies. He distinguished himself in the Araucanian wars, was made a
colonel, and in 1788 was nominated to the Chilean captain-generalship by
Teodoro de Croix, the Viceroy of Peru, a native of Lille. The name of
Ambrose O’Higgins is as much respected in Chile today as that of his
son, Bernardo, born in Chillan, who became Supreme Director during the
early days of Chilean independence.
_Reproductions from Gay’s “History of Chile” (1854)_
[Illustration: Más a Tierra (Juan Fernández Group) in the 18th Century.]
[Illustration: O’Higgins’ Parliament with the Araucanian Indians, March,
1793.]
[Illustration: Capturing Condors in the Chilean Andes.]
[Illustration: Guanacos on the Edge of Laja Lake.]
Governor O’Higgins called the Parliament of Negrete with the
Araucanians, and set about the improvement of Chile; found and rebuilt
the ruins of Osorno fort, and made a road from Osorno to Valdivia;
another highway from Valparaiso to Santiago; and a third from Santiago
to Mendoza. He constructed bridges, notably over the turbulent Mapocho
River, and his good Chilean work only ceased when he was created Viceroy
of Peru, with the title of Marquis of Osorno. He remained in that post
until his death in 1801. A spurt in town foundation during the
eighteenth century also bears witness to the growing prosperity of
Chile. Between 1736 and 1746 the courtly and wideawake governor Don José
Manso de Velasco, Conde de Superunda, founded San Felipe, Melipilla,
Rancagua and Cauquenes; the same official encouraged the operation of
mines, making cannon for the defence of one of the Concepción forts from
local copper, and reopening gold mines at Tiltil (between Santiago and
Valparaiso) and developing the copper works of Coquimbo and of Copiapó.
His successor, Don Domingo Ortiz, founded Huasco and Curicó, built the
University of Santiago and began the Mint, completed during the régime
of Don Luis Muñoz between 1802 and 1807. The plans, tradition says, were
mixed with those for Lima, and by mistake Chile received authority for a
much more splendid building than was intended for her, La Moneda still
serving as Government offices in Santiago.
At the beginning of the nineteenth century Europe had undergone violent
spiritual as well as material changes that could not fail to affect the
world and inevitably produced reactions in the Americas. The
independence of the United States had less effect upon South American
thought than the French Revolution, for with North America the South was
not in touch. There was little commerce, and the language difficulty was
a bar, while French literature and French movements were extremely
influential. The ideas of the Encyclopedists fell upon fertile soil.
When Napoleon conquered Spain, putting his brother Joseph Buonaparte
upon the royal throne of the Bourbons and driving Ferdinand VII into
exile, there was little thought upon the West Coast of this misfortune
as an opportune time for seizing freedom. Even when the action of Mexico
and Buenos Aires pointed the road of independence, Peru and Chile
demurred from disloyalty and declared their intention of returning to
the king when he should be again upon the Spanish throne. The grievances
against Spain of which so much was afterwards heard were not realised by
the majority of the populace, and in fact the creoles were well aware
that from narrow trading policies, the dictation of officials, sumptuary
laws, and the still-existent although waning burden of the Inquisition,
Spain suffered even more acutely than her overseas dominions. The rights
of _mayorazgo_, that is the preservation, intact for generation after
generation, of enormous estates which could not be broken up among a
number of heirs, or divided for sale, were a source of definite
complaint; but it was an inheritance from the land tenure laws of Spain,
also inelastic, to which they were inured by custom. The most fertile
ground for the growth of animosity between the colonies and the mother
country seems to have been the tangible annoyance of the stream from the
Peninsula, both of officials and merchants or adventurers. Don Antonio
Ulloa, writing the “Noticias Secretas” for the King’s eye in 1735, noted
that the big towns were “theatres of discord between Spanish and
creoles.... It is enough for a man to be a European or _chapeton_ to be
at once opposed to the creoles, and sufficient to have been born in the
Indies to hate Europeans. This ill-will is raised to so high a grade
that in some respects it exceeds the open hatred with which two nations
at war abuse and insult each other.” He thought the feeling tended to
increase rather than to diminish, and notes that it was more bitter in
the interior and mountainous regions, because the coast people were bent
to a more liberal spirit by their dependence upon commerce with
strangers, had more work to do and something else to think about. He
gave as reasons for the mutual dislike, first, the “vanity and
presumption” of the creoles; and next, the wretched condition in which
many poor Europeans usually arrived in the Indies. The native-born were
lazy, thought the Spanish officer, and envied the industrious and
intelligent Spaniard the fortune which he presently made. The succession
of Peninsular officials to many posts in the colonies was not without
its influence in providing grievances also, but as a matter of fact a
number of minor berths were frequently filled by the native-born, who
also became Inquisitors and clerics, the list of viceroys and governors
also providing a few colonial names, and a large number of American-born
receiving good positions in Spain. But on the whole the colonies were
necessarily still dependent upon Spain for blood, ideas, intercourse
with the world, and, but for Napoleon, independence would have been long
delayed.
_The Fight for Independence_
In many parts of Spanish America people had to be almost cudgelled into
rebellion, and would never have stirred had they lacked a leader
inoculated with a grandiose vision.
But here again the quite accidental figure of Napoleon intervened. It
happened that both San Martín and Bolívar, the two most powerful
instruments of the South American Revolution, were actual witnesses of
triumphal ceremonies of the Napoleonic armies. The day when Simón
Bolívar saw the Corsican enter Paris at the head of magnificent
conquering troops, greeted with all the hysteric adulation due to a
second Alexander, the immediate fate of Spain’s South American colonies
was sealed. It is easy to understand that such young men as San Martín
and Bolívar, intelligent, trained to arms, well aware of the golden
opportunity awaiting in their own countries overseas, and of the force
behind the slogan of freedom, beheld themselves with rosy imagination in
the same kingly rôle. Statues of these leaders stand all over Latin
America, and it is but just that tributes should be paid. But the day of
blind homage is past. Critics have dared to arise, and the skies have
not fallen upon their blasphemy.
The formation of the “Gran Reunion Americana,” with definite aims
towards self-government of the Spanish American colonies, was one
result. Inaugurated in Buenos Aires, it spread “lodges” all over South
America, following freemasonry in its terminology. One of the most
influential of these branches was “Lautaro Lodge,” at Concepción, with
Bernardo O’Higgins as a member. The illegitimate son of the brilliant
Ambrose O’Higgins by a native woman, Bernardo, born in Chillan in 1778,
was sent to England for education and returned to Chile upon the death
of his father. Imbued with liberal ideas, candid and open-hearted, the
young O’Higgins stood inevitably upon the side of emancipation, and
served as one of the revolutionaries’ most valuable assets. The stars
worked together for the success of the extremists, for a motive far
removed from any idea of revolutionary merits brought them the powerful
aid of the Roman Catholic Church. Napoleon the “antichrist” was
anathema: the colonists were therefore encouraged to refuse obedience to
his puppet kings, and we find the clerics of the Americas hand in glove
with the members of the Reunion Americana.
The colonists were by no means inclined in every region throughout South
America to commit themselves unreservedly to the apostles of liberty;
here and there the feeling of revolt was genuinely national, a
spontaneous movement from the inside; in other regions the native-born
only after some years, and when separation was practically forced upon
them from the exterior, disavowed Spain. Confusion was introduced, that
made it difficult for the most loyal to discover where allegiance lay,
by the several claimants overseas. To Joseph Buonaparte no one wished to
submit, and the French emissaries were coldly received; Seville setting
up a Junta (Council) loyal to the deposed Ferdinand, asked and received
the adhesion of the Viceroys in the Americas, but when this body was
overthrown a new Junta established in Galicia sent out a new set of
Viceroys. Next came the Central Junta, also obeyed until the French
occupation of Andalusia dissolved it, and later a new authority of
Spanish royalists, a Regency of three members, was announced in an edict
sent out by the Archbishop of Laodicea.
Confronted with these various claims, and taking breath after the
English occupation of the Plate, Buenos Aires decided to form her own
provincial Junta, in the name of Ferdinand, action supported if not
suggested by the Viceroy Baltazar Cisneros.
In the middle of 1810, with Abascal, Marques de la Concordia, as Viceroy
of Peru and General Carrasco Governor of Chile, there arrived to the
West Coast the request of exiled Ferdinand that his American colonies
should obey Napoleon. This bombshell was received with disgust by
Carrasco, who wished to work with the Junta of Buenos Aires, but he did
his official duty and read the document aloud to the populace of
Santiago. This was in June. A tremendous public uproar followed,
Carrasco and the rest of the Audience were turned out, and by popular
acclaim an Assembly of Notables was formed, headed by Mateo de Toro
Zambrano y Urueta, Conde de la Conquista, a highly respected old
aristocrat who had been Governor of Chile in 1772. This body ruled on
the understanding that Chile would refuse French control and would
remain wholeheartedly Ferdinand’s.
The Conde de la Conquista died in November, 1810, was replaced by Dr.
Juan Martinez de Rosas, and elections for a popular congress were held
in April, 1811, giving the signal for open strife between the different
parties evolved by the confused political atmosphere. The first blood
shed in Chile on account of independence was not a struggle with the
mother country, but the result of dissensions among adherents of the
Spanish or Argentine Juntas, “old Spaniards,” groups desiring complete
independence, the church party, and foreign interests. It was during
this fight that the young José Miguel Carrera came first into military
prominence; he was the son of a Chilean landowner, Ignacio Carrera,
secretary of the Junta.
Congress held its first meeting in Santiago, in July, 1811, the deputy
from Chillan being Bernardo O’Higgins, educated in England and endowed
with the prestige of his father’s name. It was not long before
O’Higgins, then but thirty-five years old, was regarded as the leader of
the “Penquistos” (southerners of Penco or Concepción, who wanted to see
that pleasant city restored to her ancient pride as capital of Chile),
in opposition to the rich central group, with Santiago as their
stronghold and the Carreras as one of the most ambitious families. In
common with many another new clique, the Carreras were growing rich upon
the property which was now eagerly confiscated from the “old Spaniards”
and from the wealthy religious orders, whose accumulated lands and long
ascendancy had engendered such bitter enmity that, during the long war
of Spain with England, Juan and Ulloa reported, many people said openly
that it would be a good thing if England took possession of the Pacific
Coast, so that they would be free from the oppression of the clerics.
The Carreras, however, wanted more than money: their determination to
seize political power was demonstrated when, in December, 1811, a
military coup put the three sons of Ignacio into complete control of all
the newly recruited Chilean land forces, with José Miguel as the
commander-in-chief.
This young man dispersed the national congress by force, proclaimed
himself President of a new Junta, and banished Dr. Martinez to Mendoza:
all this still in the name of Ferdinand. But the confiscation of
property, removal of Spanish officers from the army, declaration of free
trade (a tacit invitation promptly accepted by many foreigners),
abolition of slavery and collection of church income, spelt practical
independence from Spain, and strong exception was taken in more than one
quarter. Valdivia and Concepción set up juntas independent of Santiago,
and over a year of disruption followed, until the viceroy of Peru sent
reinforcements to the Spanish commander in Chiloé Island, General
Antonio Pareja, and the latter sailed north, landing at the mouth of the
Maule with 2000 royalist troops for the disciplining of Chile.
José Miguel Carrera marched a Chilean army southwards, falling in with
the Spaniards at Yerbas Buenas, fifteen miles from Talca; the ability of
O’Higgins, commanding the forces in the field, brought about the defeat
of Pareja, who was driven to Chillan—the extreme south remaining
pro-Spanish and, in one spot or another, subject to Spanish influence
until late in the year 1824.
A strange accident now turned the political tide against the Carreras.
The central provinces, determined to endure no longer a rule of loot and
tyranny worse than that imposed by Spain, deposed José Miguel in his
absence by a vote of the Junta, and gave complete control of the army to
Bernardo O’Higgins; the Carreras hurried north to watch their interests,
were caught by a Spanish patrol and sent to Chillan. The Spaniards were
presently reinforced by troops under Gainza, took Talca, and became
strong enough by May, 1814, to arrange the Convenio de Lircay with the
new political leader of Chile, Henriquez Lastra, Governor of Valparaiso.
By this agreement the Spanish troops were to retire to Lima, on the
assurance that Chile remained faithful to Ferdinand VII; its execution
was guaranteed by Captain Hillier of the British man-of-war _Phoebe_.
But before the Convenio could be ratified, two events happened to
prevent this solution of complications. The Carreras escaped and
collected an army opposed to the agreement; the Viceroy Abascal received
strong reinforcements from Spain, changed his mind about signing, and
sent, instead of his signature, 5000 troops under General Mariano
Osorio.
The parties of Carrera and O’Higgins composed their differences in the
face of this aggression, marched to the encounter at Rancagua, and were
there signally defeated, in October, 1814. The overthrow was so complete
that the Chileans who had opposed Spain felt certain that no mercy was
to be expected, and, with their wives and families, began an
extraordinary exodus from the country over the Andes to Mendoza. The
weather was cold, with deep snow and bitter winds; without proper
baggage or sufficient food thousands of unhappy refugees crowded the
mountain paths and passes for days.
Meanwhile, General Osorio marched north and entered the capital in
triumph, welcomed enthusiastically not only by those citizens who
remained royalist but by thousands who were tired of the partisan
intrigues and condition of civil war to which the Carreras had reduced
the country for over two years. A new Spanish Governor, Francisco
Casimiro Marco del Pont, was inaugurated, about one hundred citizens
prominent in the growing independence of Chile were deported to Juan
Fernandez island, and for another twenty-eight months Spain resumed the
rule of Chile, as she still retained control of Lower and Upper Peru and
Ecuador. A fierce struggle between the Spanish and the northern patriots
under Simón Bolívar had begun in 1811 and continued with tremendous
reversals of fortune; Venezuela and Colombia (New Granada) were drenched
in blood. Over the Andes, Buenos Aires had been actually independent
since the middle of 1810, although the Spanish authorities held out with
peninsular troops in part of the northwest of Argentina, holding the
roads into N. W. South America. Pueyrredon, the Supreme Director of
Buenos Aires, seeing that Chile with comparatively facile mountain
passes was the key to the West, decided to bring her to the fold of
independence, raised an army, and put José de San Martín at its head.
While the eldest of the Carrera brothers, with whom San Martín was upon
hostile terms, went to the United States to try to get help in the
Chilean struggle, a strong force of 4000 men was collected in Mendoza,
the celebrated “Army of the Andes.” By this time events had put Spain
and the South American colonies into the position of furious opponents;
the Peruvian Viceroy’s actions forced Chileans to see patriotism as
hostility to Spain. For the plain citizen, lover of his country with a
desire to live in peace and to give and take fairly, it must have been
difficult to choose sides as regards the authorities to whom he gave
recognition and paid taxes; but for such revolutionaries as San Martín
the vision was simpler. He hung his own portrait on the wall beside that
of the Corsican; the memory of that superhuman conqueror infected his
blood and filled his landscape.
The Spaniards in Chile, aware of the situation of the Army of the Andes,
were tricked into believing that the main body intended to descend into
the central valley by the southerly Planchon Pass. But early in February
when the army was ready to set out, most of the troops were marched by
the Putaendo and the Cumbre, emerging near the plain of Chacabuco on the
12th. The Spanish troops sent hurriedly to the encounter were scattered
like chaff by the hardy South Americans, inured to wild country and able
to march for days with sun-dried meat and a handful of toasted maize as
their only food. The battle of Chacabuco was a rout so decisive that the
Spanish leaders did not even attempt to enter and hold Santiago: they
fled hastily to Valparaiso, and, accompanied by scores of their
panic-stricken sympathisers, filled nine ships and sailed away to Peru.
[Illustration: In the Chilean Andes.]
[Illustration: A Chilean Glacier, Central Region.]
[Illustration: Rio Blanco Valley, above Los Andes.]
Bernardo O’Higgins, to whose energy this success was chiefly due, was
made Supreme Director of Chile, openly independent now, with no more
talk of Ferdinand, although the actual proclamation was delayed until
February 12, 1818, upon the anniversary of Chacabuco. In the same year
Osorio came back, with 5000 Spanish troops, and in March San Martín was
surprised and his army badly defeated at Cancha Rayada; it was followed
by a repetition of the exodus over the Andes as after the Rancagua
defeat, but in better weather. Nor did the exile of the patriots last so
long, for on April 5, before the Spaniards could take possession of
Santiago, the Chileans attacked again and won the final victory of
Maipu. Only about 200 Spaniards escaped to take ship for Peru, all the
rest falling upon the Maipu plain or being taken prisoner.
Three days later, in Mendoza, the two younger sons of Ignacio Carrera
were shot upon a frivolous charge, an event generally regarded with
regret in Chile and always ascribed to the revengeful spirit of San
Martín. These young men had been refused permission to join the Army of
the Andes, were on parole in Buenos Aires and were still in that city
when José Miguel returned from the United States. Here he had obtained
means to fit out an expedition, promising to pay the debt with funds
obtained from Chilean import duties later on; he chartered five ships,
took on arms and ammunition sufficient for several thousand men, and
received as volunteers a number of technical workmen, and over a hundred
military officers, including seventy French and British.
But when Carrera in his first ship entered Buenos Aires on the way to
the Horn, the vessel was seized and he was placed under arrest on board
a brig, from which he escaped into the Argentine interior. The remaining
vessels of his fleet put back to North America. His two brothers also
fled in disguise, but were captured, sent in chains to Mendoza, and
there executed by the order of San Martín’s secretary.
The place of the Carreras in history is not great, but they were
Chileans of energy and courage deserving a better fate: the story of
their youth and good looks, and the tale of Juan José’s beautiful wife
who shared his miserable prison until his execution, are still
remembered. The fate of the elder brother was no more fortunate: during
three years he allied himself with various guerilla revolutionaries in
the heart of South America, but was eventually caught and identified,
sent to Mendoza, and shot, in 1821.
Chile, now upon her own feet, was still not given up by the Viceroy of
Peru, now General Pezuela, and since a land attack could not be again
contemplated for a time, the Frigate _Esmeralda_ was sent with the brig
_Pezuela_ to blockade Valparaiso. These vessels were driven off by the
brilliant action of the _Lautaro_, a vessel recently bought and armed by
the Chilean government and commanded by a young British naval officer,
Lieutenant O’Brien, killed at the moment of boarding the Spanish ship.
This was Chile’s first naval victory, herald of almost unbroken success
upon the sea; she was heartened to the immediate strengthening of this
service, and set about the acquisition of vessels while also sending
abroad for naval leaders. Chileans had up to that time, of course, no
experience in this arm of a nation’s defence: the first Chilean-born
admiral, Blanco Encalada, had had no experience but that of a midshipman
in the Spanish navy for a few years in his youth. Chile was wise in
looking overseas for technical skill. It happened that many British
soldiers and sailors, fresh from the Napoleonic wars, were in England
when the Chilean envoys came to seek help: hundreds of men took service,
partly no doubt for the sake of adventure but also from a genuine
sympathy with the gallant fight put up by a little country ranged
against the ancient enemy Spain. Among the naval officers who came was
Lord Cochrane, with a most distinguished naval career to his credit, the
hero of a score of daring deeds at sea and an extremely competent
organiser; no personality of Independence is more revered in Chile today
than that of Cochrane, and he who said that republics are notoriously
ungrateful could never make such a charge against Chile.
But before Cochrane arrived a new success had cheered the embryo navy.
Serious danger threatened with news of the coming of a formidable
Spanish naval force: a courier brought the story hotfoot from Buenos
Aires, where the squadron had put in. Nine ships convoyed by the _Maria
Isabella_ of 50 guns set sail from Spain with two thousand troops, but
one ship mutinied off the Argentine coast and joined the new Republic;
another transport disappeared in the Pacific; seven, with the fine
frigate, arrived in Talcahuano Bay in October, 1818, in a wretched
state, over 500 men having died on the way. Chile’s new little navy by
this time consisted of five vessels: the _San Martin_, carrying 1000
men, was formerly the British East Indiaman _Cumberland_, which entered
Valparaiso in August, laden with coal, commanded by a Briton named
Wilkinson, and went out as a vessel of war of Chile, under the same
command. The _Lautaro_ was now commanded by Captain Worcester, an
American merchant skipper; the _Chacabuco_, by Captain Francisco Diaz,
an “old Spaniard” who sided with the cause of Independence; the
_Pueyrredon_, Captain Vasquez; and the _Araucana_, commanded by another
Briton, Captain Morris. This force set sail southwards on October 9, and
ten days later found the enemy ensconced under the forts of Talcahuano,
a town which with Valdivia and Chiloé remained in the hands of the
Spanish. In the spirited action which followed the _Maria Isabella_ was
run aground, but was seized and got off safely by the Chileans, while
the seven Spanish transports were all taken, in the bay or later at sea.
Returning in triumph in November, the fleet was almost at once taken in
hand by Cochrane, just arrived from England, and plans made for
attacking Callao, where a Spanish squadron had its base. Neither the
Chilean nor the Argentine patriots had any quarrel with Peru, but here
was the stronghold of Spain on the West Coast; the Pacific could only be
rendered safe for enfranchised Chile by its reduction.
In January, 1819, Cochrane sailed north in command of the fleet,
consisting then of his flagship, the _O’Higgins_ (formerly the Spanish
_Maria Isabella_), the _Lautaro_, _San Martin_ and _Chacabuco_. He took
a provision ship and a gunboat of Spain, blockaded Callao successfully
from early February till the beginning of May, although Callao was
defended by fourteen ships of war and powerful batteries; he found time
also to take several small ports up and down the Peruvian coast, as well
as prizes carrying loads of cocoa, useful stores, and 200,000 pesos in
money. Most of the coast towns were quite ready to embrace independence,
but were alternately punished by royalists and patriots for compliance
with demands for supplies.
When Admiral Blanco and Cochrane returned to Chile another vessel had
just been added to the little navy, the _Independencia_, purchased in
the United States. Two vessels had in fact been bought, but when they
arrived in Buenos Aires the agents of Chile had not sufficient specie to
complete the payments for both, and had to see the second sail away to
Rio, where she was sold to the Brazilian government, although Chile had
paid half her price. The relations between the United States and Chile
were peculiar at this juncture; the bulk of the population were
certainly not unsympathetic, and a number of American individuals were
doing a brisk commerce with the young country, but a certain small
jealousy seems to have been shown towards Cochrane, and comparatively
little help was given to the patriotic cause. But the United States
Government quickly recognised the new Chilean government and had
appointed a consul during the days of Carrera’s régime.
Before Cochrane refitted his ships for new expeditions, the patriot
armies had gained ground in the south, and the outlook had considerably
improved. In September, 1819, the Chilean navy returned to Callao with
seven ships, chased the Spanish frigate _Prueba_ into the Guayas River,
sailed up 40 miles to Guayaquil and seized two armed prizes, the
_Aguila_ and the _Bigoña_. At Puna island, where Spain built most of the
vessels used in the Pacific between West Coast ports, Cochrane loaded
his prizes with the famous hardwoods of the Guayaquil region, sailed out
and took the _Potrillo_, a provision ship, and sent her to Valparaiso
with news while he turned towards Talcahuano with the object of aiding
in the obstinate southern struggle.
General Freire, in command of the Chilean army, lent him 250 men, and
Cochrane proceeded in a small schooner to reconnoitre the entrance to
Valdivia. Here he landed, at sunset on February 2, 1820, led his force
of about 350 to the fort “del Inglez,” attacked and took it, went on and
stormed Corral fortress, and before the night was over the Chileans had
taken possession of the four other main batteries of the south side.
With the dawn came the _O’Higgins_, and realizing the uselessness of
further fighting, the Spanish troops abandoned the northern forts and
fled up river to Valdivia. The defenders numbered 2000, and the forts
were provided with plenty of excellent guns: success was due to the
daring of this stroke of Cochrane, a resourceful sea-fighter who well
knew the value of a surprise.
“At first it was my intention to have destroyed the fortifications and
to have taken the artillery and stores on board,” wrote the Admiral to
Zenteno, the Chilean Minister of War and Marine a few days later, “but I
could not resolve to leave without defence the safest and most beautiful
harbour I have seen in the Pacific, and whose fortifications must
doubtless have cost more than a million dollars.” He left a small force,
and sailed farther south to try to take the last Spanish stronghold in
Chiloé, where the gallant Colonel Quintanilla maintained a plucky and
hopeless stand—and was destined to maintain it for nearly five more
years. Cochrane landed in the bay of San Carlos on February 17, took the
outer forts, but lost the way in woods and boggy roads during a black
night, and thus gave the Spaniards time to assemble a force too strong
for the Chilean attackers. They withdrew, and a body of 100 men was sent
to take Osorno; this town was taken without resistance on February 26,
and thenceforth Spanish military work on the mainland was limited to
guerilla disturbances in the forestal interior. Many Spaniards took
refuge among the Indians, and the tragi-comedy was enacted, for several
years, of both the new Chilean parties and the Spaniards flattering and
bullying the Araucanians into taking sides. To political divergences the
native must have been profoundly indifferent; despite the fact that his
frontier still stood at the Bio-Bio River and his southerly lands were
intact, his spirit had been warped by the steady pressure of three
centuries, and perhaps most seriously changed by the civilised habits he
had learnt from the white man. He had taken to cultivation, to the use
of European foods and a few implements; as a result, he had needs
hindering his ancient freedom and he could be cajoled by their
satisfaction. “I have distributed to each cacique on taking leave,”
wrote Beauchef to Cochrane after the taking of Osorno, “a little indigo,
tobacco, ribbon and other trifles.” And also with ribbon, tobacco and
“trifles” the Spanish survivors, or the recalcitrant Benavides (wavering
first on one side and then the other and finally to outlawry in the
woods), and the patriots of Chile, bought the Indian, giving him short
shrift when territory or villages changed hands. Eventually, in 1822, a
Chilean punitive force was sent to the south, the Indian country inland
from Valdivia was reduced, and the Spaniards troubling that region gave
up. The diary of Dr. Thomas Leighton, an English surgeon acting as
medical officer of the expedition, as quoted by Miers, is extremely
illuminating.
With Valdivia in their hands, the Chileans were able to contemplate a
bold stroke. It was decided to clear Spain once and for all from the
Pacific by bringing Peru into the camp of independence: the return of
Cochrane from the south was the signal for completion of plans for a
combined naval and military attack upon the last great stronghold of
Spain. The “Ejercito Libertador” (liberating army) was prepared with
immense enthusiasm, embarking from Valparaiso in August, 1820, preceded
by proclamations from O’Higgins, who declared the wish of Chile to
contribute to the freedom and happiness of the Peruvians, who would
“frame your own government and be your own legislators.” “No influence,”
he stated, “civil or military, direct or indirect, shall be exercised by
these your brothers over your social institutions. You shall send away
the armed force that comes to protect you whenever you wish; and no
pretext of your danger or your security shall serve to maintain it
against your consent. No military division shall occupy a free town
except at the invitation of the legal authorities; and the Peninsular
groups and ideas prevailing before the time of Independence shall not be
punished by us or with our consent.” O’Higgins was undoubtedly sincere;
Cochrane was free from any trace of selfish or ulterior motives; but San
Martín’s objects were less simple. His position was peculiar; sent
originally into Chile at the instance of Pueyrredon, he had practically
disavowed his party in the Argentine, where no political laurels seemed
likely to offer, and taken service with Chile. But here he had to share
popular affection with the beloved O’Higgins and the applauded Cochrane;
in Peru he might have the field to himself, and to this end he forthwith
worked.
The Chilean fleet spent 50 days in Pisco, while the Chilean Colonel
Arenales marched upon and took a number of other small Peruvian towns on
or tributary to the coast, with Ica, Nasca and Arica among them; from
the latter port he marched inland and seized Tacna. Meanwhile San Martín
was negotiating with the Peruvian Viceroy, Pezuela, but the “truce of
Miraflores” split upon two rocks—the Viceroy refused demands that he
should acknowledge the independence of the South American colonies: San
Martín could not sign acknowledgment of even nominal submission to the
Spanish Crown. The Liberating Army eventually set sail again on
September 28, and passed on to Callao, where on November 5 Cochrane,
with 240 volunteers, performed the exploit, never forgotten in the
annals of the Pacific, of cutting out the Spanish frigate _Esmeralda_.
This fine ship had 40 guns and 350 men, lay inside a strong boom and a
line of old vessels, was surrounded by 27 gunboats and protected by 300
guns of the forts on shore. But Cochrane boarded and took her, and with
a couple of other Spanish gunboats sent her outside to an anchorage
beyond the reach of the Peruvian cannon. Renamed the _Valdivia_, she
afterwards served as a unit of the Chilean fleet.
San Martín, now at Ancon with his forces, delayed the projected attack
upon Lima, sent out sheaves of grandiloquent proclamations, and watched
with anxiety affairs farther north, where the now triumphant Bolívar was
occupying Quito and might push forward to Guayaquil—a rich province also
coveted by San Martín and to which he now sent envoys with suggestions
that Bolívar should be kept out. For the next seven months San Martín’s
forces remained idle, although a part of the force under the British
Colonel Miller and the able General Arenales continued to range the
coast; Cochrane maintained a close blockade of Callao, and at last,
unable to get supplies and alarmed by the insecurity of their position
in Lima, the Spanish authorities evacuated the city and went to Cuzco.
This was on July 6, 1821, and for about a week order was kept in Lima by
Captain Basil Hall of H. M. S. _Conway_ with a handful of marines. San
Martín then sailed to Callao and took possession of Lima, where
Independence was proclaimed on July 28.
On August 4, San Martín declared himself Protector of Peru, proclaiming
his absolute authority and naming three associates as the cabinet
ministers. Requested by Cochrane to pay the wages and bounty promised to
the fleet on the fall of Lima, San Martín answered that he could not, as
Protector of Peru, pay Chile’s debts, said that he could only find the
money if the squadron were sold to Peru for his use, and presently had
the effrontery to invite Cochrane to leave the service of Chile and
become Admiral of Peru.
Cochrane’s indignant replies are historical; he sailed away after
repeated attempts to obtain the sailors’ wages, and, learning that San
Martín had shipped a considerable treasure to Ancon (upon the advance on
Callao of the still undefeated Spaniards), went there and took
possession of the gold and silver. One can imagine the grim smile of the
experienced old sailor as he made this haul.
San Martín assented with reluctance eventually to its use as part
payment of the sums due, but there was no possibility of further
friendly intercourse. Cochrane sailed north, on October 6, with the
Chilean fleet in a wretched state, ill equipped and almost unseaworthy.
He went up the Guayas to Guayaquil, received with rejoicing by the now
emancipated town, refitted, and put to sea again in the first week of
December. Fonseca Bay was visited on December 28, Tehuantepec on January
6, Acapulco three weeks later, in the hunt for two Spanish ships, the
_Prueba_ and the _Venganza_; the latter was chased and followed into
Guayaquil, the former into Callao, where Cochrane himself reappeared in
April. Here San Martín sent his ministers to wait upon the sailor,
making new propositions, including the post of admiral of the joint
squadrons of Chile and Peru. Cochrane answered bluntly that he would
have no dealings with a government founded upon a breach of faith toward
the Peruvians, supported by tyranny and the violation of all laws; that
no flag but that of Chile would be hoisted upon his ships; and he
refused to set foot ashore. He brought the fleet back to Valparaiso on
June 2, 1822, after two and a half years of ceaseless effort in the
service of Chile. The Pacific no longer showed a Spanish flag upon ship
or fortress: his work was done. When Cochrane left Chile in January,
1823, the independence of the country was definitely assured.
Spanish rule in the Americas had endured for three hundred years, but at
the end of that period it cannot be said that the profit of her conquest
and colonisation was on the side of Spain. The amazing courage of the
conquistadores forms a record without parallel, not upon the part of
such great figures as Cortes and Pizarro only, but scores of less known
pioneers. “In a period of seventy years,” Cieza de Leon has written,
“they have overcome and opened up another world than that of which we
had knowledge, without bringing with them waggons of provision, nor
great store of baggage, nor tents in which to rest, nor anything but a
sword and a shield and a small bag in which they carried their food.”
Between 1519 and 1811 the Spaniards smashed three established and at
least one embryo civilization in the Americas; but on the other side of
the ledger they gave the contact with West European speech, thought,
crafts and aims that brought immense American regions into line with the
rest of the modern world. It is true that vast stores of precious metals
were taken away: but in return were given two things more valuable,
ideas and blood.
Spain herself materially suffered in the long run. Her best youth was
drained overseas, or lost in the wars in Europe to which her gold
tempted her. In 1800 the commerce, agriculture, wealth and industry of
Spain were “almost nothing, compared to what they were when she
conquered America,” says Torrijos. The population had been cut in half.
Spain has been correctly charged with narrowness of policy in regard to
her colonies; it is frequently forgotten that all rules of commerce and
colonization were narrow during the same period—examples are still to be
found of nations surrounding themselves with a sky-high tariff wall; and
if Spain forbade the American colonies to cultivate Spanish products, in
turn Spaniards were not permitted to grow the crops peculiarly American.
As a matter of fact this rule was much more rigidly insisted upon within
the small compass of Spain, since in the Americas it was to the interest
and convenience of officials to shut their eyes to breaches of the rule.
Spain’s decree forbidding cultivation of the vine in Chile, for example,
was practically a dead letter, a show being only occasionally made of
attempts to carry out the law.
Chile, free and young, faced many problems, but was able to look upon
the future with confidence, secure at least in the active sympathy of
the greater part of the world. Spain, her power broken and her armies
destroyed, stood alone. Her wounds were long in healing.
_Republican Chile_
Accounts of the naval or military affairs of one particular nation
often read as if those events had occurred in a heavily screened
vacuum. But the march of affairs in the Pacific during the struggle
for independence were not only watched breathlessly by other American
nations—particularly Mexico, Central America, Colombia and the United
States—but also by Europe, immensely affected by the success or
failure of Spain to reassert her possession of the colonies. Vessels
of war of the United States and Britain ranged up and down the coast,
their position as neutrals complicated by the fact that many of their
own nationals were interested, either openly and quite un-neutrally,
in promoting the success of the revolting South Americans, or in
commercial transactions which were frequently perfectly legitimate and
straightforward, but which were sometimes kaleidoscopic. Fluid and
irregular trade conditions had prevailed upon the coast for a century:
Spain had been forced during her long wars to give an increased number
of trading licences, and much commerce was performed under cover of
Spanish names by foreign merchants. During Cochrane’s efforts to stop
the smuggling and underhand traffic that went on, particularly in the
series of small ports (headed by Pisco and Arica) in South Peru, he
found himself more than once at loggerheads with the merchants, and
with the British and other foreign squadrons watching affairs. Duties
ran high, sometimes up to 60 per cent ad valorem, and in consequence
along this “Entremedios” region a tremendous amount of smuggling
flourished; many of these little villages formed on occasion markets
for the interior of such size that the coast was glutted with European
goods and merchandise among the sand-hills was as cheap as at a
bargain sale.
Banks did not exist, and there was no adequate exchange of South
American products; cash was paid and had to be shipped overseas. A
custom grew up among the British traders of sending such payments home
by naval vessels, and as a percentage was paid upon these sums for
safe-carriage to the captains of men-of-war, a direct interest was
created in commercial prosperity. When Cochrane, on behalf of the
Chilean government, suggested a new customs rate of 18 per cent, taking
on board and guarding a quantity of disputed goods, there were
international and loud objections to his “floating customhouse.” With
the establishment of the young countries was closely entangled a number
of commercial interests with wide ramifications.
While the movement of affairs in Lower and Upper Peru, Bolivia and
Ecuador, filled public attention, the new Chile struggled to secure
stability as a self-governed country. The steps towards this end were
not all easy. The country had never been wealthy—in fact, scarcely
self-supporting, for the shipments of agricultural and mineral products
to Peru and Spain did not pay the costs of government and defence
against the Indians—and she was now nearly bankrupt. A terrible burden
of expense had been incurred for the military and naval campaigns in her
own south and in Peru, and the confiscated property of “old Spaniards”
and the religious orders was not an inexhaustible treasure. A loan
raised in London in 1822 gave no more than temporary relief, and heavier
taxes were imposed than in the days of Spanish control. The exhilaration
of new hopes, the realization of the inner strength of the Chilean
nation, did not suffice to save the country from a period of
dissatisfaction and unrest.
Bernardo O’Higgins never lost his personal popularity, but murmurs
against his minister of finance, Rodriguez, imperilled his position. The
national congress called in July, 1822, sat until October to frame a new
tariff (commercial regulations) and a new constitution to supersede the
tentative proclamation of 1818. But illiberal restrictions created by
the new decrees closed all the minor ports to foreign vessels, and every
Andean pass but one; prohibitory duties were placed on many articles of
foreign manufacture.
[Illustration: San Juan Bautista, Village of Cumberland Bay, Más a
Tierra Island (Juan Fernández Group), 400 Miles West of Valparaiso.]
[Illustration: The Plain of Calavera, Chilean Andes.]
The composition of Senate and Chamber of Deputies was outlined, the
Senate’s and Director’s term of office fixed at six years, while the
deputies, from whom a property qualification was required, were to be
elected annually, one for every 15,000 people. The Director was made
head of the army and navy, with powers to create foreign treaties and to
make peace and war. The treasury and all ecclesiastical appointments
were in his hands, as well as the naming of ambassadors, judges,
ministers and secretaries of state. In the middle of October, 1822,
General San Martín suddenly reappeared in Valparaiso, in the character
of a private citizen whose health required a sojourn at the medicinal
baths of Cauquenes. He told a tale of voluntary renunciation of Peruvian
dignities that received little credence; as a matter of fact, the luck
that for a period had made him appear a master of men had failed him at
last.
From the time when he made himself Protector in Lima (August, 1821) the
Peruvians had taken exception to his arrogance, his oppressive treatment
of leading citizens, the extortions of his ministers, and complained of
the want of stability in the country. In the interior Spanish forces
still maintained themselves, while San Martín kept idle an army of 8000
men, a burden upon the populace. Early in April, 1822, the royalist
General Canterac marched quickly upon the coast and inflicted a severe
defeat upon the forces of the Protector, near Ica. San Martín, alarmed,
decided to ask aid from Bolívar, fresh from victories in the Ecuadorian
interior, and sailed to Guayaquil. He was received by Bolívar on July
26, but with such hostility that, fearing for his personal safety, he
left hurriedly on July 28, and sailed back to Callao. He found that Peru
had undergone a _coup d’état_. Upon his departure leading citizens held
a meeting, insisted upon the resignation of his unpopular minister,
Monteagudo, and deported him. San Martín accepted the warning and waited
only until the convocation of congress to offer his resignation and to
leave the country. If he had any dream of returning to take a part in
public affairs in Chile or Argentina, it was speedily dissipated, and
presently he retired to an estate at Mendoza, now a part of his native
Argentina. His arrival and the fears of Chile that he contemplated some
disturbing stroke probably hastened the irruption of feeling against the
heads of the Chilean Government, by whom San Martín was received with
extreme friendliness. No hostility was expressed against O’Higgins,
whose memory agreeably survives in Chile, but the detested Rodriguez was
increasingly blamed for the blighting commercial decrees and the general
depression of the country.
In November, 1822, Chile experienced one of the most disastrous
earthquakes of the century: a month later another upheaval occurred,
with armed insurrections both in the north and south. The division of
the “Penquistos” from Santiago was newly emphasized by violent
dissatisfaction with laws against grain exports, and the cause of the
south was championed by General Ramon Freire, military governor of
Concepción, and echoed by Coquimbo, also angered by the heavy export
dues placed upon copper, collected in the north but spent in Santiago.
While the troops of Freire crossed the Maule, his northern supporters
under Benevente marched south; by the end of January they had reached
Aconcagua and had secured the adhesion of Quillota. On the 28th a group
of leading citizens visited O’Higgins and induced him to resign his
authority into the hands of a junta of three, until the national
congress could be again summoned. But the arrival of Freire in
Valparaiso Bay with three warships and 1500 men put a different
complexion upon governmental plans. Freire camped his men outside
Santiago, declared his lack of personal ambition, but presently accepted
the offer of the Directorship from the Junta. A new constitution was
evolved at the end of 1823, which does not concern history since it was
abrogated a year later in the face of new danger from Spain, speedily
dispelled, when Freire needed larger powers.
From this period Chile slowly fought her way to social solidarity, her
true wealth in agriculture developing steadily as the population
increased. It is true that from a political standpoint there were few
outstanding figures during the last eighty years of the nineteenth
century, but whether from the outside or the inside the men appeared who
brought the country to economic strength and gave her all that she
lacked as regards markets, means of communication and development of her
almost unsuspected resources.
In 1830 internal disturbances took place, chiefly as the result of the
reaction of the _pelucones_ (the Conservative-Church-aristocratic group)
against the Government party of _pipiolas_ (Liberals). The victory of
the Army of the South at Lircay (April 17, ’31) resulted in the election
of the successful general, Prieto, as President, and during his term of
office (1831–41) the brilliant minister, Diego Portales, advanced the
country’s progress materially and framed the Constitution which is still
in force. Portales was assassinated upon the eve of Chile’s expedition
to free Peru from the domination of a foreign dictator, in 1837. The
occasion of this war was the rise of the aggressive Bolivian general,
Santa Cruz, and his invasion and reduction of Peru. Chile regarded this
forced Confederation as a challenge, sent armies to the north, took
Lima, and defeated Santa Cruz at the battle of Yungay (January, 1839),
when the Confederation fell apart.
The victor of Yungay, General Bulnes, ruled Chile for another ten years
(1841–51), a prosperous and quiet period marking a tremendous stride
forward in the country’s advance. Manuel Montt, the next President,
served for another ten-year period, but was troubled first with a
rebellion under General de la Cruz, crushed at the battle of Loncomilla
at the end of 1851; by a revolt of the Atacama miners, put down at Cerro
Grande in April, 1859; and a serious affray at Valparaiso late in the
same year. During the succeeding government of José Perez occurred
Spain’s last hostile act against her former colonies, when in 1865 a
naval squadron sailed into the Pacific, seized the Chincha islands off
Peru and demanded the payment of the old Peruvian colonial debt. Chile
made the cause hers, and mobilized her fleet, brought upon herself the
bombardment of Valparaiso on March 31, 1866, but seized the Peruvian
gunboat _Covadonga_ off Papudo port.
In 1879, during the administration of Anibal Pinto, war broke out
between Chile and Bolivia, afterwards joined by Peru, with the result,
after the cessation of hostilities in 1883, of the acquisition by Chile
of practically all the nitrate fields of South America.
A little later, Chile’s internal peace was curiously disturbed by the
recurrence of old trouble concerning church privileges. The Chilean
government claimed the right of nomination of church dignitaries, and
the question was brought to a head when the Pope refused to appoint a
candidate to the Archbishopric of Santiago chosen by the administration
of Santa Maria (1881–86). A governmental decree rendering civil
marriages legal in the eye of Chile, and another insisting upon the
right to bury non-Roman Catholics in city cemeteries, roused a great
deal of popular passion and clerical objection.
Unrest culminated during the administration of Balmaceda, when quarrels
broke out between the President and Congress, and his attempts to govern
the country without that body ended in a mutiny of the fleet. Sailing to
the north, the insurgents prepared their plans for eight months,
training an army, until it was brought south in August, 1891, and
Balmaceda was defeated at the battles of Concon and Placilla. When the
president shot himself in September of the same year, the mantle fell
upon one of the insurrecto leaders, Admiral Jorge Montt, son of Manuel.
Another of the Montt family, Pedro, occupied the presidential chair from
1906 to 1910, a period marked by great energy in the construction of
ports, highways and railroads.
Since the Balmaceda revolt Chile has enjoyed complete internal and
external peace, the administration of the country remaining in civilian
hands and following the normal course of electoral changes.
CHAPTER III
STRANGERS ON THE PACIFIC COAST
_Drake and the “Golden Hind.”—Thomas Cavendish.—The Narborough
Expedition.—Sharp and Dampier.—Captain Betagh.—The Loss of the
“Wager.”—Juan and Ulloa.—Resident Foreigners.—Strangers and
Independence._
From the time when she planted her first colonies on the West Coast of
South America Spain did her utmost to keep strangers from those shores
or from any knowledge of them. A veil of mystery hung over the Pacific,
torn aside roughly when Drake’s little vessel weathered the furies of
the Magellanic Strait and the resounding tale was published broadcast
throughout Europe.
There is no reason to doubt the historic truth of Drake’s words as
repeated by the gallant Captain John Oxenham—that, viewing the Pacific
from a hill on the Isthmus of Panama during his famous raid upon Nombre
de Dios in 1572, Drake “besought Almighty God of His goodness to give
him life and leave to sail once in an English ship in that sea.” The
Devonshire sailor undoubtedly urged repeatedly in England, after that
time, that reprisals for Spanish injuries inflicted upon England could
be best made by direct attack, and as he told Queen Elizabeth, small
good could be done by attempts on Spain herself, but that as all
Philip’s wealth was drawn from overseas “the only way to annoy him was
by his Indyes.” The Queen, however, did not consent to such strokes
until after Philip had tried to raise a rebellion in Ireland and
actually landed forces there; both she and her envoys had in mind, not
only a blow at Spanish prestige, and “some of their silver and gold
which they got out of the earth and sent to Spain to trouble all the
world,” but the extension of the Protestant faith and the glory of
England by the conquest and settlement of wild lands. The evidence of
Oxenham and Butler before the Inquisition in Lima in 1579 proves that
Drake intended to colonise if he could, “because in England there are
many inhabitants and but little land.” When, on leaving the coasts of
Mexico, he sailed farther north, landed after entering the Golden Gate
and claimed “Nova Albion” for the Queen, he felt completely justified
because “the Spaniards never had any dealing, or so much as set a foot,
in this country, only to many degrees southward of this place.” San
Francisco stands today on the spot where Drake’s chaplain held service;
the map, still extant, of Drake’s correction, show that he foresaw the
time when English-speaking colonies would dispute with Spain, France and
Portugal possession of the Americas.
Armed with Elizabeth’s formal commission, her own sword, and the title
of Captain-General, Drake sailed from Plymouth on November 15, 1577,
with five ships, of which the largest was the _Pelican_, of only 100
tons, but very strongly built. Officers and crew totalled about 164, and
among them was his cousin John Drake, then a clever lad of fourteen
years. A storm compelled them to put into Falmouth, and after repairs
they sailed again on December 13. Land was first touched at Cape
Mogador; thence the little fleet sailed to Cape Blanco, where they took
a Portuguese ship with a store of fish and biscuit; to Cape Verde, where
a Spanish merchantman’s load of cloth was seized; next to the river
Plate, for water and wood, on April 27, 1578, and on to Port San Julian,
where Magellan had executed mutineers, and where, for the same crime of
mutiny, Drake beheaded Thomas Doughty. The master-gunner Oliver was
killed here by Patagonians, and during the two-months’ stay the
Portuguese prize, the _Maria_, as well as the _Christopher_ and the
_Swan_ were broken up. The weather was cold and the expedition was
sorely in need of firewood.
Sailing south, they sighted the entrance of the Strait on August 17,
naming one of the three islands off the south shore “Elizabeth Island.”
The Strait was actually entered on the twenty-first of August, with
winter well advanced. They saw no Indians at first, but quantities of
the smoke from the innumerable fires that gave the great island on the
south its original name of “Land of Smoke.” At Penguin Island they
stopped to kill and salt a supply of birds, the Purchas account of the
voyage stating: “This Strait is extreme cold with Frost and Snow
continually: the Trees seeme to stoope with the burthen of the Weather
and yet are greene continually; and many good and sweet Herbes doe very
plentifully grow and increase under them.”
At the passage’s western end the weather was so furious that the
_Marigold_ sank with all hands. The captain of the _Elizabeth_ put his
ship about and deserted, fleeing back through the Strait for England,
where he was promptly sent to prison. With the loss of a pinnace, whose
one survivor, Peter Carder, a Cornishman, eventually made his way back
to England in 1586, after terrible sufferings in Patagonia and Brazil,
Drake had only his own flagship, the _Pelican_, whose name he now
changed to the _Golden Hind_. About 80 men remained, half of the number
who had set out from Plymouth.
Driven down to the sixty-sixth degree of south latitude, 14 degrees
south of the western opening of the Strait, Drake put about as soon as
the terrible gales permitted and ran north outside the channels and
archipelagos of South Chile. They saw Valdivia, or rather, Corral, but
did not enter, anchoring first at the island of Mocha, in about 38
degrees, almost opposite the present Traiguen. Here a party went ashore
to get water, but were fiercely assailed by well-armed Indians, who
wounded every man of the English company, some receiving over twenty
arrows. Returning hastily, the party left two men behind, and three
others died of their wounds on board.
Sailing farther north in search of Valparaiso, they overshot the
entrance, but discovered their mistake when they anchored in the bay of
Quintero, 18 miles to the north, and found an intelligent Indian, who
told them of a Spanish ship then lying off Valparaiso. Him they took as
a guide, and returning boldly sailed into and anchored in the bay at
high noon of December 5, 1578. At anchor also they saw _La Capitana_
(“the flagship”) in which Pedro Sarmiento had a few years previously
made his famous voyage of discovery to the Solomons. The Spaniards
aboard the _Capitana_, never dreaming that a vessel in the Pacific could
be other than Spanish, hailed and welcomed them. Drake sent a boarding
party, which rudely awakened their hosts when one Thomas Moon began to
lay about him, struck a Spaniard and said to him (says the Purchas
account) “Abaxo Perro, that is in English, Goe downe Dogge.” The
Spaniards were put under hatches, a prize crew sent aboard, and going
ashore and breaking open the warehouse Drake added 1700 jars of wine,
and stores of salt pork and flour, to the treasure he had found in the
_Capitana_, amounting to 24,000 pesos of the “very fine and pure gold of
Baldivia,” due for shipment to Peru. One Spanish sailor pluckily swam
ashore and warned the inhabitants of the settlement; there were but nine
households, and the people abandoned the place to the English, who found
little to loot but the silver ornaments from the chapel. Two days later
they weighed anchor and returned to Quintero, where the friendly Indian
was set ashore with gifts, and Drake set his course for more northerly
ports, using the sea-chart of the _Capitana’s_ pilot.
At Tongoy Bay, where they put in next, they found no water, and went on
to the beautiful Herradura just above it, a few miles south of Coquimbo
Bay with its little Spanish stronghold of La Serena. Twelve men went
ashore here to get water, but were attacked by a number of Spanish
horsemen. Thomas Minivy, leader of the shore party, got his men into the
boat, but was attacked, and, defending their embarkation with arquebus
and sword, was killed. Drake now went on to Salada Bay, where he stayed
for over a month to careen the _Golden Hind_, to bring up from the hold
and place in position his artillery, and to build, on board the
_Capitana_, a pinnace with planks brought from England. She was launched
on January 9, 1579. Several times during his stay Spaniards came from
Coquimbo to look at him, but did not attack, according to the statement
made later to Captain Sarmiento by Juan Griego, the boatswain of the
_Capitana_ taken along the coast by Drake, and corroborated by the
log-book and Nuño da Silva the pilot.
Setting sail, they missed the mouth of the Copiapó River, and had an
anxious search for water along the arid coasts of Tarapacá. Entering at
length the mouth of the Pisagua River they had a stroke of luck, for
there on the bank lay a Spaniard, fast asleep, in charge of a train of
llamas laden with silver bars from Potosí and a quantity of _charqui_
(dried meat). Taking him as a guide, and seizing his cargo, they sailed
for the port of Arica, a village of only 20 houses, but at that time the
chief point of embarkation of the silver from the interior mines.
Brought from the mountains by Indians and llamas, the precious bars were
sea-borne from Arica to Peru (Callao, for Lima) to await the yearly
despatch of treasure to Panama City, and overland by Cruces to Porto
Bello. Of these arrangements and their usual date Drake well knew, for
but six years previously he had lain in wait for and captured the train
load of mules carrying silver ingots along the cobble-paved pathway
through the Isthmian forest.
Proceeding to Arica, the _Golden Hind_ surprised and took two ships, one
containing 33 bars of silver; but hearing that a ship laden with a
richer treasure was in the port of Chule (about five miles north of Ilo)
he hurried on. However, before his arrival warning had reached the
captain, who disembarked and buried the silver bars, and Drake’s only
satisfaction was to take the ship along and set her adrift, himself
sailing on to Callao. Strangely enough, no news had reached Lima of the
long sojourn and repeated raids of Drake upon the coast, and he was able
to enter the bay without rousing suspicion on the part of the vessels
anchored there. At this time (February 13, 1579), John Oxenham was still
alive, in the prison of the Inquisition in Lima, with two or three of
his crew; Drake knew it, and although he could not risk the ruin of his
expedition by any such attempt as an attack on Lima, he hoped to seize
Spaniards of sufficient importance to exchange for the English
prisoners. When John Drake was examined before the Inquisition in Lima
in 1587 he said that “Captain Francis ... in the boat, with six or seven
men, accompanied by the pinnace carrying twenty or thirty men, went to
the other vessels anchored there and cut their cables.... This was done
so that, having been cut loose, the wind would carry these ships out of
port, where he could seize them and hold them for ransom, so that in
exchange they would give him the Englishman who was said to be a
prisoner in Lima.” The plan did not succeed. A calm fell, and an attack
by the pinnace on a ship from Panama was repulsed with the loss of a
man; she was afterwards taken when her crew abandoned her. At night the
tide carried them outside the port, and when in the morning three or
four vessels came out against the _Golden Hind_ Drake ran before the
wind, sailing north until Paita was reached. A ship was taken here and
another farther north, but it was not until the first day of March that
young John Drake won the chain of gold that had been promised to the
first person sighting the coveted treasure ship of San Juan de Anton.
Two days later Drake transferred from the captured ship an immense
treasure, including much gold and fourteen chests of silver, letting her
go on March 6.
Thence his exploits do not greatly concern the Pacific coast; he took
vessels off Nicaragua, plundered the Port of Guatulco in Mexico, sailed
to the Californian coast, and when he met ice shaped his course
southwest, making for the Moluccas, the Cape of Good Hope, and so back
to Plymouth, arriving with the greatest treasure that was ever carried
in one little sailing vessel and the undying record of an
extraordinarily bold feat in the circumnavigation of the globe.
It is the effect of Drake’s exploit upon the West Coast which concerns
these pages chiefly, but it is only fair to the memory of a gallant man
and fine sailor to say that not only was he beloved at home, but that
the noble Spaniards with whom he came in contact did justice to his
qualities. Not unnaturally, the ports that he raided feared and hated
his name; but such a man as Don Francisco de Zarate taken prisoner by
Drake off Acajutla (El Salvador) in April, 1579, called him “one of the
greatest mariners that sails the seas, both as a navigator and as a
commander.” A remark of Zarate’s that follows sheds a bright light on
Drake: “Nine or ten cavaliers, cadets of noble English families, form
part of the council which he calls together for the most trifling
matter, although he takes advice from no one. But he enjoys hearing what
they say, and afterwards issues his orders.” Zarate was shown, and
apparently accepted the propriety of, Elizabeth’s commission to Drake,
and informs the Viceroy of Mexico that “I managed to find out whether
the General was liked, and they (the crew of the _Golden Hind_) all said
that they adored him.”
_Thomas Cavendish_
The effect of Drake’s feat upon the New World was electric. The Viceroys
of New Spain and Peru, the Audiencia of Panama, Governors of every
province, hastened to strengthen weak ports with troops and artillery;
ships changed their routes, scores of reports and letters went home to
Spain. Philip II, who through his clever Ambassador at the court of
Elizabeth knew of the expedition before it sailed, wrote discreetly on
the margin of one such letter, “Before the Corsair reaches England it is
not expedient to speak to the Queen. When he arrives, yes. Investigate
whether it would be well to erect a fort in the Port of Magellan.”
But noisy as was the repute of the exploit in the Pacific and in Spain,
it had no less effect upon the imagination of Europeans desiring a share
in exploration and its rewards. Spain’s tragic effort to found a
settlement in the Strait was almost blotted out when Thomas Cavendish
passed through in 1586.
Cavendish was a native of Trimley in Suffolk, a good mariner; he sailed
across the Atlantic with three ships, the largest of 120 tons, entered
the Strait in January, 1586, and passed out into the Pacific on February
24. Sailing north to the island of St. Mary, he found stores of good
wheat and barley, and potato roots “very good to eat.” Hogs and hens,
introduced by the Spaniards, were thriving, and although the Indian
small farmers were so much in subjection to the Spaniards that they
dared not eat a hog nor hen themselves, in compensation for these
restrictions all had been made Christians.
Running north, Cavendish anchored near Concepción; in the bay of
Quintero they had an encounter with Spaniards on horseback, and the
captain himself, who travelled eight miles inland, declared the valley
country to be “very fruitful, with fair fresh rivers.” Off Arica the
raiders took a ship, and went on north, raiding the coastal vessels;
eventually they burnt Paita, raided Puna Island at the mouth of the
Guayas River, and lost men there.
Cavendish took two years and two months to complete the round of the
globe, and the Pacific had hardly settled down again after the trouble
caused by this corsair when, in early 1594, Richard Hawkins, son and
grandson of fine mariners, came through the Strait. An acute observer,
he noted the handsome Winter’s Bark trees of the southern channels,
finding the seeds like good pepper and the bark “very stomachic and
medicinal.” On the West Coast Hawkins was unlucky, encountering a strong
Spanish fleet which captured him in June, 1594. He was taken to Lima,
sent prisoner to Spain, and after eight years of captivity was released
to return to his Devon home.
In 1598 the Dutch appeared, in the person of Captain Oliver Noort,
piloted by one Melis, an Englishman who had sailed with Cavendish. Noort
traversed the Strait, sailed north to Mocha Island, where he drank
chicha for the first time and found it “somewhat sourish,” and nearby
seized a Spanish ship. Off Arica his ships encountered terrible
“arenales” (sand-laden winds) and two strayed from touch with the
flagship. Bad weather persisted until June 13, when “the Spanish pilot
was for ill demeanures, by publike sentence, cast overboard. A
prosperous wind happily succeeded.”
The exploit of Noort brought many of his countrymen into the Pacific,
and from the beginning of the seventeenth century Holland sent out
scores of fine navigators. Spilbergen came through the Strait in 1615,
and it was a Dutchman, Willem Cornelius Schouten of Hoorn, sailing here
in the same year, with Jacob Le Maire of Amsterdam, who found and named
many islands south of Tierra del Fuego, as Staten, Maurice, Barnvelt, as
they also named Cape Hoorn and Le Maire’s Strait. The famous Jacques
l’Hermite came through and up the coast in 1623–4; and by these
southerly passages also came five ships of a Dutch expedition in 1642–3,
of which Hendrick Brouwer or “Brewer” left an account.
_The Narborough Expedition_
In 1669 it occurred to the English Crown that better information
concerning Patagonia and Chile was desirable, and the experienced Sir
John Narborough was sent out with two ships in 1669. The _Sweepstakes_,
of 300 tons, had 36 pieces of artillery; the _Batchellor_, pink of 70
tons, had four pieces; the crew totalled one hundred. They were well
provisioned and carried plenty of beads, hatchets, etc., to trade with
the natives of the southerly channels, the design of the voyage, which
was at the king’s private cost, being “to make a discovery both of the
seas and coasts of that part of the world, and to lay the foundation of
a trade there.” Narborough was enjoined not to go ashore before he got
south of the Plate River, and not to interfere with any Spanish
settlements; Port Desire he considered beyond Spain’s jurisdiction,
formally taking possession in the name of Charles II. He thought better
of Patagonia than Darwin, nearly two hundred years later, for he
recorded that the soil was marly and good, that in his opinion it might
be made excellent corn-ground, being ready to till, and that “tis very
like the land on Newmarket Heath.” He noted that the Indians seen in
this region had dogs with them, with grey coats and painted red in
spots.
Reaching the eastern entrance of the Strait on October 22, he anchored
just outside the first Narrow at night, and passed the white cliff of
Cape Gregory next morning; when he went ashore at Elizabeth Island
natives came to him, but did not recognise the gold and copper he
showed; and although “my Lieutenant Peckett danced with them hand in
hand” and obligingly exchanged his red coat for one of their
skin-coverings, while Narborough showed them “all the courteous respect
I could,” shortly afterwards he had reason to suspect them of planning
to sink his skiff. They too had dogs, but no other domestic animal, and
the sailor decided that they were but brutish, and gave up hope of
friendship or trade. He passed “Sandpoint,” named Freshwater Bay, and
six leagues to the south reached “Port Famen,” where driftwood lay as
thick as in a carpenter’s yard.
“A little within land from the waterside grow brave green woods, and up
in the valleys large timber-trees, two foot throughout and some upwards
of 40 feet long, much like our Beech-timber in England; the leaves of
the trees are like green birch-tree leaves, curiously sweet ... there
are several clear places in the woods, and grass growing like fenced
fields in England.” He caught plenty of fish, noticed the spicy Winter’s
Bark and used it to stew with his food, but could find no traces of
minerals in the soil. The Indians here took the knives and
looking-glasses Narborough gave them “to gain their loves,” but, he
records, refused brandy. Sounding and taking careful observations as he
went along, he named Desolation Island, passed out by Cape Pillar, and
noted the Four Evangelists (calling them the “Islands of Direction”) as
guides for the western end of the Strait.
On November 26 he lay off the island of Socorro, in 45° south latitude,
and on the 30th found and named Narborough’s Island, taking possession
“for his Majesty and his Heirs.” By this time all the ship’s store of
bread was exhausted, everyone eating pease; they proceeded to No Man’s
Land, a small island at the south of Chiloé, and by December 15 anchored
at the entrance to Valdivia Bay. Here they sent a Spaniard of the crew
ashore, with bells, tobacco, rings and jew’s-harps to trade with the
natives, and an undertaking to burn a fire at night as a signal. No fire
was seen and apparently Narborough was never able to discover what
became of him. The lieutenant gathered green apples from the thick woods
close to the water’s edge. Next morning the lieutenant in his boat,
rowing by the shore, came suddenly upon the Spaniards’ small fort of St.
James, was invited to land by the Spanish soldiery, and noted that the
fort was strongly palisaded against Indian raids, and that the Spaniards
used “very ordinary” match-lock musquetoons. The officers received the
English sailors courteously, sitting “on chairs and benches placed about
a table, under the shade, for the sun shone very warm, it being a very
fair day,” the captain calling for wine in a silver bowl and firing five
of his guns in salute. He asked for news of wars in Europe, said they
had much trouble with the valiant and barbarous Indians, who fought on
horseback and infested the camp so closely that the Spaniards never
entered the thick woods nor went more than a musket-shot’s distance from
the palisades. A fine dinner was served upon silver dishes, and it was
suggested that four Spaniards should go back to the English ship with
the lieutenant, and pilot her into the port. But Narborough remembered
the old tale of “treacherous dealings with Captain (John) Hawkins at St.
Juan de Ulloa,” and although he listened attentively while they talked
of the gold they found here and troubles with the natives, and the great
trade the Pacific coast had with the Chinese by way of the Philippines,
he declined to take his ship in, and said he only wanted wood and fresh
water. On December 17 he sent eighteen men ashore to barter merchandise
with the Spaniards, many courtesies being exchanged. Four of the
Spaniards’ wives, “very proper white women born in the kingdom of Peru
of Spanish parents,” who had never been in Europe, insisted on sitting
down in the ship’s boat, “to say that they had been in a boat that came
from Europe.” Other Spaniards had Indian wives, all being finely dressed
in silks, with gold chains and jewelled earrings. The English were then
asked to go to Fort St. Peter, two miles inside the bay, where the
Governor of Valdivia received Lieutenant Armiger and his companions
politely, accepting their presents and offering them wine; but when they
asked for a cask of water he sent soldiers and seized the boat, also
taking the Englishmen prisoners, saying he had orders from the Captain
General of Chile. A letter from Armiger to Narborough, sent next day,
stated that “myself and Mr. Fortescue are kept here as prisoners, but
for what cause I cannot tell; but they still pretend friendship and say
that if you will bring the ship into the harbour you shall have all the
accommodation that may be. Sir, I need not advise you further.” This was
the last we hear of him, for Narborough could not obtain his release and
sailed away a few days later. Three men were with Armiger—John
Fortescue, Hugh Cooe the trumpeter, and Thomas Highway, a Moor of
Barbary, who spoke good Spanish. Returning through the Strait, the
expedition reached home in the middle of 1671, sighting the Lizard on
June 10.
Narborough’s careful and seamanlike observations, his sailing
directions, record of soundings, etc., as well as his acute notes upon
South Chile, were the first explicit details published in England of the
condition of this region in the seventeenth century; the book was the
manual used seventy years later by the crew of the _Wager’s_ longboat.
Narborough thought that advantageous trade might be made in South Chile
if “leave were granted by the King of Spain for the English to trade
freely in all their ports and coasts; for the people which inhabit there
are very desirous of a trade: but the Governors durst not permit it
without orders, unless ships were to go thither and trade per force and
not take notice of the Governors.” And as Spain continued to follow the
policy of exclusion, and open hostilities recurred, this was what
happened, until before another fifty years had passed the authorities
were either taking part in the smuggling that went on or trying to shut
their eyes to it.
_Sharp and Dampier_
The next English stranger upon Chilean coasts was the pirate Captain
Bartholomew Sharp, raiding up and down all the West Coast in 1680 in
boats that he built in Panama, and sailing southwards “as far in a
fortnight as the Spaniards usually do in three months,” says Basil
Ringrose. They made for the “vastly rich town of Arica,” took a couple
of vessels on the way, but finding Arica roused and the country in arms
against them, took Ilo, and proceeded south to plunder Coquimbo. Hence
they sailed for Juan Fernandez Island. The crew deposed Sharp and
elected Watling as the commander, and presently sailed back to Iquique
with minds still fixed upon the riches of Arica. On a second attempt at
this port Watling was killed; Sharp was reappointed, and the buccaneers
went to Huasco for provisions (“for fruits this place is not inferior to
Coquimbo”), and after raiding off the Central American and Mexican
coast, returned to England. They intended to traverse Magellan Strait,
but must have rounded the Horn, for to their surprise no land was
encountered until they found themselves in the West Indies. Their story
encouraged Davis to the plundering of Coquimbo in 1686.
Between this time and the arrival of Anson, one of the most interesting
of the raiders in the South Seas was Dampier, who was an adventurer of
great experience and resource. The sailing-master in one of the vessels
of Dampier’s expedition of 1703 was Alexander Selkirk. This Scot had a
quarrel with Captain Stradling, and was put ashore at Juan Fernandez,
where the corsairs usually assembled to get fresh water and to repair
their vessels. It is said that before the ship left he asked to be
readmitted, but was refused. He lived alone on the island for a period
of four years and four months, and was eventually rescued by Woodes
Rogers, captain of the _Duke_ privateer, on February 12, 1709. Dampier,
curiously enough, was then acting as Rogers’ pilot, and must have been
interested in the adventures of the original of Robinson Crusoe.
_Captain Betagh_
A narrative of uncommon interest is that of Captain Betagh, an Irishman
with an observant eye and a lively pen, who, raiding in the company of
Captains Clipperton and Shelvocke upon the West Coast in the year 1720,
recorded his adventures in a racy tale.
The _Success_ and the _Speedwell_ carried King George’s commission, a
state of war existing between Spain and England, and the legality of
their privateering was so far recognised that when a number of the
British, including Betagh, were caught and sent prisoner to Lima, no
charge against them regarding attacks upon coastal towns was made, and
the only serious accusation was that, early in their cruise, a
Portuguese and therefore friendly vessel had been seized and a quantity
of money taken. The two vessels, of which the larger did not exceed 170
tons burden, sailed south down the Eastern Coast of South America late
in 1719, encountering such bad weather off Tierra del Fuego that they
were greatly delayed. Many of the crew died and the rest were reduced to
eating mussels and wild celery found on the forbidding shore. The
vessels missed a rendezvous at Juan Fernandez, and Captains Clipperton
and Shelvocke raided separately up and down the West Coast in an
extraordinary series of adventures. Three Spanish men-of-war came out
after them, as well as after the French “interlopers,” but the seas were
wide and the little privateers besides being fast were manned by hardy
British sailors, while most of the Spanish vessels were obliged to carry
Indian or Negro crews. A number of small vessels were taken, but one
prize brought misfortune; the prize crew put aboard was overpowered by
the original crew, the ship run aground, and the handful of British sent
prisoners to Lima. Not long after, Betagh was sent to cruise in the
_Mercury_, a little fruit bark seized off Paita. In this unlikely vessel
he actually succeeded in taking two prizes, exchanging into the second,
an old English-built pink full of peddler’s goods running between Panama
and Peru. But the pink was chased by the Spanish warship _Brilliant_ and
overtaken, luck, however, remaining with Betagh when the Admiral proved
to be Don Pedro Miranda, who had been a former prisoner of Sir Charles
Wager and so well treated by him that not only did the Spaniard treat
his English prisoners kindly, but brought Betagh to his own table and
toasted the gallant Wager at every meal.
Reversals of fortune of this kind were not unusual, and no doubt bred
tolerance; another example was occurring in the Pacific at almost the
same time. Clipperton, taking the _Prince Eugene_, found aboard the
Marquis de Villa Roca with his wife and child. On a previous voyage
Clipperton had been taken before this official in Panama, and the terms
now arranged were not made harsher by resentment. The antagonists
recognised the fortune of war.
Betagh, with a surgeon and sergeant of marines, was set ashore at Paita,
whence they were sent by the usual route of the coast peddlers to Piura,
and later to Lima. Here the venerable Archbishop Diego Morsillo, the
Viceroy, refused to proceed harshly against the prisoners in the matter
of the Portuguese _moidores_, and “would sign no order for the shedding
of innocent blood.” Betagh was permitted to live with one Captain
Fitzgerald, a native of St. Malo, who offered agreeable hospitality.
Another group of Clipperton’s men, taken and also brought to Lima not
long after, yielded to suggestion and became converts to Roman
Catholicism, with merchants of Lima standing as godfathers. Apparently
the Limeños were not disposed to severity towards these brands wrested
from the burning, for when an assortment met at a public house kept by
one John Bell to confirm their baptism with a bowl of punch, and became
so dimmed of vision that they knocked down and smashed the image of a
saint in mistake for an aggressor, the Inquisition released them after a
five days’ cooling of their heads. Nor was the action of the authorities
anything but strangely lenient when the same precious converts were
caught out in a more serious business. Headed by one Sprake, they formed
an audacious plot to seize a ship at Callao, and, to get money for
firearms, had the effrontery to beg for alms in the Lima streets as
“poor English newly baptised.” Discovered, they were all jailed for a
time, but presently released with the exception of the ringleader, with
whom the Government was “greatly provoked.”
Betagh himself was permitted to work his way home in the Spanish ship
_Flying Fish_, and returned to London in October, 1721. His book,
written soon after he returned, is a valuable companion picture to that
of Byron: both were straightforward narrators of the experiences upon
the West Coast of young naval officers engaged in their duty of
“cruising upon and annoying the enemy” in the closed waters of the South
Seas, at a time of extreme interest in world affairs. Betagh’s
descriptions show that he had an eye for scenery, as when he said of
Coquimbo that it “stands on a green rising ground about ten yards high,
which nature has formed like a terrace, north and south in a direct line
of more than a mile. The first street makes a delightful walk, having
the prospect of the country round it and the bay before it. All this is
sweetly placed in a valley ever green and watered with a river which
having taken its rise from among the mountains, flows through the vales
and meadows in a winding stream to the sea.”
_The Loss of the “Wager”_
Spain being again at war with England in 1740, Commodore Anson was sent
to the Pacific, as Vernon to the Atlantic, colonies of Spain on exactly
the same principle as had prevailed in Elizabeth’s day—to touch the
enemy in one of his tenderest spots.
The authority under which they sailed was not questioned; the rule of
conduct on both sides was that of the “gallant enemy.” Britain’s
Caribbean possessions date from that series of raids.
Lord Anson sailed from England in September, 1740, with the flagship
_Centurion_, and the warships _Gloucester_, _Pearl_, _Severn_, _Tryal_
and _Wager_, with two store-ships. The mission of the fleet was to harry
the Spaniards in the Pacific, and the route was round the Horn. But when
Anson reached Juan Fernandez Island in June, 1741, but three vessels
remained, and his available crew was reduced from 1000 to 335.
Nevertheless he harassed the coast, and captured Paita; but was forced
to sink two unseaworthy vessels, collecting the remainder of the crew on
the _Centurion_, and remained cruising about the Pacific until in June,
1744, he took one of the treasure-ships on her way from Mexico with
enormous wealth on board, and sailed home with the spoils. He is said to
have brought back more than a million pounds’ worth of gold, and to have
entered port with a big golden Spanish candlestick tied to every yardarm
of his ship.
Of the _Wager’s_ fate Anson did not know for several years; this vessel
was cast away on an island off South Chile, a number of the crew
escaping in various ways. The loss of the _Wager_ and the subsequent
fate of her crew not only forms a moving and almost incredible story
with which Chilean colonial life is interwoven, but had a lasting effect
upon international maritime law. For, following the desertion of the
captain by the insubordinate leaders in the _Speedwell_ longboat, an act
of Parliament was passed which made such conduct mutiny in the eyes of
justice. Until that time the pay of a crew ceased when their ship was
wrecked, and they then had no employers nor commanders and the officers,
in consequence, were without technical authority, although in practice
this control was almost invariably conceded.
The _Wager_ was an old East Indiaman. She set sail deeply laden with
repairing gear and stores for the squadron, and was in no condition to
withstand the fierce buffeting of the South Seas. She lost a mast after
passing Le Maire Strait, failed to regain touch with the squadron, and
while hastening in the teeth of terrible weather to reach the rendezvous
at Socorro Island, south of Valdivia, she was wrecked off a desolate
island lying between 47 and 48 degrees of south latitude. The names of
Wager and Byron Islands, in the south of the Gulf of Peñas, commemorate
the shipwreck and struggle for life of the survivors, and the name of
that single-hearted and clear-headed midshipman, young John Byron, who
wrote an account of the affair forty years afterwards, when he had
become a Commodore of George IV’s fleet.
The wreck occurred on May 14, 1741. About 140 men of the crew and
marines, the captain and officers, got ashore, were able to save a
certain amount of salt pork, flour, wine, etc., from the _Wager_, but
found nothing on the island that could serve as food but wild celery,
the shell-fish of the wave-battered rocks, and a few sea-birds. Indians
who visited them occasionally, almost as badly off as themselves,
bartered a few mangy dogs and, once, three sheep, for ship’s
merchandise, but both shelter and food were insufficient; rains and
violent weather were continual, and to make matters worse quarrels broke
out, a party withdrawing themselves from the authority of the captain,
who alienated many others when he shot a turbulent midshipman. Forty men
were dead, from drowning or their sufferings on the island, before a
means of escape was ready with the repair and lengthening of the
_Wager’s_ longboat. In this little vessel Captain Cheap proposed to make
his way north until he could fall in with and seize a coasting ship of
the Spaniards, a capture which would permit him to search for and rejoin
Anson’s squadron. But the disaffected crew, led by the carpenter and
gunner, who had borrowed and taken to heart the book of Voyages of
Narborough, now declared their intention of going south and making for
Magellan’s Strait. The captain objected, was made prisoner, and at the
last moment was left behind, with a lieutenant of marines and the
surgeon, when the ringleaders realised the scant accommodation of the
_Speedwell_. Byron, who had gone on board believing that all the
survivors were being taken off, returned to his captain, with a few
other men, in the barge. They had nothing to eat but sea-weed, fried in
the tallow of candles, and wild herbs; there were no more shell-fish,
and all the party were extremely weak; but the captain decided to
attempt a northward journey and the starving men began to mend as well
as they could the barge and little yawl left to them. A number of the
first deserters from the nearby lagoon now rejoined them, and a total of
twenty finally embarked on December 15. Encountering rain, cold and
adverse winds, they crawled along the rocky, wooded and broken coast,
frequently being forced to lie upon their oars all night, since the
heavy breakers prevented a landing for rest and shelter. The yawl was
sunk when they tried to round the headland of Tres Montes Peninsula, and
hereabouts they were forced, since the barge could carry no more, to
leave on shore four marines, giving them arms and what other provisions
they could; these plucky men stood to watch the barge out of sight,
giving three cheers and calling out “God Save the King.” With that
gesture they disappeared from history, for when the barge had to put
back again, and search was made for the marines, no trace was found but
a musket thrown upon the beach.
Now and then they found a seal, and feasted; or berries, and lived for
days upon them; and after two months of incessant struggle were driven
back to the scene of the wreck. Here they were in the utmost
extremities, and all must have died of starvation had not an Indian
chief from the Chonos Islands, in contact with the Spanish and bearing
the wand of office, visited the place a fortnight later. To him they
offered the barge if he would conduct them to a Spanish settlement, and
a few days later the thirteen English and the Indian “Martin” with his
servant embarked, steering north. Some days later six men took the barge
and deserted, and thenceforth the party made their way in an Indian
canoe, with frequent portages, through the broken and inhospitable
Chonos country. Byron speaks warmly of the kindness shown by Indian
women to him, and his notes upon the country and the customs of the wild
folk are of great interest; but the journey was terrible, and the
surgeon soon succumbed of starvation. The only person to whom the Indian
men showed respect was Captain Cheap, whose nature had become “soured,”
as the loyal but plain-spoken Byron permitted himself to remark, and who
was careless of the misery of his companions. Starving and in rags,
covered with vermin, and exhausted with the constant work of rowing,
they arrived at length at an island ninety miles south of Chiloé, and
traversed the final stretch of water in the crazy canoe. Once upon
Chiloé their worst wretchedness was over: the Chilote Indians “vied with
each other who should take the most care of us,” fed them well, laid
sheepskin beds by a blazing fire and went out at midnight to kill a
sheep for their food. Next day women came from far and near to see the
shipwrecked strangers, each bringing “a pipkin in her hand, containing
either fowls or mutton made into broth, potatos, eggs or other
eatables,” and Byron says that they did nothing but eat for the best
part of the day, and in fact, all the time they stayed upon the island.
The Spanish corregidor at Castro sent for them, and a formidable escort
of soldiers with drawn swords, led by four officers, solemnly conducted
them to the town, where their appearance made a great sensation. They
were imprisoned in a Jesuit college for a week, and then taken to the
Governor, being treated with consistent goodwill; when, some time later,
this official, a Chilean-born, made his usual tour of the island he took
his English prisoners with him. During the second sojourn in Castro
young Byron was offered the hand of the pretty and accomplished niece of
a rich priest; but excused himself, although sorely tempted by an offer
of a piece of new linen to be made up into clothes to replace his rags.
On January 2, 1743, the party were embarked upon a Spanish vessel bound
for Valparaiso; the ship was country-built, of 250 tons, and was 40
years old, carrying a Spanish captain and Indian seamen. At Valparaiso
they were put into prison, and would have fared badly but for the native
kindness of the Chileans, who brought them food and money, their jailer
spending half his own daily allowance to buy wine and fruit for them.
[Illustration: Last Hope Inlet (Ultima Esperanza).]
[Illustration: Channel in the Territory of Magellanes.]
When the President of the Audience in Santiago, Don José Manso, sent for
them to the capital, they went with a mule-train over the beautiful
hills and plains, and, arriving in the city, the four officers (Captain
Cheap, Hamilton, Campbell and Byron) were permitted to live in the house
of a Scots physician, Patrick Gedd. Of the next twenty-four months Byron
speaks with the appreciation of all travellers to whom Chileans have
opened their hearts. Nor, indeed, were the Spanish officials unfriendly,
for as it happened several Spaniards who had been taken prisoner by
Anson in the _Centurion_, and set free, came to Santiago, and spoke
warmly of the excellent treatment they had received.
Santiago, after the miseries of the Golfo de Peñas, appeared delightful
to the young midshipman; he speaks of _tertullias_ and bull-fights,
country excursions, the fine fruit and agreeable women, and altogether
he seems to have given and received such pleasant impressions that one
must regard him as one of the first British diplomatic agents to Chile.
The fact that the _Wager_ had come on a hostile expedition, although the
hostility was directed against Spain, perhaps added a shade of romance.
When the party had been two years in Chile, the President gave them
permission to embark in a French ship bound for Spain, and on December
20, 1744, Byron, Hamilton and Captain Cheap (Campbell electing to remain
in Chile) set sail in the _Lys_ frigate, the same vessel in which the
distinguished Don Jorje Juan also travelled. Calling in at Concepción,
or rather the port Talcahuano, they joined three other French vessels,
the _Louis Erasme_, _Marquis d’Antin_ and the _Delivrance_. The _Lys_
now sprung a leak, returned for repairs to Valparaiso, while the three
other vessels, proceeding, fell into the hands of English men-of-war.
The _Lys_ put to sea again on March 1, 1745, after experiencing an
earthquake in Valparaiso Bay, and rounded Cape Horn; was chased by
English ships near Porto Rico, but got away to Santo Domingo. Thence
they sailed again in August, sheltered by a French naval squadron of
five ships, and finally reached Brest at the end of October. Here of
course, with France and England now at war, the three Englishmen were
prisoners, but were shortly allowed to cross to Dover. Byron’s money
only allowed him to hire a horse for the London road; he had to ride
hard through the turnpikes to escape payment and could afford no food.
When he reached London the house of his family, of whom he had not heard
a word for over five years, was shut, and it was only through
remembering a nearby linen-draper that he got the address of his sister
and hurried to her house in Soho Square, where the porter tried to shut
the door upon his “half-French, half-Spanish figure.”
The narrative published in London in 1743 by John Bulkeley and John
Cummins, respectively the gunner and carpenter of the _Wager_, tells the
story of the longboat and cutter and of the eighty men who went south in
those two craft. Bulkeley and Cummins seem to have been as bold and
wordy a pair of sea-lawyers as ever trod a deck, and one cannot but
sympathise with the lieutenant who represented them “in a very vile
light” on their return home; but the relation has its place in history,
carefully doctored as the journal of events appears to be.
Setting out on the morning of October 14, 1741, the longboat _Speedwell_
carried fifty-nine men, the cutter twelve and the barge ten; the latter
returned northward on the 22nd, and the cutter was destroyed among rocks
early in November, with the loss of a seaman. The _Speedwell_ was now
alone, with seventy-two men in her, facing the cruel gales and the cold
south as she crept with sail and oar towards Cape Pillar. On November 8,
eleven men, exhausted with the struggle and seeing the boat overloaded,
were set ashore at their own request, after Bulkeley had made them sign
one of the documents which no dangers nor trials made him omit. On the
10th they believed that they identified the four Islands of Direction
spoken of in Narborough’s book, by which they sailed, but lost their way
when within the channels and suffered terribly from cold, rain and
hunger, three men dying of starvation on November 30. In order to
ascertain their true position they decided at length to return west to
Cape Pillar, found it on December 5, and turned east once more. Now and
again they found Indians who traded dogs to the starving crew, who
thought the flesh “equal to the best mutton”; two more men died of want
on the 8th and 9th and although droves of guanacos were sighted off the
Narrows, they could not shoot any. A month later there were but fifteen
men in reasonably good condition, but they had managed to row and sail
the boat out of the Strait, were off the Patagonian coast, and were able
to kill seals and get fresh water. On January 14 a party went ashore for
food, and heavy seas drove the _Speedwell_ from the coast, eight men
being left behind; this was about 200 miles below Buenos Aires. On the
20th they were seen and given food by cattlemen on the Uruguayan coast,
and reached Rio Grande (do Sul, in South Brazil) on the 28th. Several
other men had died on the northward journey, and the survivors were
starving when the hospitable people of Rio Grande opened their houses to
them.
Here they remained until March 28, when Bulkeley, Cummins, and eleven
others got a passage to Rio, while Lieutenant Beans tarried with the
rest of the men for the next north-bound ship. From Rio the first party
got on board a ship bound for Bahia and Lisbon, transhipping thence for
England and arriving at Spithead on January 1, 1743. Before then,
however, the Lieutenant and his men had reached home, on board an
English vessel, and the Lords of the Admiralty awaited the sea-lawyers
with a score of grim questions as to mutiny, desertion, etc., and with
little regard for the romantic tale of the longboat. But as the record
of a journey made in an open boat amongst the cruel rocks and currents
of the Magellanic region, the story is probably unparalleled.
_Juan and Ulloa_
Amongst “Strangers on the Pacific Coast” during the eighteenth century
should also be included the two Spanish naval officers, Don Antonio
Ulloa and Don Jorje Juan, who left such valuable records in their
“Voyage to South America” and in the highly illuminating “Secret
Notices” presented to the King of Spain which were not published until
many years later. Their place here is due to the fact, as they
emphasised in the “Noticias Secretas,” that by this time Spain and her
colonies had grown far apart in feeling. A native-born white population
of “creoles,” as well as a large undercurrent of mestizos and some
mulattos, had grown up, and the stream of Spanish-born who came to the
country were frequently out of sympathetic touch. Spain felt this, and
the commission of inspection and report which the King added to the two
officers’ original duties shows how far the West Coast was still an
unknown country.
Ulloa and Juan’s visit (1735–1745) was the result of the determination
of the French Academy to settle the question of the shape of the earth
by measuring two arcs, one upon the equator line and the other as far
north as it was possible to travel. Asia and Africa offering no safe or
conveniently approached region near the equator, the Academy applied to
Spain for leave to enter the province of Ecuador for this object, while
a second party went to Lapland. Consent was given, but with the proviso
that Spanish officials should accompany the expedition, and eventually
choice fell upon Captains Antonio Ulloa and Jorje Juan, naval officers
already distinguished for their mathematical ability.
La Condamine had not completed his laborious task in the highlands of
the equator when news of Anson’s naval plans reached Peru, and the
Viceroy sent hastily to Quito for the two Spanish captains to aid in the
defence of the coast. From late 1740 to December, 1743, these duties
occupied Ulloa and Juan, when they returned to finish certain
measurements above Quito. During the interval they travelled in Peru and
Chile, and the observations they made shed much valuable light upon
colonial conditions.
With scientific work at an end in 1744, the two officers prepared for
return, embarking at Callao in separate ships—Juan in the _Lys_ and
Ulloa in the _Delivrance_—so that the chances were increased of one of
them reaching Spain safely, war having broken out between France and
England as well as continuing between England and Spain. The
_Delivrance_, however, was caught by English men-of-war when she sailed
into Louisburgh Bay, Canada, unaware that the port had fallen. Sent
prisoner to England, Captain Ulloa arrived at the end of 1745, and in
London received the greatest marks of respect from scientific men of the
day, including the President of the Royal Society, of which body he was
made a member.[3] He was assisted to recover his impounded notes and
scientific papers and was then permitted to return to Spain, in July,
1746. His brother officer had arrived, in the _Lys_, at the end of 1745.
Footnote 3:
Fellowship of the Royal Society was also extended to Captain Juan and
both were elected members of the French Academy.
By the middle of the eighteenth century, the time had passed when Spain
could continue to exclude foreigners from South America. She had given
way to demands for strictly limited trading, and the door could not
again be shut.
Since the colonies of Spain wanted the blood and technical skill of
young Europe, and young Europe constantly roamed the earth for wealth
and adventure, no edicts or penalties could prevent a constant
infiltration of adventuring persons upon the West Coast. Likely young
white men have, indeed, seldom been denied a welcome in new countries
and whatever the Spanish authorities might say the growing native-born
populations of Chile continued to beckon.
_Resident Foreigners_
From time to time orders were issued that foreigners should be turned
out of Chile; for instance, in April, 1769, the Town Council of La
Serena (Coquimbo) promulgated a royal edict that foreigners were to
leave the country within thirty days under penalty of the confiscation
of their property. However, this applied only to persons engaged in
trade, mining, or the legal profession, and to travellers, while such
useful individuals as locksmiths and blacksmiths, tailors, bakers,
cooks, mechanics, physicians and surgeons, were permitted to remain. Two
Englishmen, Murphy and Denton, were among the persons told to leave the
town, while a couple of Italians, a Frenchman and Portuguese also fell
under the ban. It is doubtful whether the edicts were more than
temporarily pressed or obeyed, for as a matter of fact many foreigners
lived upon excellent terms with the local authorities, and, liking their
surroundings, were equally well regarded. Thirty years before this
particular edict was issued, and which applied to all important Chilean
towns, there was living in Santiago a prosperous Scots physician, who
was on sufficiently good terms with the Governor of Chile to obtain the
keeping of the three English prisoners from the _Wager_.
Anglo-Saxon names in Chile, as a glance at any Chilean town directory
shows, are too many for a satisfactory survey of their origin to be made
in a few pages. But the result of this amicable invasion is strongly
witnessed by the characteristics and qualities of the modern Chileno.
Some of the families have immense ramifications, and there are so many
interlockings that a member of a good Anglo-Chilean family is likely to
possess cousins throughout the republic, as well as in the United
Kingdom and possibly also in North America. There are, for instance, the
branches and connections of the Edwards family, descendants of that
George Edwards who came to Coquimbo on a British ship in 1804, left it,
and married the Señorita Isabel Osandon, whose father was of Irish
descent. Agustin, one of the three sons of this marriage, founded the
Banco de A. Edwards, whose original headoffices were in Copiapó, the
once-splendid copper mining centre. The same Agustin Edwards promoted
the Copiapó railway, married into the great Ross family, and was the
father of the distinguished Chilean Minister at the Court of St. James,
Don Agustin Edwards.
By a royal edict of 1808 all foreigners in Chile were listed, the count
resulting in a total of 79, among whom were 16 Britons and 9 North
Americans. This number is probably far below the correct figures, the
presence of such persons being still illegal according to Spain. It was
not until 1811 that permission was given for the brig _Fly_ to bring a
cargo of merchandise to Chilean ports—similar permits having previously
been given only to the French, when politically associated with Spain.
John and Joseph Crosbie were the chief adventurers of this shipload, and
the bales of cotton and woollen cloth, the hardware and tools of British
make, were sold at such good prices that the supercargo, John James
Barnard, presently returned with the _Dart_, equally laden. On board was
Andrew Blest of Sligo, and both he and Barnard remained and married in
the country.
_Strangers and Independence_
With the first dawn of the struggle for independence in the Spanish
colonies of the New World, help came promptly from across the Atlantic.
The political aspect, promising a definite cessation of the anxieties
and restrictions that harassed Europe and offering the counterbalance to
which Canning trusted, was a matter for statesmen; but it was the appeal
to the spirit, the call for help towards freedom, that touched popular
imagination and sent thousands of British volunteers across seas. Many
of these men died; some returned home; and a large number remained in
Latin America to form links that have proved invaluable on both sides of
the world.
The money sent to Spain’s lost colonies in early days set the new-born
countries upon their feet economically; the soldiers who flocked to
Bolívar’s standard in northern South America turned the scale of battle
on more than one occasion—the gallant Irish Legion is still commemorated
in Venezuela and Colombia; but it was to the Pacific that the largest
number of volunteers went, for not only were the armies of San Martín
strengthened by fighters, many of whom had seen useful service in
Peninsular campaigns, but the effect among seamen of the entry of
Admiral Cochrane into the conflict was that of a magnificent example to
be followed with enthusiasm. Cochrane created Chile’s navy; many of the
British officers who followed him remained in Chilean naval service, the
link between the British and Chilean navies being sustained by the
descendants of these sailors as well as, officially, by the instructors
traditionally lent by the British Admiralty.
The first British naval officers to fight for Chile preceded Cochrane by
some months. Actually the first Chilean fighting ship was the _Aguila_,
captained by Raymond Morris in 1817; Captain O’Brien, commanding the
_Lautaro_, a converted East Indiaman, lost his life in April, 1818, when
the Spanish blockading ship, the _Esmeralda_, was driven from
Valparaiso; Captain Wilkinson, who entered Valparaiso as master of
another East Indiaman, the _Cumberland_, loaded with coal, sold her and
entered the Chilean navy commanding the vessel, renamed the _San
Martín_.
Captain Morris commanded the _Araucana_ when in October, 1818, Chile’s
new little squadron went out to attack the big Spanish man-of-war, the
_Maria Isabella_, lying with her transports in Talcahuano Bay, a
brilliantly successful exploit. A little later came the former British
brig _Hecate_, renamed the _Galvarino_ and brought by two British naval
officers, Captains Spry and Guise, who also entered Chilean service.
About this time also came a number of North Americans, chiefly those
brought by José Miguel Carrera from the United States.
Miners, investors, buyers and sellers and shipping men came in the wake
of the fighters, and before 1850 there was a strong foreign, and chiefly
British, colony at Valparaiso, with other groups at Santiago, Coquimbo,
Copiapó and down south at Concepción. The kindly Chilean character, the
pleasant climate and lovely scenery, held the hearts of the strangers, a
great proportion remaining to identify themselves with Chilean fortunes.
A stream of scientific men and travellers was directed to Chile in the
early nineteenth century, performing valuable work and leaving records;
the list includes the names of Poeppig, Darwin, de Bougainville,
D’Orbigny, Mayen, the two Philippi’s, explorers of the Atacama desert,
and Humboldt. There was a lady, too, who has a place amongst travellers,
artists and writers of the first days of Independence, the gentle and
acute Maria Graham, widow of one of Cochrane’s officers, who eventually
returned to England, became Lady Callcott and published a perennially
delightful book of Chilean reminiscence.
Many explorers of the Chilean southerly regions did good service, for
here came the _Challenger_, with a group of scientific men, and later
the _Adventure_ and the _Beagle_, carrying King and Fitzroy and Darwin;
these vessels and the succeeding _Alert_, with Coppinger, performed
invaluable surveying work. Inland, a number of such explorers as
Musters, Viedma and Conway, preceded the official work of the Holdich
Commission. Of recent years, no foreigner has owed more to Chile than
Shackleton; after the casting away of his ship and men upon Elephant
Island in the Polar Seas, and the failure of three attempts at rescue,
it was the loan of the Chilean Government’s _Yelcho_ that saved a score
of gallant lives. But before the end of the nineteenth century the
visitor to the Pacific Coast had ceased to be a stranger, and in Chile
the newcomer no longer feels himself to be in a foreign land.
CHAPTER IV
THE INQUISITION IN CHILE
_Escobar.—Aguirre.—Sarmiento.—European Corsairs.—Decay of Power_
The history of the Tribunal of the Holy Office of the Inquisition in
Chile follows the familiar lines of the work in other countries, and is
chiefly interesting in the side-lights shed upon colonial life. The veil
drawn over its acts during its period of activity was only lifted by the
discovery, in the Archives of Simancas, of the Inquisitors’
meticulously-kept records. The counts against the Tribunal do not
include those of suppressing or distorting its own history.
The first great Inquisitor, Torquemada, died six years after the
discovery of the West Indies by Cristobal Colón, and, under Pope Adrian
VI, a branch was soon established in the island of Española (Santo
Domingo), with authority extended to Mexico as early as 1524. It was
not, however, until 1569 that the royal cedula of King Philip II opened
all the Americas formally to the Tribunal, although for many years
previously the local dignitaries of various churches in Spanish America
were delegates of the powerful functions of the Inquisitors. As, for
instance, when Bishop Loaysa burnt the Flemish heretic Juan Millar at
the stake in Lima in 1548; and as in the curious case of Alonso de
Escobar.
Escobar was a Spaniard of good family who came to Peru with the first
conquistadores; he was a resident of Cuzco when the two captains of
Pedro de Valdivia, Monroy and Miranda, arrived, almost starving, from
the camp of their leader to beg help, and he promptly lent 14,000 pesos
to buy supplies and aided in raising a new force. He had been
twenty-three years in the service of the crown in the New World when
somebody happened to hear him say, in the plaza of Santiago de Chile in
August, 1562, that he always listened when Father Gil read the gospel,
but shut his ears to the moral. Witnesses, old brothers-in-arms,
admitted that he said this, but a suggestion that it was a joke, and
that the listeners laughed heartily, was received coldly. Escobar added
that the Father always abused the residents too much, and that he did
not like the dictum that Spaniards who killed Indians would go to hell.
But the representatives of the Inquisition found that he was guilty of
Lutheranism, that his goods should be confiscated, that he should suffer
imprisonment, etc. Escobar protested, asked for a “lettered person” to
help in his defence, and the end seemed to be reached when the Fiscal
reduced the sentence to the payment of costs. But the militant Father
Gil objected to aspersions upon his loyalty made in the course of the
trial, and a series of quarrels followed, resulting in the
excommunication of the judge, another priest, and the lawyer Molina.
When the scandal took, presently, the form of a contest between
different ecclesiastical Orders, we find a new list of twenty-five
excommunicated persons, including the Lieutenant-Governor, a
bishop-elect, a number of friars, and a couple of Negros. When the monks
set upon and beat a notary, the brother of Molina assaulted a monastery,
and later Molina, imprisoned, escaped and fled to Concepción, while most
of the other disputants carried their loud complaints to Lima.
The case of Francisco de Aguirre is more tragic. A trusted captain of
Valdivia’s, he was the founder of La Serena (elder sister of Coquimbo)
and was afterwards in charge of the expedition sent across the Andes and
into the present Argentina, by way of Tucuman and Santiago del Estero,
the most cruel desert that even these hardened explorers had
encountered. As the wretched party made its way towards the Spanish
settlement already existing on the Atlantic border, at La Plata,
mutineers seized Aguirre one day, and, apparently not daring to kill
him, pretended that they acted for the Inquisition. To the Bishop of La
Plata they presently handed him over, and as this worthy thought that
the newly discovered provinces might as well be governed by a protégé of
his own, he kept the conquistador in jail while formal charges were
arranged. At the end of three years ninety counts against Aguirre’s
Christianity had been made: amongst them, the accusation that he had
said that if he ruled over a republic where there lived a cleric and a
blacksmith, and he was obliged to exile one of them, he would send away
the cleric. He had also said that little men might fear excommunication,
but he didn’t; and that he was not convinced of the efficacy of prayer,
because he once knew a man who prayed much and yet went to the nether
world. He was sentenced, in addition to the imprisonment, now declared
just, to do penance in Tucuman church, and to pay a fine of 1500 _pesos
ensayadas_. Probably to save trouble, the old soldier agreed to confess
his guilt and to do penance, and was able to secure the privilege of
performing it in La Plata, instead of Tucuman, by the payment of another
500 pesos. The authorities then wrote to the King an account of the
case, and suggested that Aguirre was no fit person to rule Tucuman. But
before this letter reached Spain a royal order had arrived in La Plata,
appointing Aguirre as Governor of the provinces he had discovered, and
as soon as he could equip a small expedition of 35 men who came to his
banner the pioneer set out. He had not gone far when the Bishop sent a
priest after him, ordering him to return to face new charges. Aguirre
answered that now he was in “tierra larga”—open country—and going up to
the cleric and looking him straight in the face, he asked him, “If I
killed a priest, what punishment should I get?” With blanched face and
hurried feet the cleric went back. But the troubles of Aguirre were not
over. The hand of the Inquisition was still over him. He was eventually
processed again, imprisoned for five years, deprived of the remainder of
his fortune and of his Governorship, and when released made his way back
to the beautiful bay where stood La Serena of his own foundation. He had
lost three sons, a brother and three nephews, in the King’s service, was
a valiant and loyal pioneer, and died poor and lonely through the
Tribunal’s enmity.
The continuous petty persecution of another great pioneer, Pedro
Sarmiento de Gamboa, forms a curious chapter in the story of the
Inquisition, but in this case the protection of the Viceroy Toledo, and
the strong character and invaluable services of the man attacked,
outweighed the views of the Inquisitors. Sarmiento’s historical studies,
surveying and sea-discoveries in South Chile give him high rank among
the Spaniards in the New World, but his scientific bent was heretical in
the eyes of the Church. The event bringing Sarmiento under the
suspicious eye of the Inquisitors was the death of the Viceroy, the
Conde de Nieva, murdered in a street in Lima in February, 1564. His
successor Lope de Castro was active in the investigation of the
mysterious affair, and Sarmiento, who had been an intimate of the house,
was presently accused, not of complicity, but of knowledge of
witchcraft. He had talked to a woman servant of the dead Count about a
magic ink which made the writer of a letter beloved by the recipient: he
had two rings engraved with astrological characters. Sarmiento’s
confessor had seen and guaranteed the harmlessness of the rings, but
this did not save him from a sentence of naked penance in Lima
cathedral, banishment from the Indies, and, until his departure,
imprisonment in a monastery. Sarmiento complied with the penitential
part of the decree, but appealed to the Pope and obtained a commutation
of the banishment order. A few years later his discovery of the Solomon
Islands added so much to his renown that upon the arrival of the new
Viceroy, Francisco de Toledo, in 1569, Sarmiento was received with great
distinction, accompanying the ruler’s official visit throughout Peru and
subsequently writing a History of the Incas. In 1572 the Inquisition
again accused him of black magic in connection with the two rings,
pronounced him a dangerous person and re-ordained his banishment. At the
moment he was fighting against Indian tribes of the Andean forests, and
the Viceroy told the Inquisitors that he required his services; but they
came forward presently with an accusation that he had foretold deaths by
the lines on his hand. He was declared guilty, imprisoned in 1575, and
only released upon the insistence of the Viceroy. Sarmiento was no doubt
chiefly suspect because he was a scientific man of penetrating mind,
and, though his own writings show that he was a devout son of the
Church, the fact that he was an author rendered him dangerous. Forty
years previously a royal decree (August, 1534) had prohibited shipment
to the Indies of any books other than those dealing with the Christian
religion and virtue, so afraid was Spain of any ideas reaching the
Colonies. A letter from the King to the Casa da Contratación in Seville
protested: “I have been informed that many books of romances are sent to
the Indies, profane and foolish histories like that of Amadis and
kindred productions; this is a bad practice for the Indians, and the
kind of thing which they should not read nor be occupied with.” It was
with the same perfectly genuine and logical desire to maintain a dead
level of thought and conduct that, shortly after the above decree was
promulgated, a rule was enforced that no sons or nephews of people who
had been burnt alive by sentence of the Inquisition, and no converted
Jews, Moors, or other proscribed persons or “New Christians” should go
to the Indies.
_European Corsairs_
The economical as well as intellectual fences put round the New World
colonies of Spain were threatened most terrifyingly by the bold raids of
corsairs. Preservation of these barriers demanded severe treatment of
such persons as were caught in piratical attempts, the Inquisition
acting in full accord with the civil authorities when, for instance, in
the _auto da fé_ held in Lima in 1592, four English sailors captured
after the wreck of their ship off the island of Puna (at the entrance to
Guayaquil) were paraded. Walter and Edward Tillert were imprisoned for
five years before their execution; their companion Oxley was burnt alive
after four years in the jails of the Holy Office; but the life of the
eighteen-year Morley was saved when he was permitted to be a convert to
Roman Catholicism—a grace denied his older associates, as the
Inquisitors suspected the genuineness of the change of heart experienced
by men in the shadow of the torture chamber.
John Oxenham, friend of Drake, captured by a curious accident in Panama,
was hanged in Lima with several of his sailors, their English heresy
adding a useful weapon to the hand of the enemy.
A group of Dutch corsairs was brought before the Inquisition in 1615.
These men were taken at the port of Papudo, having arrived with the
fleet of Admiral Spilbergen, naval supporter of the Count Maurice of
Nassau, whose wise rule was chiefly responsible for the Dutch hold upon
North Brazil enduring for thirty years. The Spilbergen voyage is part of
the story of Holland’s plans for overseas dominions in the Americas, and
one of the strokes of fate by which outposts of a nearly-won empire were
successively lost.
Possession of the great territory of Brazil by the Portuguese across the
Andes, and cheek by jowl with some of the most cherished of the Jesuit
Missions, was another thorn in the flesh of the Spanish and a constant
cause of complaint by the Holy Office. Records of the Inquisition
complain that the Portuguese were responsible for the decay of religious
feeling in the Indies: they were tolerant to Jews, allowed many to enter
American regions, and themselves took possession of the commerce of the
Pacific coast. All the shops and businesses were in the hands of
Portuguese or Portuguese Jews, says one complaint, declaring that these
shopkeepers refused to sell goods on Saturdays. With all this trouble on
account of outsiders, the Inquisition had its hands full with
native-born offenders, and did not spare them. There is the case of
Father Ulloa and his private sect; and that of two sisters of Santiago
who accused their brother of Judaism, and ultimately, after a tremendous
process, sent him to the stake. Vicuña Mackenna relates another story of
the debt owing to one Manuel Perez, also of Santiago. This Perez was
burnt alive at Lima in 1639, but before his death told the Inquisitors
that Martinez Gago of Santiago, a merchant, owed him a few thousand
pesos. The Inquisitors sent to demand the money, but, finding that the
debtor was already dead, placed an embargo upon the goods of his
father-in-law and proceeded against that unlucky man. Then arose a score
of other creditors of Gago, among them many influential clergy, and the
story proceeds in a tangle of processes, demands by the haughty
Comisario of the Inquisition in Santiago and deportations to Lima.
But by the end of the seventeenth century the power and prestige of the
Holy Office had begun to wane, a decay due partly to the increase in its
ranks of the number of native-born or “creole” officials. Posts had for
long been a matter of personal privilege or commerce; but when local men
of ambition bought offices almost openly and proceeded to use them as
instruments for amassing a fortune, the Inquisition was laid open not
only to hatred and contempt but to attack. José Toribio Medina remarks
in his _Historia del Tribunal del Santo Oficio de la Inquisicion en
Chile_ (Santiago, 1890) that as a result of the lowered prestige of the
Holy Office, its members began to show “moderation,” even “humility,” as
when the Commissioner in Chile, 1797, humbly asked Governor O’Higgins to
help him to secure the person of an accused man, who, living in Chiloé,
might find friends to resist the Inquisition. The cases brought before
the Tribunal abated to mere charges of witchcraft, and although the
Inquisitors formally objected, in 1786, to the scandal of the teaching
of jurisprudence, history and chronology by Dr. José Lasterria, they had
not been able to prevent the opening of a school of mathematics in
Santiago, in 1759.
The last Commissioner of the Inquisition in Chile was Dr. José Antonio
de Errázuriz y Madariaga, a native of Santiago; his Treasurer, Judás
Tadeo de Reyes y Borda, was also a Santiaguino who held the additional
post of Secretary to the Governor of Chile. The ground was cut from
under their official feet when the Congress of 1811 voted that the funds
and income of the Inquisition should be used for “other pious purposes,”
this order being cemented, despite the energetic objection of the
Treasurer, when the Spanish Cortes of 1813 abolished the Tribunal in
Spain and her colonies. The estates belonging to the Inquisition in
Chile were some of the finest of the Central Valley, and were calculated
at a value of over one and a half millions of pesos.
Upon the restoration of that extraordinarily shortsighted monarch,
Ferdinand VII, the Inquisition was re-erected in 1814, and under this
authority Tadeo de Reyes collected about 1500 pesos in imposts, in 1815.
This was the last purse of Chilean money handed to the Tribunal, whose
final abolition by the Spanish Cortes of March, 1820, was the tombstone
of a body that had long lacked any spark of real life.
The existence and acts of the Tribunal appear, in the light of today,
grotesque as well as sinister; but it is well to remember that not only
was the age in which it flourished a period when life was held cheap and
religious passion ran high, but that even in the comparatively
emancipated atmosphere of South America the Inquisition was not
universally unpopular. On the contrary, the citizens of the Colonies in
more than one region appealed to Spain to set up a branch, with a view
to correction of the loose life of the ordinary clergy as well as to
punish heresy in an untutored pioneer community. This work was
undoubtedly performed with zeal: scores of the Chilean and Peruvian
cases taken before the Tribunal had to do with the chastity of the
priesthood, and irregular and coarse living on the part of residents. It
cannot be said that the work of the Inquisition banished licentiousness
from the Colonies, but the way of the sinner was made harder.
CHAPTER V
THE STRAIT OF MAGELLAN
_The First Navigators: Magellan, Sebastian del Cano, Loaysa,
Alcazaba.—Sarmiento.—The City of Philip.—Cavendish.—Port Famine and
Punta Arenas._
Thinking of Chile, one sees a picture of southern orchards and wheat
fields, of cattle pastures, of pine forests; of copper mines in the
inhospitable heights of the mountains; or perhaps of the great, burning
nitrate pampas of the north. Rarely is a thought given to the
southernmost city in the world, Punta Arenas, with its tributary
sheep-raising plains, its beech woods and fisheries, coal and gold
mines, and its extraordinary rise from misery to immense wealth in the
course of a few years.
Nobody, probably, could have wrested wealth from such a region but the
people whose attention was drawn to it after the discovery that
much-abused Patagonia was a fine sheep-raising region. It was the hardy
Falkland Islander, hailing from the islands north and west of the
Scottish coast, who made, and speculated on, this chance, invading the
plains and grassy hills east of the Andes after he had staked out
Western Patagonia, and adding Tierra del Fuego presently to his
conquests. He was swiftly followed by energetic traders and by another
sheep-herding mountaineer, the Jugo-Slav; between them they have done
what the unfortunate Spanish settlers of Pedro de Sarmiento could not
do: they have created a city in the wilderness, strongly-rooted, sturdy,
with the spring of life from within.
The tale of settlement of the Straits of Magellan, today an accepted
achievement, is built upon gallantry and tragedy. The thriving regions
of Patagonia and Magellan Territory have been erected upon the ashes of
the most cruel suffering.
The efforts of the Spanish crown to find a way to the golden East by way
of the West which led to the discovery of the Strait of Magellan were
but extensions of the hunt for Cathay that inspired the greedy fanatic
Cristobal Colón. He died asseverating that he had found the coast of the
Indies, and although the more level-headed navigators knew better the
eyes of Spain continued to be fixed upon a route to the Spice Isles
rather than upon the Americas _per se_. Reached from the west, Spain
could lay an anti-Portuguese claim by virtue of the famous Bull of Pope
Alexander VI of May 4, 1493, which, placing a line 100 miles west of the
Azores, acknowledged all discoveries eastward as Portuguese and all
westward as Spanish.
Fernão de Magalhães, as Captain-General, with Estevan Gomez as Chief
Pilot, sailed in the _Trinidad_, of 110 tons, from San Lucar on
September 12, 1519. Four other smaller vessels completed the expedition
of discovery—the _San Antonio_, the _Victoria_, the _Santiago_, and the
_Concepción_. The latter was commanded by Gaspar de Mendoza, with, as
master, Sebastian del Cano, destined to be the first circumnavigator of
the globe. Magellan, Portuguese-born, shipped a large number of his
countrymen in defiance of the orders of the King of Spain; Sebastian del
Cano, a Basque hidalgo, took eight other Basques in the _Concepción_.
Quarrels quickly broke out, and an outbreak off the Patagonian coast
resulted in the murder of Mendoza, the execution of Quesada, the
marooning of another commander and a too-active priest. The _Santiago_
had been lost at the entrance of the Santa Cruz River, and with the
remaining personnel and vessels captained to his own liking, Magellan
proceeded south.
On October 21 he sighted and named the Cape of Eleven Thousand Virgins,
at the opening of the Strait. Here Estevan Gomez, now on board the _San
Antonio_, overpowered the captain and persuaded other men equally
disapproving of Magellan’s actions to turn back; they sought, vainly,
the men marooned at San Julian, and sailed back to Spain. Meanwhile
Magellan navigated the stormy waters of the Strait, emerged into the
boisterous Pacific, made for the Philippines and there was killed in a
native feud; the slaughter of thirty-nine others of the expedition made
it necessary to get rid of another vessel, the _Concepción_, while the
two remaining vessels made their way to the coveted Spice Islands. Here
magnificent cargoes of spice were bartered from the Kings of Tidore and
Gilolo, and, leaving the leaking _Trinidad_ to be careened, Sebastian
del Cano after building storehouses for spices at Tidore, sailed on
westward in the little _Victoria_ and reached San Lucar as the first
circumnavigator of the globe.
Del Cano with thirty-five men were the chief survivors, for the
_Trinidad_ never returned, and only a few of her crew reached Spain
years afterwards. It was to find her and rescue the members of the
expedition left in Tidore that the second expedition to Magellan Straits
was despatched. The great merits of Sebastian del Cano as organizer and
navigator were, meanwhile, greatly applauded in Spain, and the coat of
arms granted bore a globe as crest, with the motto _Primus circumdedisti
me_.
Portugal was roused by the exciting story of the _Victoria_’s feat and
her return laden with cinnamon, cloves, nutmegs, mace and sandalwood. To
understand the feeling roused it is necessary to remember the extent to
which mediæval Europe was dependent upon spices for rendering foods
palatable. Sugar was not then in general use, and honey, scarce and
expensive, was the chief sweetener. Meat was preserved with salt, and
its untempting quality was redeemed by Eastern spices. Puddings were
saturated with the same heavy aromatics; wearing apparel and beds were
perfumed with them. It is a taste that has yielded before the skill of
the distiller and the synthetic chemist, and the general development of
a “sweet tooth,” but it was sufficiently enthusiastic during the Middle
Ages to warrant international disputes.
Following Sebastian del Cano’s exploit, therefore, need for a decision
as to the ownership of the Moluccas became acute: finally, the King of
Portugal and Charles I of Spain arranged the Conference of Badajos to
settle the matter, taking the evidence of the best navigators,
cartographers and pilots. Meetings began in early 1524, continued for
five years without result, and were ended when Charles V sold his claim
in April, 1529, to the Portuguese for 350,000 ducats. This sale worked a
hardship upon the plucky Spaniards engaged in trying to uphold the
Spanish flag in the Islands, for meanwhile a new expedition under the
Comendador Garcia de Loaysa, with Sebastian del Cano as second in
command, was fitted out to follow the same course as Magellan’s to the
Spice Isles and to rescue the survivors of the _Trinidad_. They set sail
from Coruña in July, 1524, reached Cape Virgins in January, encountered
the usual terrible gales off the Strait, lost a ship, and saw tall
Patagonians, dressed in guanaco skins, with headdresses of ostrich
(rhea) plumes. They noted the laurel-like leaves of Winter’s Bark, with
its sweet scent. In bad condition, with the small boats destroyed, they
went north to the Santa Cruz River; repaired them, returned to the
Strait, and finally got out into the Pacific in May, 1526. Besides the
wreck of the _Santi Spiritus_ they had now been deserted by two other
ships, so that only the flagship _Victoria_, the caravels _Lesmes_ and
_Parrel_ and the pinnace _Pataca_ reached the South Sea. Of these, the
_Pataca_ found her way to Mexico, and the _Lesmes_ disappeared.
Broken down by hardships, Loaysa died at sea on July 30; and six days
later the great navigator Sebastian del Cano also died. When the
survivors reached the Moluccas at the end of the year they had buried 40
men in the Pacific since leaving the Strait, 105 remaining to carry on
unsupported contest against the Portuguese in the islands. In 1532, when
the abandonment of the Spanish claims was definitely known, the
Spaniards surrendered to their rivals and a few survivors did eventually
get back to Spain, including the able captain Andres de Urdaneta, whose
careful report was made to the king.
The next expedition to the stormy Strait was that of Simon de Alcazaba,
a Portuguese navigator in the service of Spain who asked for and
obtained a grant of land in what is today South Chile. The territory of
which he was nominally made Governor was to commence immediately south
of the strip allotted to the Adelantado Diego de Almagro, Nueva
Estramadura, and to extend 300 leagues. Alcazaba’s grant included the
present Argentine Patagonia, and was called Nueva Leon; the narrative of
the Veedor Alonso has been preserved and tells of the misfortune, crime
and suffering that seemed to pursue every expedition to the troubled
waterways.
With two ships, Alcazaba set sail from San Lucar in September, 1534,
reaching the entrance of the Strait four months later; the weather was
threatening, so after stocking up with 300 penguins they sailed north to
parallel 45, and anchored in the Puerto de Leones, which Alcazaba
considered as in the middle of his land grant, and from which he
proposed to march overland. They started on March 9, marched some
thirty-six miles in inhospitable country “desert and uninhabited, where
we found neither roots nor herbs to use as food, nor fuel to make a
fire, nor water to drink.” The Governor, stout and old, had to turn back
with a captain, while the rest went on until having marched 300 miles in
twenty-two days, with nothing but desert still in sight, they decided to
return to the ships. They had lived on the roots of big thistles, wild
celery and fish.
During the return journey two captains, Arias and Sotelo, mutinied, and
the expedition straggled back in disorder, losing more than fifty men on
the way. Arias and his friends reached the coast first, swam to the
flagship, murdered the Governor and pilot, then seized the second ship
and robbed both. Quarrels broke out between the two ringleaders, Arias
wishing to turn the flagship into a roving privateer while Sotelo[4]
preferred to go north and join, at the Plata, the expedition of the
Governor Pedro de Mendoza; the loyalists were able to turn the tables on
them, retake possession of the vessels, and to appoint new officials.
The latter tried and sentenced the mutineers; some were hanged at the
yardarm, others thrown overboard with weights round their necks, and
others “banished on shore for ten years.” At last, with provisions
exhausted, they set sail in July for Brazil, reached Bahia, where a ship
was wrecked and eighty men killed by the natives, the survivors reaching
Santo Domingo in September, 1535. So ended the first Spanish official
attempt to colonise the extreme south of Chile.
Footnote 4:
Founder of the City of Buenos Aires, 1535.
With the Spice Isles definitely abandoned, the route to the “South Seas”
discovered by Magellan was still valuable as offering an all-sea route
to the coast of Peru, and the next expedition was sent from Spain at the
instance of the Viceroy of Mexico, Antonio de Mendoza, in 1539. At this
time, and for many years to come, the chief route to Lima was by the
fever and pirate infested Isthmus of Panama, and the vessels seen in the
Pacific were brought in pieces and set up, or, later, built of native
timber, chiefly at Guayaquil.
The new mission was headed by Captain Alonso de Camargo, who lost his
flagship in the first narrows of the Strait; another vessel lost touch,
wintered in a bay of Tierra del Fuego, and then sailed back to Spain;
Camargo succeeded in getting the remaining vessel through the storms of
the Strait, and reached the Bay of Valparaiso at the time when Captain
Pedro de Valdivia was pushing south against the Araucanians. But he did
not return to Spain, was killed in the Almagro-Pizarro feuds, and the
chief result of his journey seems to have been discouraging; for a long
time no attempt was made by Spain to use the Strait. Juan de
Ladrilleros, sent in 1557 from Chile to examine the Strait from the
Pacific side, discovered Chiloé and the Chonos Archipelago and surveyed
as far as Cape Virgins. Including the leader, but three men returned to
Valdivia to report to the Governor, Don Garcia Hurtado de Mendoza.
_Sarmiento_
In 1579 the West Coast was electrified with the appearance of Francis
Drake in the _Golden Hind_, and when it was said that he had entered the
Pacific by way of Magellan Strait the Spanish determined to fortify and
close the passage to all foreign vessels. It was still believed that
south of the strait lay a great continent, divided from Patagonia only
by narrow waterways.
With a view to shutting the channel, the Viceroy of Peru, Francisco de
Toledo, equipped an expedition under the command of Captain Pedro de
Sarmiento de Gamboa, to survey the southerly regions and sail through
the Strait to Spain. Sarmiento was a fine seaman, with the discovery of
the Galapagos Islands already to his credit, an acute observer, good
historian, and a tireless and resourceful leader. He remarks, in the
beginning of his narrative, that it was then “held to be almost
impossible to discover” the entrance from the Pacific side, “owing to
the innumerable openings and channels which there are before arriving at
it, where many discoverers have been lost who had been sent by the
Governors of Peru and Chile.” Even the people who entered from the North
Sea (Atlantic) “never succeeded. Some were lost, and others returned, so
tossed about by storms and uncertain of what could be discovered, that
there was a general dread of that navigation.” The viceroy’s object now
was to dispel that fear, and to find the best means of closing the
Strait; Philip II’s suggestion of a stout chain was no doubt considered.
Two ships were selected and fitted; the crew of 112 was collected with
difficulty, for “nobody wished to embark, and many ran away and hid
themselves,” but the expedition set sail on October 11, 1579, from
Callao. By November 11 they had sailed 573 leagues, and were off Chiloé;
ten days later Sarmiento formally took possession of land off what is
today called Wolsey Sound; and, climbing to the top of a very rugged
mountain, often found it easier to “go along the tops of the trees, from
branch to branch, like monkeys” until, reaching the top, they counted 85
islands in the broken archipelago below. Deserted by the second ship,
Sarmiento found, in the flagship, _Nuestra Señora de Esperanza_, his way
into the Strait on Feb. 2, 1580, after much experience of bad weather
when surveying the westerly channels, and next day made another formal
landing and proclamation of possession. They got into touch with
Indians, who told them by signs of the visit of other bearded strangers,
probably the men of Drake’s three ships; it was not until February 9
that they encountered the big Patagonians of the east, users of the bow.
On the 13th they passed Cape Froward and the Bay of the Natives, “Bahia
de la Gente,” where the little river San Juan was named, and where two
years later the ill-fated City of Philip was founded. Sarmiento took
possession and set up a cross at this spot, leaving a letter with orders
for the missing ship, the _Almirante_, in case she came that way.
[Illustration: Balmaceda Glacier, South Chile.]
[Illustration: In Smyth Channel, heading North from Magellan Strait.]
Six days later they passed the Second Narrows, and the First Narrows on
Feb. 23, coming out of the Strait on the next day; they reached Spain,
after a number of adventures, on August 15. Here Sarmiento reported to
the King of Spain, and it was determined that a well-provisioned fleet
should be sent to the Strait, with stores, building materials, guns, and
100 married and single colonists, the former taking their families with
them. Two forts were to be constructed in the First Narrows, each
garrisoned with 200 soldiers. With the expedition also went the new
Governor of Chile, Alonso de Sotomayor, taking 600 married and single
men as settlers. Twenty-three vessels, carrying 3000 people, comprised
the imposing fleet that sailed from San Lucar on Sept. 25, 1581.
Sarmiento himself went as Governor and Captain-general of the Strait,
with command over the forts and settlements; but until they arrived the
chief authority lay with Diego Flores de Valdes, commanding the fleet,
an unfortunate choice on the part of the Crown, for Flores would not
work with Sarmiento, and seems to have been a coward. The ruin of the
expedition was certainly attributable in part to his actions.
Ill luck dogged them from the start. A storm assailed the fleet outside
San Lucar, and five ships, with 800 men, were lost; of these, 171 were
settlers, out of 357 who set out for the Strait. Another frigate was
lost as they left Cadiz on December 9, and on the voyage to Rio de
Janeiro, where they were to winter, 150 people died. During the fleet’s
stay in Rio, from March to November, 1582, another 150 died, and others
deserted; an unseaworthy ship had to be sunk here, 16 vessels eventually
sailing south, in poor condition. A few days later a large ship, the
_Arriola_, sank with 350 people and quantities of stores, and the _Santa
Marta_ followed her; and from this time Diego Flores almost openly tried
to impede a farther voyage southwards. He insisted on leaving three
ships, with soldiers, settlers and stores, behind at Santa Catalina
Island; another vessel was lost on leaving the port; and the next loss
of help was occasioned by Alonso de Sotomayor’s decision to disembark at
the River Plate and march overland to Chile, instead of aiding with
erection of forts and settlements in the Strait. He took three ships and
many of the diminishing stores intended for the new colony; and when the
Strait’s entrance was reached at last there were left only five vessels
of the twenty-three that sailed from San Lucar. When strong winds and
currents were encountered, Diego Flores put his ship about and frankly
fled, signalling to the other ships to follow him back to Brazil.
Arrived in S. Vicente (Santos) they found two of the three ships that
had been left at Catalina Island, the _Begoña_ having been sunk by
English pirates, while the officials were openly selling the Straits
stores in the town and the wretched intended settlers were bartering
their clothes for food. Sarmiento saved what he could, was rejoiced to
find four vessels fresh from Spain with new provisions for the Straits,
and, after Diego Flores had definitely refused to go south again
(sailing north with a large quantity of provisions and all the men he
could induce to desert), Sarmiento left Rio on Dec. 2, 1583, with five
vessels, and again set his course for the Strait. He reached the
entrance on Feb. 1, 1584, met with fierce winds and currents, lost
anchors and many cables, and was driven out of the Strait again. The
Indians of the mainland “made such a smoke that it concealed sea and
land.” Nothing daunted, Sarmiento went ashore as soon as he could anchor
under the low land of the Virgins Cape, on February 5, taking a cross
which they planted on a “large plain clothed with odoriferous and
consoling herbs.” Soldiers, settlers and stores were landed, tents set
up, 300 people housed; five springs of water were found three-quarters
of a mile away, and the colonists began to search for food, having
little but mandioca flour from Brazil and a small amount of biscuit.
They found “roots sweet and well-tasting, like turnips” and others as
pleasant as conserved pine nuts; and quantities of small black berries,
probably the fruit of the berberry (_Empetrum rubrum_) or the myrtle
(_Myrtus nummularia_) that still abound on the mainland and islands of
the region. The ephemeral settlement was bravely named the “City of the
Name of Jesus,” with due ceremonies of sod-turning, and the burial of
coins and witnessed documents; an altar was set up and the litany sung
by a procession. Streets and plazas were marked out by Sarmiento, and
huts of grass and poles, earth-covered, built; beans, vines, fruit trees
and seeds from Spain were planted near the sweet springs. Meanwhile the
settlers had to subsist partly on the inadequate fish they could catch.
The ships lying at the mouth of the Strait were a constant anxiety,
driven out repeatedly by gales, and at last the _Trinidad_ ran ashore
and was lost. Alarmed, the admiral, Diego de la Ribera, took three of
the remaining four vessels and fled north, carrying the remainder of the
provisions, and many settlers. Ribera made no farewells and did not wait
for the formal despatches of Sarmiento for the King; it was a mean
desertion of gallant countrymen.
Sarmiento rescued the stores from the _Trinidad_, put the colony into a
fair state of defence, with a rampart, arquebuses and guns, against the
audacious natives who frequently attacked with arrows, and then sent the
remaining ship, the _Maria_, into the Strait with instructions to make
for Cape Santa Ana, while he took a part of 100 soldiers by land to the
same spot in order to found a second settlement.
They set out on March 4; two weeks later their track was to be followed
by a party of thirty or forty others. It was a hard journey through
utter wilderness, and Sarmiento remarks that in forty leagues they saw
neither a human being nor signs of fire, although when he had traversed
the Strait on his voyage from Peru the plains were full of smoke. They
saw deer, skunks, and vultures, found berries, and at the coast obtained
shell-fish and edible sea-weed, but were short of fresh water, as the
streams flow under the sands when approaching the Strait; at the First
Narrow Sarmiento found a suitable spot for a fort, with nearby pasture
land “very pleasant to behold, with grass suitable for sheep” an
observation which was proved correct three hundred years later. They
noticed whales’ bones in a bay beyond the first Narrow, and quantities
of large, nourishing mussels.
Tall natives, naked, armed with bows and arrows and accompanied by
fighting dogs, met them near Gregory Cape, pretended friendship, but
later tried to ambush the Spaniards. Several Spaniards were wounded, and
one killed, but Sarmiento killed the Chief with a sword thrust and the
attackers fled. After seventy leagues’ marching they reached the wooded
country, where the “small people” lived. But the expedition suffered
from hunger and fatigue, and several men, discouraged, ran away to the
woods and were never seen again. On March 24 the limping, half-starved
party reached Santa Ana and met the _Maria’s_ boat, sent to look for
them. The ship’s company were camped in a nearby bay. Here they found
large deer, plenty of shell-fish that they stewed with “wild cinnamon”
(Winter’s Bark), and saw flocks of green parroquets. It was decided to
found the second settlement at this spot, and on March 25, 1584, the
formalities were carried out, the “tree of justice” was erected and the
municipality was traced out, and named the City of the King Don Felipe.
A church was built; next, the royal storehouse, large enough to hold 500
men, and the precious provisions secured; they had but 50 casks of
flour, 12 of biscuit, 4 of beans, and a little salt meat, dried fish and
bacon. At the end of April, clay-coated huts were ready for the
approaching storms of winter; vegetable seeds had been planted, the city
palisaded and defended by 6 guns, mounted on platforms. On May 25
Sarmiento embarked in the _Maria_ with thirty men, arrived outside the
City of the Name of Jesus on the same night, sent to and received
messengers from it, but was driven out to sea by a furious twenty-day
storm before which he was forced to run north. He could not return, and
reached Santos on June 25, with all food long exhausted and the starving
men, some of whom were blind and frostbitten, gnawing their sandals and
the leather of the pumps.
He left for Rio on July 3, got help from Governor Salvador Correa and
sent a ship laden with flour to the Strait; went to Pernambuco and
Bahia, where his ship was wrecked and he got ashore on a couple of
planks. The Governor received him kindly, gave him a ship of 160 tons,
and a load of mandioca flour, cloth and provisions for the settlement.
With this ship he sailed to Espirito Santo (Victoria Port), got dried
beef and cotton cloth, and proceeded south in mid-January, 1585, to
visit his settlements. But in 33 degrees of south latitude a frightful
gale burst upon them, most of the sheep, flour, etc., had to be thrown
overboard, and the battered vessel made her way back to Rio after
fifty-one ruinous days, finding here, as a final blow, the ship
despatched to the Strait with flour in December, put back on account of
terrible weather. At the end of his resources, and unable to get further
help from the well-disposed Portuguese Governor, Sarmiento determined to
go to Spain to report; but on his way he was captured (August, 1586) by
the little fleet of Sir Richard Grenville returning from Virginia, and
taken to England. Here he was received by Queen Elizabeth, who conversed
with him in Latin for two hours and a half, with Lord Burleigh, and was
specially well treated by Lord Howard and Sir Walter Raleigh, who gave
the old sailor a present of 1000 escudos and helped him to obtain a
passport. He was, in fact, used most kindly, and probably carried
conciliatory messages to Philip II. But his ill-luck followed him
relentlessly; while crossing France in December, 1586, he was
imprisoned, and a big ransom demanded. Sarmiento was compelled to appeal
to the King of Spain, and when the 6000 ducats and four select horses
had been provided he was released, in October, 1589, grey-haired and
crippled, after nearly three years’ confinement in fetid dungeons “in
infernal darkness, accompanied by the music of toads and rats.” His
first act was to make his report to the Crown, begging for help to be
sent to the settlements in the Strait.
_The City of Philip_
But, long before Sarmiento was released from the French prison, none but
ghosts walked in the City of Philip. Their fate would be wrapped in
darkness had it not chanced that in the year 1586 an English captain
named Thomas Cavendish threaded the Strait, was hailed from the shore by
a half-naked band of eighteen people, of whom three were women, and
picked up one Tomé Hernandez. This man afterwards made a deposition
before the Viceroy of Peru, but this did not occur until the year 1620,
when all chance of rescue had long passed. The statement of Hernandez,
then sixty-two years old, displays no feeling; it is a matter-of-fact
narrative, and it is remarkable that none of the interrogatories put to
him denote the least concern regarding the fate of the settlers, but
bore solely upon topographical points, questions of winds and currents,
products of the regions, etc. But reading between the lines of the
declaration, the tale is heart-rending. It was made by order of Don
Francisco de Borja, Prince of Esquilache, the son of a canonised father,
and himself a poet, scholar, and excellent Viceroy, the founder of a
college for noble Indians.
Hernandez gave an ingenuous and straightforward account, from the
soldier’s viewpoint, of the objects and fortunes of the expedition, of
the founding of the City of Philip and the departure of Sarmiento to
fetch the colonists of the first settlement, an attempt from which, so
far as the settlers of the second city were concerned, “he never more
returned,” as Hernandez simply said. Two months after Sarmiento had
gone, the people from Nombre de Jesus came to join the City of Philip.
It was then August, and they told of the storm that blew Sarmiento’s
ship out to sea. Andres de Viedma was now in charge, and he tried to
provide for the hunger of the settlers by organising 200 soldiers into a
band of shell-fish-hunters.
During all the winter and the following summer they waited, hoping for
help, and with no food but the wild berries and such sea-food as they
could secure. Then they built two boats, and the survivors, fifty men
and five women, started out towards the eastern end of the Strait. But,
no sailors, they could not navigate well, and one boat ran ashore and
was lost; the surviving boat could not carry all the people, so some
returned to the City of Philip and the rest scattered along the shore to
pick up shell-fish to preserve their lives during the winter.
When summer came, Viedma assembled the survivors, fifteen men, and,
astonishing witness to mental and physical endurance, three women. “All
the rest had died of hunger and sickness.” They agreed to return to the
first settlement, as nearer possible rescue, and began to make their way
by land, finding many dead bodies of their comrades by the way. Twelve
miles beyond Cape Geronimo they saw four ships, which they thought were
Spanish, but which were actually the boats of Cavendish. A boat came off
to the beach, and the settlers were told the nationality of the ships
and offered a passage to Peru; the men on shore replied that they were
afraid of being thrown overboard, getting the response that they might
well embark, as those on the ships “were better Christians than we
were.” After some parleying Hernandez was taken aboard, to Cavendish
himself, who, upon hearing that these folk were survivors of the
settlement, said he would take them all in his vessels. But this, in the
end, he did not do, taking advantage of the rare good weather in the
Strait to go to Penguin Island for birds, which he salted down in casks.
He sailed thence to the abandoned City of Philip, stayed there four days
taking on wood and water, and brought away the six pieces of artillery
that Sarmiento had placed there for the colony’s defence. Storms met the
ships at the western end, Valparaiso was missed in the fog, and when a
landing was made at the port of Quintero, the rescued Hernandez was sent
ashore to pretend to the Spanish that the ships were from Spain. But
Hernandez gave secret warning to his kinsfolk, and next day when the
English went ashore they were ambushed, some being killed and others
taken prisoner. The latter were sent to Lima and there hanged.
Cavendish has been blamed for leaving the survivors of Sarmiento’s
ill-fated colony in the Strait, but if any excuse were needed besides
the fact that he did not know their desperate plight, it exists in the
ungrateful conduct of the one man he took away, whose thanks took the
form of sending a number of his helpers to the scaffold.
Of the fate of these last members of the large band of settlers who had
set out from Spain with such high hopes, we know only that in 1590 one
man signalled to the _Delight_ of Bristol, was taken on board, and died
on the way to Europe, without leaving his name or story. But whether
they died of starvation or were taken into the roving camps of Indians,
their blood was lost, although traces may have been mingled with that of
the natives, who were not invariably hostile. Hernandez, answering his
questioners in Lima, stated that for three months a Spanish woman,
captured on the seashore by the Indians, was kept by them, but that then
she was sent back. Savage nomads, perpetually short of food, the Indians
of the Straits had nothing with which to hold nor help the unfortunate
Europeans.
_Port Famine and Punta Arenas_
A brief side-light is thrown upon the settlement by the records of
Cavendish’s expedition. He was in “King Philip’s Citie” on January 9,
1586, and gave it the name of “Port Famine” by which the spot was ever
afterwards known. The town was full of dead people, the bodies lying
clothed in the houses, and the explorations of his sailors resulted in
finding only “muskles and lympits” for food, with a few small deer. In
1600 the Dutchman, Oliver Noort, came this way and saw Port Famine, but
Purchas’ account says that “heere they found no footprints of the late
Philip-Citie, now liker a heap of stones.”
Yet today, a few miles to the northward, stands the prosperous city of
Punta Arenas. Its sturdy existence justifies, after three and a half
centuries, Sarmiento’s belief that this stormy region was neither
unhealthy nor unproductive, and that a colony of white men could live
there securely were it properly supported.
CHAPTER VI
THE TACNA QUESTION
_The Storm Centre.—Indeterminate Position of Tacna.—Peru and
Chile.—Boundary Problem.—Guano and Nitrate.—The War of
1879.—Treaties.—Appeal to the League of Nations.—Discussions at
Washington._
Tacna is the political storm centre of the Pacific Coast of South
America. It is a little province consisting chiefly of sun-bleached
desert scored by a few extraordinarily fertile valleys, lying north of
the great nitrate area of Tarapacá. It is tilted to the sea, the coast
range diminishing to a tawny cliff’s edge, and rises to long interior
plains that merge into Andean spurs, with the Bolivian province of Oruro
just across the snow-crowned mountain wall. The area is 23,000 square
kilometres; the population was estimated in 1919 at 40,000, and counted
as a thousand less in 1920, a diminution probably due to the departure
of Peruvians.
This territory’s fate has been indeterminate since the close of the War
of the Pacific, 1879–83, and with its fertile causes for agitation has
been the focus of endless quantities of argument emanating mainly from
the former owner, Peru, to whom no solution is declared to be
satisfactory but the unqualified restoration of the province. The
interest of Bolivia in the matter is also recognised: she has brought
her need for a new outlet to the Pacific before the League of Nations,
although without result; and while there is force in the reminder of
Chile that Bolivia was able to make little or no use of the Antofagasta
littoral while in her possession, and that her great prosperity dates
from the time when she lost it and obtained as a kind of solatium an
efficient railroad, national pride urges a political group of La Paz to
make recovery of a coastal strip one of the planks of the oratorical
platform.
Between Bolivia and her two sister republics of the west there is no
ill-feeling. She trades freely with both, and in particular has derived
a great deal of technical and financial help from Chilean men of
enterprise in developing important mining regions. Bolivia’s relations
with Peru are equally friendly, although intellectual rather than
economic; but the writer’s experience of Bolivia has developed the
opinion that Bolivians are extremely unlikely to do what is occasionally
urged by the Peruvian press, to take up arms with the object of
regaining territory definitely ceded, without question or reservation,
by the Treaty of 1904.
The dispute, actually, lies between Peru and Chile. It is utilised by
adroit politicians in South America, and farther afield, to divert
attention from other inconvenient problems, and the recurrent flurry is
a cause of anxiety to the industrialist and investor, whether
native-born or foreign, of the West Coast. It demands settlement, and
probably could be settled as other territorial questions have been
solved, by the exercise of goodwill and discretion and in the spirit of
compromise. But the truth is that few public men are sufficiently
courageous to adopt a moderate attitude on this subject; the bellicose
attitude is easier and more popular. Inflammatory newspaper articles and
speeches upon the subject are rarely of Chilean origin, it is but fair
to say; but the situation is a standing invitation to the extremist and
the path of the mediator is not smoothed by long postponement.
Arica port, a pretty little oasis in the desert, was the centuries-old
outlet for Bolivian products; Potosí’s silver came out in a rich stream
during colonial days. Charcas Province, or Alto Peru, afterwards part of
the Viceroyalty of Buenos Aires, had no other western port. Forty miles
inland lies the old city of Tacna, also succeeding an Inca settlement,
and an ancient stopping-place on the highway to the Andes.
The desert, veiled by the strange mist of this region, the _camanchaca_,
lies all about these little cities; they are connected by an old strip
of railway, and there are no other sizable towns. Tarata, in the spurs
of the mountains, is reached only by horseback, is chiefly important as
head of the department of the same name, and is only a degree nearer
modern life than the villages of sturdy mountaineers that cling to the
Andean folds above it. Here the llama is still the chief means of
transport.
Nitrate has not been found in workable quantities in Tacna province, nor
any precious mineral deposits of consequence, although silver and copper
are known. The value of the territory, politically unified by Chile as
one province, Tacna, 23,000 square kilometres in area, with three
departments, Tacna, Arica and Tarata, and the city of Arica as the chief
centre of the province, is thus not great, until irrigation permits
agricultural development upon a big scale. But strategically it acts as
a buffer between Chile and Peru, and it was with the object of erecting
such a buffer that Chile refrained from doing what her dominant position
after the War of the Pacific permitted, taking the little provinces
finally, at the same time that she secured Tarapacá, a region enormously
rich in nitrate.
Peru was obliged to accept definitely the cession of Tarapacá: that loss
is beyond discussion. But the indeterminate position of Tacna permits
national feeling, irritation and sentiment full sway.
It is common to hear of the old unity of Peru and Chile, of the mutual
sacrifices during Independence struggles, their like origin and present
intertwined interests. Undoubtedly, the two states are commercially
necessary one to the other; the traders of the communities are little
disturbed by political aspects and own a brotherly kinship so far as the
Spanish language, religion, and culture are concerned. But there are
also marked divergences. There has been a much greater proportion of
west European blood in Chile than in Peru; the native races were of
completely different speech and customs; and climate has done its share
in modifying the modern population of each country. It is a serious
error to class any two South American peoples together, and the
characteristics of Bolivian, Ecuadorian, Peruvian and Chilean are
strongly marked. Nor, between Peru and Chile, was cordiality invariably
marked in colonial days, from the time when Almagro’s returned followers
opposed the Pizarros and were set apart as “Men of Chile.” The
dominance, political and financial, of Lima during the three hundred
succeeding years in legal, political and religious matters, the use made
of Chile as a dumping-ground, and at the same time the endless and
unproductive expense in blood and treasure of the Araucanian wars,
created irritation that was not all on one side.
Peru was rich and proud, Chile and Buenos Aires were comparatively poor:
yet from the two latter political independence from Spain arrived, borne
upon the swords of San Martin’s army. An ocean of tact has been needed
to smooth similar situations in other regions and times, and San
Martin’s arbitrary conduct, although objectionable to Chileans and
Peruvians alike, did not ease the situation. Later, when South America’s
freedom from Spain had become a fact accepted by the world at large, a
result due in great measure to Canning’s long vision, the eyes of the
new countries turned to their nebulous boundaries. Settlement of the
exact frontiers has been so difficult that the disputes and efforts of a
century have not, in some cases, yet decided the question. When all was
Spain’s, the limits of separate provinces or viceroyalties was of
secondary importance; the hinterlands were frequently wooded,
mountainous, or desert country, where none but Indians penetrated. It
has only been since forestal products such as quinine and rubber were
valorised, the worth of the commoner metals enhanced by great
industries, that great interior regions of the southern continent have
acquired interest, and the marking of boundaries has become a burning
question.
In Chile’s case, her area as a province or “kingdom” during Spanish
times included the present Argentine provinces of Mendoza, San Luis and
San Juan, and all Patagonia. The three first-named provinces went, with
Charcas (part of the modern Bolivia), to Buenos Aires when that
Viceroyalty was erected in 1776, but the possession of Patagonia and the
islands below the Strait of Magellan remained a fertile source of
disagreement with Argentina, narrowly averting war, until 1881. A treaty
then made between the two countries fixed a line in the Andes as the
boundary, to follow the highest peaks dividing the rivers, while all
land south of the fifty-second degree of south latitude went to Chile,
except the eastern part of Tierra del Fuego. This agreement was found
indefinite; the water-parting and the highest peaks were discovered to
be frequently far distant from each other, and the exact boundary was
only settled in 1902 when the award of King Edward VII fixed a new line,
by which 54,000 square kilometres of the disputed area was assigned to
Chile and 40,000 to Argentina. One small point only remains
unsettled—the question as to the exact position of the eastern entrance
to Beagle Channel, involving possession of Picton, New and Lennox
Islands. The senates of Chile and Argentina agreed in 1915 to abide by
an award to be made by the British Government.
So much for the eastern boundary. North lay the Desert of Atacama,
declared by Darwin to be a “barrier far worse than the most turbulent
ocean.” The desert was known from early Spanish times as the boundary of
Chile, but while it remained apparently worthless it was to no one’s
interest to decide whether the north, centre, or south of the desert
formed the line. Peru’s southern limit was fixed as far back as 1628 at
22° 33′ south latitude, the border of Tarapacá, near the present port of
Tocopilla; between the parallels of twenty-two and twenty-five was the
old Province of Atacama, extending from Tocopilla southward, including
then but one port, Cobija, and all the large northerly part of the
Atacama Desert. In 1770 Dr. Cosme Bueno, the Chief Cosmographer of Peru,
wrote in the valuable _Conocimientos de los Tiempos_ that “Peru extends
to 25° 10′ in the centre of the Atacama desert, and here touches
Chile”—Atacama then, as part of Charcas or Alto Peru being included in
the Peruvian Viceroyalty—and in 1776 the northern edge of Chile seems to
have been accepted as touching the little town of Paposo, in almost the
same latitude. But that there was haziness regarding the precise border
is indicated by the fact that Fitzroy’s map of 1836, and Ondanza’s of
1859, and that of Pissis, 1860, all show differing boundary lines for
northern Chile. Had the Paposo latitude been definitely accepted by
Chile and her sisters, it is inconceivable that Bolivia would have
failed to denounce energetically in 1866 the Chilean claim to territory
as far north as parallel 23.
By this time the South American countries were prosperous in the huge
development of commerce with the world at large, and the West Coast had
entered upon a new era; there was an enormous extension of copper and
silver mining, guano was feverishly exploited by Peru with great profit
from 1841, and there was a developing business in nitrate, shipped
chiefly from Iquique and Pisagua, in Tarapacá. In the attack by Spain
upon Peru the four countries of Ecuador, Peru, Bolivia and Chile were
united in resistance, and causes for trouble appeared remote. It was now
that a glimpse of the hidden wealth of Atacama was revealed. Two
enterprising Chilean engineers, Ossa and Puelma, seeking copper in the
burning desert, obtained from President Melgarejo of Bolivia a wide
concession to operate in the territory, which was neither surveyed nor
utilised by Bolivians at that time, commerce to and from Bolivia still
following the Arica, or Arequipa and Mollendo, route. With industrial
development in sight the question of boundaries became acute, and Chile
laid a formal claim to all land south of parallel 23.
Bolivia admitted the prevailing lack of certainty concerning limits by
compromising; Chile’s boundary was fixed at 24° s. l., while the two
countries were to share customs receipts from the belts 23° and 24°, and
24° and 25° s. l. The arrangement did not work well, and was eventually
revised in 1874 and a new arrangement made by which Bolivia agreed not
to levy taxes upon Chilean industries, nor to impose new customs dues on
exports for the next twenty-five years.
For meanwhile a great development was taking place. In 1870 the silver
mines of Caracoles were discovered, a rush to the locality ensuing. With
4000 claims recorded and a tremendous stream of miners, transport was
needed, and a British-capitalised and operated company registered in
Chile, the Cia. de Salitres y Ferrocarriles de Antofagasta, took over
the rights granted originally to Ossa and Puelma, built a port at
Antofagasta and a railway to the mines, and was also presently working
newly discovered fields of nitrate in the same once-despised territory.
Its concession was extensive, covering all the great Salar del Carmen,
and something like a boom in nitrate followed; engineers poured into
Atacama, and in Tarapacá the energies of foreign companies, chiefly
Chilean and British, began to alarm Peruvians, who saw the supremacy of
guano threatened. Peru and Bolivia formed a secret pact (1873), of
defensive military alliance, and later tried to legislate against the
foreign companies. The Peruvian President, Dr. Pardo, decided to make
nitrate a government monopoly, passed a law enforcing the acquisition of
all nitrate works and strictly limiting its output, while President Daza
in Bolivia first rented all the undeveloped nitrate deposits in
Antofagasta to Henry Meiggs, an American railroad builder in Peru, and,
disavowing the agreements made by Melgarejo, decreed a duty of ten
centavos per hundredweight on all nitrate exported. Both Bolivia and
Peru were, it is frequently contended, within their rights in making
laws dealing with their own territory: the duty suggested by Bolivia
was, it is true, but a fraction of what the industry subsequently
yielded. But the developing companies were exasperated at what they
considered attempts to revoke rights already conceded, and to stifle
nitrate production in Antofagasta. The fact that Bolivia and Peru were
financially embarrassed following periods of internal disturbance and
large spending did not ease the situation.
Trouble might have been averted with mutual concessions had it not been
for the high-handed act of Bolivian officials who, in December, 1878,
demanded a large sum in back taxes from the Antofagasta company, and
upon the refusal of the English manager, ordered the seizure of the
company’s property. The match had been set to the gunpowder. Chile
immediately seized the ports of Antofagasta, Cobija and Tocopilla, and
by February, 1879, all the Bolivian coast was in Chilean hands
militarily as, previous to that time, it had been in Chilean hands
economically.
Peru offered to mediate, suggesting neutralisation of Antofagasta port
under the triple guarantee of Bolivia, Chile, and Peru, and new
disposition of the territorial revenues; but Chile, aware of the secret
treaty of 1873, demanded first the abrogation of that pact, and next the
cessation of all warlike preparations by Peru and a declaration of her
neutrality. Peru declined, and war was declared upon her in April, 1879.
At this time the population of Peru and Bolivia jointly was double that
of Chile, and she was comparatively a poor country, without either
mineral or great agricultural wealth. But the Chilean navy was excellent
and her men were hardy campaigners and fighters, as Peru, aided by
Chilean troops in the war of independence and at the time of the
forcible seizure of Peruvian territory by Santa Cruz in 1837, well knew.
The course of the war was disastrous from the beginning to the two
allied states. Bolivia was never able to recover a foot of the coastal
strip, and was forced to confine her efforts to contributions of men and
material in the series of battles in which Chilean armies were almost
invariably successful. When Chile had broken the small naval power of
Peru by the sinking of the ironclad _Independencia_ and the capture of
the _Huascar_, the allies had but two wooden vessels, the _Pilcomayo_
and the _Union_, with which to defend the coast. The former was taken
late in 1879, the latter evaded seizure until the end of the war: but
practically the sea-ways were in control of the Chilean navy, headed by
the _Blanco Encalada_ and the _Almirante Cochrane_, two British-built
ironclads, as well as six smaller armed vessels, six months after the
war began.
Sea control rendered all the Chilean forces mobile. They were henceforth
able to strike at any given spot with speed and certainty, while the
harassed allies were obliged to transport troops across deserts to a
score of poorly supplied coastal points; they were further hampered in
December, 1879, by the strange flight of President Prado from Peru, and
the Bolivian Revolution which deposed President Daza. The new leaders in
Peru and Bolivia, Pierola and Campero, could not stem the tide of
disaster; by February, 1880, the Chileans held the littoral as far as
Arica, and in April began the nine-months’ blockade of Lima’s port,
Callao, together with Ancon and Chancay. Inland the allies held out,
notably at Tacna, captured after a desperate struggle at the end of May.
Arica was finally taken in June, the north coast held in submission, and
the blockade of the chief ports rigorously maintained. This war was the
first in which torpedos and torpedo-boats were actively employed, and
while the new inventions enabled Chile to carry out naval operations
with marked effect, Peru did her best to protect Callao by mooring
hundreds of torpedos in the bay, and succeeded in blowing up two Chilean
ships, the _Covadonga_ and the _Loa_.
North American attempts at mediation resulted in October, 1880, in Chile
stating her terms—the cession by Peru of Tarapacá, the relinquishment by
Bolivia of all claims upon the coast, and payment of an indemnity; and
occupation by Chile of Tacna, Arica and Moquegua until the first-named
conditions were carried out. Years later, after much more bloodshed,
ruin and misery, the allies accepted terms practically similar; but they
rejected them in 1880, and Chile organised for the taking of Lima. After
a fierce battle in which the Chileans are said to have lost 1300 and the
Peruvians 6000 dead, the capital was captured in January, 1881, and
occupied by Chile until terms were arranged by the Treaty of Ancon in
1883. This arrangement was made only between Chile and Peru, followed by
a truce with Bolivia in 1884 and a definite peace treaty signed in 1904.
Chile has been blamed for making hard terms with the two sister states,
but the fact is undeniable that despite the struggle made by the allies,
to which Chilean historians have frequently given credit, they were
utterly out-fought. Chile was completely victorious on sea and land, and
she took the fruits of victory; she had, she considered, been menaced,
and she disposed of future menace. If she was severe, she had many great
examples to follow. It is at least a little curious to find the United
States, with the record of acquisitions of Mexican territory, constantly
raising a minatory finger to Chile. This finger appeared during the
progress of the War of the Pacific, and upon several subsequent
occasions including a curious incident in 1920, when a flutter of local
feeling on the West Coast was made the occasion of a tactless message
from the State Department. These admonitions are resented by and are
embarrassing to no one more than American _comerciantes_ and miners
operating in Chile. It is unfortunate both for the United States and the
peace of the West Coast that a non-comprehension of Chilean intentions
and sentiment should not only add fuel to the flame, but should keep
alive ideas of forcible intervention in the minds of the losers in the
war, encouraged to contemplate restoration of part of their former
territory.
It is, however, not the finally ceded provinces, but the uncertain
status of Tacna, that causes the chief heart-burning. The terms made
with Bolivia gave Chile her present great province of Antofagasta, with
its wealth in nitrate, silver and copper, but in order to conciliate
Bolivian feeling and legitimate commercial ambition, Chile agreed to
build, and built, a railway outlet from La Paz to Arica, the Bolivian
section of which will become Bolivian property in 1928. Bolivian
prosperity dates from the operation of this excellent line, and Chilean
commercial and financial relations with Bolivia have been increasingly
cordial. I have yet to see in any Chilean publication or to hear from
any Chilean expressions of other than the greatest goodwill to Bolivia;
it is almost equally the rule to encounter a sincere desire for the
amicable settlement of outstanding questions with Peru, and the display
of a frank and moderate appreciation of Peruvian feeling. But while
Bolivians in general have accepted their loss, for Peru the war is not
yet over. This is chiefly due to the Tacna barrier.
Tarapacá, rich in nitrate and metals, was ceded to Chile absolutely, but
the little provinces of Tacna and Arica went under Chilean control with
the proviso that a plebiscite, to determine by popular vote the final
ownership of the region, should be held after ten years—i.e., after
1894; the gainer of the territory promised to pay ten million pesos to
the loser. This plebiscite has never been held.
In 1894 the two countries mutually agreed to a postponement, and
attempts to hold the plebiscite later have been frustrated by the
difficulty of arranging voting conditions. Questions as to the
nationality of the persons permitted to vote, and of the constitution of
the tribunal of judges, have long awaited solution. Chile has repeatedly
declared that the Chancellery of the Moneda is ready to hold the
plebiscite, and meanwhile occupies and develops the territory, creating
irrigation systems and planning vast extensions of sugar and cotton
production. Since there were in 1907 in Tacna out of a total of 25,000
people only 4000 non-Chileans, it can scarcely be doubted that the
result of a plebiscite held, let us say, in 1923, would leave Tacna
definitely under the Chilean flag.
In November, 1920, Peru and Bolivia asked the League of Nations
assembled at Geneva to examine the treaties signed with Chile in 1884
and 1904—with a view to obtaining international influence in the
direction of modification of terms. Peru afterwards withdrew her
request, while the commission appointed to consider Bolivia’s case came
unanimously to the conclusion that no intervention was possible in the
case of a definitely signed treaty, handing down this decision in
November, 1921. But the Chilean delegate, Don Agustin Edwards, made it
clear that Chile was always ready to discuss amicably with Bolivia any
suggestion for the economic improvement of Bolivia’s position compatible
with Chilean interests, and the way was paved for friendly discussions.
Shortly afterwards Chile made a direct offer to the Peruvian
administration (in the absence of diplomatic representatives) that the
plebiscite should be held in accord with the terms agreed upon during
discussions in 1912, when 1923 was fixed as the voting year. Peru did
not find this suggestion acceptable, in view of the fact that
Chileanisation of Tacna proceeds with such rapidity that the Peruvian
vote would be practically non-existent. All children born in the
province since 1883 are counted as Chilean citizens, and the exodus of
adult Peruvians from this and other regions has been marked since 1920,
when a sudden access of local friction brought about the mutual
withdrawal of consular officials.
At this moment, when it seemed unfortunately probable that the new
attempt at settlement would meet with the fate of previous efforts, the
United States interposed with the suggestion that representatives of
Peru and Chile should meet for friendly discussions in Washington. This
offer was accepted by both Lima and Santiago, and delegates were
appointed in early 1922.
Peru wished to re-open the whole Treaty of Ancon, but Chile emphatically
declared that only the terms of the Tacna plebiscite were matters for
discussion; she also declined Bolivia’s request to take part in the
meetings, although reiterating her readiness to exchange views directly
with Bolivia.
Conversations between the able diplomats of the two countries took place
in Washington during May, 1922, but without a decisive result, the
delegates announcing early in June that no agreement concerning the
holding of the plebiscite in Tacna had been reached.
The break-up of the conference appeared to be inevitable when the United
States Government, in the person of Mr. Hughes, Secretary of State,
offered to exchange its position of benevolent host of the delegates to
that of mediator. An interchange of suggestions took place between
Chile, Peru and the United States, ending in a hopeful agreement signed
by the two former in July; this agreement terminated the first stage of
the road to peace, and practically amounted to the acceptance of
arbitration.
The immediate question laid before the American arbitrators is whether
or no the plebiscite should be held, and, if so, upon what terms the
voting should take place. But it was further agreed, Chile cheerfully
accepting a Peruvian suggestion, that if a decision should be reached
precluding a plebiscite, nevertheless negotiations should be continued
under United States auspices, with a view to another form of settlement.
At the time of writing, a close study is being made in Washington of the
historical, political and economic aspects of the situation, and an
interval of some months must take place before any decision is
announced. But the outlook has undoubtedly been lightened by the very
fact of amicable discussions having taken place between the delegate of
the two countries, and a newer and more friendly atmosphere promises the
lifting of the forty years’ old shadow.
CHAPTER VII
MINING
_The Nitrate Industry.—Copper.—Iron.—Gold and
Silver.—Coal.—Petroleum.—Borax, Sulphur, Manganese, etc._
International agriculturists did not begin to call for nitrate of soda
until the scientific study of soils was seriously attempted and
experiments demonstrated the value of this chemical as a crop
fertiliser. Young countries may produce grain and fruits from soil that
is almost untended, but some soils of special characteristics, and old
lands cultivated for two or three thousand years, respond gratefully to
the stimulus offered by supplies of nitrogen, phosphate and potash. From
the time that this axiom was accepted, the West Coast of South America
began to ship the product of her unique deposits overseas in big
quantities.
But the nitrate pampas had been known for what they were for several
hundred years before the industrial boom of the late nineteenth century;
small amounts were used throughout the Spanish colonial period. This
employment was confined to the manufacture of fireworks and gunpowder,
some of the deposits remaining in the hands of the Viceregal Government
and others being operated by Jesuits and other religious orders. The
Government chiefly used the “saltpetre” in making gunpowder for
firearms, and for blasting purposes in mines of precious metals; as, for
example, in the silver mines of Huantajaya, some fifteen miles inland
from Iquique. Early voyagers upon the coast noted that the gunpowder of
Peru was better than that made in other parts of the colonies, and
penalties were inflicted to prevent the illegal extraction of nitrate by
unauthorised persons. Juan and Ulloa, writing in 1741, speak of the
contraband gunpowder manufacture carried on near the _salitre_ (nitrate
of soda) field of Guancarama, and the efforts of the Lima treasury to
stop similar use being made of the beds near Zayla. The good fathers of
the religious missions had another destination for the explosive; it was
used to make the immense quantity of fireworks burnt at times of
festival, a custom that is not yet extinct in Spanish America.
A simple method of obtaining the nitrate of sodium from the rocky beds
of mixed composition (the _caliche_) was employed by these early
manufacturers, who used chiefly Indian workers. The whitish, hard
substance was broken up into small pieces and thrown into huge copper
cauldrons filled with boiling water. When the caliche was dissolved the
liquor was dipped off with enormous spoons into first one and then
another vat, and there it crystallised.
Exactly the same principle is the basis of the modern method. The
caliche yields to dynamite charges, successor of the pickaxe; is brought
to the nitrate plant (_oficina_), in wagons instead of being laboriously
carried on the backs of Indians; the copper cauldron is replaced by a
large tank, and coils containing steam at a high temperature are passed
through the water; the liquor is drawn off by pipes at a carefully
considered moment, and the final drying process takes place upon
prepared cement floors; coal or oil fuel is used instead of wood. There
is less waste of material today and the quantities produced are immense:
but the ancient empirical nitrate extractors were not very far wrong as
regards system.
After independence from Spain, small sales of nitrate to foreign
countries commenced, for the manufacture of nitric acid; 800 tons were
exported in 1830, but in the four-year period between 1840 and 1844 an
average of 15,000 tons was maintained. Shipments rose steadily after the
introduction of new methods in 1855, when steam was first used in the
dissolving process and the construction of vats was changed from the
system of 1812. By the year 1869 nitrate exports had risen to about
115,000 tons a year; in 1873 the figures reached over 285,000 tons; in
1876, to more than 320,000 tons.
After the War of the Pacific left Chile with the Bolivian fields of
Antofagasta and the Peruvian beds of Tarapacá in her hands, a tremendous
impetus was given to the nitrate industry. Great amounts of foreign
capital were brought in, railways and ports constructed. Production rose
steadily. In 1884 the export stood at some 480,000 tons; in 1888, about
750,000, while the million mark was passed two years later. The industry
suffered from uncertainties at the time of the Balmaceda revolution,
when the insurgent leaders held the north, obtaining revenues and
preparing armies upon this vantage ground; but after the collapse of the
Balmacedistas in 1891 foreign trade was revived, and at the end of the
century nitrate shipments had reached about 1,500,000 tons.
[Illustration: The Nitrate Pampa: Opening up Trench after Blasting.]
[Illustration: General View of Nitrate and Iodine Plant.]
In 1908 the export amounted to more than 2,000,000 tons, increasing
considerably after this time on account of the heavy buying of the
European Central Powers, Germany and Austria taking together an average
of 1,000,000 tons each year between 1909 and 1914. The position of
nitrate in Chile’s economic life is illustrated by export figures for
the last “normal” year, 1913. Total export values, 391,000,000 pesos: of
this nitrate and iodine represented 311,000,000 pesos. Nitrate responded
to war demands, after the first paralysis of shipping had passed, and in
1916 nearly 3,000,000 tons were exported for munitions manufacture to
the Allies and the United States. The greatest purchasers of Chilean
nitrate today are European and North American agricultural countries;
Australia also finds this chemical of great value and, before the war,
regularly exchanged it for coal cargoes.
South America herself probably presents the most extensive stretches of
agricultural territory which make practically no use of nitrate. In
Chile its use is almost non-existent, partly because the soil is too
newly opened and rich to need a stimulus as yet, and partly because the
moist southerly regions are considered unsuitable for the employment of
the easily soluble salitre. Guano is the most popular fertiliser in
Chile, especially in the north: its use follows old Inca custom, when
such valleys as that of Arica were irrigated and fertilised to produce
famous crops of maize, _aji_ and cotton.
_The Nitrate Pampas_
No stranger country than that of the wide, golden-pink pampas where
nitrate lies is to be found in the Americas. The circumstances that
created the deposits, the rainless climate that preserved them for
unknown centuries, are unparalleled; the belt upon the Chilean West
Coast between 19° and 26° of south latitude contains the world’s sole
source of naturally produced nitrate of soda. It is a unique region, and
although the science of production of atmospheric nitrate advanced
during the war, producers of the Chilean chemical do not view this
competitor with alarm. Artificial processes are expensive; Chile can, if
necessary, lower nitrate prices to meet any rival.
The coastal border of the great nitrate belt is about 450 miles in
extent, its tawny dunes displaying no tree nor smallest green thing
except in such rare spots as where a thread of water survives the
burning sun and sand, or where, at a port, an artificial garden has been
created with piped water. The generally waterless state of the region
has long reduced it to sterility. None of the nitrate deposits lie upon
the coast, or at a distance of less than fifteen miles inland. The
average distance of the westerly margin of the deposits from the sea is
about 45 miles, a few of the beds, however, lying as far as 100 miles
inland. Between the salitre fields and the Pacific Ocean runs the
diminished coastal range, dwindling here and there to nothing more than
a straggling series of broken, rounded hillocks; to the east the
deposits are guarded by the backbone of the Andes. The general altitude
of the beds above sea level is from 2000 to 5000 feet.
The whole extent of the treeless and practically waterless country of
North Chile, presenting a broad and tawny face to the unchanging blue
sky, is a vast series of mineral deposits, for not only nitrate of
sodium but also copper, borax, gypsum, cobalt, manganese, silver, and
gold are spread through the great areas comprising the present provinces
of Antofagasta, Tarapacá, Tacna and Atacama. Some of these minerals have
been worked for centuries, but whatever small and more or less isolated
deposits of nitrate exist in the two last-named regions remain
unexploited: commercial production of the mineral is confined to the two
great rich provinces of Tarapacá and Antofagasta.
The salitre beds vary in thickness and are of capricious distribution:
great areas within the rainless region show no trace of these deposits,
while in others the layers run twenty feet thick. The surveyed fields
cover at least 225,000 acres, contained chiefly in five major districts.
The most northerly, the Pampa of Tarapacá, ships its products from the
ports of Iquique, Caleta Buena, Patillos, Junin and Pisagua, and is
served by three railways—the Nitrate Railways Company, the Agua Santa
Nitrate and Railway Company, and the Junin Railway Company. Next comes
the Pampa of Toco, exporting through the coast town of Tocopilla, to
which it is joined by the Anglo-Chilean Nitrate and Railway Company.
Farther south lies the enormous Pampa of Antofagasta, with outlets at
the fine port town of Antofagasta and its older rival, Mejillones; the
region is served by the main line and branches of the Antofagasta and
Bolivia Railway Company. The fourth field in order is the Aguas Blancas
Pampa, with a shipping point at Caleta Coloso, reached by an arm of the
Antofagasta and Bolivia Railway; and the most southerly deposit of
considerable size is the Pampa of Taltal, shipping its product by the
Taltal Railway to Taltal Port. A few isolated beds lie outside the areas
of these five great deposits, as the Providencia and Boquete beds of
Antofagasta, but so far as present surveys have proved their existence,
the great masses of nitrate are definitely localised.
Tarapacá, with 76 oficinas equipped, normally produces about 40 per cent
of the total nitrate exported from Chile; Antofagasta, with 30 oficinas,
chiefly of a more modern type, produces about 35 per cent; Taltal, with
9 oficinas, ships usually some 10 per cent of the total; Tocopilla, with
7 oficinas, about 9 per cent; and Aguas Blancas, with another 7
oficinas, is responsible for 6 per cent.
_Nitrate Companies_
The total capital invested in nitrate lands and plants is calculated at
400,000,000 Chilean gold pesos of eighteen pence, or about £38,000,000
sterling. It is not easy to state exactly what proportion of this total
should be assigned to each of the different groups of nationals owning
these properties, since many firms employing foreign capital are
registered as Chilean companies, and both during and since the war a
considerable number of oficinas have changed hands; but the official
statistics published by the Chilean Government give the percentage of
production ascribed to the various groups of owners, thus offering a
useful guide.
The figures ascribe to Chilean owners, out of a total 129 plants in
operation in 1918, 60 oficinas, producing 50 per cent of the nitrate
total; to English companies, 43 oficinas and 34 per cent of the
production; to the Jugo-Slavs, with 7 oficinas, about 6 per cent of the
production; Peruvians, 7 oficinas, 3 per cent of production; Spaniards,
with 3 oficinas, less than 2 per cent of the total output; Americans, 2
oficinas, nearly 3 per cent; Germans, with 2 oficinas, less than 1 per
cent of production—this reduction from a larger pre-war production being
due to closure of several properties from 1914 onwards.
The Chilean companies include the largest and most heavily capitalised
in the country, one of these, the Compañia de Salitres de Antofagasta,
producing 10 per cent of Chile’s total output. The firm owns seven
oficinas, employs 15,000 men, does a large general import and export
business, owns its own fleet of barges and tugs, and possesses a belt of
nitrate lands on the Antofagasta Pampa twenty miles long. In 1918 the
company, capitalised at 16,000,000 pesos (Chilean paper), earned profits
of over 22,000,000 pesos or over £1,000,000 sterling at the prevailing
exchange, and was thus able to set aside a substantial sum for rainy
days. It is on account of earnings such as these, supplemented by the
fantastically huge sums earned in the summer of 1920 when the price of
nitrate rose to seventeen shillings per quintal, that the nitrate
companies were able to observe with a semblance of equanimity the
subsequent and sustained fall in prices. The international merchants
were badly hit when the slump of 1921 came, but companies in Chile had
made so much money that it was preferable in many cases to shut down
operations rather than to continue the production of unwanted goods.
Other big Chilean firms are the Cia. Salitrera “El Loa,” operating seven
works, all in Antofagasta Province; the Cia. Salitrera Lastenia, with
three fine properties upon the same pampa; and the Cia. de Salitres y
Ferrocarril de Agua Santa, operating six oficinas on the Tarapacá Pampa.
Of the English companies, the largest was the Alianza, operating three
oficinas in Tarapacá, and exporting normally about 150,000 tons
annually, but this company has changed its domicile to Valparaiso and
now counts with the Chilean group. The Anglo-Chilean Company has three
oficinas in the Tocopilla district; the Lautaro, three, on the Taltal
Pampa; the Liverpool Nitrate Company, three, in Tarapacá; the Amelia,
three, in Tarapacá and Antofagasta; the Fortuna, three, in Antofagasta;
the Rosario, three in Tarapacá; the New Tamarugal, two, in Tarapacá,
where the two nitrate works of the London Nitrate Company and the
properties of the Lagunas companies are also situated.
The German oficinas are twelve in number, operated by four companies. Of
these the most important is the Cia. Salitrera de Tocopilla, formerly
the Compañia H. B. Sloman, with four properties on the Pampa of Toco.
The Cia. Salitrera Alemana owns five oficinas, all situated on the
Taltal Pampa; Salpeterwerke Gildemeister A. G., has three works in
Tarapacá, and the Salpeterwerke Augusta Victoria A. G., one oficina, in
Antofagasta. The well-known Italian firm of Pedro Perfetti owns five
oficinas in Taltal.
The nationals who most notably increased their interest in nitrate
properties during and immediately after the war were the enterprising
Jugo-Slavs who have of late years taken a considerable part in Chilean
development work. The largest of the Jugo-Slav firms is that of
Baburizza Lukinovic, with five well-equipped oficinas in the Antofagasta
district. Several other European-owned oficinas passed into Slavic hands
before the stagnation of the market set in.
Two North American firms own nitrate oficinas. The Dupont Nitrate
Company operates two properties in Taltal from which about 30,000 tons
are annually shipped, but since all this product goes directly to the
Dupont explosives works in the United States, the market is not
interested in the output. W. R. Grace and Company, doing a general
export and import trade and employing their own steamers, operate
nitrate works in Tarapacá, with a production of about 45,000 tons.
A few years ago pessimists prophesied that the Chilean nitrate fields
would be exhausted by the year 1923. Careful examinations carried out by
the national authorities as well as by individual companies have
definitely allayed any fear of this kind. Surveys made under the
auspices of the Chilean Government by the distinguished engineer
Francisco Castillo showed that nitrate fields properly tested, owned and
in operation, cover some 2244 square miles, while outside that area
there are at least 75,000 square miles of undeveloped nitrate-bearing
lands—chiefly in the hands of the Government of Chile. With, thus, over
95 per cent of the deposits untouched it is reasonable to expect a long
life for this industry.
From the fields of Tarapacá and Antofagasta 60,000,000 tons of the
chemical have been taken since the beginning of overseas exports, and it
is estimated that in the comparatively small surveyed and operating area
there are about 240,000,000 tons in sight, a quantity sufficient to fill
the world’s needs for at least another century at the present rate of
supply. This is without taking into consideration the huge body of less
readily accessible nitrate lands referred to in Dr. Castillo’s
conservative report, which included no deposits containing less than 17
per cent of nitrate, nor layers of less than twelve inches in thickness
unless exceptionally rich.
_The Caliche_
Into the highly controversial question of the origin of the
nitrate-bearing deposits it is unprofitable to go deeply, since, as in
the case of petroleum, scientists have not agreed upon a theory. Several
have been put forward, and a good deal of study and research has been
devoted to the problem, but with no final result, a definite objection
tripping up even the most likely suggestions. The most generally
supported theory is that which was expounded in its original form by
Darwin, postulating the long submergence of this part of the West Coast
under the sea, its gradual rise through volcanic action, and the slow
drainage and drying of masses upheaved from the Pacific floor. Remains
of shell-fish are occasionally found imbedded in the caliche, and the
presence of iodine is also adduced as contributory evidence; but bromine
is curiously absent, and the question is complicated by other geological
displays, some of which certainly seem to prove that before the
subsidence of this belt in the Pacific the land was high and dry,
clothed with thick forests.
I listened once upon a burning afternoon in the nitrate pampas to the
seriously held theory that the caliche drained down, under the soil,
from the mountains, and that the particular beds upon which my good
friend was operating owed their origin to Lake Poopó, a turquoise gem
near the railway line leading to Bolivia; the beds, it was insisted,
seeped slowly from the lake and were being pushed up from underneath by
subterranean pressure. Another theory credits the volcanos of the Andes
with the production of sufficient ammoniated steam to create chemical
changes upon the pampas; others suggest the union of oxygen and nitrogen
in the air during electric storms, forming nitric acid which, in contact
with lime, might produce nitrate of lime; this, if coming into touch
with sulphate of soda, might form nitrate of soda, releasing the
sulphate of lime.
He who prefers a less technical theory may agree that nitrogen deposits
are derived from the guano of sea-birds, found along the Pacific coast.
The terminology of the nitrate pampas is a proof of its old recognition.
The _chuca_ is the loose, often friable, decomposed top layer, from two
to twelve inches thick. Below it comes the _costra_, a hard, rocky
agglomeration of cemented clay, porphyry and feldspar amalgamated with
sulphates of calcium, potash and soda, often also containing traces of
nitrate of soda and common salt. Third comes the _tapa_, the immediate
shield of the nitrate of soda beds, composed of fragments of nitrate, of
salt, sand and clay. These three layers form mattresses from a few
inches to three or even six feet in depth, and owing to the hardness of
the costra must be blasted away from the precious fourth layer, the
_caliche_ proper.
The caliche bed varies remarkably in thickness and in position,
sometimes offering a thin, sand-mixed, layer of little value, and at
other times revealing itself as a beautiful shining snow-white bed
several feet in thickness; its hue varies from pure white to grey,
sandy, and even violet, and its consistency may be sometimes loose and
porous, while in other regions it is as hard as marble. The best caliche
contains as much as 70 per cent of nitrate, and by the present methods
of extraction it is not considered worth while to operate deposits
containing less than 14 to 15 per cent. The average in Tarapacá and
Antofagasta runs to about 20 per cent. Below the caliche is the
_conjelo_, another fairly loose layer of sand and clay, salts, selenite
crystals and traces of nitrate; still farther down is another plainly
differentiated stratum, called the _coba_, with a comparatively high
percentage of water, a heavy proportion of clay, calcium sulphate, and
other minor components. The nitrate is often carried through several of
the protecting layers, and foreign matter is frequently found mixed with
the caliche, yet the different strata almost invariably exist in readily
distinguishable and undisturbed beds.
The process of preparation for the market is simple. The caliche,
thoroughly crushed by heavy machinery, is tipped into immense tanks and
covered with water: coils of pipes fixed in these vats heat the mass to
a high temperature and the nitrate of sodium, readily soluble in boiling
water, dissolves. The other ingredients of the caliche fortunately are
not so easily dissolved, and settle to the bottom of the tanks, so that
when the water is drawn off and cooled the nitrate crystallises in a
high grade of purity. There is a moment to be watched for in drawing off
the liquor, however; common salt (sodium chloride) is frequently present
in the caliche in unwanted quantities, dissolving with the same
readiness as the nitrate. But it begins to precipitate before the
nitrate, and the right time for withdrawing the liquor is when the salt
has settled and the nitrate is immediately following it. The
nitrate-charged water crystallises on the floor and sides of the shallow
_bateas_ (vats, generally of wood) into which it is passed, the process
of cooling and crystallisation taking from 20 to 40 hours. The liquor is
then pumped away, part being used for the manufacture of iodine
according to the amount permitted to the oficina by the central
Association, while the nitrate crystals are gathered in large pans for a
few days for draining, and afterwards spread upon the cemented open
planes, the _canchas_, for two weeks until thoroughly dry; it is then
ready for bagging. It is during the drying stage on the cancha that
nitrate in large quantities, all over the pampas, would be spoiled by
dissolution if heavy rain should fall—a phenomenon of such rare and
unlikely occurrence that it is not taken into consideration. The belt is
not absolutely rainless, Iquique claiming a rainfall of half an inch per
annum, while the Antofagasta Pampa has received showers four times in
the last fifteen years; heavy fogs, too, not infrequently invade the
pampas. But it would take a series of terrific deluges for moisture to
filter through the protecting crusts above the caliche, and this
sometimes suggested danger is not in sight.
The “commercial standard” of purity which exported nitrate must attain
for sales to agricultural regions is 95 per cent, but 96 per cent and
over is reached in shipments destined to explosives factories. The cost
of production of necessity fluctuates with the prices paid for wages,
fuel and equipment, but was reckoned by Dr. Enrique Cuevas, in 1916, to
work out at a minimum of two shillings, or fifty American cents, for
each Spanish quintal of 101 pounds weight. During 1921 the cost was
reckoned at double this amount. Expenses tend to increase year by year,
with higher wages and costs of food and fuel, as well as new charges
such as that recently added by the Employers’ Liability Laws of Chile.
Antofagasta reckons that the cost of living increased 300 per cent
between the middle of 1914 and the middle of 1921: it is certainly no
less upon the inland nitrate fields, where all merchandise has an extra
rail journey, every gallon of water is piped long distances from the
mountains, and it is common to bring cattle for slaughter overland from
northwest Argentina, the animals being shod for the three or four weeks’
march over rough trails. The only method of reducing costs is by
improved scientific production, and to this aim the work of the best
companies is constantly and successfully directed.
Iodine is extracted from the “mother liquor” that has already deposited
its burden of nitrate of soda and of common salt, and which is, after
the extraction of iodine, returned to the first lixiviation tanks to
serve again in dissolution of new loads of the raw caliche. The
purple-black iodine crystals, of so pungent a quality that a whiff from
the store-room is almost blinding, are packed into strong little wooden
casks for export. A couple of big oficinas could, between them,
manufacture enough iodine in a year to supply the world’s needs, but to
prevent glutting of the market there is an agreement with the Producers’
Association by which the amount of this chemical made by each nitrate
plant is strictly regulated.
_A Desert Industry_
Before the realization of the properties of nitrate and its commercial
exploitation upon a great scale, the burning pampas of Tarapacá and
Antofagasta were solitudes, shunned by all animal life. This region,
whose products were destined to give new life to a million cultivated
fields, to bring orchards and groves all over the world into magnificent
flower and fruit, lacked the ability to produce so much as a blade of
grass. Forming a continuous stretch of arid country with the long
deserts north of Copiapó, the major part of this strip shelters no life
that has not been artificially introduced.
Yet today this region presents the liveliest scenes of the West Coast.
Where a solitary waste lay under the sun, railways cross the desert with
loads of heavy bags of chemicals; tall chimneys rise into the quivering
air, the grey tin roofs of the nitrate works dot the pampas thickly.
Each nitrate plant is the centre of an artificial town, to which every
drop of water must be piped, every article of clothing, food, every
scrap of wood and metal needed for dwellings and oficina must be
carried. The ground is pitted with the marks of the _tiros_, the test
blastings made in all directions to discover the quality and position of
the nitrate stratum; and one may stand upon any small rise in the
richest nitrate pampas and count a dozen or more of the long flat
“dumps” of waste material that denote the active working of an oficina.
The scene appears to have no elements of beauty, for there is no hue but
that of the sandy desert, the grey and black of the oficinas and the
gleam of railway tracks; the outlines of the scored and pitted ground,
the railway cars, the smoking chimneys, are harsh. Yet there is a sense
of energy and prosperity, of intelligent activity, and in the pure dry
air of the pampa almost everyone experiences a feeling of splendid
health and well-being.
Above the flat desert is an enormous bowl of clear, transparent sky and
one looks far away to distances that seem endless. At sunrise and sunset
the effects of light upon the sky and pampa are of a beauty never seen
but in expanses such as these. I have watched the sky in an Antofagasta
nitrate pampa when, as the sun fell swiftly, all the arch flushed with
rose, and quickly flooded with sheets of purest violet while the orange
and umber pampa took on deep amethyst shadows; before pastel or paint
could record the sight, all the sky was transformed in a clear luminous
lemon-yellow, upon whose bright surface streams of translucent green
presently ran. The high peaks of far-distant Andes appeared as if
floating, the snow-crowned heads of San Pedro and San Pablo alone
visible against the changing sky, fading at last into the mantle of
sapphire that gradually shrouded pampa and heights, with nothing moving
but a host of brilliant stars, sparkling like diamonds on a live hand.
In a few moments after sundown the scorching heat has given place to
sharp cold, and he who rides by night across these deserts must carry a
heavy woollen poncho; one sleeps indoors under blankets. Dawn is a
miracle of pink and pearl, and in at the window comes the scent of the
cherished flowers in the little garden, glistening with dew. The new day
is of an indescribable freshness and serenity. Long before noon the sun
is pouring vertical floods of sunshine upon the desert, the very sand
seems to quiver with heat, and a relentless scorching breath seems to
fill the world. But to this all-the-year-round heat the foreigner soon
becomes accustomed—everyone, as a matter of fact, workers and officials
alike, is a “foreigner” to this pampa; human life is imported like every
other commodity here. But the children born of white parents in the
nitrate fields are strong and sturdy, and it is not surprising that they
who have lived for a year or two on the pampas find themselves restless
in other places, suffer a feeling of constraint, a longing for these
wide skies and far horizons.
The great development of the nitrate industry has created during the
last forty years a series of ports along the Pacific, and brought to
this once desolate coast, where there existed only a few fishing
villages or outlets for desultorily-worked mines, a population which
today exceeds 350,000. The workers directly engaged in the extraction,
preparation and shipment of nitrate number about 70,000, about 50,000 of
these being employed upon 173 oficinas, when all are in operation.
_Nitrate During and After the War_
When the writer last visited the Antofagasta Pampas, the nitrate
business was just recovering after a period of post-war depression and
the series of big works were getting back into the full swing of
activity. The industry had been enormously prosperous just before the
outbreak of war in 1914, but experienced very sudden reverses when the
dislocation of shipping checked shipments. At the beginning of 1915 only
35 oficinas were in operation. A certain confusion was also occasioned
by the fact that several big producers were German, but the accumulated
stocks of these firms were eventually taken over and sold by the Chilean
Government. At the time when the future looked gloomy, with oficinas
idle and large stocks piled up in the warehouses of the nitrate ports,
the great war call for nitrate in the manufacture of high explosives
began, resulting in a new wave of prosperity. Shipping had to be found
by the Allies for the transport of the chemical, and the ports of the
pampa regions showed tremendous activity. But with the cessation of
hostilities the urgent demands of manufacturers of explosives in the
United States and Europe came to an end and the pre-war market offered
by farmers did not immediately resume its calls. Shipping gradually
returned to ordinary commercial channels, the scarcity of freight for
normal commerce was at once apparent, and the rates that consequently
prevailed were too high for profitable shipment of nitrate at the prices
to which it fell. Many oficinas closed down. But in early 1920 a healthy
reaction set in. Agriculturists began buying again, and added to this
cheerful effect the industry was reassured by the non-materialisation of
many threatening prophesies of the serious nature of the competition to
be offered by artificially-produced nitrate.
The work of the active Asociación de Productores de Salitre de Chile
first made itself felt in 1920. As its name implies, the group comprises
firms engaged in Chilean nitrate production, practically every company
subscribing with the exception of the two North American operators and a
few small oficinas. Formed by the same energetic firms who previously
organised, in 1889, the widely-spread Committee of Nitrate propaganda,
the Asociación goes farther in that it controls the output of nitrate of
soda and of iodine, agrees upon a price, f.o.b. in Chile, for these
products, and deals with international distribution. Maintaining
committees in London and Berlin, the Association has also opened
branches in France, Belgium, Holland, Italy, Spain, Scandinavia, Egypt,
Yugo-Slavia, India, South Africa, Japan, China, and all over North and
South America, these delegations being added to wherever prospects for
the consumption of nitrate are presented. The Association’s main object
is to obviate the violent fluctuations of price that have threatened the
industry from time to time; to watch markets closely and to avoid
overloading them by retaining a check upon output. The Association’s
headquarters are in Valparaiso, in constant cable communication with
international centres. The effect of the work of this voluntary combine,
upon which such other powerful groups as the Eastern rubber planters
look with something like envy, has been undeniably beneficial although
no efforts can counteract the adverse results of slackened demand.
In 1913 the price per Spanish quintal was eight shillings f.o.b. in
Chile, or about $2 United States currency, while freight to British
ports cost twenty-three shillings per ton, New York charges running
about $6. Nitrate is packed into bags of two quintals each, ten bags
thus weighing a little more than an English ton. During the war the
price rose to thirteen shillings per quintal, but fell to between nine
and ten shillings in 1919. Owing to a strong reawakened demand, plus the
work of the Association, the price rose in 1920 until about the middle
of the year it stood at seventeen shillings per quintal for deliveries
in the spring of 1921, and even with freights ranging from £5 to £12 a
ton to London, and $30 to $50 to New York, a handsome profit remained to
producer and distributor. This prosperous period lasted until the
general world paralyzation of markets was felt, and the big Government
nitrate stocks of the United States and Europe were released. In 1921
the international dealers, with stocks of high-priced nitrate on their
hands, faced the delayed post-war slump, and formed a pool to maintain
prices at fourteen shillings per quintal. Sales were reduced to
vanishing point, and the way was opened for more extensive rivalry from
the sulphate of ammonia trade; eventually the pool agreed to lower
prices upon an arrangement with the Nitrate Producers’ Association, by
which £1,500,000 was accepted as part compensation. This sum is
collected by a small levy upon all nitrate exported. Prices were then
reduced to eleven shillings per quintal up to December, 1921, and to
10s. 3d. for deliveries in the spring of 1922. At these prices trade
revived appreciably, and the world’s need for nitrogenous fertilisers
set freights moving again.
Continuing for more than a year, the nitrate crisis affected no one more
acutely than the Government of Chile, for in addition to finding
themselves suddenly deprived of the most substantial part of their
national revenues, they were faced with a staggering amount of
unemployment. The oficinas, of which all but 45 were forced to close as
a result of the moribund market, discharged some 40,000 men. There is no
work in the Desert of Atacama apart from nitrate and copper industries;
the land produces no food and there is nowhere to live. A stream of
unemployed workers was almost immediately directed southwards, and while
a proportion was absorbed by the farming and milling industries of the
agricultural zones, numbers remained in the vicinity of the capital, a
source of considerable anxiety. At one time it was reported that 10,000
men were camped out near Santiago, a charge upon the Government, and
although the authorities were active in seeking to find employment on a
series of public works, these plans were rendered difficult by the
financial straits of the nation. The administration of Sr. Arturo
Alessandri went into office with many schemes for the betterment of
living conditions in the working classes, but has been seriously
hampered by the economic trials that beset Chile within a few months of
the change of government.
It is scarcely to be expected that the Government should see eye to eye
with the nitrate producers in the question of sustained export at a time
of market depression. The nitrate companies argue that it is useless to
produce and attempt to export a commodity for which there is no demand,
with immense stocks already choking international warehouses: that any
such action would lower the price of nitrate to a level ruinous to the
holders of the existing stocks and be bound to react disastrously upon
nitrate producers. The Government rejoins that they desire a general
lowering of nitrate prices, so that the fertiliser should be bought in
larger quantities; they want to see a continuation of large quantities
produced and exported, in order that workmen should not be, as during
the 1921 crisis, thrown upon the country’s hands, and also in order that
export dues should continue to fill national coffers. To this the
producers reply that there is one ready means of lowering nitrate
prices, and that is to take off or to substantially reduce the
Government export taxes, amounting to £2.11. 4. per ton. As a matter of
fact, there has been serious consideration of a governmental project to
purchase the nitrate output direct from producers, reselling it to world
markets free of tax, or with a very light duty. Here again plans are
stultified first by lack of funds and secondly by lack of public
enthusiasm for nationalisation of industries in the face of the world’s
experience during the last ten years. There is a wide recognition of the
fact that the nitrate industry has been built up by private enterprise
of a kind invaluable to young countries.
He who tries to understand the nitrate situation is much hampered by
different calculations of weights and costs, and will sympathise with
the complaint of Don Alejandro Bertrand, who remarks that in statistics
of the industry one finds “production and export of nitrate expressed in
Spanish quintals of forty-six kilograms; prices quoted in pounds
sterling per English ton of 1015 kilograms; while the British financial
reviews vary, some giving the prices in shillings and pence per English
hundredweight, while others quote pounds, shillings and pence per
English ton. The Latin countries quote in francs, liras or pesetas,
whose sterling exchange value varies, while Hamburg quotes in marks per
zentner of 50 kilos.” Quotations also vary, continues the Inspector for
the Chilean Government of Nitrate Propaganda services, according to
whether the chemical is sold in Chile, where prices are always “free on
board,” or free alongside vessel, or whether they are sold including
ship freight to Europe or when placed in wagons at the port.
There are today 173 oficinas upon the _pampas salitreras_ of Chile. At
the commencement of the commercial development of the fields, British
capital and technique was foremost in the work, the efforts of the
well-known Colonel North contributing largely towards the active
interest of British investors. Chileans themselves have long been keen
developers of nitrate properties and considerable investors; today their
share is higher than that of any other nationality—a situation unusual
in Spanish American countries, where industries are frequently left to
foreign companies to a degree unhealthy for everyone concerned. The
Chilean’s enterprise and business sense have indeed carried him far
afield, his interests in Bolivia covering 60 per cent of the silver and
tin mines.
The social system upon all oficinas is necessarily the same: dwellings
and food supplies for the workers must be the consideration of the
company, and in consequence large camp stores (_despachos_) are always
maintained in which goods are sold to employés. Certain objections to
this system are always heard, but it is here unavoidable; in all good
and well-managed oficinas these stores are stocked amply, prices being
kept down to a limit at or just above cost price. There is always a keen
demand for workers, and no nitrate camp would retain its employés if
conditions were not those uniformly regarded as just. The chief social
difficulty of the oficinas is in keeping off company lands the
enterprising piratical provision and liquor sellers who are likely to
demoralise and rob. The only remedy is enclosure of the properties and
fencing is becoming more usual. At one time the boundary of a nitrate
grant was fixed by a string and a heap of stones, but since the Chilean
Government has taken steps to regularise estates there has been less of
the happy-go-lucky system of limits.
The acute interest of the authorities of Chile in the nitrate industry
is due to the fact that it constitutes the chief source of national
income. Over 60 per cent of Chilean revenues are derived from the export
tax of two shillings and four pence per quintal, paid partly in paper
and partly in gold, the total sum amounting in prosperous years to
£7,000,000 or £8,000,000 sterling, or between $35,000,000 and
$40,000,000 United States currency.
The tax is a heavy one, and equally weighty imposts are placed upon
iodine, also a product of the nitrate oficinas. The product of the
wonderful borax lake, in upper Antofagasta, on the edge of the Bolivian
boundary, pays a similar tax, yet the considerable export of copper from
Chile goes free. This unequal treatment of the different natural riches
of the soil is frequently explained by the fact that copper is mined in
many parts of the world and therefore the Chilean product must meet
competition, an impossible feat if its cost were raised by the
imposition of export dues. If, however, the cost of production of
Chilean bar copper by the Guggenheim group is correctly estimated at
eleven cents per pound, it is fairly plain that at the time during the
war when Europe was paying twenty-six or twenty-seven cents per pound
for this commodity it might have yielded a return to the country of
origin.
Of the nitrate ports, Antofagasta is today the most lively and
agreeable, although Iquique is still a rival in quantities of the
chemical exported. Just north of Antofagasta lies Mejillones, the old
port established in colonial days, but its equipment was found to be
inadequate after the acquisition of this territory by Chile, and the
creation of modern facilities and a modern city was decided upon. People
who live in Antofagasta are proud of the place with excellent reason.
The approach by train from the south is through ramshackle,
happy-go-lucky fringes that have tacked themselves on, but the city
itself is well equipped. Streets are wide, clean and well paved; shops
are filled with merchandise from London, Paris and New York, and are not
extravagant in price. Office buildings, many of which house the
representatives of nitrate railways, nitrate and iodine companies,
agencies of copper and borax companies, of shipping lines, brokers and
several foreign and native banks, are spacious and well equipped; the
telephone service compares well with that of many cities of ten times
the size of Antofagasta, with its 70,000 inhabitants. Hotels are
comfortable, service courteous, and tariffs less than one might expect
in a city with not a single meadow or orchard within hundreds of miles,
deriving all that it consumes from the Chilean farming lands farther
south, from the packing-houses of Magellanes territory and wheat fields
of the centre and south, or from the sugar and fruit regions of Peru or
markets overseas.
The public park is an object of admiration of every visitor coming from
the barren coast farther north or from the Atacama copper country to the
south; it has been sedulously nursed into greenness that is the more
remarkable since Antofagasta’s water supply is piped from the foothills
200 miles away—through lands so arid that more than once a fox of the
deserts, driven with thirst, has followed the pipe-line across the
pampas right into the city. The great pride of hospitable and cheery
Antofagasta is in the country club to which the visitor is always
motored along the sweep of the bay; here is a cool building with a fine
dancing floor and a good cook. But its chief claim to admiration is the
little garden, no more than a few feet square, tended so devotedly that
all the year round it glows with gay flowers.
All the chief towns of the nitrate pampas, besides possessing rail
transport to the Pacific, are connected by the main line of the “Red
Central Norte” to Santiago, and thence to the farming regions of the
Chilean south; there is through railway connection, thus, between such
towns as Iquique and Antofagasta and the newly-operating packing-house
of Puerto Montt. Agricultural Chile has no better markets than those
offered by the thronged and busy nitrate pampas and ports of her own
north, and from Llanquihue to Coquimbo, the last outpost of farming
country in northern Chile, foodstuffs are sent by rail or sea to supply
the great region of desert camps.
[Illustration: Antofagasta. The Nitrate Wharves.]
_Copper_
The future of copper mining in Chile is wrapped in uncertainty. The
industry has already undergone a not unfamiliar transformation, with a
deeply marked effect upon the Chilean population engaged in this work,
for, commencing as a series of individual enterprises on the part of the
native-born, it has become a large scientifically organised business
operated chiefly by foreigners,[5] with the Chileans reduced to the
position of wage-earners.
Footnote 5:
The most recent foreign entry into the Chilean copper field is that of
the Japanese, with interests in three large deposits in Bio-Bio
Province.
Under the old haphazard system, when a man would frequently go out into
the desert alone, or with a single companion, hunting for rich veins of
copper ore, a good living at least was the rule; when the discovery of a
considerable deposit warranted the introduction of simple machinery, a
few employés, transport animals, etc., many little and big fortunes were
made. The buyers and smelters of last century also earned satisfactory
returns. But, curiously enough, the huge organisations utilising immense
masses of lower-grade ores, employing thousands of men and most modern
machinery, with smelters at the mining camp, are generally stated to be
run at a loss. There are reasons why such statements should be accepted
with reserve, but looking at the matter purely from a Chilean angle it
is at least questionable whether an industry which yields nothing to the
national treasury in the way of export dues upon the mineral shipped
out, and which draws many thousands of men from agricultural zones to an
isolated and entirely artificial life under conditions tending to lower
the standard of citizenship, has a sound _raison d’être_. Possession of
the large Chilean copper deposits, whether operated at all, or operated
without profit, does however enable a group of powerful interests
controlling copper in North America to control also the copper markets
of the world: for after North America, Chile is the scene of the
greatest identified copper areas, the two series of mines together
producing over 60 per cent of the total international output.
At the present time, that is to say, at the end of 1921, the situation
in Chile with respect to copper is briefly this: there still exists,
throughout the copper-sown regions of Coquimbo and Atacama provinces, a
diminishing number of small mines following rich veins of the ore. Some
of these are little more than holes in the ground, others are worked by
organised companies with good machinery, housing several hundred workers
and owning their own system of transport, as the Dulcinea mine in
Copiapó. But almost everywhere the rich lodes, containing anything from
8 per cent of copper upwards, are disappearing; they have been hunted
for centuries, and although scientific examination of these immense
regions would no doubt reveal many unsuspected rich deposits, the
accessible mines have been worked out to a considerable degree.
No more striking example of the rise and fall of a copper mining centre
is to be seen in Chile than at the deserted city of La Higuera. It lies
just off the road leading from La Serena (Coquimbo) to the iron mountain
of El Tofo, upon a tiny thread of a stream trickling from the steep and
tumbled mountains. The city lies in the shallow cup of an immense
hillside, a patch upon the sandy and orange waste; numbers of black
dumps mark the sites of old copper mines, a score of chimneys stand
among the silent machinery of abandoned mines. At least a thousand
houses make, from a distance, a brave showing.
But at the approach of the infrequent visitor in automobile or on
horseback, the houses are seen to be windowless, empty; nothing moves in
the sun but a stray cur or two, until presently an old woman with a
child at her skirts peeps from a makeshift shelter. The whole place is
dead; not an engine is working, not a gang of workers moves upon the
great spread of properties. The exhaustion of rich veins, difficulty of
competition with metal produced at less expense in a fallen market,
coupled with tangled litigation, has brought back silence to this
strange spot in the mineral-strewn mountain spurs that here crowd down
almost to the sea.
The day of La Higuera is not long past; the mines of this
extraordinarily rich region were actively productive during the present
century. But a similar fate has already closed down very many smaller
groups of mines, as it closed down smelters from Arauco to Antofagasta.
In the prosperous days of the industry last century, when Chile was the
greatest copper-producing country in the world, a big fleet of sailing
ships, copper-bottomed, fast, with a famous list of captains, voyaged
constantly between Swansea and the Chilean coast by way of Cape Horn,
bringing British coal and merchandise and returning with bar copper or
rich ores. A whole colony of Welsh set up the first scientific furnaces
in Herradura Bay, just outside Coquimbo Town, and at a dozen points the
little smelters of Copiapó and Coquimbo were busy; simple methods were
used with profit, and many Chilean residents recall the time when the
stem and stalk of the _cardón_ were always used to obtain a fine clear
fire when annealing copper.
_El Teniente and Chuquicamata_
The most spectacular of the large copper mines in operation today in
Chile is that of El Teniente, situated on the rim of an ancient crater
of the Andes east of Rancagua, the nearest main line railway station.
Sewell, the little town of mining employés, is connected with Rancagua
by the private line of the Braden Copper Company, 72 kilometres in
length, climbing from Rancagua’s altitude of 513 metres, or about 1600
feet, to the mining camp’s height above sea level of 2140 metres, or
some 7000 feet, on the side of a terrific gorge in a tangle of rocky
mountain shoulders and peaks. The main ore bodies lie above the site of
the town and plant at altitudes ranging from 9000 to 11,000 feet, one
peak, El Diablo, on the crater’s edge, rising to 13,000 feet.
[Illustration: Sewell Camp at Night.]
[Illustration: Sewell (El Teniente Copper Mines) near Rancagua.]
The amount of copper ore found in masses on the circular rim was
calculated at the beginning of 1920 as 174,500,000 tons of 2.45 per
cent, with (probably) 92,000,000 tons of 1.91 per cent ore in sight,
with, in all probability, other large deposits in the vicinity. The main
body now under exploitation yields a low-grade ore containing an average
of 2½ per cent of copper in the form of sulphides. The ore is brought
down to the plant by a railway line protected by sheds from the deep
snow falling and standing for six months of the year; is crushed very
fine, treated by the oil flotation system about which so much litigation
has raged, and smelted by three processes during which the copper is
freed from sulphur and iron. A small quantity of gold and silver remains
in the bars shipped to market. Crushing 5000 tons of ore per day, a
production of 100 tons of bar copper is at present possible; plans are
also under way for new mills at a snow-free site on the railway line to
Rancagua, at a spot where the junction of the Coya and a canal from the
Cachapoal River forms a waterfall of 422 feet, yielding hydraulic power
sufficient for the generation of 40,000 H.P. A new power house recently
completed, on the Pangal River, another nearby Andean torrent joining
the Cachapoal and Coya, adds to the equipment by which the Braden
Company contemplates 10,000 tons of daily crushing, operations which
should result in the production of over 70,000 tons of bar copper each
year. Paralyzation of international markets has so far checked the
materialisation of these plans, and during 1921 the plant was operated
at no more than half its capacity. The most prosperous year which the
mine has had so far was that of 1918, when El Teniente produced nearly
35,000 metric tons of bar copper, out of the Chilean total production of
rather more than 102,200 tons: a year later, 1919, the Braden Company
sold and shipped only 10,000 tons of bar copper.
Rancagua, a somnolent little town lying about 70 miles from the Pacific,
has no direct rail communication with the sea, and derives what
liveliness it possesses from its position upon the main line to
Santiago, its chief market, and as the terminus of the Braden Company’s
electrically-operated line to El Teniente or rather to Sewell—which has
an older name, Machalí. At times the activity resulting from the mine’s
access to this town, and this town alone, is regarded without any
pleasure by the townsfolk, for when strike trouble occurs there is
likely to be a descent of discontented workmen and families. Such an
occasion occurred at the time of the disorders at the end of 1919, when
an army of expelled men with their families walked down the narrow track
from Sewell to Rancagua, and although the journey of 72 kilometres
occupied some three days, and the spirit of the strikers was reduced by
their experiences, Rancagua was alarmed and embarrassed by their
presence.
A curious mixture of workers finds its way to this and other mining
camps of Chile. The bulk consists of the hardy Chilean himself,
concerning whose good qualities no employer of intelligence and feeling
has any doubts: he is strong, trustworthy, kindly—but can be roused by
drink or anger to violence. Treated well, he is the best element among
massed groups of workers. But side by side with the genuine and sound
Chilean is not only the malcontent roaming from north to south, from
camp to camp, according to his own will or the exigencies of the Ley de
Residencia, but the “hard case” from half a score of different
countries. The mines are refuges for every variety of man who is down
and out: they offer fertile ground for the sowing of Bolshevik
propaganda or the seed of the I. W. W. of California, whose flag has
been seen more than once flaunted in Chilean streets. The curious
artificial life of the camps, with its poor rewards, the lack of healthy
recreation, of the sight of the horizon, of birds and fields and
flowers, of any interest at all but that of daily toil, lends itself to
the development of grievances.
From Rancagua to Coya the line is open to the public, the pleasant and
famous Baths of Cauquenes lying in the deep green gorge of the Cachapoal
River followed by the track. Casual visitors to the camp at Sewell are
however not encouraged: there is a wary eye kept upon possible purveyors
of such forbidden joys as alcoholic liquors. El Teniente is as “dry” as
managerial care can make it, but the fact that 1200 to 2000 bottles of
whisky and brandy are seized every year by the camp detectives without
putting any end to the attempts of the _guachucheros_ (bootleggers)
appears to prove that enough liquor gets through to make the business
pay. Despite this lack of welcome to the unintroduced stranger, however,
Sewell is hospitable to the visitor, and any accredited person receives
pleasant courtesies.
The rail automobile which takes such visitors from Rancagua to the camp
offers by far the most agreeable form of travel; the bright green fields
and sub-tropical verdure of the sheltered plain country gives way to
deep folds of mountain spurs, and presently, rising into colder air,
vegetation is reduced to a few hardy shrubs and mosses, and the violet
and tawny shoulders of the Andes rise from the banks of the racing
river. When I visited El Teniente the mountains were bare; their rocky
sides, steep, incredibly scored and peaked, took on at sunset and dawn
brilliant hues of rose and flame; but before I left the first snow fell,
transforming the whole country in a single night. A thick blanket filled
the crevices of the sheer rocks, black ridges and points alone emerging;
the piled tenements of the miners, clinging like birds’ nests on the
face of a cliff, were blanched, half-buried, pathless. Communication
with the outer world, by the single line down the ravine to Rancagua,
was actually not much more restricted, but with the blocking of even the
few mountain tracks open in summertime the isolation of the camp was
emphasised.
There are about 2800 miners engaged at El Teniente, but the total
population of the camp, including the workmen’s families, the officials
(chiefly North Americans), employés of railways, stores, etc., is
usually over 12,000. All this artificial town hangs precariously on a
steep slope immediately opposite to the jagged crater where the huge
copper deposits are embedded. Formerly, rows of camp buildings were
built on the mine’s lower slope, but avalanches of soil, rock and snow
necessitated the removal of dwellings to the present site, at the
7000-foot level.
Scarcely a sign of mining operations is visible from across the mountain
chasm, although work has been going on here for at least 200 years.
Owing to the treacherous nature of the country rock and danger from snow
slides during six months of each year, the ore bodies are now attacked
from below; entrances to the intricate system of shafts and subterranean
passages are lost in the rugged crenellations of the old volcano. Yet
the place is honeycombed: one tunnel, starting from the more recently
approached Fortuna side, runs all round the three-quarter-mile-wide
crater; there are innumerable hoists, ore-passes, shafts, galleries and
tunnels, that, with the railways and powerful machinery and gangs of
workers, comprise an industrial town hidden in the mountains.
The second large copper property operated by the Guggenheim interests in
Chile is at Chuquicamata, in the high deserts of the province of
Antofagasta, at about 11,000 feet above sea level. The region has long
been famous for its copper-ore deposits, and small, rich veins have been
worked during and since colonial times.
Most of these high-grade ores have been exhausted near the surface,
whatever may lie hidden in the heart of the region: the principle
adopted by the Chile Copper Company, as that of the Braden, is to attack
large bodies of low-grade ore upon a big scale and in a scientific
manner. But “Chuqui” is an open-air mine situated on a tawny desert, in
extraordinary contrast with El Teniente, and the actual processes
employed are different because the two bodies of ores differ in
composition.
[Illustration: Sewell (El Teniente Mine) in the Snows of June.]
[Illustration: Railway between Rancagua and El Teniente.]
Chuquicamata is reached by way of the Antofagasta and Bolivia Railway.
An all-day ride from Antofagasta Port takes the traveller across the
flaming nitrate pampas, waterless, without a sign of green, winding
upwards until the air is chill and the wind bleak. At sundown, when the
station of Calama is approached, the altitude of nearly 8000 feet has
been attained. In the distance the lights of the mining camp flicker at
a higher level; Calama itself shows a brilliant flare of green, for here
is the river Loa and a little modern town with fields and orchards
superimposed upon very ancient remains. Gold, pottery, and textiles
showing Inca influence have been found in the old cemeteries of Calama.
There is from Calama a small branch line of a few miles running to Punto
de Rieles, and some use is made of this to ship merchandise, etc., to
and from the Chuquicamata camp: but a private line is projected, and a
number of company motor cars traverse the road across the saffron desert
between the main line and the mines, ignoring Punto de Rieles as much as
possible. That ramshackle village is, indeed, little more than an
impudent hanger-on of the big works; practically every little frowsy
shack is a saloon or a gambling-den, more than one of the most
enterprising brothel-keepers being white ex-employés of the camp. Even
were any serious attempt made to operate Chuquicamata as a “dry” camp,
the existence of this terminus-village a mile away would counteract
these efforts.
The great ore bodies of Chuquicamata lie in a range of low, pale-hued
hills rising gently from the shelving, wind-swept, dust-strewn plain;
the chief mass of ore is easily attacked by steam shovels placed upon
four or five different levels cut along the face of the most accessible
slope, a system of light railways carrying the blasted-out rock, often
of the beautiful blue and green tints exhibited by copper sulphates, to
the plant in a shallow saucer below. Here also are the residential
quarters of this isolated camp, where there is neither vegetation nor
water, and a dust-laden wind prevails over the cold, widespread
territory, bordered only by the snow-crowned peaks of such Andean giants
as S. Pedro and S. Pablo.
The Chuquicamata ores are, chiefly, basic sulphates of copper, yielding
about 1.7 per cent of the mineral. The present plant has a crushing
capacity of 15,000 tons per day, which amount should produce 200 tons of
bar copper. As work goes on all day and every day, this production if
sustained would produce in twelve months over 70,000 tons of
electrolytic copper, a quantity which Chuquicamata has not yet recorded;
the mine’s best year so far was that of 1918, when a total of
101,134,000 pounds of electrolytic copper was produced, or about 45,000
tons. The leaching or lixiviation process is employed here: the ores,
crushed fairly fine, are soaked in a solution of copper sulphate for 48
hours, during which period the copper in the introduced ore is drawn
into the liquid. This, when chlorine has been extracted, is poured into
vats through which strong electric currents are passed, causing the
copper to be deposited in metallic form upon the copper sheets suspended
therein. The sheets and the deposited metal are melted and cast into
bars, the process producing a high-grade electrolytic copper bringing
top market prices. Eight hundred million tons of low-grade ore are
stated to be in sight at Chuquicamata, and a plant capable of turning
out 600 tons of bar copper daily is talked of.
Power for operating the Chuquicamata mine, works and camp is derived
from Tocopilla, 100 miles distant on the seacoast, where the company’s
plant is situated. Transmission lines follow the course of one of the
nitrate railways from the port to El Toco, thence running out across the
desert, where a highway also extends. Since no fuel exists in this
northerly region, nor are there water-falls available, the plant uses
petroleum imported from North America to generate the power required.
Chuquicamata employs about 2000 Chilean or Bolivian, with a small
sprinkling of Peruvian, workers, housed under conditions which leave
something to be desired. Many of the huts are made of sheetiron, with
partitions dividing the rooms; the floors are of mud, and an opaque
substitute for glass obscures the window space in too many cases. The
better-class houses are insufficient for all the native-born workers,
and it is not surprising that a degree of discontent has more than once
been fomented in the camp. Daily wages run higher here than at El
Teniente, averaging over nine Chilean pesos per day as against rather
less than eight pesos, but this raised scale does not compensate for the
greater cost of living and other disadvantages. Fuel is one of the
serious difficulties; coal is almost unknown, and the employé’s
womenfolk are seen cooking over a charcoal brazier, or a fire made of an
umbelliferous plant from the mountains (_llareta_), or a few pieces of
wood brought from long distances. A great deal is said by the company of
the Welfare Work Department: its most striking exemplification is in the
big clubhouse which, well equipped and decorated, is however used almost
exclusively by the North American officials and their families.
In addition to the two big mining plants at El Teniente and
Chuquicamata, the Guggenheim interests in Chile include the
old-established smelters at Carrizal and Caldera ports: the latter, in
common with all the smelters founded during the last century, took only
high-grade ores, the average of the mineral accepted here working out at
about 10½ per cent of copper. These works turned out over 5000 tons of
copper ingots in 1918, but were closed in 1921, following the slump in
prices.
Chuquicamata is operated by the Chile Copper Company, a subsidiary of
the Chile Exploration Company; El Teniente is operated by the Braden
Copper Company, which is owned by the Kennecott Copper Corporation, one
of the Guggenheim creations also controlling Alaskan and Utah copper
properties. The Braden Copper Company is stated to have shown a deficit
of $1,500,000, United States, in 1919.
_Pudahuel and Potrerillos_
Geographically speaking, there lie between El Teniente and Chuquicamata
two other large copper deposits acquired by North American interests
since the European War. Between Santiago and the sea lie the Pudahuel
mines, identified at least a hundred years ago, worked for their rich
surface veins, and now owned by the Andes Copper Company, a subsidiary
of the Anaconda interests. Immense masses of low-grade ores, rivalling
those of the Guggenheim interests in extent, are said to be available,
but although in 1920 projects for a big plant were under active
development, work was slackened by depressed markets and the operation
of the deposits is not yet in sight.
A similar fate has befallen the widely heralded plans connected with
another Anaconda property, a huge deposit of low-grade copper ores at
Potrerillos, in the Andean spurs east of the railway junction at Pueblo
Hundido in Atacama province. The main ore bodies lie in a ravine about
12,000 feet above sea level and consist chiefly of sulphides and oxides.
At the time when I visited the region in late 1920 the treatment of
these ores had not been decided upon, and no machinery installed,
although an expensive housing scheme had been carried out at the mine. A
railway between the tiny village of Pueblo Hundido, a handful of houses
in the middle of an apricot-hued desert, and the high-placed mine were
in operation; and a power plant, burning petroleum, had been set up at
Barquito, on the coast a few miles south of Chañaral, the transmission
lines running out across the sandy waste for some 130 miles.
Work on the Potrerillos installation was suspended about the middle of
1921, before a single ounce of copper had been produced. High above the
copper deposits are extensive beds of sulphur, and upon the extraction
of this mineral, needed in certain processes employed in treating
low-grade ores, a certain amount of work has been done.
There are 16,000 mines of copper registered in Chile, covering an area
of 57,000 hectares upon which the mining tax of ten pesos per hectare is
paid. Of the producing establishments, Chuquicamata and El Teniente are
by far the greatest, exporting in 1918 nearly eighty per cent of Chile’s
total production. From the Caldera smelters was shipped a total of 5217
metric tons; Catemu produced 3790 tons; Gatico, 3708 tons; Naltagua, a
French property, 3653 tons. Small quantities came also from El Volcán,
El Hueso, and the Chañaral smelters, also in French hands. For the last
ten years Chile’s output of copper in comparison with the total world
supply has varied between 4 per cent in 1911 and 1912, and 8 per cent in
1918. By far the greatest producer of copper today is the United States,
with a highest record of 880,000 metric tons in 1916, followed by Japan,
shipping her highest recorded figure in 1917, when 124,000 tons was
produced; Mexico, 75,000 tons; Canada, averaging 50,000 tons; and Peru,
45,000.
_Iron_
The story of Chile’s iron deposits and works offers one of the most
curious chapters in her mining history.
The most important of the identified deposits lie in the desert country
north of Coquimbo, the fields at El Algarrobo and Algarrobito in the
Department of Vallenar, Atacama Province, having interested a German
firm some years before the war. No practical results were achieved,
although the region recorded a small export of manganese, from the
Astillas beds, until economic conditions checked these shipments soon
after the beginning of this century. Proximity of quantities of
manganese ore to the iron fields, reported as being of immense extent,
has raised repeated hopes for the foundation of a great industry, but
the crux of the problem is the absence of adequate fuel or water
supplies, and the unproductivity of a sterile territory.
The only works so far established in connection with Chilean iron ores
depend upon what is the most remarkable ferruginous deposit on the West
Coast, paralleled only by the Itabira peaks in Brazil and the iron
mountain of Durango in Mexico. El Tofo, some forty miles north of
Coquimbo town, and fifteen miles from the Pacific, is a round hill
practically composed of hematite ores running over 65 per cent pure, the
quantity in sight totalling at least 300,000,000 tons. The hill stands
among an imposing array of rolling mountains, and both dwellings and
mine workings are daily enshrouded in seas of white mist.
Early in the present century this huge deposit was acquired by a French
company, the Société Altos Hornos de Corral, which mined a quantity of
the ores and transported them by light railway to the little bay of Cruz
Grande and thence to the south where, at the port of Corral in Valdivia
province, a smelter was erected, the first experimental production of
pig-iron taking place in 1910.
The company was fortunate in obtaining from the Chilean Government
various privileges, including the concession of 58,000 hectares, or
about 145,000 acres, of southern forest land, estimated to be capable of
yielding 50,000,000 cubic metres of fuel wood. The Prudhomme process is
employed at Corral; wood fuel alone is required, and an important item
in the calculated income from the operation of the plant is that of the
sale of by-products (charcoal and alcohol) obtained from the wood, in
addition to the output of the blast furnaces. The plant was built to
produce 50,000 tons of pig-iron annually, and would require for this
purpose nearly half a million cubic metres of fuel wood; the
expectations of the company have, however, not been realised, and when I
saw the plant in 1920 it had been inactive for several years. A week of
trial under the auspices of Chilean Government engineers headed by Dr.
Manuel Prieto was undertaken in July of the same year, and an optimistic
report issued: a few noteworthy points are quoted below.
With regard to the cost of production, the report states that the iron
ore costs at Cruz Grande nearly ten pesos per ton (the peso in mid-1920
being worth about one shilling): but the sea freight, unloading at
Corral, and transport to the smelter cost 14 pesos per ton. Despite the
high freight charge, the cost of producing the 345 experimental tons
worked out to only 152 pesos per ton, a quantity of the company’s ingots
finding a sale at 345 pesos per ton. If the calculation is correct that,
working sustainedly, the smelter could produce pig-iron at all in costs
of about 55 pesos per ton, the only problem is that of finding
sufficient local or other South American markets prepared to take yearly
50,000 tons.
To obtain this quantity, the engineers estimate the employment of 70,000
tons of iron ores, purchased from El Tofo at 8.40 pesos per ton. The
famous iron hill is no longer operated by the French Company, for during
the war the deposits were leased to the Bethlehem Steel Iron Mines
Company, and an extensive establishment created. A contract exists by
which the Bethlehem interests guarantee to supply a maximum of 100,000
tons of ore free on board at Cruz Grande to the Société Altos Hornos,
for thirty years.
If the fate, so far, of the Prudhomme smelter at Corral is misty despite
high promise, that of the big installation at El Tofo is no less
clouded. As soon as the Bethlehem Company took possession, large sums of
money were spent on an entirely new installation. Land was acquired at
Cruz Grande, an oil-burning power plant set up, the railway line rebuilt
and electrified, and a loading basin for the Company’s special
ore-carrying steamers, each of 17,000 tons capacity, cut out of the
solid rock. The basin is 500 feet long by 40 feet wide, and on the dock
side are 17 chutes each with a storage space for 20,000 tons of ore,
operating electrically, and built to discharge their contents into 17
hatches so that each ship would be loaded in four hours’ time.
At El Tofo itself electric shovels attack the face of the hill on four
or five levels; the crushing machinery is, like the ore-carrying outfit,
the most modern that Bethlehem’s experience has evolved; strings of
dwellings for workmen and officials stand upon the spur leading to the
iron hillside. The Company’s intention, I was informed by the sole
official left in the silent camp, is to ship the rich ores of El Tofo to
Sparrows Point, Maryland, where special equipment has been built to
unload the Cuban ores imported by the Bethlehem interests. The haul from
Chile is however considerably longer than from Cuba, and although
transit by way of the Panama Canal has brought the Atlantic Coast of
North America into closer commercial touch with the West Coast of South
America, the cost of freight or other equally powerful reasons have
prevented materialisation of the original plans. In more than one
instance, wealthy firms making immense sums of money during the great
war appear to have placed capital in investments far afield from which a
return was not desired for reasons having a certain relation to the tax
collector; and whether or no these considerations had any bearing upon
the acquisition of large copper, iron, tin and silver deposits in
various parts of South America by powerful companies, the fact remains
that vast mineral resources have been added to the properties of a
comparatively small group, and that their active operation may in the
future affect international markets.
Early in 1921 announcement was made to the effect that a concession for
thirty years of 140,000 hectares of forestal land in Llanquihue Province
had been granted to a German firm, for the installation of large iron
works. At the same time the concessionaires, who were stated to be
engineers representing the Krupp firm, secured an option upon the Pleito
iron ore deposits in Coquimbo and another series of mines in Atacama
known as the Zapallo fields. Several Chilean newspapers, including the
energetic _Mercurio_, took exception to the land grant, pointing out the
possibility that Germany was evading the spirit of the Treaty of
Versailles, prohibiting her from manufacturing arms or guns within her
own territory, by setting up big iron and steel factories upon foreign
soil; it was also objected that the territory conceded includes a
considerable part of the forestal reserves left in South Chile. A strip
of woodland two kilometres wide had been reserved by the Chilean
Government between the concession and Lake Todos los Santos, and with
this exception the German grant extended from the lake to the foot of
Calbuco volcano, with water outlet to the Pacific by way of an arm of
the Gulf of Reloncaví. The Petrohue River is said to offer power for
large hydraulic installations, and two other and smaller streams also
run through the grant.
Ore from the north would, according to the plan, be transported to
wood-burning smelters in the south. But difficulties arising from the
claims of property-owners in the conceded tract of forest appear to have
checked the scheme; the concessionaires announced their withdrawal in
early 1922.
The attitude of the Chilean Government is, quite naturally, that it is
desirable for large industrial development work to be promoted: and that
the concession of forestal land given to the German interests would have
been gladly granted to other nationals making similar propositions.
_Gold and Silver_
In early colonial days there was a fair yield of gold from Chile,
chiefly obtained from the sands of the southerly rivers and deposits, as
those of Tiltil, situated in the mountains between Valparaiso and
Santiago, and the shining sands of the river beds of Huasco. It is
estimated that from the days of the first settlement to the end of the
fifteenth century Chile produced 131,000,000 pesos’ worth of gold,
63,000,000 worth in the sixteenth century and 167,000,000 in the
seventeenth.[6] After Independence and the encouragement of foreign
enterprise, production rose in less than fifty years (1801 to 1850) to
226,000,000 pesos (all these calculations being reduced to pesos of
eighteen pence for purposes of comparison), but weakened abruptly when
the deposits of alluvial gold, eagerly sought and worked, became
exhausted by the end of the century. The present yearly production of
gold averages about 2,000,000 pesos, chiefly from the Alhué mines near
Rancagua.
Footnote 6:
Betagh, writing of conditions in 1720, says that there were gold mines
at Copiapó, “just beyond the town and all about the country likewise,
which have brought many purchasers and workmen thither, to the great
damage of the Indians; for the Spanish magistrates take away not only
their lands but their horses, which they sell to the new proprietors,
under pretence of serving the king and improving the settlements.” He
also noted the saltpetre, lying “an inch thick on the ground” in the
north, and says that the country is full of all sorts of mines. About
the year 1709 two lumps of gold found near the Chilean frontier, one
of which weighed 32 pounds, was brought by the Viceroy of Peru, Count
Monclove, and given to the King of Spain. In another washing place
near Valparaiso belonging to priests gold nuggets are found, he says,
ranging from a few ounces to one and a half pounds in weight.
The present production of silver is also a shadow of its former record.
Once upon a time rich silver mines were worked at Uspallata, near the
Pass; these were already abandoned in 1820, when Peter Schmidtmeyer made
his journey. Chile never rivalled Potosí, where travellers of the early
sixteenth century (before the amalgam process was introduced in 1571)
might see 6000 furnaces shining together at night upon the famous hill;
but her mines recorded a splendid total in one quarter-century, 1876 to
1900, when 432,000,000 pesos’ worth of silver was produced. Lowered
international prices and the exhaustion of rich veins so reduced the
industry that in 1915 only 1,000,000 pesos’ worth was produced, and
although later years have reached values of over 3,000,000 pesos, future
great production depends upon new discoveries and scientific operation.
The mining engineer still has much work to do in the deep folds of the
Chilean Andes, while the sands of the islands south of the Strait of
Magellan have yielded, and are likely to yield again under good
management, rich harvests of gold.
_Coal_
The coal industry of South Chile owes its greatest impetus to the energy
of Matias Cousiño, who organised development dating from 1852; but
mining for commercial purposes began as far back as 1840, when a field
near Talcahuano began to supply the needs of Chile’s first steamship
line, forerunner of the present Pacific Steam Navigation Company.
The entire region of Chile from Concepción southwards to the Territory
of Magellanes is dowered with coal deposits, but the richest region is a
series of mines strewn for one hundred miles along the coasts of the
provinces of Concepción and Arauco. Wealth in coal has brought a large
number of factories and mills to the prosperous city of Concepción, was
a factor in the establishment of the chief naval station of Chile in the
fine bay of Talcahuano—the best-sheltered port of Chile—and developed
smelting and metal-refining works at Tomé, to the north of Talcahuano,
and in Coronel and Lota, farther south.
Many coal beds known to exist in the Chilean south are unworked as yet
owing to lack of transport in undeveloped regions, but in addition to
the big mines in operation in the rich regions of Arauco and Concepción,
a deposit is being worked near Valdivia (the Sociedad Carbonifera de
Máfil) while the Loreto beds are also under exploitation in Magellanes
Territory, near Punta Arenas. The product of some of the Chilean mines
is of excellent quality, but the product was, before the war,
insufficient in quantity and not of a grade rendering it suitable for
all railway and steamship uses. It was therefore supplemented by hard
steam coal imported from foreign countries; before the outbreak of war
in 1914 British mines were shipping about 1,000,000 tons per year to
Chile, Australia sent about 450,000 tons, and the United States sent
small quantities that varied between 3000 and 100,000 tons. The supply
from Welsh and Australian mines was, during the war, diminished almost
to vanishing point, and at the same time imports from North America rose
to three or four hundred thousand tons, and the Chilean home production
was immensely stimulated.
Chile’s producing mines are fourteen in number, twelve of these lying in
the Arauco region; in 1909 production amounted to less than 900,000
tons, but had risen to over 1,500,000 in 1918 and 1919. Eleven to twelve
thousand men were then employed, as against 9000 in 1911. The most
important operators are the Compañia de Lota, Coronel y Arauco, a
combination owning four mines and tributary railways, employing 3670
workers, and producing more than half a million tons of coal yearly.
Next comes the Cia. Carbonifera y de Fundición Schwager, also situated
at Coronel, employing 2800 men and producing over 400,000 tons; the only
other company with an output of over 200,000 tons annually is that of
Cia. Carbonifera Los Rios de Curanilahue, employing 1500 men. Both here
and in the Lota mines the plant is operated by hydro-electric power, and
throughout the Chilean fields the standard of machinery and equipment is
high. The general width of coal seams operated in Chile is from fifty to
sixty inches.
The wages paid are about the same as for other mining and industrial
work in Chile, ranging from five to seven pesos (paper) per day. The
Coronel mines, many of which are deep-seated and run under the sea, pay
at a higher rate, averaging eight and a half pesos, but the Loreto mine
in Punta Arenas, where workers are scarce, pays its employés nearly
twelve pesos a day.
Chilean coal miners work only 280 days in the year, but conditions are
not always acceptable and there have been from time to time serious
strikes; the last, occurring at the beginning of 1922, was said to be
mainly fomented by the considerable foreign element.
Among the remaining coal companies of importance are the Cia.
Carbonifera de Lirquen (Penco); the Cia. El Rosal (Concepción); and the
Cia. Carbonifera de Lebu, owning three mines and a railway.
The price of Chilean coal responded to war conditions. In 1914 it stood
at about 13 paper pesos per ton; in 1915 it rose to 25 pesos, and thence
steadily climbed to 57 pesos in 1917, to 70 in the following year, and
to 85 pesos in 1919. With the cessation of hostilities these prices,
which were comparable with those of foreign imported coal, dropped; at
the same time demand fell, fewer vessels requiring bunkering, not only
because older fuel depôts became again available but because the
extended use of the Panama Canal by international vessels is making
itself felt more keenly. South Chile found its ports recording many
fewer foreign vessels in 1919 and 1920 than in former years.
[Illustration: Curanilahue Coal Mine, Arauco Province.]
[Illustration: Dulcinea Copper Mine, Copiapó Province.]
[Illustration: Chuquicamata Copper Mine, Antofagasta Province.]
In the Lonquimay region, along the valley of the upper Bio-Bio, are
deposits of petroliferous shales, upon which a big industry will some
day be founded. The most hopeful reports suggest the presence of a great
oil-bed, but it is undisputed that the superficial layers or _capas_
yield 5 to 6 per cent of petroleum, the lower part of the bed yielding
12 per cent. In Scotland a percentage of 5 per cent is considered good
enough, and the development of the prosperous North British industry
could no doubt be duplicated in Chile—with adequate transport
facilities. Manifestations of petroleum have been also identified
farther south. Don Salustio Valdes, an enthusiastic Chilean mining
engineer, considers that the most promising deposits are in the Province
of Llanquihue, at Carelmapu, where the Cia. Petroléos del Pacifico has
acquired territory; in Magellanes Territory, near Punta Arenas, where
the Sindicato de Petroléo de Agua Fresca is operating; and on Tierra del
Fuego, upon the north shore of Useless Bay. Natural gas escapes in
considerable quantities in all these regions.
Borax is produced by a British company from a wonderful and beautiful
lake-like deposit at Ascotan, on the Antofagasta and Bolivia Railway
almost at the Bolivian frontier. Nearly half the world’s supply comes
from Ascotan, the pre-war export of Borax Consolidated averaging 40,000
tons, a quantity subsequently reduced owing to the imposition of a heavy
export tax and high freight rates. The deposit lies at an altitude of
over 12,400 feet with temperature ranging from 24 degrees below zero
(Centigrade) and 32 degrees above, so that this well-organised company
works under climatic difficulties accentuated by high winds, rain and
snow.
Sulphur is abundant in Chilean mountains from north to south, a few
thousand tons being annually produced, chiefly for the use of the copper
mines; lead, cobalt, nickel, aluminium, graphite and bismuth also exist
in the highly mineralised north; deposits of manganese are worked on a
small scale near Merceditas in the interior of the Province of Atacama.
CHAPTER VIII
AGRICULTURE
_Area under Cultivation.—Oases in the Desert.—Farming in Central
Chile.—Vineyards.—Wheatfields, Orchards and Sheep Farms.—Irrigation
Canals._
“Agriculture in Chile and Buenos Aires has formed their population,
while the mines of Peru have extinguished almost all the Empire of the
Incas.” So wrote David Barry in his preface to the _Noticias Secretas_
in 1826.
I think that no one who knows Chile today will dispute the suggestion
that her fertile soil has chiefly contributed to her social well-being.
It has brought white European settlers, able to rear families in a
magnificent temperate climate; it has offered permanent homes and not a
temporary field for the fortune-hunter. There is a spring of life about
the farming region of Chile, a sense of energy, health and freshness
that is extraordinarily exhilarating. Much of this land is still but
newly opened: one may pass through hundreds of miles of land where the
tree-stumps of the primeval forest still stand among the vigorous corn,
where the farmhouse is but an impermanent thatched hut. But the dark
rich earth, the lusty crops, the blossoming orchards and hedges, the
green pastures with their sleek cattle, create a scene of genuine
content. The holdings may be new, yet they are plainly homes. Chile
possesses mines, but they drain rather than create populations; growing
industries—weaving factories, grain mills, and a score of new
employments which tend to concentrate wealth and culture; but it is in
her farming lands that the truest cradle of the race, the frankest and
strongest people, the most cheerful spirit, is found.
In actual figures the amount of land under cultivation in Chile is not
immense, yet the farmlands produce not only sufficient grain and fruits
to serve the needs of the inhabitants of both fertile and arid regions
but also ship a surplus to the exterior markets of Peru, Ecuador and
Bolivia.
Government statistics add up the total of land assigned to “agricultural
properties” or farms to 18,000,000 hectares, or about 45,000,000 acres.
But not all this land is under cultivation. The area devoted to cereals,
beans and peas, potatoes and vegetables, is reckoned as about 4½ per
cent of all Chilean territory, or 750,000 hectares, equal to two and a
half times as many acres; vines and orchards, 111,000 hectares; planted
woodland, 32,000 hectares. The cultivated pastures (grass, alfalfa,
clover, etc.) attain the figure of about 520,000 hectares; while there
are nearly 7,000,000 hectares of natural pastures. Twenty-two per cent
of all national territory is ascribed to forest and woodland, much of it
either utilisable for industry or at least covering the ground with a
rich vegetable detritus of great future value to the farmer. Twenty-nine
per cent of Chilean land areas is regarded as completely sterile, or at
least negligible under present conditions.
This proportion of uncultivated or barren country appears high at first
sight, but three great areas must be practically excluded from possible
cultivation, although unlikely and long-neglected regions have of late
triumphantly proved their worth as sheep pastures. The great,
diversified and topographically fantastic Territory of Magellanes,
comprising 71,000 square miles, has little to offer to the
agriculturist.
Sheltered country as that in the vicinity of Punta Arenas produces
certain field crops, while the limit of cultivable land both in Eastern
Patagonia and upon the islands of Tierra del Fuego, Navarin, Brunswick,
and other smaller groups, has not been reached with the establishment of
sheep farms; but the barren and rocky lands on the borders of many
channels, where blue glaciers creep to the edge of the water, and that
part of the Strait region where the freezing gusts of the “williwaws”
bend the heads of the drenched forests, is outside consideration until
the climate changes.
Also beyond the vision of the farmer are the widespread, sun-scorched
and waterless districts of the three northerly provinces of Atacama,
Antofagasta and Tarapacá, covering more than 95,000 square miles of
land: as well as most of the 9000 square miles of Tacna, whose final
ownership is still undetermined. The third considerable region which is
apparently destined to remain uncultivable is that of the rugged and
broken foothills and heights of the Andean slopes of eastern Chile,
where nothing lives but wild mountain birds and the hardy guanaco.
Reckoning in hectares, Magellanes counts an area of 3,214,000 hectares,
or about 8,000,000 acres: yet only 133 hectares were under crops in
1919. At the same time the Island of Chiloé, with a surface of about
8600 square miles, had only 75 hectares in cultivation. As between the
too-dry lands of the north and the too-rainy country of the south,
agricultural advantages lie with the former, for wherever irrigation is
possible the natural disabilities are at once overcome, and the rainless
belt becomes magnificently fertile. The agriculturist of the Chilean
lands below Puerto Montt is seldom able to risk planting a cereal crop,
for even should the heavy rains not affect the fields adversely, the
grain must be gathered green lest wind-storms should blow the ripened
seed away. However, the discovery of the last few years that certain
types of sheep (usually cross-bred Romney Marsh varieties similar to
those reared in the Falklands) thrive in Chilean Patagonia, Tierra del
Fuego and other once-despised Magellanic lands, has brought about an
agreeable transformation in the agricultural industries, as in the
revenue and population of the far south.
_Oases in the Desert_
Perhaps it is partly because they stand out in such sharp contrast with
a barren background that such northern valleys as that of the Lluta,
with pretty Arica town at its mouth, appear to be of such enchanting
loveliness. In other regions, burning ochre deserts stretch away in
dazzling sunlight, and suddenly one comes upon the tender lime-green
fields of the Copiapó River; the emerald maize and alfalfa of the Loa;
the Pica Vale, a strip of deepest green studded with millions of the
golden globes of ripe oranges; or the exquisite Elqui and Huasco in the
month when loads upon loads of grapes, peaches and figs are ripe. In
every dip of the land where a stream flows down from the Andes, gardens
and orchards bloom; careful intensive cultivation is the rule in north
Chile, where the farming industry has received an impetus since the
nitrate fields swarmed with industrial camps, ready to pay big prices
for every pound of fresh fruit or vegetables.
This cultivation of orchards in the desert is reviving enthusiastically,
but is no more than the restoration of ancient arts; before the day of
Spanish occupation irrigation was extensively practised, and we know
from the large burial grounds discovered near what are today small
villages that certain parts of the arid country formerly supported
considerable populations—as at Calama, at Chiu-Chiu, or at Arica itself.
The desolation of former cultivated districts is sometimes ascribed to
the war-expeditions of the Incas, sometimes to the destruction of
irrigation works by the Spaniards, sometimes to the action of
earthquakes which have diverted rivers from their original courses, and
is certainly to be attributed in many cases to the character of the
streams, rushing from mountain heights with tremendous force, washing
away fields and defences, and leaving wide, stony and sterile beds to
mark their ruinous course.
Tacna province, with Arica as the port and Tacna City as the capital, is
looked upon hopefully today as a source of supply of sugar and cotton
for Chilean mills; both these commodities are now imported. With
sufficient water, this little province of 40,000 inhabitants can produce
also enough tobacco for Chile’s internal consumption. The Sociedad
Industrial Azucarera de Tacna, formed at the end of 1920, hopes to plant
8000 hectares in sugarcane, to obtain from the harvest of each hectare
ten tons of sugar, and thus to fill the Chilean demand for 80,000 tons
of sugar per year. Apart from this enterprise, whose results are awaited
with interest, a number of small landholders already produce a little
sugar, and find a ready sale for the almonds, olives, walnuts, peaches,
figs, green fodder and vegetables cultivated. The splendid cotton of
Tacna province is eagerly purchased by South Chile’s mills, but the
export is small as yet, amounting only to a few hundred tons annually;
there is every inducement to immense extension of the cultivation of
this fibre, and when present plans to canalise the waters of the Caplina
River and of Lake Chuncara are completed, the little province will
multiply its 230,000 hectares now under cultivation.
Tarapacá Province is curiously situated as regards cultivation; to the
north a few rivers reach the sea, as in Arica, but from Pisagua
southwards the great nitrate beds lie like an immense dry lake parallel
with the coast, and a dozen little rivers flowing down from Andean
foothills disappear in the desert sands long before they reach the
eastern edge of the nitrate pampas. But each one of these rivers is a
green ribbon of fertility, and Tarapacá ships its luscious oranges to
the nitrate camps, and by train all the way to Pueblo Hundido in
Atacama.
Antofagasta’s one considerable river is the Loa, subject to strong
floods, but irrigating small fields all the way. There are but 121
farmers in the whole province of 46,000 square miles, cultivating less
than 3000 hectares. Sites of old pre-Spanish towns along the Loa’s banks
are proof of centuries of utilisation of its waters.
Copiapó possesses two charming oases in the desert. The first and most
important is the ancient town of Copiapó, long famous for its copper
mines, but depressed by the drop in metal prices after the close of the
European war. The second is Vallenar, whose bright setting of little
fields, peach trees and vines, is a joy to the eyes after a journey
through the copper country. Neither region produces enough foodstuffs
for its own maintenance, and there is no agricultural surplus to sell.
The whole province of over 30,000 square miles has less than 20,000
hectares under irrigation.
Coquimbo Province is generally regarded as the northern limit to general
farming; it is a small province, including only 13,500 square miles,
shouldered by the Andes that here push down within eighty kilometres of
the Pacific Ocean, but it is prosperous and enterprising. The population
is about 250,000, of whom 4500 are farmers; of the remainder the great
bulk are interested in mining small veins of copper, an industry which
has been handed down for generations as a kind of technical inheritance
in northern Chile. I know a Coquimbo farm, excellently managed, situated
a few miles outside Coquimbo Port and its older sister, La Serena, which
is a revelation of what can be done under the difficulties attendant
upon almost constant drought—for the rainfall does not usually attain
two inches in the year—and a temperature which remains steadily at about
60° Fahrenheit. The livestock were, in the period of greatest heat,
driven eastwards to the hills, many landowners upon the coast following
the system of buying supplementary land in the cordilleras in the hope
of finding at every season a few patches of pasture. John McAuliffe is
one of those Britons who identify their fortunes with those of Chile,
and forty years’ residence, with experience of shipbuilding, mining and
farming, has made the genial owner of San Martin a resourceful producer
and distributor.
Coquimbo Province possesses 1,500,000 hectares of land devoted to
agriculture, of which 20,000 are irrigated and about 25,000 are
“artificial” pastures. Vineyards on a commercial scale, orchards of figs
and other sub-tropical fruits, as well as fields of wheat, maize and
barley, produce a surplus exported from Coquimbo.
_Farming in Central Chile_
South of this province Central Chile begins. Aconcagua, Valparaiso,
Santiago, O’Higgins, Colchagua and Curicó are among the most delightful
regions in the world, with a perfect climate, fertile land, access to
markets, and employés who are not yet impressed with the views of the I.
W. W. which have troubled the waters of Chilean industry so effectively
during recent years. It has been the writer’s good fortune to see
something of the life upon several estates devoted to general farming
and livestock, upon fruit and alfalfa farms, and upon one of the finest
vine-growing and wine-making properties in Central Chile. I cannot
imagine a more agreeable life than that upon these estates.
In the first example, the lands are situated upon the Aconcagua River,
extending from this barrier in a half circle enclosed by a horse-shoe of
wooded hills. The river is a typical Chilean watercourse, widespread,
turbulent, spreading into five or six branches on a wide and stony bed.
When the snows melt and the stream comes down with great force, it is
almost impassable, although the sturdy Chilean horse, extremely
intelligent and well trained, will always struggle across safely so long
as the reins are left loose. The farm includes about 250 acres of
irrigated land and about 2000 acres of hillside. The jealously-watched
water rights are regulated by a set of special laws, and as there is
just about enough water for the service of the farms along the
Aconcagua’s banks, with none to spare, water-stealing is a black crime.
Quebrada Redonda is a mixed farm, upon which a couple of hundred sheep,
as well as cattle and horses, are fed: the fields are brilliant with
lucerne, wheat, beans, barley and Indian corn. In the kitchen garden are
peaches, walnuts, artichokes, oranges, pears, plums, celery—in fact, all
fruit and vegetables that grow in temperate or sub-tropical zones. The
lawn edges are gay with roses and iris, chrysanthemums and lupins. All
the flat lands are fertile: no fertilisers are needed, but leguminous
crops are grown in rotation with cereals. The milk of the Chilean cows
is first-class in quality and produces cheese—made daily by the simplest
process—that finds a ready sale in local markets.
The hill lands, invaluable upon a Chilean farm, offer plenty of food for
the young cattle in winter. Within a few days after the first heavy
rains the brown slopes turn green, and the cattle are driven up to crop
the new carpet of young grass. The woodland yields sufficient timber to
supply the domestic needs of the _patrón_ and the _inquilinos_ (farm
hands working upon a special system), but there is no growth of big
trees. The graceful, evergreen quillay is the base of quite a
considerable industry, for the bark is highly saponaceous, and, stripped
and dried, is sold in all the public markets in Chile. The maitén,
another thick little tree, is also cut for firewood; the litre offers
useful lumber when of sufficient size. Down by the water stand rows of
familiar willows, their branches draped with the scarlet flowers of the
parasite quintral; and on the slopes are scores of bunches of blue-green
dagger-shaped leaves enclosing a stalk crowned with a violet
flower-head. This is the chagual, whose young stem is eaten in
springtime, a lovely period when pink wild lilies clothe the rocky
slopes and a myriad flowering trees and shrubs scent the clear air. Many
of the aromatic leaves and barks for which Chile is famous are used to
make medicinal decoctions, beloved of the working classes.
Adjoining this property is another fine farm, also operated by an
energetic country-loving Briton; here lemons and other citrus fruits are
grown in well-kept orchards and the fields are given over to alfalfa and
hemp, grown in rotation with root crops. Chile has no warmer advocates
of her attractions than the owners of Quebrada Redonda and its
neighbour, but both farmers lay stress upon the need for personal
attention to every detail and constant residence upon the property, even
with the best _mayor-domo_ performing the duties of a farm bailiff or
estate steward. It is also emphasised that Chilean lands are not for the
worker without capital. In this coveted region, in fact, costs run high,
as the following data, owed to Mr. Geoffrey Bushell, demonstrate.
The average cost of good irrigated land, near the railway, in the
Central Valley (from Aconcagua to the Maule) is about 4000 paper pesos
per _cuadra_ of some four acres: or say £50 per acre with exchange at
twelve pence to the peso. To this should be added £50 per cuadra for the
purchase of horses, cattle and implements, and another £50 per cuadra
should also be allowed for fencing, drains, repairing or putting up
buildings, expenses frequently renewed even when a farm is in good
running order. Land in less accessible regions is less costly, but
transport in Chile depends upon railroads, since the highways are out of
action in the rainy season, and it is worth while to avoid trouble by a
greater initial outlay. No farm is cheap if its products cannot be sent
to market.
When the estate is in good running condition, returns come quickly and
markets are excellent; a profit of 12 to 15 per cent upon invested
capital is usually expected, but may rise to 20 per cent. Alfalfa can be
cut at least three times a year, and always finds a ready sale:
potatoes, wheat and barley, beans, hemp, aji (red pepper), all do well
and are good selling crops. Potatoes, for example, yield 300 bags (of
100 kilos each) to the cuadra, and bring fifteen to twenty pesos per bag
in the Valparaiso markets.
Animals can be kept out of doors all the year round, and the
stock-fattening and dairy businesses are both good. Fruit cultivation,
apart from such good carriers as lemons or oranges, is not recommended,
since quick access to markets is lacking and selling organisations do
not exist.
In order to buy, stock, equip and operate a farm and to wait a year for
returns without inconvenience, a farmer taking up land in Central Chile
should have £15,000 ($75,000 U. S. currency). He needs at least fifty
cuadras, or 200 acres, of irrigated land, as well as some wild bush,
preferably hill country. Workers are never abundant in South America,
but the _inquilino_ system retained in Chile tends to keep generation
after generation upon the soil, and no good farmer lacks help in spite
of the higher wages offered by the mining industry. Attacks have been
levelled against the inquilino system, yet it works well in practice
when estate owners are just and a personal interest taken in the
worker’s welfare. The men live upon the estate with their families, are
given a cottage rent free, a strip of land of generally one or two
acres, and sometimes the use of ploughs and other farm implements; a
horse and a few domestic animals are usually owned. One pound of bread
and one pound of beans are given daily, cooked if so preferred, and one
peso per day in cash. On the farms visited by the writer the houses of
the farm hands were sound and clean, and the families appeared cheerful
and content; I heard warm praises of the Chilean worker from employers.
The life of a farmer in Chile, it was generally agreed, is pleasant;
constant attention is required, but rewards are sufficient and the
delightful climate compensates for many difficulties. The open-air life,
constant horseback riding, and the sense of freedom in a country not too
densely populated, attract many Europeans, lamenting nothing more than
the absence of certain forms of sport. There is fair fishing, for
instance, in the fast streams from the Cordillera, but there are no
sporting fish; no hunting, but good shooting in wooded or open country.
The partridge and tortolita fly well and fast, and give almost as good
sport as grouse; snipe and quail are also to be found in the central
regions.
_Vineyards_
In this same region of the Aconcagua Valley are some of the best
vineyards and wine-making estates in Chile. The great Panquehue
property, one of the Errazuriz estates, is a magnificent sight with its
endless rows of trained vines bearing white and black grapes, stretching
across the rich brown lowlands to the foot of the Andean spurs, where
all cultivation ceases, and where valuable peat has been identified in
vast stretches. Here are 2000 acres devoted to viniculture, and from the
fruit of the low-trimmed branches is produced each year 2,000,000 to
3,000,000 litres of wine, chicha and brandy. Chilean red and white wines
are of sound and pleasant quality, superior to the Mendoza brands, owing
to greater suavity; some of the native-made “Sauternes” are practically
indistinguishable from the French original. It is astonishing to realise
the simplicity of this ancient industry of wine-making, for although
Panquehue has today a machine crusher, and a mechanical press, an
automatic bottler, etc., there is something primitive and ample in the
process. The _bodegas_ (cellar warehouses) of the estate are immense
vistas of cool stillness, the huge vats looming high in the
semi-darkness beneath a succession of great arches. This estate, with
its enormous and luxurious house of the owners, its settled population
of workers, its self-supporting crops and fine livestock, has almost a
feudal atmosphere. Altogether, Chile has 90,000 hectares, or say 225,000
acres, under grape culture, about ten times as much as California in her
pre-prohibition days.
While these vineyards of the central provinces are in very fine
condition—extending west from Santiago to within sight of the sea on the
beautiful slopes towards Valparaiso—the real heart of the grape country
is farther south, where also lie the great food-producing regions of
Chile. The great grape country is spread over Curicó, Talca, Maule,
Linares, Ñuble and Concepción provinces, while the wonderful valley of
Lontué is one great vineyard, with over 10,000 acres under cultivation.
Estates follow in a long succession, some able to boast of model
villages for workers and thoroughly up-to-date methods of wine-making.
The product of Lontué is sold not only throughout Chile, but is shipped
to Argentina, Peru and Colombia. “Dry” laws in Chile, advocated by Dr.
Fernando Peña, do not seem likely to cause the extinction of viniculture
here, if only for the reason that the use of wine is scarcely ever
excessive among the native workmen, or in the educated classes. The
industry is extremely important to Chile, is chiefly in the hands of
Chileans-born, and represents a very large investment; these
considerations would not, however, preserve the vineyards ultimately if
the effect of their existence were pernicious. The facts appear to be
against any idea of this kind.
South Americans in general inherit the temperate habits of the Latin,
and when strong liquors cause trouble amongst such closely crowded
groups of workers as one finds in the northern mines, badly made spirits
and not wine are to be blamed. Against the disembarcation of imported
spirits the workers of the north rose in arms, in 1920, procedure echoed
in Punta Arenas a little later, and an investigator sent to the spot by
the _Mercurio_ of Santiago reported that for every pint of good southern
wine sold in Taltal, there were twenty pints of noxious alcohol—much of
it made on the spot in amateur stills.
_Wheatfields, Orchards, and Sheepfarms_
Cereal culture, whether of maize, wheat, barley or other grains, exists
throughout Chile, but from Coquimbo to Chiloé are the great fields of
_trigo blanco_ and _trigo candeal_—the latter, hard wheat, grown chiefly
upon 20,000 acres in the north of the Central Valley, and the former
upon 1,000,000 acres, chiefly in the provinces of Maule, Linares, Ñuble,
Concepción, Bio-Bio, Malleco, Cautín, Valdivia and Llanquihue. The total
wheat crop is 5,500,000 metric quintales, worth 16,000,000 pesos. It is
in the great fertile region of the south that one finds the largest
number of small farmers, for most of this agricultural country has been
opened during the last fifty or sixty years, and no great ancient
estates exist. Valdivia and Llanquihue were developed mainly by the
efforts of settlers from Central Europe in the middle of last century,
while old Araucania was not finally opened to white settlers, whether
foreigners or Chileans, until the punitive expedition of 1881 broke down
the frontier for ever. Land was parcelled out in comparatively small
estates, and as a result Chile is fortunate in counting about 97,000
land proprietors; of these, 65,000 owners farm less than 50 acres each;
25,000 others farm holdings of less than 500 acres; 5000 estates are
between 500 and 2500 acres in extent; and only 465 proprietors are
possessed of estates totalling over 12,000 acres.
To create these southerly farm lands great forestal areas have been
necessarily denuded, and a good deal of work is required to keep down
the luxurious growth of creepers, wild bamboos, ferns and undergrowth.
But the southern agriculturist is spared the constant preoccupation of
the northerner as regards water supply. Chile has little marsh or swamp
country today, although the presence of large peat beds is eloquent of
ancient bogs, but the south is very well watered. Too well watered, in
fact, in some localities, Valdivia’s 115 inches of annual rainfall being
well outdistanced by Chiloé’s 134 inches; the genial softness of the
climate saves these localities from the unusual unpleasant effects of
such heavy rainfalls, for if it is almost true that in Valdivia it rains
every day, it is also true that the sun shines every day.
Between the Maule River and Lake Llanquihue the whole country of Chile
is like familiar ground to the traveller from well-tended countries of
Western Europe, an impression specially keen in Chile’s autumn, March
and April. Orderly apple and cherry orchards stand bordered by hedges
hung thick with ripening blackberries; long level fields show the tender
green of clover. Beside the rose-clustered farmhouse are neatly built
stacks of wheat straw; in the meadows are fine sleek cattle and
well-groomed horses. The fenced garden is full of flowers, of vegetables
and herbs, and behind the house is a grove of walnuts and chestnuts. The
farmer riding along a muddy road has the ruddy cheeks of the temperate
zone, and the only strange note is struck by his poncho and long
jingling spurs. Rows of tall poplars, burned golden, edge the fields. As
background to this ordered fertility there rise to the east the shining,
silver-white heads of volcanos—Llaima, Villarica, or Antuco, or, farther
south, Osorno and Calbuco—and from the lines of dark forest there run
deep and silent rivers. The south is remarkable in possessing three
navigable rivers, the Toltén, Imperial, and Valdivia; the Bueno is also
traversed by small steamers in part of its course from Lake Ranco and is
a channel for farm produce.
Wheat is harvested in the south at the end of March, but in May apples
and pears are still being gathered and nuts are ripe. The big crops of
strawberries, plums, and cherries are sent to jam and conserving
factories, South Chile supplying the whole of the West Coast with canned
fruit, while the export of fresh fruit to New York and London is a new
industry with bright prospects.
South of Temuco the land is seen in three stages. Belts of primeval
forests close down to the border of railway track or road, a green wall
matted with the wild climbing bamboo, the trails of scarlet and purple
fuchsias, or the slender vines of copihue with its beautiful rosy bells.
Native beech and lingue, their feet deep in ferns, stand as a solid
barrier, feathering at the top into thickly leaved branches; the wild
witch-hazel’s sweetly scented, creamy flowers break from every thicket.
That is the first stage: the next is encountered where a settler has
recently broken ground, and corn springs between the blackened stumps of
burned trees. A log hut, thatched, windowless, stands at the side of the
clearing. In the third stage all signs of violence are gone; the forest
is conquered, the cleared space smoothed and ploughed, the homestead
enclosed with a neat wooden fence. Rows of young fruit trees display
slim twigs beside the farmhouse, and this already has its chicken-run,
dove-cote, stable and pleasant meadow for horses and cattle. A chain of
sawmills is seen in this lately redeemed country with its thick reserve
of forest lands.
Between Valdivia and Puerto Montt lies a great potato-raising country;
the land flattens out from Osorno to the edge of Llanquihue Lake, and
here hundreds of well-managed farms flourish; a large proportion of the
settlers possess German names, and their forebears brought with them,
seventy years ago, the craft of the farmer. Today the population is
Chilean. Farther south, upon the island of Chiloé, another group of
foreign origin operates farms beside the native Chilotes: after the
South African War ending in 1903 a number of Boers came here and, in
spite of the marked difference between climate and conditions of the
Transvaal and South Chile, remained and prosper.
Chile feeds about 5,000,000 sheep, of which number 2,000,000 have been
raised in the far south, in the Territory of Magellanes; 2,250,000 head
of cattle are distributed throughout the country—Tarapacá and
Antofagasta owning about 600 head between them, while Tacna has 2500—but
by far the largest number, 2,000,000, are grouped in the provinces below
Valparaiso. The country supports also about 400,000 horses, 55,000
mules, and 300,000 pigs. The wool clip of Chile averages 170,000 metric
quintals, four-fifths of the total coming from the Territory of
Magellanes.
Among the small farming industries of Chile are beekeeping and
flax-production; a little olive oil is made in the more northerly
provinces, and the dried raisins, peaches and apricots of Huasco have
earned much more than local fame.
The rise of sheep-farming and allied industries in Magellanes Territory
is one of the great surprises of the century. Punta Arenas itself,
founded on paper by President Bulnes in 1843, and tentatively settled in
1851, was for a long time nothing but a penal settlement: but a rising
of the convicts drew attention to the region, the discovery of gold
reefs and coal beds, as well as petroliferous shales, brought a number
of enterprising people, and by 1897 the first flock of sheep, brought by
the governor Dublé Almeida twenty years previously, had multiplied so
fast that the territory counted 800,000 as the total flock. It was
difficult to find a use for the sheep, and by way of solving this
problem the first packing-house was established in 1905 at Rio Seco,
about ten miles from Punta Arenas.
Four _frigorificos_ are now in operation, at San Gregorio Bay, at Puerto
Bories (Ultima Esperanza) and at Tres Puentes, in addition to the first
established. During the war the packing-houses exported meat products
(frozen and conserved meat, fats, etc.) worth £1,000,000 sterling
annually, and large fortunes were also made by the sheep-raising farms
when the price of wool soared from sixpence per pound to twenty-two
pence. The largest of the companies running sheep on a big scale is the
Sociedad Explotadora de la Tierra del Fuego, which started operations in
1893, has a capital of £1,800,000, raised in London, and owns over a
million sheep.
A fifth packing-house built at the close of the war and already in
operation is situated in Puerto Montt, is British-financed and equipped,
and aims at helping the situation of this part of the south, possessing
a surplus for northern markets but lacking sufficient transportation for
live animals.
_Irrigation Canals_
Irrigation canals have been in use in Chile for hundreds of years, those
constructed by private estate owners watering a total of over 3,000,000
acres. Several of these are ambitious constructions, those diverted from
such well-supplied rivers as the Maipo and Aconcagua extending in
certain instances for over one hundred miles.
The great O’Higgins built a canal ensuring Santiago’s water supply 150
years ago: a continuance of this wise policy of Government direction in
a matter of national importance has been advised by many thinkers in
Chile, but it was not until the closure of nitrate enterprises in 1914
forced the Government to find employment for surplus workers that
irrigation laws were added to the Chilean code and bonds issued to
finance the construction of four important canals. In early 1915 the
creation of a new section in the Public Works Department inaugurated a
period of great activity in the work suggested, and by the beginning of
1921 the Manco Canal drawing water from the Aconcagua was already
completed, its forty-five miles of main length bringing water to nearly
8000 acres of land. The cost of construction was 2,000,000 pesos paper.
At the same time work was begun on the Maule Canal, drawing water from
the Maule River; it is 115 miles long, irrigates 113,000 acres, and was
built at a cost of 8,500,000 pesos; its completion represents an
engineering feat upon which Chilean engineers are to be congratulated. A
fall created by one of the branches of this canal offers 20,000 h.p. to
users of hydraulic force in Chile.
The Laja Canal diverts water from the river of this name, has a main
length of 25 miles with distribution canals of 240 miles, and is lined
with concrete for ten miles of its course where sandy soil is traversed.
It is calculated that this canal serves 110,000 acres of land. The
Melado Canal, drawing water from the river of the same name, is fifteen
miles long, and irrigates 75,000 acres.
The Public Works Department also plans construction of canals drawing
water from the Culenar River, to irrigate 12,000 acres; from the
Nilahue, to irrigate 25,000 acres; and from the Colina, to irrigate
10,000 acres, while businesslike schemes for damming and utilising the
water of seven of Chile’s string of snow-fed mountain lakes in the south
are also under way. All this work is due for completion by 1925, while
studies of the strange rivers of the north that flow from the Andes and
bury themselves in the sandy deserts long before the sea is approached
have also been energetically carried on, with a view to salving these
much-needed waters. Don Carlos Hoerning, Chief Engineer of the Chilean
Reclamation service, says that the wonderful northern climate and soil
respond to irrigation by producing crops five times as abundant as the
normal rate in the south, justifying the expense of pumping and piping
water.
Formerly, private enterprise was interested in irrigation canals only in
the central farming regions, while the more generously watered south
ignored the question; but denudation of the southern forests has brought
about a change in this rainy region while the need for foodstuffs and
the excellent rewards awaiting the farmer have valorised every acre of
good soil, and today a large proportion of the canalisation projects of
the Government refer to southerly regions. With little public land to
offer, the Chilean Government’s new laws were drafted to reach the owner
of large areas of uncultivated—and, if without water, uncultivable—land.
When the newly inaugurated system is in full working order Chile should
have at least 100,000,000 acres under the plough.
CHAPTER IX
FOREST AND WOODLAND
_Extent.—Beech, Conifer and Bamboo.—Trees in Northern and Central
Chile.—Plantations._
Chile’s heavily wooded country lies in the rainy south, and stretches
from the stormy islands about Cape Horn through the long archipelagos
and the provinces of Llanquihue and Valdivia, the forests gradually
thinning out as they run northward through the old Araucanian country.
The province of Cautín is the last stronghold of deep forest.
Altogether, the tree-covered area of Chile is estimated at 15,000,000
hectares, or about 37,000,000 acres; but at least two-thirds of this
quantity must be left out of consideration as regards opportunity for
organized commercial effort such as paper-pulp making. Lack of large
“social” woods, and thin or patchy distribution, is of course a bar to
industrial effort on a great scale, but there are immense stretches
existing in certain regions, as in Valdivia, with nearly 2,000,000 acres
of continuous forest; Llanquihue, with 1,500,000 acres; and Chiloé, with
rather more than 1,000,000 acres.
An impressive picture is created by the density and extent of the
southern forests of Chile, among the last of the great primeval
tree-covered areas in the world. They are like immense green seas,
filling mile after mile of basin-like valleys, running up the sides of
the lower Andean spurs, and in the archipelagos often closing down to
the sea’s edge so thickly that waves break between the trunks. Up to the
present the trees which have proved most useful are conifers, as the
alerce, used for centuries by the native Indians for their canoes; the
“Chilean pine” (_Araucaria chilensis_), yielding a big cone-full of
kernels not unlike chestnuts, which must not be confounded with its kin,
_Araucaria imbricata_, the “Monkey-puzzle” tree; the tall lumo of
Chiloé, used for shipbuilding, and exported to Liverpool before the war;
and two varieties of the native “roble,” which are not oaks, as this
colloquial Spanish name suggests, but varieties of beech.
The evergreen beech (_Fagus antarcticus_) flourishes in Magellanic
territory, and with its kin the deciduous _Fagus betuloides_ and the
cypress (_Libocedrus Tetragonus_) stands along the borders of Magellan
Strait and on the glacier country of the deeply scored waterways
extending northwards; its habitat does not extend north beyond the
Chonos Islands, or about 45° of south latitude. All about Punta Arenas
this beech is of great service, is used for house construction and
boatbuilding, and still exists in large stretches of woodland. The
famous Winter’s Bark (_Drimys Winterii_), a beautiful tree whose
aromatic-scented bark was noted by the earliest travellers, is also used
locally. Many of the shouldering green heights that edge the Strait are
clothed almost to the summit with trees that, changing to burning yellow
and orange tints by the month of April, glow from the mists, their lower
trunks thick with ferns.
Two wild bamboos of South Chile are common—the small climbing “quila,”
and the “colihue,” sometimes growing thirty feet tall, and congregated
in great social tracts known as “colihuales.” Characteristic woodland of
the Valdivia region is tangled with these bamboos, with thick ferns, and
with such creepers as the lovely _Lapageria rosea_, with its waxen pink
or white flowers that retain the Indian name of copihue—the national
flower of Chile, and the no less beautiful Philesia.
The handsome conifer called alerce (_Fitzroya Patagonica_ Hook) grows in
extensive woods or “alerzales” in the Llanquihue region, its base deep
in ferns, the thickly-berried berberis (_Empetrum rubrum_) and other
fruit-bearing shrubs, as the _Myrtus nummularia_. From these berries the
native Indians made their fermented drink “chicha” in the time before
Spanish soldiers and missionaries brought European fruit trees to South
Chile; today apples are chiefly used for the same purpose.
The alerce frequently grows to a great size. Dr. M. R. Espinosa,
visiting the regions of its greatest occurrence in 1917, measured
conifers of this variety which reached 115 feet in height, with a trunk
diameter, at three feet from the ground, of four and a half feet.
Another big specimen measured twenty-seven feet in circumference, and he
speaks of yet another giant, whose old trunk was still to be seen
between Puerto Varas and Puerto Montt, with a girth at the base of over
forty-two feet. The alerce grows perfectly erect, providing splendid
planks of such uniform quality that up to comparatively recent times
these “tablas” were the recognised standard of barter in the Llanquihue
and Chiloé regions, and were exchanged like cash for imported
manufactures and foodstuffs. The wood is red in hue, resists exposure to
water and air, and is easily worked, light and resilient.
The coihue, another fine timber tree of the south, growing in
“colonies,” runs the alerce a good second in height, the two bearing the
reputation of being the tallest trees found in Chile; the laurel, the
lumo, and the canelo are not equally social in habit, but grow in mixed
woodland and are therefore not commercially available to a like extent.
The latter tree, the “Chilean cinnamon,” has a scented bark and is
sacred to the Araucanians, whose main festivals and ceremonies were
traditionally held under the shade of the canelo’s branches.
Forty per cent of the whole territory of Magellanes is estimated as
forest: Llanquihue, Valdivia and Cautín possess a smaller proportion,
for much magnificent woodland has already yielded to the axe of the
settler, but there is still in all about 20,000,000 acres of timbered
land south of the Bio-Bio River. Beyond Araucania the thick forest of
the south gives place to light woods, with no large trees and none that
are tall except the imported poplar, commonly known as the “alamo.” All
about Concepción the thickly leaved little boldo is seen, yielding only
small timber but much prized for the medicinal value of its leaves, from
which “boldaina” is extracted; the thickets are full of the slim
avellano, producing a nut closely resembling the hazel.
The wooded areas of the central region, especially in the well-watered
parts of Aconcagua, O’Higgins, Valparaiso and Colchagua, are well
supplied with lingue, maitén, litre and quillay. The bark of the latter
is highly saponaceous and is sold in every Chilean market, but few of
these trees yield planks large enough for construction purposes, and are
chiefly useful as fuel.
The northerly, more arid country above Illapel frequently shows nothing
but a thorny scrub of the mimosa family; one of these, the algarroba, is
prized as a shade tree and for the green pods it produces, an excellent
cattle food. When brown and dry, these pods yield a tannin used in
curing skins, almost identical with the divi-divi of Venezuela. Beyond
Coquimbo even the thorny scrub and cactus disappear, and in the Andean
heights of Tacna the only fuel that offers is that strange growth, like
a mammoth fungus, the llareta, that must be dried for over a year before
it will burn.
It is thus plain that North and Central Chile, where is the bulk of the
population of the country, cannot supply their own needs for lumber; it
is from the great southerly habitat of the alerce, the coihue and the
Chilean pine that vast quantities of wood for industrial and domestic
use must be sought. Sawmills begin to dot the side of the railroad soon
after the Bio-Bio is crossed on a southerly journey, and immense piles
of fine planks and logs stand beside the line all the way to Puerto
Montt. Immense tracts of forest are still untouched for lack of adequate
transport, although the conformation of Chile, and the large number of
southerly rivers and lakes, help to render the problem soluble. Even
without any great organisation, the south supplies lumber to the central
and northern provinces while filling its own requirements and exporting
a varying quantity. It is difficult to estimate the amount of Chilean
timber exported, since statistics of the number of pieces, or even of
“bundles” of planks, are alone available; the value, in 1919, of
unworked timber exported from the country is officially given as
1,496,000 pesos of eighteen pence.
Forestal laws in Chile have been slow in application chiefly because for
centuries a great deal more woodland existed than could be utilised;
land was needed for cultivation, and it was no crime to burn large
tracts in order that farms should be created. I have heard it maintained
in Chile that such forest destruction or at least the clearing of wide
strips through the heart of certain southerly areas has been beneficial
to the climate: that the Valdivia and Llanquihue region have been less
lavishly endowed with rain and rendered more agreeable for settlers in
consequence.
A few enterprising land owners have begun to replant woodland, growing
plantations of spruce and eucalyptus for preference; for Chile is a
hospitable host to all plants and trees brought from temperate zones.
A great deal has been said concerning the suitability of the South
Chilean forests for making paper pulp, but up to the middle of 1921 no
manufacture has been commenced. Expert opinion has proposed new
plantations of eucalyptus, etc., owing to the non-social character of
Chilean timberlands. Were the Chilean conifers more closely grouped the
problem might have been solved long ago. Suggestions for utilising
extensive thickets of bamboo, the colihue, have also been without result
up to the present, but the recent careful investigations of a Swedish
firm will, it is hoped, bear fruit. The south has plenty of water-power
and easy access to sea or rail, two important points to be considered in
connection with manufacturing industries.
CHAPTER X
COMMERCE
_Home Factories.—Chilean Market Needs.—Sales to Foreign
Countries.—Foreign Firms in Chile.—Trade-marks._
The position of commerce in Chile is better understood when it is
realised that the country has no tropical products for sale. Apart from
the extreme north, where rills of precious water redeem the preponderant
desert, and where varying quantities of cotton, sugar and peppers are
grown, farming is on a par with the farming of western or southwestern
Europe, or the temperate regions of Mexico. Chile has a surplus of
wheat, cattle and sheep; a large production of grapes and wine; and, in
the mineral field, offers her unique supplies of nitrate as well as
about 6 per cent of the world’s supply of copper. Timber from her
southerly forests is chiefly used at home for house and ship building;
Chilean coal finds its market in the Chilean factory regions or
bunkering ports. Whatever the country has to spare of her cereals, fruit
(fresh or canned) and other farm produce finds a ready sale in Peru and
Bolivia; the copper is practically all ear-marked for the United States.
Thus Chile’s offering to the world outside the Americas is not large
aside from her immense and greatly needed output of nitrate of soda.
The establishment of four packing-houses (_frigorificos_) in Magellanic
territory, with another recently constructed at Puerto Montt, follows
and encourages the big development of the sheep-raising industry, with a
view not only to supplying the non-pastoral north, but selling a surplus
abroad. The wool produced, and formerly exported, is likely to be
entirely absorbed by home weaving factories, to which an important
addition has been recently made at Valparaiso.
Of great help in Chilean industrial development is the Sociedad de
Fomento Fabril, and the work of three Government industrial schools, at
Santiago, Chillan and Temuco, turning out electricians, chemists,
blacksmiths, carpenters and other technically trained students.
A country with a temperate climate, hardy population, possessing plenty
of fuel and offering securities to foreign capitalists and business
firms, is likely to prove an inviting ground for the creation of
factories; certain parts of Chile, in consequence, are developing home
industries in a manner comparable to that of South Brazil.
A good start had been made before the European War, but as in many other
South American regions the pressure of necessity brought about a
remarkable and speedy industrial growth. Deprived of big quantities of
manufactured goods, Chile increased or built national mills, and can
today produce a remarkably long list of the goods she needs. Home
utilization of raw materials of course tends to limit Chile’s export
lists and, diminishing her income from overseas, narrows her capacity
for purchases in foreign countries, rendering her still more dependent
upon nitrate exports for national revenues.
Chile’s beds of good coal, with the addition of immense forestal areas
offering lumber, and, also in the south, considerable water-power
resources, form a sound basis for manufacturing. Below the river
Aconcagua factories are thickly dotted, and south of the Maule is a
600-mile stretch of country where new industrial towns lie like beads on
a string, following the railroad track. Altogether, the large and small
factories of Chile number twenty-seven hundred, counting every industry
from Tacna to the Straits of Magellan; the group of important
establishments employs 70,000 people, of whom 40,000 are men, over
17,000 are women, and over 5000 are children less than fourteen years
old. Another 8000 people are employed by little industries. The value of
the merchandise produced by these factories increased by nearly 50 per
cent between 1915 and 1919, the latter year registering the manufacture
of goods worth more than 765,000,000 pesos, Chilean paper. At an
exchange value of twelve pence, this is equal to over £38,000,000.
Santiago province topped the list with manufactured produce worth
280,000,000 pesos, Valparaiso following with 163,000,000 and Concepción
coming third with 68,000,000 pesos.
Included in this output are metal goods, furniture, dried and tinned
fruit, wines, beer, mineral waters, butter and cheese, lard, candles,
soap, boots and shoes, wheat flour, Quaker oats, woven woollen and
cotton cloths, pottery, chemicals, brown paper, bottles and other glass
utensils, sugar and tobacco. Factories manipulating the two last-named
commodities do not draw supplies of raw materials from Chilean soil but
depend upon importations, chiefly from Peru. There are two sugar works,
both Chilean-owned and operated; one is situated at Valparaiso and
another at Penco (near Concepción City), where soft brown crystallised
sugar is brought in sacks, and, after undergoing a series of new
processes, including bleaching, is distributed to local firms in the
form of soft white or cube sugar. The Chilean market rejects all sugars
presenting any hue but that of pure white, I was informed when enquiring
at Penco why at least a proportion of the excellent brown sugar imported
could not be distributed in that condition, and at considerably lower
cost to the consumer. When the refinery was erected it was hoped that it
could be exclusively supplied with raw material from local sugar-beet
farms, and the failure as yet to produce these crops in quantity is
emphasised by the retail price of sugar in Chile—fifteen pence per pound
in 1920.
[Illustration: At Constitución, South of Santiago.]
[Illustration: San Cristobal Hill and Parque Forestal, Santiago.]
[Illustration: Malleco Bridge, near Collipulli.]
Also near Concepción, a few miles eastward following the curving banks
of the silver Bio-Bio River, is a British-owned and operated
cotton-cloth factory turning out an average of 1,000,000 yards yearly,
and working 276 looms. The machinery is British and yarns are imported
from Manchester. All through the agricultural south are flour mills, of
which half a score are owned by British firms; some of these
installations are small and antiquated, but sixteen or more are equipped
with the best modern machinery. As a result of this milling activity,
Chile imports but little wheat flour, and this chiefly from Argentina to
serve as a blend, her home mills practically supplying the whole of the
country and leaving a surplus for export amounting to nearly 24,000
metric tons annually. The best customers for Chilean wheat flour are
Bolivia (17,000 tons), Peru and Ecuador.
Concepción with its coal mines is fortunately placed for industrial
development, and this with other similarly endowed regions and
well-wooded and watered parts of the populated south are fast building
up a list of manufacturing enterprises, most of them based upon local
products. They are rapidly meeting home demands. The foreign visitor in
Santiago has frequently received a surprise when permitted to see the
extremely efficient Government munitions and instrument works, realising
that here is a South American state which is able to manufacture almost
all the equipment needed for its army, from cartridges and rifles to
saddles and field-glasses, the lenses of the latter being the only part
imported.
When such a visitor has also seen tobacco and shoe factories, and the
soap, candle and soda works of the Lever firm at Valparaiso (supplying,
with the sister factory at Concepción, one-third of Chile’s needs for
these goods), he will receive another lesson at the model match factory
at Talca, where the well-being of workers is exceptionally well studied
and a crêche for the children of women workers is maintained. He should
make a point of visiting, at the rich agricultural centre of Traiguen, a
factory where beautiful furniture is made, and, following a sight of the
sugar, flour, candle works of Concepción, and fruit-canning
establishments at Chillan, he will see at Valdivia the most ambitious
shipbuilding yards in Chile, turning out vessels of over 3000 tons. Here
is also an interesting factory making tannin from the bark of lingue, a
large boot and shoe factory, a cider works and several breweries and
fruit-preserving factories. Sawmills line the railway between Temuco and
Valdivia, and thence to Puerto Montt, where the new frigorifico has been
established, and an old lumbering commerce connects with the town of
Castro, on Chiloé, where boats are built. Below Chiloé there is no
industry until the extreme south is reached, and here in the vicinity of
the Strait of Magellan are four packing-houses serving the West
Patagonian sheep farms; at Punta Arenas are sawmills, and the
headquarters of a number of gold-mining companies operating the alluvial
deposits of the southerly islands, a brewery, candle factory, foundry
and shipyard. Dawson Island possesses another shipbuilding industry,
constructing wooden vessels up to 500 tons’ burden. A series of
scientific chicken farms also flourishes at Punta Arenas; 30,000 hens at
Leña Dura yield an average of 200 eggs each, annually: the farm collects
5000 eggs per day, exporting them as far as Montevideo.
An immense impulse will be given to Chile’s manufacturing industry when
the hydro-electric developments planned during the last few years, and
organised in 1921 by the Compañia Chilena de Electricidad, are
completed. The creation of this new company is the work of S. Pearson &
Son, Ltd., famous for brilliant water-harnessing and engineering in many
other regions of Latin America. The Pearson firm initiated its interest
in Chile by the purchase of the Santiago tramways which had been in
German hands prior to the war, and were later operated by J. G. White &
Co., on behalf of the British Government.
Pearson’s decided to increase the power at the disposition of the local
service, obtained solely from falls at La Florida, a few miles from
Santiago, and effected a combination with Chileans of enterprise and
engineering ability already holding concessions for big new
hydro-electric development, including the Cia. General de Electricidad
and the Cia. Nacional de Fuerza Electrica. Work upon the latter’s plans
was under way at Maitenes, inaugurated by the enthusiasm and skill of
Don Juan Tonkin. The Pearson company decided to form a new organisation
with capital sufficient to enlarge the scope of the work and to take
over, in addition, other hydro-electric plans upon the Maipo and
Colorado rivers. Proof of faith in Chile’s future was given when
Pearson’s decided to domicile the new company in Santiago and to add to
its assets the properties of the Chilean Electric Tramway and Light
Company, as well as prestige and financial backing. The new company is
the Cia. Chilena de Electricidad, capitalised at £8,250,000, with a
debenture issue authorised up to £5,000,000; Chilean capital is
interested to the extent of nearly three-quarters of a million pounds
sterling.
Under the enlarged project, the Maitenes plant will be increased to
develop 34,000 h.p.; the increase of an existing steam-plant in Santiago
will bring another 27,000 h.p. into the market; and the development of
plans for the harnessing of the Maipo and its tributary the Volcán at
Puente del Cristo means the creation of a large hydro-electric station,
capable of producing 65,000 h.p. When these installations are in working
order, Central Chile will possess a force of 140,000 h.p. at the
disposition of public services, domestic utilities and industry; the
horizon thus opened is equal to that of the biggest manufacturing region
of South America, S. Paulo in Brazil, where in the city alone about
30,000 h.p. is used to turn the wheels of industry.
The electrification of many Chilean railroads follows as a matter of
course: no sooner was the new company formed than the Chilean Government
signed a contract for the supply of electric power for the State line
connecting Santiago and Valparaiso, and obtained a loan in New York for
electric locomotive and other equipment; similar improvement is planned
to Los Andes and for the reorganised Transandine line. Transmission
lines, bringing power to Santiago from the generating plants, will carry
force to Valparaiso by way of Llai-llai and Quillota, with substations
at important points such as Tiltil, whence the big cement works of El
Melon at Calera will obtain electric power, while Valparaiso’s
industries will share in the new impetus.
_Chilean Market Needs_
Chile’s market needs are on a par with those of other South American
countries so far as manufactured metals, especially machinery, mining
and railroad equipment are concerned: in common with her sister states,
she is also a buyer of such luxuries as fine textiles of wool, silk, and
linen, perfumery and other toilet specialties, fine wines and spirits;
also many utilities which she cannot produce, as print and writing
papers, high-grade glass and ceramic ware, inks, paints and varnishes,
cement, and sheet glass.
The best grades of cotton cloth are also imported, for the existing
Chilean factories are limited in class of output; there is a
considerable import of ready-made clothes, and of fine footwear,
although it is but fair to add that Chile produces the best shoes made
in South America and that her daintiest satin and kid footwear for women
compare well with the output of the great makers overseas; Chilean red
and white wines also outclass the vintages of sister states, but while
the wealthy resident has plenty of money in his pocket there will always
be a certain import of European champagnes and liqueurs, spirits and
high-class wines.
Chile’s purchasing power varies a good deal, fluctuating with the
fortunes of nitrate. The value of imports during the last few years has
swung from 153,000,000 pesos in 1915 to the high-water mark of
436,000,000 in 1918, after which a decline was experienced to
401,000,000 in 1919 and 350,000,000 in 1920. Certain commodities, with
coal as the striking example, were almost blotted from the import lists
during the European war, and with the encouraging development of the
national mines in response to necessity, plus a greatly extended use of
petroleum as fuel for industrial purposes, its pre-war place is unlikely
to be recovered.
Looking down the lists of Chilean imports, the tendency towards
importing materials in the crude state or simply prepared, for
working-up in national factories, shows an immense increase since 1914;
dependence upon national supplies also increases markedly. Metals in
bars or pig, worth less than 400,000 pesos in 1914, were imported to the
value of nearly 5,000,000 pesos in 1919; at the same time the value of
imported lumber dropped from nearly 3,000,000 pesos to 1,250,000. The
value of live animals imported—chiefly pedigree horses and cattle from
the United Kingdom and North America, to improve the already excellent
livestock of the Chilean farms—went up with a bound at the end of the
war, totalling 12,000,000 pesos in 1918; the importation both of leaf
and prepared tobacco shows systematic growth; but purchases of foreign
meats, butter and cheese, show consistent falls.
The value of sugar imported rose between 1914 and 1920 from 9,000,000 to
25,000,000 pesos, but this movement indicates soaring prices rather than
increased Chilean consumption. Purchases of yarns for weaving, of
textiles, bags and sacks, and ready-made clothes, all displayed rises in
the same period from 48,000,000 to 123,000,000 pesos; so also did crude
chemicals, particularly essences for nationally elaborated and bottled
perfumes. Imports of machinery, checked during the war period, followed
the same curve as electrical goods, doubling their values in 1919 as
compared with 1914.
Chilean purchases of tools and implements have shown steady increases,
but the whole group of machinery for mining, agriculture and industry,
including motors, boilers and electrical goods, does not far exceed
38,000,000 pesos (less than £2,000,000 at 20 pesos to the pound
sterling), while material for railways and other transport services
costs some 20,000,000 pesos, or about £1,000,000 sterling annually. A
fair average for Chilean purchases abroad may be calculated at
£20,000,000 or inside $100,000,000 U. S. currency, at normal exchange.
_Sales to Foreign Countries_
When one turns to the other side of the ledger, to see what Chilean
merchandise is exchanged for these imports, the dangerously dominant
position of nitrate becomes evident. The total exports rose from
300,000,000 pesos in 1914 progressively to nearly 764,000,000 in 1918
(subsequently suffering violent fluctuations) and of the latter amount
nitrate and iodine accounted for over 532,000,000, with another
109,000,000 placed to the credit of “minerales metálicos en bruto,” of
which the chief if not the sole representative was copper.
Products of livestock farming, chiefly hides and wool, have risen in
export value during the last few years, and may be reckoned as worth an
average of 35,000,000 pesos; vegetable products shipped out, with
cereals predominating, have varied lately between 14,000,000 and
42,000,000 pesos; manufactured foodstuffs (dried or frozen meat, sugar,
cheese, flour) have grown in value since 1914 from 7,000,000 to nearly
24,000,000 pesos; 1,000,000 pesos’ worth of wine is exported; some
pottery, glass and leather; and an increasing quantity of unworked
lumber. But none of the farming, metallic, forestal or manufactured
merchandise groups show signs of growing ability to equal nitrate in
export values. Fortunately, the world needs Chilean nitrate, and there
is no prospect of the rise of a rival which could meet the naturally
produced chemical in price if drastic and feasible cuts were made in
export taxes.
Disorganization of world markets since 1914 has affected the imports of
Chile not only as regards bulk but also origin of supplies. It will
probably not be possible for a judgment to be formed concerning the
trend of trade until after 1922, when the flow of commerce may have
resettled into regular channels. The general effect of the war years was
to send merchandise north and south instead of east and west: a big
increase occurred in the trade relations between North and South
America, while the stride in commerce between the different South
American nations was perhaps even more remarkable.
Intercourse amongst the sister nations has been delayed in the past by
lack of coastal shipping and international railways as much as by laws
of supply and demand. It has been frequently said that the different
Latin-American states have nothing to sell to each other because they
all produce the same class of goods, needing similar commodities only to
be obtained from the advanced manufacturing countries. The latter part
of the contention has a great deal more force than the first; South
America must buy certain classes of goods afield, but a careful scrutiny
of production lists brought to light, after 1914, many prime materials
that could be exchanged, the impetus given to a coastwise traffic
(_cabotaje_) along both Atlantic and Pacific Coasts proving the success
of the new efforts. Several Latin-American states own maritime lines,
but Chile and Brazil in particular aid the new inter-American trade
development with excellent steamship and sail services under national
flags.
Brazil doubled her sales to Chile between 1914 and 1919; Argentina
increased the value of her shipments from under 6,000,000 pesos (Chilean
gold, of eighteen pence each) in 1914 to 31,000,000 four years later;
Colombia and Costa Rica increased their sales of fine coffee (via
Panama); Ecuador sent more cocoa and Peru more fruit and sugar—Peru’s
sales, worth 14,000,000 pesos in pre-war years rising to over 32,000,000
in 1919. Mexico’s sales to Chile rose from a few thousand pesos in value
to over 7,000,000, during the last six years.
Chile at the same time made big increases in her own shipments to
Latin-American countries. Her sales to Argentina rose from 4,500,000 to
26,000,000 pesos at eighteen pence; to Bolivia, from 4,000,000 to
8,000,000; to Peru, from 3,000,000 to 18,000,000; to Mexico sales were
doubled during war years. In some cases, as those of Uruguay and Brazil,
there have been fluctuations so marked that no conclusions can be drawn:
but on the whole the stimulus to inter-American trade has been well
sustained.
With the United States a tremendous development of traffic took place.
Exports from Chile rose from 86,000,000 pesos in 1914 to 489,000,000 in
1918; at the same time Chile’s purchases from the United States,
totalling about 55,000,000 pesos in 1914, soared to more than
203,000,000 four years later. In the case of both exports and imports,
values were inflated and have not been sustained, although the
development of the North American mercantile marine since 1914 is likely
to promote a greater share of commerce with South America than was
normal before the conflict. It is interesting to note that despite the
huge expansion of North American trade with Latin America during war
years, inflation in all directions was so great that the proportion of
business done by the United States with South America remained the same
as it has been for a hundred years—5 per cent of the total exterior
commerce.
A remarkable series of changes has been experienced in the export lists
of Chile during her economic life. In early days one of the most
important exports appeared on shipping invoices as “Bezoar stones,”
those curious concretions, forming in the bodies of certain
vegetable-feeding animals, which were considered medicinally potent in
the Middle Ages. Faith in the Bezoar stone and supplies came from the
East to Europe, but after the discovery of the Americas it was found
that the llama and guanaco also formed the precious object, and trade
grew brisk.
Once upon a time Chile shipped the bulk of her copper to India, taking
Oriental cottons and other merchandise in exchange; this trade has long
been discontinued, although Hindu as well as Japanese retailers are
reviving business with Chile. Up to 1887 Chile was still exporting the
skins of vicuña, now vanished from her confines, and the beautiful
chinchilla, also practically extinct in Chilean uplands.
The trade with the eastern side of the Andes in Yerba Maté received a
blow when with Independence it was possible for freer commerce to offer
Indian and China teas to the former colonies of Spain; but the peasant
classes of Chile are still faithful to the maté and the bombilla, and a
decreased but steady import continues.
_Foreign Firms in Chile_
Commercial conditions upon the West Coast of South America are sharply
distinguished from those of the Atlantic and the Caribbean by the
establishment of a number of powerful firms doing both import and export
businesses, owning and operating factories, and possessing widely
extended branches.
Several of these houses are British, their foundation dating back to the
early days of Chilean independence more than a hundred years ago; much
of the mercantile enterprise, as well as the milling and nitrate
refining industry, is indebted to these companies for capital and
inspiration. With European alliances also is a strong North American
firm, interested in general business, factory development and nitrate,
and running a line of steamers between North and South America, while
still more recent newcomers are the important Jugo-Slav firms operating
all the way from Punta Arenas to Antofagasta, and rapidly increasing
their interests in nitrate and other extractive industries.
The largest of the British firms operates sixty branches or agencies
throughout Chile, and while importing machinery, tools and agricultural
implements, hardware, sacks, rice, coffee, etc., also buys and ships
country produce. Another house deals largely in textiles, and a third is
chiefly although not exclusively interested in the nitrate country,
where in addition to refining and exporting the _salitre_, the firm is a
big supplier of machinery, foodstuffs, and all supplies for the
town-camps in the nitrate fields.
These large houses do not secure a monopoly of business; side by side
are numbers of smaller local firms of various nationalities: but their
existence and system of operation is a salient fact in the foreign trade
of Chile. The repute of the majority of these strongly entrenched houses
stands high; their representatives are men of character and ability, and
the organizations have not only created and built up Chilean commerce in
the past, but are of great value today. Their services are never more
strikingly proved than in such times of stress as those of 1921, when
small and inexperienced firms broke under the storm that the big
organizations were able to meet with all the strength of long usage and
wide credit.
It is sometimes complained against this array of impregnable commercial
castles that their influence tends to render the West Coast a territory
offering but a cold welcome to the newcomer in trade. I have heard the
establishment of the heavy tax upon commercial travellers in Chile
charged against the suggestion of the big houses. But even if there is
foundation for these complaints, there is something to be said on the
other side—for instance, that the old-established firms, having sown for
several generations, are not likely to be enthusiastic when a brand-new
reaping hook makes an appearance. Thinking of their long cultivation of
the soil, big investment, and big overhead charges, they are apt to
regard the débutant travelling salesman as a raider, and are not
extraordinary in looking askance at comprehensive plans launched during
the last few years for direct selling to consumers by groups of home
manufacturers.
As a matter of fact Chile is not singular in levying a heavy tax upon
the commercial traveller, and its assessment may be regarded as partly
due to the pressing need of Latin America during recent years to
discover new sources of revenue. Few American countries have even
attempted to face the difficulties of the direct tax, and with their
chief source of revenue derived from import and export dues, are
affected immediately by every change in the commercial barometer. In
times of stress all possible founts are examined and in the course of
this search the foreign commercial traveller himself has come to be
regarded as amongst the imports. It is true that he is still rather a
necessity than an article of luxury, and it is recognition of this fact
that may help to account for the frequent evasion of payments of the
tax.
Chilean law requires travellers representing foreign firms to buy in
each province visited a _patente_ (licence) costing 1000 pesos; with the
paper peso at an exchange value of one shilling, this is equal to £50,
so that in order to traverse Chilean commercial towns from Valdivia to
Coquimbo the traveller would have to spend £400 or £500 on licences. The
consequence is that visits are either confined to a strictly limited
number of cities—perhaps, to Santiago and Valparaiso only—or an
arrangement is made by which the trade representative carries the
business card of a local house, and is thus not subject to taxation, or
rents an office in Valparaiso, pays the normal trading tax imposed on
all businesses, and operates freely from that central point. Chile does
not trouble the temporary visitor with the host of small charges and
restrictions that exhibit local ingenuity in many parts of South America
during the last few years, and which include prohibitions against the
entry of a typewriter except under a heavy tax; permits to depart from
the police or port captains; demands for new vaccination and other
medical certificates; inspection and re-stamping of passports; charges
upon samples and catalogues, and, worst trial of all, removal of baggage
to customs houses for leisurely future inspection. In Chile one is as
free of this bureaucracy as in England before the war.
From commercial rivalry, whether between different groups of foreigners
or between foreigners and the Chileans who have for the last twenty-five
years taken so vivacious an interest in trade, Chile in general is bound
to benefit. The effect of time tends to take retail business more
conspicuously than wholesale or big import and export trade from foreign
hands and into Chilean, not only on account of ability but because a
house beginning life as an exotic has often become Chilean through the
domestic ties of its founders. The children of an enterprising foreigner
who marries, as so many foreigners have done, a Chilean wife, are
generally Chilean-born and educated, and cling in later life to the
pleasant land of their birth; a rapid naturalization of blood and of
capital is one of the outstanding features of Chile’s economic history.
_Trade-marks_
The question of trade-marks in Chile is attended by the same
difficulties which merchants offering goods from manufacturing countries
encounter in many young lands where national rights in discoveries and
inventions present few home problems. Broadly, Chilean law gives rights
in a trade-mark to the first person registering the mark; and it is not
unusual for a foreign maker or agent, entering the country with some
special product for sale, to find that his emblem has been already
registered by some enterprising and unscrupulous person, who must be
bought out if any business is to be done by the original owner.
Litigation has raged about this matter, but the only safeguard consists
in speedy registration in Chile—and all other parts of the Americas
where no international convention is in force—of the trade-marks of any
article which is likely to be sent here for sale.
Chile has had a patent law since 1840, but that in force today was
decreed by Barros Luco in 1911; it is modelled upon similar laws in
other lands, but there is a time limit of two years within which the
patent must be “worked.” In practice, however, the patentee as a rule
obtains a ten-year extension of the term within which his rights are not
liable to forfeit in case no active use is made of them.
[Illustration: The Post Office, Santiago.]
[Illustration: Santiago, with the Snow-capped Andes in the Eastern
Distance.]
[Illustration: Subercaseaux Palace, Santiago.]
CHAPTER XI
TRANSPORT SYSTEMS
_Railroads.—The Transandine Line.—Sea Transport.—Rivers and
Lakes.—Roads._
Chile possesses 8600 kilometres or 5375 miles of railways, of state and
private ownership that, running throughout her main territorial length
north and south, and connected with the sea by a number of transverse
lines, serve her better than any other South American country is served.
The rule all over the continent is that the seaports are the chief
points where population is grouped and that from these ports railways
have been driven inland as pioneers opening new country. Many of the
regions thus served are immense, as a glance at the map shows; great
fans of steel rails spread from Buenos Aires, S. Paulo and Montevideo,
for example. But these lines were built to serve, and do almost
exclusively serve, the needs of special localities lying inland from a
coastal point, and only in a few instances are these regions
systematically linked to the rest of the country.
The construction of Chile’s great longitudinal services was forced upon
her, luckily, by the peculiar topographical form of this part of South
America. All the long folded ribbon of the Central Valley is a natural
highroad, and the railways follow very ancient trails.
From Tacna, in 18° of south latitude, lines run almost continuously to
Puerto Montt at the edge of the Gulf of Reloncaví in 41′ 50″ of south
latitude, a distance of about 1500 miles. From this great main artery of
traffic touching all the important producing regions of the Central
Valley, branches run west from thirty different points to the Pacific;
the length of these connecting links is short, averaging 30 to 50 miles.
To the east a number of small lines extend to serve mining or
agricultural regions, and three long arms have been flung across the
mountain barrier of the Andes. One of these, the Transandine line, forms
the only existing railway system connecting the Atlantic and Pacific
Coasts of South America, the distance from Valparaiso to Buenos Aires
totalling 1444 kilometres, or 896 miles, the journey taking two days.
The second line climbing the Andes is that extending from Antofagasta to
La Paz in Bolivia, 863 kilometres or 518 miles. The third also runs to
La Paz, from the former Peruvian port of Arica, a distance of 433
kilometres or 260 miles.
The policy of the Chilean Government as regards railways had its
beginning in 1852, when President Manual Montt inaugurated construction
of a line to unite Santiago and Valparaiso, a cart road built by Ambrose
O’Higgins then serving these two important and growing cities. In a
straight line the distance between Santiago and the port does not exceed
55 miles, but the coastal range rises in this region to unusual heights,
and in order to negotiate the crest a curve was made northward passing
by Limache, Quillota and Llai-Llai, the length totalling 187 kilometres,
inclusive of the section now forming a part of the great longitudinal
system. The first part of the line completed, between Valparaiso and
Viña del Mar, was opened to traffic in 1855; the extension to Limache,
in 1856; to Quillota, in 1857; construction of the San Pedro tunnel,
together with delays resulting from the revolutionary troubles of 1859,
held back completion of the extension to Calera until 1861; Llai-Llai
was reached in 1862, and the whole line opened to traffic through from
Valparaiso to Santiago in September, 1863. A new line is now planned to
follow a shorter route via Casablanca.
At the same time that this sea-to-capital link was commenced the
Government authorised the construction of a main line running south by a
private company, the Ferrocarril del Sur, while in the north a number of
railway enterprises were also undertaken by individuals or companies,
chiefly with the object of serving mineral regions. The majority of
these companies were capitalised in London, although the concessions
were in some cases obtained by American promoters such as Henry Meiggs,
afterwards well known in connection with Peruvian railroad building, and
the genial William Wheelwright. Hundreds of young British and American
engineers entered Chile at this period of early construction, while
native-born Chileans still lacked technical training, and scores of them
remained in the country permanently, settling and founding families. It
was a tremendous era of building which lacked coherence but nevertheless
was intelligent and forceful; every strip of line had its sound _raison
d’être_, served its immediate purpose, and not only marked an industrial
movement but remains today as a permanent contribution to the transport
needs of Chile.
Actually the first railway line to operate in Chile was the Copiapó line
running from that celebrated and then flourishing copper mining centre
to the little port of Caldera, 55 kilometres distant. Construction was
begun in 1850 and the line was opened to traffic in 1852, the Copiapó
railway thus achieving its place as the second oldest railroad in South
America. First place belongs to the Demarara line in British Guiana.
By the time that the Valparaiso-Santiago railway was completed the
southerly trunk line had been pushed as far as San Fernando, with
extensions surveyed to Curicó and Talca. Curicó was reached in 1867 and
was promptly sold by the private constructors to the Government of
Chile, already marking out its continued policy of state ownership of
transportation systems. Until about 1870, when both imported and native
coal began to come into use, the fuel burnt by the locomotives of the
central sections was Chilean wood, a circumstance which was material in
helping to destroy the woodland of Central Chile.
To the north, Carrizal had a mule tramway running thirty miles from the
copper mines to the sea; it was superseded in 1863 by a steam line. The
Coquimbo railway was begun in 1856, afterwards taken into the state
system but originally a mining line; as also was the Chañaral strip,
linking Pueblo Hundido, another of the early pioneers; the Tongoy
railway, begun in 1867, and running to Ovalle; the line connecting Vilos
and Illapel, and that joining Huasco and Vallenar.
By the year 1885 the Chilean Government owned 950 kilometres of railway,
while private companies owned 1254 kilometres. The result of the War of
the Pacific gave a spurt to extension of nitrate railways, several of
which had been begun in the great salitre regions, while the developing
industry brought public revenues to the Moneda, permitting the
acquisition or extension of state lines. Twelve years later the Chilean
Government was operating 2000 kilometres of railways, while private
owners operated about 2300 kilometres.
In 1910 the Government had extended its lines to Puerto Montt in the
south, and ran north to meet the nitrate railways, a gap remaining in
the latter section between Cabildo and Pintados, where the lines serving
the Tarapacá fields reached their farthest southern point. An
arrangement was reached for completion with two British syndicates. The
Government now controls over 4600 kilometres of line, while private
owners control about 4000 kilometres.
The state lines provide comfortable and cheap passenger transport,
carrying goods also at reasonable rates. Travel is an inexpensive
pleasure, the service is punctual, and equipment good. It is doubtful if
more exquisite scenery can be enjoyed anywhere in the world at a like
cost. But, like many richer and more experienced governments, that of
Chile consistently loses money on her national lines. Only during the
busy years of 1915, 1916 and 1917, when depleted steamship service sent
more traffic to the railways, did the state lines show a profit. Since
the Armistice, losses have been increased, 1919 ending with deficits
variously computed at 14,000,000 and 40,000,000 pesos.
Previous to 1918 the private lines always earned profits, but
disorganisation of the nitrate and copper industries, together with the
low rates sustained, caused considerable entries on the wrong side of
the ledger during 1918 and 1919.
With two exceptions the Government lines form a homogeneous network
extending north and south and flinging out arms to vital points. But
there are two isolated lines. One is the strip on the Island of Chiloé,
connecting Ancud with Castro, 98 kilometres long; the second is the
Arica to La Paz railway, 438 kilometres in length, joining this old
Peruvian port to the capital of Bolivia.
This line is of special political interest, besides presenting a fine
engineering feat—for it reaches an altitude of 13,000 feet above sea
level. Forty kilometres are on the rack system. The line was built in
accord with an agreement made with Bolivia after the War of the Pacific,
the same Treaty that deprived Bolivia of her coastal belt promising her
a new outlet to the sea as a seal of peace. The Arica-La Paz railway
cost £2,900,000, was opened to traffic in 1914, and the section
traversing Bolivian soil, 238 kilometres long, is to become the property
of Bolivia in 1928.
The private lines represent an investment of 238,000,000 pesos of
eighteen pence, or £16,800,000, as against the State’s capital
expenditure of 394,000,000 pesos, or £29,550,000. The most important
group of private lines are those serving the great nitrate pampas, and
the largest operators are the Antofagasta and Bolivia Railway Company.
The lines of this English system date their inauguration from 1873,
extend over 925 kilometres, of which 482 lie within Bolivian territory,
and carry traffic from Antofagasta to La Paz at the same time serving a
great nitrate area. Branches run to the salitre of Boquete, to
Chuquicamata, to Conchi Viejo and the Collahuasi mines, within Chilean
confines. Equipment and management upon this line, with its excellent
dining and sleeping cars, are of a high order; total capital invested,
£8,550,000. In addition to this system, the company has since 1916
operated the northern section of the Government’s longitudinal railway,
about 800 kilometres long. Next in importance of the private railways is
a network connecting the nitrate fields of Tarapacá with the ports of
Iquique and Pisagua, owned and operated by the Nitrate Railways Company
Ltd. (London). The first concession for building the line was obtained
in 1860, the total investment amounts to over £2,000,000, and the
company operates 578 miles of line, of 1.43 metres gauge. The services
rendered by this well-equipped line are best realised when the number of
nitrate oficinas utilising the railroad are added up and found to total
sixty-nine.
The Taltal Railway Company, Ltd., is another British line, operates 298
kilometres of track of 1.06 gauge, and links the salitre pampas of that
part of the Atacama desert lying within Antofagasta province with the
port of Taltal. The investment totals £1,050,000.
Also British is the railway connecting a large group of nitrate fields
with the port of Caleta Coloso, the Cia. del Ferrocarril de Aguas
Blancas, with 221 kilometres of track of 1 metre gauge; the network
belonging to the Compañia de Salitres y Ferrocarril de Junin, operating
89 kilometres of 0.76 gauge track and serving oficinas near the coast of
Tarapacá; the lines of the Cia. de Salitres y Ferrocarril de Agua Santa,
uniting nitrate works at Agua Santa, Negreiros and Huara with the port
of Caleta Buena, 109 kilometres; and the Anglo-Chilean Nitrate and
Railway Company, Ltd., linking the nitrate pampas of Toco with the port
of Tocopilla, 122 kilometres in length.
Also of British construction, capitalisation and operation is a short
line, dating from 1855, connecting the city of Tacna with the port of
Arica, 63 kilometres of 1.43 metre gauge track; and formerly British,
but sold in 1920 to the Lota Coal-mining Company is the railway
connecting the city of Concepción with the ports of Coronel and Lota and
with the flourishing coal mine of Curanilahue. The British owners were
the Arauco Company, Ltd., operating 103 kilometres of 1.68 metre gauge
track. The line from Los Sauces to Lebu, whose construction was
suspended during war years, is also a British enterprise.
Chilean capital and enterprise is responsible for several private lines,
as the Ferrocarril de Copiapó, whose first conception was due to Juan
Mouat of Valparaiso, in 1845. The original line connected Copiapó with
Caldera Port, 81 kilometres, but extensions were afterwards added to
Pabellón, and thence, after acquiring a mule tramway to the Chañarcillo
mines, to Chañarcillo, another ramification running northeast towards
the Argentine border but terminating at Puquios. The gauge of the line
is 1.43 metres, and the length 231 kilometres. Also Chilean is the
Ferrocarril de Carrizal y Cerro Blanco, uniting Carrizal Port to the
copper mines of Cerro Blanco, due east, with a southerly branch to
manganese deposits near Chañar Quemada and Astillas and another to the
copper mines of Jarilla, the line terminating at Merceditas. The line
with its branches has a gauge of 1.27 metres and a length of 184
kilometres.
The Ferrocarril del Llano de Maipo, running between Santiago and Puente
Alto, 22 kilometres, is Chilean; so also is the electric line between
Santiago and San Bernardo, 15 kilometres, and a similar link between
Concepción and Talcahuano, as well as the short railway connecting
Concepción and Penco. A new Chilean railway runs between Quintero Port
and Cousiño, while the lines serving coal regions of the south are
practically all Chilean today, but their length and direction is subject
to change according to need.
The Ferrocarril Transandino por Antuco is the beginning of an ambitious
Chilean project to cross the Andean barrier into Argentina at a
low-level pass. The line starts from the station of Monte Aguilar on the
state longitudinal railway, in the province of Concepción, runs almost
due east towards the volcano Antuco and Lake Laja, and has a present
extension of about 85 kilometres. It has a metre gauge track, will have
a length of 129 kilometres when it reaches the Argentine frontier, the
mountain pass which it is planned to traverse having a height of but
1862 metres above sea level, or not much more than 3000 feet. Within
sight of this pass the river Neuquen has its rise, and it has been
contemplated to follow its valley southeastward to connection with the
line running from Bahia Blanca.
A Chilean trading and cattle company with headquarters in Valdivia is
constructing a new southerly line, running eastward from the
longitudinal station of Collilelfu, about forty miles from Valdivia, to
Lake Riñihue: here a line of connecting steamers will carry passengers
farther to the east, and a second strip of railway will connect with the
lake of Pirihuaico, whose easterly point almost touches the Argentine
border. About 40 kilometres of this line is open to traffic.
Far south, running from Punta Arenas to the coal mines of Loreto, is
another small Chilean line of nine kilometres.
Of North American construction and operation is a 25 kilometre
ore-carrying line between Caleta Cruz Grande and the Tofo iron mines; a
narrow-gauge private line of 70 kilometres joining the copper mines of
El Teniente (Braden Copper Co.) to Rancagua town; and a link between
Pueblo Hundido and the copper beds of Potrerillos. German interests
(Gildemeister & Co.) constructed a small line, for the exclusive use of
a related copper mining company, from Challocollo to Cerro Gordo, in
Tarapacá, with an extension to La Granja, in 1897, 36 miles of
narrow-gauge track.
Investment in private lines (most of which are open to the public, but
are distinguished from the state-owned railways) is reckoned at a total
of 238,000,000 Chilean pesos of eighteen pence, divided amongst British
companies, 209,000,000 pesos; Chilean, 24,000,000; and North American,
5,000,000. The German investment of two or three millions does not
appear in statistics of Chile since 1916. The former German-operated
tramways of Santiago and Valparaiso have passed into British hands and
are now controlled by S. Pearson & Son, Ltd.
Three new Andes-crossing lines are contemplated in Chile. Two are
planned to the north of Santiago, the third to the south. The latter is
already in construction as part of the state system, running from Cajón
station, just above Temuco, through Cautín province eastwards. The
mountain barrier is here below 5000 feet in height, and negotiation of
the Andean section, plus extension to the Argentine line running west
from Bahia Blanca, presents no difficulties beyond that of finding
sufficient capital for construction. Chile’s eastward extension will
traverse the green fields of the Lonquimay Valley, crossing by the Pass
of Maullin Chileno.
To the north, one project indicates a line extending east from
Antofagasta through Boquete and Huitiquina on the Argentine frontier,
and joining with Argentine systems at Salta; another plans a railway to
continue the branch running out from Coquimbo along the Elqui Valley to
Algarrobal and Rivadavia. Crossing the Andes by the Tortolas pass, the
line would link with the Argentine system of Rioja province. Regarding
the two first-named lines, the Argentine and Chilean Governments have
agreed upon a close mutual policy, and work upon unified plans is being
rapidly advanced.
_The Transandine Line_
Railway lines crossing the South American continent are sometimes said
to be of less pressing importance since the opening of the Panama Canal
rendered the West Coast more readily accessible from the western
seaports of Europe and the eastern coasts of both North and South
America. It is true that certain overseas commerce is served by the
Panama route, exactly as it was encouraged when steam navigation made it
possible for seamen to face the Magellanic Strait without misgiving, yet
no one with knowledge of the internal needs of South America doubts the
necessity for strengthened transcontinental links. Canada, with
8,000,000 inhabitants, built two transcontinental railroads: South
America, with 75,000,000 people, has but one direct cross-country line
completed.
This single railway from sea to sea—connecting Santiago de Chile with
Buenos Aires by a two days’ journey of 900 miles—is a remarkable piece
of work, owing inspiration and accomplishment to the Anglo-Chilean
engineer brothers, Juan and Mateo Clark. It has been open to
international traffic as a through line since 1910, its operation
stimulating not only the commerce of Western Europe and Chile, but
aiding the development of brisk trade between Chile and Argentina. It
was a reopening of ancient paths. Before and to a lessened extent during
colonial times a score of passes over the Andes were in common use and
the interchange of persons and goods continuous. Following Independence
and the creation of sharp and sometimes jealous divisions between the
republics, the countries were separated as never previously; old
transcontinental trails were neglected. This neglect was increased by
the interest taken in South America by the rich countries of Europe, the
establishment of shipping lines to all the ports of the young
communities, and the stream of gold and people directed towards the
development of commerce and public services. For a century each South
American state turned its face to the sea, economically and
intellectually. The creation of the Transandine railway was the first
deliberate conquest of the Andean barrier between eastern and western
nations of the continent. A few miles of construction only are needed to
connect up Bolivian railways with the northerly Argentine system.
Ecuador is planning a link with the Amazonian headwaters to create a
route for merchandise similar to that of North Bolivia, with outlet at
Pará; but lack of population and production through vast interior
regions has acted as a deterrent against transcontinental plans even
more than engineering difficulties. These have been surmounted in South
America in a number of instances, the mountain-climbing lines of Brazil
on the east and of each of the four countries to the west offering
famous instances of response to industrial need. But without the sound
_raison d’être_ of Mendoza’s flourishing existence at the eastern foot
of the Andes the present Transandine line would have waited longer for
its creation.
Juan and Mateo Clark, planning the line, obtained a concession from the
Argentine Government in 1872, and from the Chilean in 1874. Money was
scarce and engineering problems many, so with a view to lightening the
burden the route was divided into four sections, and construction
performed by the group of corresponding companies. The longitudinal line
built by the Chilean Government already had run a branch from Llai-Llai
in an easterly direction towards the mountains, culminating in the
station of Los Andes at 2733 feet above sea level—the old Santa Rosa de
los Andes. This railway followed the ancient mule road towards Juncal
and the Uspallata pass en route for Mendoza and Buenos Aires, and the
eventual construction of the Chilean Transandine practically adopted the
same course from Los Andes to the Argentine frontier in the heights. But
this section, although but 70 kilometres in length, presented the worst
difficulties and was the last completed.[7]
Footnote 7:
On the Chilean side a rack system is employed for 23 kilometres; the
maximum grade is 8 per cent. On the Argentine Transandine the rack
system is employed for 14 kilometres, with grades nowhere reaching
more than 6½ per cent.
Three companies undertook construction of the strip between the
Argentine frontier and Buenos Aires, 1373 kilometres long. The mountain
section to Mendoza (2481 feet altitude) was built by the Argentine
Transandine Company; Mendoza to Villa Mercedes (with a branch running
north to San Juan, site of an ancient post-house), by the Argentine
Great Western Company; and Villa Mercedes to Buenos Aires by a company
subsequently called the Buenos Aires and Pacific Company. Money supplies
came from London, where the companies are domiciled.
The Villa Mercedes-Mendoza link of 356 kilometres was completed and
opened in 1886; the pampas-crossing section between Villa Mercedes and
Buenos Aires, 692 kilometres, in 1888. This was all plain sailing, but
serious difficulties were encountered in the mountain sections. Work
began on the Argentine side in 1887, and upon the Chilean in 1889; in
the latter case the indefatigable Clark brothers gave not only devoted
energy but their own funds, suspending operations in 1892, after 27
kilometres were built, when their capital was exhausted. A year later
part of the Argentine Transandine section was opened to traffic, but the
operation of completed lines on the east had the effect of diverting all
traffic from Mendoza to Buenos Aires instead of promoting international
commerce as had been contemplated.
In 1904 a new firm, the Transandine Construction Company, London
domiciled and financed, took over the Chilean section from the Clark
brothers and their creditors, and finally joined the Argentine
Transandine at the frontier station of Las Cuevas in 1910.
The old cart and mule road crossing the Cumbre rose to an altitude of
14,500 feet, and was, during the period of snow-storms, usually due
between April and October, shut to all but the hardiest travellers. To
obviate this ascent the builders of the Transandine drove a tunnel
through the head of the Andean barrier, at an altitude of 10,521 feet
above sea level; the tunnel “de la Cumbre” traverses a length of more
than 3000 metres, the two Transandine lines meeting within its length,
at an altitude of 10,515 feet. With greater capital to spend, the
Chilean Transandine constructors would have driven the tunnel through
the mountains at a level about 3000 feet lower to avoid the storms
raging about the higher regions, and ultimately this work will probably
be performed: but it entails construction of a tunnel four times the
length of that in existence.
Below the tunnel on the Chilean side the company shields the line with
strong snow sheds, but here again lack of sufficient capital prevents
the additions necessary if the line is to be safeguarded all the year
round; at present there is danger of enforced stoppage as soon as the
first heavy snows fall, blocking the line with twenty or thirty feet of
drift and avalanches. More than once traffic has been suspended for
three or four months.
[Illustration: On the Chilean Transandine Railway.]
[Illustration: Laguna del Portillo: near the Transandine line.]
[Illustration: Santa Rosa de Los Andes: Chilean Terminus of the
Transandine Railway.]
In spite of difficulties, however, the line has proved to be of immense
value to international traffic, has shortened the distance between West
European ports and Valparaiso by over 2000 miles as compared with the
Magellanic route, and 500 miles as compared with the Panama journey.
With the operation of the Panama Canal the route between New York or
Halifax and Valparaiso was shortened so much that it is a saving of time
for a traveller wishing to reach Buenos Aires from a North American
point on the eastern side to journey via the Canal and the Transandine.
Buenos Aires has also been brought into closer touch with the Orient and
Australasia, while Chilean towns are in quick communication with the
markets of Argentina, Uruguay and Brazil.
Brisker traffic in both passengers and merchandise will be developed
when unity in administration is in working order. But this has been long
delayed, owing to the troubles connected with construction days. In 1894
the Argentine Transandine, observing with misgiving the remote prospect
of completion of the Chilean link, formed an agreement by which the
Argentine Great Western operated the section open to traffic, this
arrangement being renewed in 1901 and 1905. In 1907, after some
skirmishing and the commencement of a competitive line to Mendoza, the
Buenos Aires and Pacific Company obtained control of the Argentine Great
Western, and at the same time of the agreement controlling the Argentine
Transandine, which line it guarantees from losses threatened by blocking
of traffic through snow. Thus for many years the Buenos Aires and
Pacific held the reins of all rail operations between the capital of the
Argentine and the frontier of Chile, and was frequently charged with so
arranging freight prices as to send all Mendoza traffic eastwards, while
discouraging commercial interchange between Chilean markets and the
prosperous Mendoza vicinity. The Chilean Transandine constantly pressed
for a revision of management, proposing that the Argentine Transandine
should be separated from the Buenos Aires and Pacific and united with
the Chilean mountain-climbing link, so that a single administration
should operate the line between Los Andes and Mendoza, the terms of the
lease held by the Buenos Aires & Pacific Line allowing of cancellation
at twelve months’ notice.
Chilean and Argentine public opinion agreed upon the matter, the help of
the two Governments was enlisted, special meetings held under the
auspices of the Sub-Committee on Railway Transport of the Pan-American
Conference held in Buenos Aires in 1916, an International Commission
appointed to arbitrate upon goods rates between the two countries, in
1917, and a draft proposition approved in early 1918 between the
diplomatic representatives of Argentina and Chile in London, acting in
consultation with the directorates of the two Transandine companies.
Chile agreed in August of 1918, and, in amicable agreement, the
Government of Argentina, in December, 1919, accepted the proposal in
principle; arrangements were made by which the new contracts with the
Transandine lines should be simultaneously discussed in the Congresses
of both countries. In early 1922 agreements were complete, details of
unification of the railways was decided, provision made for new
financing of the improved system, and tentative arrangements outlined
with a view to new and liberal tariffs between the two countries,
tending to encourage traffic not only via Mendoza, but also between
North Chile and the Salta region, as well as between South Chile and
Eastern Patagonia when the projected new Transandine links are
completed.
_Sea Transport_
As regards sea transport Chile is in an enviable situation with her
immense coastline giving speedy access to all inhabited parts of her
territory. It is true that with a few exceptions, of which Talcahuano is
the most notable, Chilean ports are little more than open roadsteads,
exposed both to the southwesterly gales and to the dreaded “northers”;
but modern engineering is doing much to solve the problem of safe havens
where visiting vessels may anchor in safety. The same difficulty applies
to almost the whole of the South American West Coast, and for centuries
sailing vessels feared the region; during Spanish colonial times it was
so common a thing for a ship to spend from six to twelve months on the
passage between Callao and South Chile that when Captain Juan Fernández,
running out southwest for a thousand miles, and afterwards turning
almost due east for Chilean ports, managed to avoid the cruel coastal
gales and made the passage in thirty days, he was haled before the
Inquisition as a wizard. The Inquisitors, however, after careful
examination of the captain’s papers, set him free, applauding his
sagacity. From that day the group of islands named to commemorate the
navigator’s skill became the beacon for vessels sailing to Valparaiso
from the North, although ships returning to Peru still hugged the coast.
It is not uncommon for sailing vessels to be wrecked off the difficult
southerly coast, with its innumerable indentations and furious storms,
but the worst year of the present century was 1911, when 37 steamers as
well as, by a strange coincidence, an exactly equal number of sailing
ships, were cast away off Chile. That was a year of exceptional storms,
but out of 32 years between 1887 and 1919, only seven passed without a
record of wrecks; it is to the credit of the excellent surveying and
charting work of the Hydrographic Department of the Chilean Navy that
the path of the navigator has been rendered plainer, while the Chilean
Government has in hand a series of plans for the better protection of
ports—lacking only the financial sinews of war against wind and tide.
Of Chile’s fifty-four ports of major and minor importance, perhaps
thirty are visited by international shipping. But of these only about
fifteen display brisk commerce. Arica, visited by 400 foreign ships
annually and over 300 Chilean vessels, connects directly with Bolivia;
Pisagua, Junin, Caleta Buena, Iquique, Tocopilla, Mejillones and its
younger sister Antofagasta, Coloso and Taltal, are nitrate ports,
bustling when nitrate markets prosper and almost idle during the most
depressed period of 1921. The copper ports of Chañaral, Caldera and
Carrizal Bajo have suffered more than Coquimbo, with fruit and other
farm exports to add to her diminished list of minerals. Valparaiso,
chief port of Chile, receives about one thousand national and three
hundred foreign ships yearly, one-third of the whole exports entering
here, although Antofagasta and Iquique are the big exporters. In normal
years, Valparaiso receives 1,400,000 tons of cargo, of which nearly half
is coal. Farther south, Talcahuano, the chief naval base and the port
for flourishing Concepción, receives about 400 vessels annually;
Coronel, exporting and bunkering Chilean coal, receives about 700;
Corral, the port for Valdivia, is visited by some 200 ships yearly; and
Punta Arenas in the Strait of Magellan, does business with twelve
hundred Chilean and about one hundred and thirty foreign vessels each
year.
[Illustration: Coquimbo, the “Capital of North Chile.”]
[Illustration: Ancud, the Port of Chiloé Island.]
[Illustration: Zapallar, a beautiful Chilean Watering Place.]
These ports will probably continue to be the great outlets for Chile’s
most thriving regions, but they are insufficient to serve the needs of a
long list of growing districts, and in spite of much good planning are
still inadequately equipped for the increasing work required. A special
Government Commission, lately considering the question of more sea
gateways, has decided that forty or so of the points along the Chilean
coast should be improved for the reception of international shipping.
The Commission’s recommendations necessitate the expenditure of at least
six million pounds sterling, or let us say the whole of the taxes upon
nitrate exports during one prosperous year. The sum will in all
probability be raised, according to need, year by year, by means of
exterior loans.
According to the projects, Valparaiso will be allotted a further million
and a half pounds; Valdivia, Lebu, Talcahuano and Constitución, about
one million each; Puerto Montt, a preliminary £150,000; Tomé (at the
north of Concepción Bay) and Pichilemu, £40,000 each; with smaller sums
for Iquique and Puerto Saavedra (Imperial Bajo).
Valparaiso port works have been since 1912 in the hands of a British
engineering firm, and have given a good deal of trouble, storms more
than once undoing part of the construction work; in the early months of
1922 there were completed two quays totalling 840 metres in length, a
breakwater of 288 metres, and a coal wharf 200 metres long by 30 metres
wide; work upon the mooring jetty, the extension of the old Fiscal Mole
(dating from 1883, and the only means for transferring passengers and
cargo until the new quays were constructed), the Prat Quay, warehouses
and railway is also well advanced, in spite of long delays caused by the
European War. There is plenty of water—in fact, too much for facile
construction of jetties or breakwaters, the bottom shelving rapidly from
39 feet at the mooring jetty, and offering, less than 200 feet from
shore, nothing but mud as foundation. In consequence, the outer section
of the breakwater cost £560 per linear foot to build. Since 1906
Valparaiso has suffered from no serious earthquake, but slight shocks
are not infrequent and must be taken into consideration in the case of
construction in the sea as well as upon the land. Rise and fall of the
tide at Valparaiso does not exceed three feet.
The Nitrate Ports have earned more money than any other points of
outflow for Chilean products, but safe, adequate modern havens for
shipping are not to be created in a day or even in a decade; and the
same difficulties of the open roadstead and prevailing winds have
delayed the completion of adequate facilities even at that busy
commercial stronghold, Antofagasta. Comprehensive plans are, however, in
course of development, and work has only been delayed by the depression
of 1921.
Port improvements at Talcahuano are being carried out by a French
company, and the main work is unlikely to be completed for a few years,
although it has been attacked. Talcahuano lies within the deeply
indented Bay of Concepción, the best naturally-protected haven upon the
West Coast, and is further shielded from the effects of northerly winds
by the pretty island of Quiriquina, once a rendezvous for pirates, and
during the War the place of internment for several hundred Germans,
including sailors from the _Dresden_. Talcahuano possesses a floating
dock and equipment as the first naval base of Chile, and when the
present plans have been developed this port will be one of the best in
South America.
The creation of a secure port at the mouth of the fine river Imperial,
Puerto Saavedra, will be comparatively easy when the projected cut is
made from Budi Bay through a sandy bank into the river, safe from all
storms. From this point the stream is to be dredged for 20 miles up to
the town of Carahue, where a branch railway connects with Temuco and the
Longitudinal system. Another important dredging work is projected along
the stream of the Valdivia from Corral port. This haven of old
foundation, nestling under its cliffs, has been for centuries of
necessity the stopping-place for vessels with cargo and passengers for
Valdivia City, twelve miles inland, all traffic being transshipped up
river by small steamers, barges, etc. By the new plans a channel will be
deepened to permit the passage of ocean-going steamers to the
beautifully placed riverine city, whence rail connection opens the most
fertile agricultural country, immense forestal zones and a large
coal-mining region.
At pretty Constitución, where the dangerous bar is so much dreaded that
its condition is always signalled to vessels before they venture to
approach, plans include the dredging of a channel and construction of
breakwaters to prevent silting-up.
Puerto Montt, at the end of the Longitudinal, and lying within the Gulf
of Reloncaví, is a recent creation whose equipment as a port receiving
international vessels is still only on paper; this Llanquihue region,
with its lumber and sheep industries, is fast developing, and will
invite a great deal of tourist traffic when its transport facilities are
equal to its glorious scenery. Port construction problems are chiefly
due to the 25-foot rise and fall of the tide. At Punta Arenas, another
new port of remarkably rapid and vigorous growth, vessels are still
obliged to lie out in the Strait while cargo and passengers are
transferred by lighters and small boats, but the steady prosperity of
this zone as well as its position as a port of call for international
steamers render imperative the creation of modern port facilities.
_Rivers and Lakes_
Chile has one hundred and twenty rivers, but can count no more than five
hundred miles as navigable. This navigability is again limited to small
vessels only, to which another five hundred miles of lake waterways are
also open; motor boats and canoes are able to traverse another four
hundred or so of rivers, but these are frequently broken by cascades and
falls.
In pre-Spanish times the lakes and rivers of Chile leading towards the
Andes undoubtedly served as channels for Indian traffic; the Rio Blanco,
Juncal and Aconcagua led towards the mountains into what is today
Argentine territory from the populous Central region of Chile, while the
lower passes were crossed to the south by way of many river valleys and
by such lakes as Llanquihue and Todos los Santos, a short strip only
intervening between the latter beautiful water and the lovely Nahuel
Huapi in East Patagonia. During colonial times, with the depopulation of
the wilder country and the concentration of towns upon the seaboard,
this traffic diminished and commercial exchange was limited to ocean
transport, with, however, an increasing intercourse with Argentina when
the then Chilean provinces of Mendoza, San Luis and San Juan developed
trade with the new colonies of Buenos Aires. But below Chiloé the
territory remained unknown, and it has only been within recent years
that the southern lakes have been visited and surveyed.
[Illustration: Taltal, a Nitrate Port of North Chile.]
[Illustration: Puerto Corral, the Port of Valdivia, South Chile.]
As to the rivers during colonial times, if they were not treated with
equal neglect, their capricious ways were permitted to absolve them from
any great usefulness, and it has only been within the last twenty years
that serious studies have been made with a view to restraining,
preserving and freeing the torrential streams characteristic of the
short, steep slope of Chile. All Chilean rivers are snow-fed, and are
extraordinarily and violently augmented when the Andean snows melt; the
northern floods are more uncontrolled than those of the south, tearing
down from greater heights through open country where nothing but,
eventually, heat and sand offer a check. Many disappear in the desert
while still far away from the sea. The southerly rivers, flowing from
lesser heights and passing through long forestal areas, are more
constant in volume. It is only below Lebu, in 38 degrees of south
latitude, that any Chilean river becomes even nominally “navigable,”
with the sole exception of a dozen miles of the Rapel.
Nevertheless, the longest Chilean river is in the north, flowing across
Chile’s widest province, Antofagasta; this is the Loa, fertilising oases
in the desert and sheltering little groups of people today just as it
offered a livelihood to indigenous folk in pre-Spanish days. The Loa,
sometimes called the Calama, is three hundred miles long, but for half
the year is not more than a thread at the bottom of a wide gully. Its
nearest northerly rival is the Copiapó, about 170 miles, watering
fruitful valleys like the capricious but equally invaluable streams the
Huasco, Elqui, Hurtado, Limari and Petorca. A succession of rivers in
the Central Region are untamed floods in the rainy season—the Aconcagua,
Juncal, Blanco, Volcán, Colorado, Maipo, Mapocho, Cachapoal and
Rapel—none more than 125 miles long. Three or four of these rivers will
be harnessed in the near future to yield hydro-electric force. Below to
the southward, the Mataquito, the Maule of ancient fame, the Itata and
the exquisite Bio-Bio are all outside the navigable list, and the latter
is distinguished by its exceptional length of about 200 miles as well as
its beauty.
First among navigable rivers as one goes from north to south is the fine
Imperial, with a watershed of about five thousand square miles, and a
length of one hundred miles; it has a magnificent and constant flow, but
only fifteen miles are navigable. The Toltén owns six navigable miles;
the Valdivia, 125 for small boats and about 25 for larger craft; the
Bueno is in a different category, for, with a length of not much more
than one hundred miles, it has about 50 miles of navigable channel. The
Bueno, in fact, is the outflow of two lovely lakes, Ranco and Maihue,
and discharges 600 cubic metres of water per second, a flow second to
none among Chilean rivers.
Still farther southward, the Maullín has thirty navigable miles; the
Palena about twenty; the Aysen, no more than twelve. And next comes that
fine and little-known river the Baker, whose length is said to be equal
to that of the Loa in the far north, about two hundred and eighty miles,
of which nearly fifty are navigable. Outside that list are the Bravo,
Pascua and Serrano, except for the canoes of the south-dwelling Indians.
Of Chilean lakes, Llanquihue is the largest, with a superficial area of
1400 square miles; its great depth, averaging 360 feet near the shore,
suggests that this is the crater of an old volcano. Skirted by the south
end of the Longitudinal railway, Llanquihue counts several ports, with
Varas as the oldest-established and the largest. This lake, with its
near companion, Todos los Santos, is traversed by Chilean steamers; and
there is regular traffic upon Riñihue and Ranco. The former lake is
reached by rail to Los Lagos station, horses taking travellers thence to
the edge of Riñihue, about 25 miles; a wild but glorious stretch of
typical Chilean woodland, clothing the sides of a lovely valley, lies
between Riñihue and Ranco, with its brilliant turquoise blue waters, and
abrupt sides covered with ferns, foxgloves, fuchsias and a close growth
of trees of bright green foliage. Small steamers cross the lake to
Llifen, where there are famous curative sulphur baths.
From Puerto Montt southward is a long series of fiords, islands,
indentations and inland channels whose intricacy and extent are
unequalled even by the famous fiords of Norway. For natural beauty the
Norwegian complex cannot compare with that of Chile, for no woodland
exists in Europe that rivals the pathless, luxuriant, flower-hung
forests of Chiloé Island, the Andean spurs of Western Patagonia, the
broken archipelago of Chonos, and the noble mountains of the Strait of
Magellan. Rich ferns and flowering shrubs, wild bamboo and pines and
beeches, reach to the water’s edge. Through the thousand miles of this
complicated chain of inlets and islands between Puerto Montt and Punta
Arenas runs an almost continuous channel, continuation of the long
depression which creates the deep fold of the great Chilean central
valley. Steamers seeking sheltered waters from the Strait of Magellan
northward need not emerge into the open Pacific, but turn north by Smyth
Channel and run inside the barrier formed by Hanover and Wellington
Islands. But at the Gulf of Peñas vessels are forced out to the
turbulent ocean, a thin strip of land barring the way to the calmer
waters of the Moraleda Canal. Chilean engineers have long projected a
cut through this Ofqui bar, joining the mainland to Taitao peninsula;
for it is only 7000 feet wide; no doubt this necessary help to
navigation will be given before long. With this opening effected, small
vessels will be able to pass from Puerto Montt to Punta Arenas and
Tierra del Fuego by a sheltered waterway, passing great forests,
majestic glaciers, frowning snow-capped mountains, stark headlands and a
thousand inlets and islands, a long panorama of splendid beauty.
Vessels of all nations visit Chile, Australasia and Japan sending
regular lines to compete with the shipping of Europe, North America and
Chile’s sister South American republics, the total tonnage of visiting
ships amounting on an average to over twelve million, of which less than
five hundred thousand tons represent sailing vessels. Sea transport on
the Chilean coast has undergone an immense transformation since Cochrane
brought the first steamer ever seen upon the West Coast, the little
_Rising Star_, in 1818. Traffic from North America and Europe comes
today in a considerable proportion through the Panama Canal, but the
next few years will probably witness a development of tourist traffic
through the Magellanic waterway and to such beautiful Chilean islands as
Juan Fernández, with its romantic history and wild beauty—undiminished
by the local lobster “factory” supplying the tables of Valparaiso and
Santiago.
Chile herself performs a fair share of maritime service. About one
hundred large and small steamers fly the Chilean flag, with about 35
sailing vessels chiefly engaged in fishing and the transport of coal and
lumber, the total representing some 75,000 tons. Over 40 per cent of
“maritime movement” of Chilean ports is recorded by Chilean vessels, and
strong support of national traffic was afforded in early 1922 by the
passage of a new law restricting coastwise trade to ships registered in
Chile.
The largest and most important of Chilean steamship companies is the
Compañia Sud Americana de Vapores, Government-supported, with
headoffices in Valparaiso, operating a fine and excellently-equipped
fleet of ten vessels serving Chilean and Peruvian ports, and, since the
War, extending its international service through the Panama Canal to New
York and European ports. Two new vessels of 7000 tons each were added in
1922 to the company’s fleet: the _Aconcagua_ and her sister ship were
built at Greenock, and bring the Sud Americana’s first-class passenger
service to a high standard.
_Roads_
Chilean highways, placed though they are in scenery so lovely that the
traveller’s eyes are directed to mountains and tall trees rather than to
the morass at his feet, need the improvement projected by the Road Law
of 1920, arranging for special taxes to be devoted to the construction
and upkeep of first-class country roads.
Reasons for the long neglect of this means of transport include the fact
that farmers and countryfolk in Chile commonly ride horseback—this is a
land of good horsemen and well-trained animals—and the condition of the
surface if not a matter of indifference is of less concern than if
vehicles were more common. Next, country produce has been in the past,
and in many regions is yet, brought from the farms by heavy ox-carts,
pulled by teams for whose convenience, again, a smooth surface is not
considered a necessity. The third reason, which perhaps should have
foremost place, is the nature of a great part of the Chilean soil.
As soon as one enters the Central Valley of Chile, one recognises a
characteristic of the Pacific Coast, the fertile and extremely fine
soil, as light as face-powder, with its slightly pungent scent. Much of
this soil is volcanic ash, with a mixture of vegetable detritus; it is
extraordinarily fertile, with almost every virtue in the eyes of the
farmer, and undoubtedly this genial soil produces the best food in the
world. But it is difficult to reduce fine dust to the consistency of a
road with a surface hard enough to resist the disintegrating effects of
an eight-months’ drought, followed by tremendous and violent rains.
Between the double row of blackberry hedges, backed by lines of poplars,
a typical road of Central Chile is a deep trough of shifting, floating
dust in the dry season, and a swamp after the rains set in. Once upon a
day in May the writer with a party of friends tried to reach Los Andes
from Santiago in a motor-car: the Chilean chauffeur and the car both did
their excellent best, but a mile or two outside the capital the highway
became a sea of mud, and we finally gave it up when the car skidded upon
the top of the Chacabuco Pass. During the fifty or sixty miles traversed
before we reached a railway station, the only strip of really hard
foundation for the wheels was encountered when we ran in the gravelly
bed of a shallow stream.
This test, however, was not quite fair to Chilean roads; the season and
the route were not chosen with discretion. For even in Central Chile
there are well-made, wide roads, a few hundred miles in each province,
over which motors may pass. The coming of the automobile renders the
creation of better highways an urgent necessity, in fact, the motor
lorry promising a means for getting farm produce to market that is badly
needed in the developing districts.
Antofagasta, with its hard-surfaced nitrate fields, owns about six
hundred miles of first-class roads; a record equalled only by the big
Territory of Magellanes in the far south, where the sheep-farmers of the
newly developed estates have made roads across Western Patagonia. In
each of these two regions the climate, although in the North almost
unbrokenly dry and in the South almost unbrokenly humid, is equable,
lacking the sharp and destructive changes of the Central region. It must
be owned, however, that the proportion of roads to area in great
southern territory is one mile in length to each fifty square miles of
land.
Altogether, Chile is officially stated to have between six and seven
thousand miles of highway in first-class condition, with Coquimbo,
Atacama, Aconcagua, Santiago and Tarapacá following the two provinces
named above in length of highways in good condition. The new law aims at
putting another six thousand miles of road into the same category within
the next few years, out of the total of all classes reaching a mileage
of nearly twenty thousand.
CHAPTER XII
FINANCE
_Conversion Fund.—Currency.—Debts.—Public Revenues._
When the war in Europe broke out Chile was on the point of establishing
a Conversion Office upon lines similar to those followed by Argentina
and Brazil. The object was fixation of the exchange value of paper
currency by the creation of strong gold reserves, and under normal
circumstances Chile’s office would have begun its work in 1915. It has
not been possible, up to the end of 1922, to open the “Caja de
Conversión,” although funds are maintained on deposit with this purpose
in view in Chile, England and, upon a much smaller scale, in the United
States. Funds amounting to over 30,000,000 pesos of eighteen pence were
also lying in Germany when war broke out, but these were, by special
arrangements with the Allies, withdrawn during war years.
The total amount in the Conversion Fund in 1914 was over 108,000,000
pesos of eighteen pence. Of this less than 4,000,000 was held in Chile,
and more than 74,000,000 in the Bank of England, besides the deposit in
Germany. The reserve was increased during the following year, standing
at 111,000,000 pesos at the end of 1915, or about £8,300,000, but was
reduced to 88,000,000 in the following year when the National Congress
authorised the utilisation of £2,000,000. This money was drawn upon to
pay off Treasury Bills issued in conformity with the decree of January,
1914, for the purchase of vessels for the Chilean Navy and the
construction of port works, but has been gradually replaced until in
1919 the total Fund amounted to over 114,000,000 pesos, of which
67,000,000 were banked in Chile and the remainder in England. At the
beginning of 1921 Chile possessed £2,300,000 on deposit in the Bank of
England, or nearly 31,000,000 pesos of eighteen pence; and to the credit
of the Conversion Fund in the Casa de Moneda in Santiago had bar gold,
$400,000 United States gold money, £78,845 of English money, and other
specie, amounting in all to nearly 84,000,000 of pesos.
The withdrawal of funds from the Conversion reserves for special
purposes was not unprecedented. Three years after the inauguration of
the Fund in 1899 (when it was hoped to begin conversion operations in
ten years’ time) 20,000,000 pesos were used for military expenditure,
this sum being practically replaced in 1904 by proceeds of the sale of
certain old cruisers.
Gallant efforts made to bring up the Fund to a point justifying the
opening of the Conversion Office have been rendered abortive by the hard
times of late 1920 continued throughout 1921, but the intention of
Chile’s financial advisers is maintained and appears only to await the
accumulation of sufficient gold.
At the same time the fact that credit and not gold is the true basis of
economic prosperity has been forcibly impressed upon South America since
1914. Countries possessing big reserves of gold have been observed to
suffer from depreciation of their paper currency, and, what is worse
than depreciation, from constant fluctuation in every economic breeze,
despite all the efforts of experienced financial experts; and on the
other hand countries which were able to trade advantageously during the
war and thus to pile up immense stocks of the precious metal have been
seen to experience a demoralising paralysis of their markets—to be
choked with their own gold.
The fact that those countries whose fiduciary issues have sunk to an
apparently ruinous level are on that very account able to export their
merchandise with profit, taking payments in comparatively valuable
currencies and paying their way at home in depreciated paper, is
illuminated by the lesson of the territories with currency maintained at
a high exchange rate by gold backing, which are unable to find buyers of
their products because no outsider can afford to pay the exaggerated
rates of exchange. However, exporters are not the only persons to be
considered, and the general uncertainty of commerce, together with the
natural timidity of foreign capital when invited to lands with
persistently variable currencies, will undoubtedly act as an incentive
towards establishment of the Conversion Office in Chile.
_Currency_
Exchange values of Chilean currency, as well as several other forms of
financial statistics, are officially given in sterling, the use of
English monetary terms resulting from the establishment of financial and
commercial relations with the United Kingdom in the earliest days of
Independence, and from the fact that Chile’s first exterior loan was
obtained from London. The “gold peso” is fixed in exchange value at
eighteen pence, while the paper peso reflects economic conditions from
day to day.
Since 1871 the average value of the Chilean peso in comparison with
sterling has fluctuated from just over forty-six pence in 1872 to seven
pence in the worst days of 1915 and a drop to nearly sixpence in the
slump of 1921–2. For the last fifty years the exchange value has tended
to decrease, due chiefly to repeated issues of the paper money which
replaced the gold and silver coinage of the Spanish colonial régime,
when a peso was worth (1800) the equivalent of four English shillings.
The creation of paper money was, however, unavoidable in the
circumstances, and so long as a country possesses a sufficient quantity
of some recognised form of currency, the material of which it is
composed is not a matter of local importance, although exchange values
may be grievously affected.
All the gold minted into Chilean money has disappeared from circulation,
the finely designed little coins being retained only as curios or
mementos since 1875, when severe depreciation of silver values rendered
gold higher priced as bullion than as currency. The gold peso is today
no more than a financial term. Officially, gold coin has an existence,
as the condor, of 20 pesos; the doblón, of 10; and the escudo, of 5, but
the currency actually in use is paper, well printed, in denominations
from one peso upwards, with silver coins of 1 peso, 20, 10 and 5
centavos, and nickel coins of 20, 10 and 5 centavos. From more than one
country of the Americas, silver has disappeared entirely when the
depreciation of paper has borne down the purchasing power of the peso or
other unit to a point below the market price of the metal, but Chile has
so far escaped this denudation in difficult times. At the beginning of
the present century the value of the Chilean peso stood at 15 to 16
pence until 1906, when the tragic effects of the earthquake that
temporarily destroyed Valparaiso reduced credit.
Between 1907 and 1914 it fluctuated about ten pence, went down to an
average of eight pence during 1915, rose to nine pence in 1916 when
demands for nitrate increased, to about thirteen pence in 1917 and
nearly fifteen pence as the average in 1918; in June of 1918 the peso
soared to an exchange value of over seventeen pence, but dropped quickly
when the Central Powers signed the Armistice. During 1919 the average
remained at about eleven pence, rose to over fifteen pence during the
early part of 1920, and subsequently experienced the falls that
disturbed the Chilean market in 1921, when the peso touched an exchange
value of between six and seven pence.
Despite, or perhaps on account of, the wealth of Chile in copper ores,
no coins made of this metal are actually in use, although they make an
appearance in official records. The reason for this abstention is found
in popular prejudice against a commonly known metal. During the
sixteenth century an attempt was made to introduce copper coinage, a
large quantity of the metal was minted in Santiago, and the objections
of the peasantry were so strong that more than a million piastres’ worth
of the coins were buried or thrown into the rivers in contempt.
Employés in most of the nitrate fields receive at least a proportion of
their wages in special token-money, distributed by various companies
with the chief object of circumventing the underground liquor traffic.
These large discs, specially tinted, and stamped with the name of the
issuing oficina, pass as currency in camp stores and upon the contiguous
railroads, but are without more than curio values outside the nitrate
areas. Such tokens help to relieve the need for quantities of small
money, for Chile, like every other land with a paper currency making
conscientious efforts to reduce inflation, is perennially short of
change in industrial regions.
Chile has in circulation about 4,000,000 pesos in silver coinage, and a
Government note issue of 150,000,000 pesos, which on the basis of
eighteen pence to the gold peso is covered to the extent of 75 per cent
by the Conversion Fund; at twelve pence, the issue is fully covered. But
there is other paper outstanding—treasury “vales,” to the amount issued
to banks and nitrate producers, totalling at the beginning of 1921 about
107,000,000 pesos, as well as 45,000,000 pesos in round numbers, issued
against the gold guarantee. The total paper currency of Chile is
therefore over 300,000,000 pesos, or 75 pesos to each inhabitant, with
one peso of silver and with a quantity of nickel: let us say, about four
pounds sterling, or $20 U. S. currency.
No one is more acutely aware of the dangers of inflation than Chileans,
a people with a marked aptitude for finance. That fine journalist and
courageous editor, Carlos Silva Vildósola of the _Mercurio_, has
repeatedly drawn public attention to important aspects of the monetary
situation, and has declared that Chile is “desperately ill of the
disease of paper money”; a comprehensive study of fiduciary issues has
also been made by Dr. Guillermo Subercaseaux, a Chilean economic expert,
and one of the planks of the Alessandri platform was a promise to
proceed with the fixation of exchange, “so that we can know what we
really possess, and how much we can buy tomorrow with the money we
earned yesterday.”
_Debts_
Chile’s public debt was augmented in early 1921 when $24,000,000 United
States currency was borrowed in New York, but prior to this loan the
exterior obligations of the country had not been heavy in comparison
with its vigorous economic growth; later in the year, another
$20,000,000 (U. S.) was borrowed in New York, and in the first weeks of
1922 the financial markets of London readily took up a Chilean loan of
£1,657,000.
The first Chilean loan was made in 1822, after Independence, by the
Supreme Director, Don Bernardo O’Higgins, through his representative in
London, Don Antonio de Yrisarri. One million pounds sterling was
obtained through the medium of Hullett Bros. & Co., the loan bearing
interest at six per cent; a Sinking Fund of £20,000 the first year, and
£10,000 in succeeding years was arranged for, any bonds remaining
unredeemed in thirty years to be paid off at par. The security agreed
upon was a mortgage upon all revenues of the State, estimated at
4,000,000 pesos or £800,000 annually; also specially pledged were the
net revenues from the Mint and from the Diezmos or Land Tax, expected to
yield 250,000 pesos annually.
Of this premier loan Peru had a share amounting to three-tenths of the
total, or 1,500,000 pesos.
Successive borrowings brought Chile’s exterior debt to £1,500,000 in
round numbers by 1850, and £5,500,000 by 1870. Between 1876 and 1893,
when the war with Peru and Bolivia had been followed by the revolution
against Balmaceda, these obligations rose to nearly £12,000,000
sterling. In 1901 the account had mounted to £17,000,000, and to
£23,000,000 in 1909.
Two years later external loans stood at £35,000,000, but were reduced to
about £34,000,000 in 1913; by the middle of 1921, according to the
Official Message of President Alessandri, this debt had been brought
down to about £28,000,000. The detailed history of Chile’s financial
years since 1884 shows new loans, although as a rule of extremely
moderate sums, occurring almost annually with the exception of a gap of
eight years between 1896 and 1905, when not a penny was borrowed; nor
was any fresh exterior debt incurred between 1912 and 1921. Most of the
Chilean loans bore the modest interest of 4½ per cent.
In 1919 Chile began to negotiate for a new loan, to cover the needs of
the State railways; there was a deficit of 40,000,000 pesos upon the
operation of these lines in 1918, and in addition to another large
deficit, expected in 1919, money was wanted for supplies and equipment
for new work upon the lines, and especially for construction on the
southern part of the “Red Central.” The law passed by the National
Congress authorising the loan also permitted the State railroads to
raise tariffs by 20 per cent. Eventually, in February, 1921, the first
New York loan was made through the agency of the Guaranty Trust for
$24,000,000 United States currency; it bears interest at 8 per cent, and
was issued at 99, a considerable proportion of the sum raised being
spent by arrangement in the United States.
_Public Revenues_
Public revenues in Chile are large in proportion to the population, the
great bulk of the national income coming from import and export dues
and, since the acquisition of Antofagasta and Tarapacá, especially from
the nitrate industry, in the form of exportation taxes, and leases of
deposits, as well as less directly from the entry of immense quantities
of machinery, stores and personnel. In considering the statistics of
Chilean revenues, it must be remembered that taxes are partly paid in
“paper” and partly in “gold”; no gold coin, nor, necessarily,
gold-backed paper actually passes, but what happens is that a proportion
of the dues are paid in paper of a fluctuating exchange value, while the
remainder is paid at the fixed exchange rate of eighteen pence to the
peso.
Since the Chilean Government’s excellent statistical departments figure
out the totals reduced all together in pesos of eighteen pence, however,
or in pounds sterling, the student of Chilean economics is considerably
aided; but in surveying past years one is confronted with the fact that
between 1885 and 1897 the peso was reckoned as being worth thirty-eight
pence. For the reason, therefore, that comparisons with external
currencies would frequently be misleading, it is preferable to retain
the majority of revenue and trade figures in Chilean denominations only.
In 1850 Chile’s national income was still below 5,000,000 pesos yearly:
there was almost invariably a small balance over expenditure in these
early years, and in 1865 this excess rose to the respectable figure of
6,000,000 pesos. It was not until 1868, when revenues had grown to
13,000,000 pesos, that a deficit so large as a million pesos was
recorded, and this was the fourth occasion only, in 65 years, that
expenses had exceeded income.
In the stormy period of the ’seventies, when expenditure on public
services was heavy, and, also, railroad building was developed, deficits
were common; but by 1880 receipts had risen to over 40,000,000 pesos,
and a balance of nearly 13,000,000 over expenditures was left in the
treasury.
In 1891 the public revenues of Chile for the first time reached—and
exceeded by 5,000,000 pesos—the hundred million mark. In 1895 receipts
reached 127,000,000 pesos, with 93,000,000 expenditure, in round
numbers; next year, with an income of nearly 163,000,000 pesos, there
was a surplus of 47,000,000, an agreeable record exceeded in 1901 when,
with revenues of nearly 186,000,000, the balance left in public coffers
amounted to more than 50,000,000 pesos. Both receipts and surplus rose
in the next year, and in 1903 official statistics showed the remarkable
figures of 210,000,000 income, with 91,000,000 on the right side of the
ledger after expenses were paid. A slight drop was experienced in 1904,
but in 1905 receipts went up to nearly 257,000,000 pesos, rising to
373,000,000 in 1907 and 458,000,000 in 1908. In 1911 a tremendous jump
in public income was made, to 796,000,000 pesos: in this year the
surplus rose to nearly 457,000,000 pesos. In the three following years
there was a falling off from this satisfactory record, but the balance
remaining in the treasury was always substantial, and until Chile was
adversely affected by the international upheavals following the European
War her treasury was in a condition that many wealthier nations might
envy. But in 1919 the Government was obliged to record a deficit of over
60,000,000 paper, and in 1920 estimated a deficit of 89,000,000 paper
pesos. The result of these unprecedented difficulties is to bring about
a somewhat hasty series of plans for changing the tax system, with a
view to obtaining larger revenues, and while heavy dues were placed upon
the importation of luxuries, remodelling of the inheritance and land
laws, and of the imposts upon industry and commerce was outlined. The
fall of nitrate prices, and paralysation of the market, emphasised the
fact that this industry is taxed to a disproportionate degree, while
many other forms of activity are exempt. In 1915, for example, out of
134,000,000 paper pesos received in the customs houses, 85,000,000 were
paid for nitrate exports and 1,000,000 for its by-product iodine, while
of the gold receipts, amounting to 30,000,000 pesos, 29,000,000 were
paid for the same output from the salitre fields.
CHAPTER XIII
CHILE’S NAVAL POSITION
_Chile and the World War.—Strength of the Chilean Navy.—The Army._
The geographical situation of Chile, giving her a strip of coast
twenty-eight hundred miles long, renders her acutely interested in the
future of the Pacific. Command of the Strait of Magellan and the
possession of an excellent fleet are guarantees of her ability to
protect this interest.
In the wide affairs of this ocean, destined apparently to be the scene
for the next trials of political if not of physical strength, the
nations of the South American west coast have as yet had no voice, for
while it is accepted as a matter of course that certain European
countries, the United States and Canada, as well as Japan, Australia and
New Zealand, should insist upon having their views heard, neither Mexico
nor the countries of Central and South America are generally regarded as
parties to the questions involved. With the development of national
consciousness and the creation of well-equipped navies, a number of
these countries will figure as coadjutors of increasing importance, and
in the forefront of them Chile will, I am convinced, be found, ready and
able to assume her share in the working out of a common problem.
Chile was physically affected by the great war. Not only was Easter
Island used as a naval base by the German fleet, but her ports were used
as refuges or supply stations by the ships of several belligerents.
German shipping lay in Chilean ports, many German sailors were interned
during the war period in Chile, and although her position was a passive
one it cannot be doubted that the deep interest with which she watched
events in the Pacific and the Magellanic archipelagos was much more than
passive. So far as the Allies were concerned, their cause would have
been little, if at all, served by the entry of Chile into the conflict
against the Central Powers; it was Chile herself, with a possible
post-war claim upon some of the steamers of the Kosmos line lying
interned during the war in her ports, who stood to gain by a belated
entry, and it is to the credit of her scrupulously correct neutrality
that she refrained. A distinguished Chilean writer, Dr. Enrique Rocuant,
published in 1919 a comprehensive study upon “The Neutrality of Chile:
the grounds that prompted and justified it.” I think that no one who
understood the situation, or the feeling that Chile sincerely exhibited,
needed this explanation, however lucid and kindly, detailing as it does
the absence of any such motive as brought Brazil, with her list of
torpedoed vessels, to the Allies’ side, and setting forth the equity of
Chile’s actions when faced by the acts of the belligerents in her
territorial waters. There were, for example, violations of Chilean
neutrality by various units of the German fleet at Easter Island and the
Port of Papudo as well as in Cumberland Bay (Juan Fernandez); against
these violations Chile vigorously protested; when the British _Glasgow_
followed the _Dresden_, escaped from the battle of the Falklands into
Cumberland Bay, found that vessel with flags flying and guns pointed and
promptly sank her, Chile made similar forcible protests. But she
accepted the British regrets and offer of satisfaction with very ready
graciousness.
Two years after the close of the great war Chile became, as a direct
result of her old and cordial relations with the British navy, in an
unprecedentedly strong naval condition.
_Strength of the Chilean Navy_
In August, 1914, two dreadnoughts were building at Elswick for the
Chilean Government, the _Almirante Latorre_ and the _Almirante
Cochrane_, the price of each vessel being £2,800,000. A number of fast
destroyers, also constructed by the Armstrong Whitworth Company, formed
part of the Chilean naval developments, two of these, the _Lynch_ and
the _Condell_, being already in Pacific waters when hostilities broke
out. The dreadnought _Almirante Latorre_ was completed speedily, taken
over for British Government service, and did good work under the name of
H. M. S. _Canada_ during the four and a half years of the conflict; in
April, 1920, she was repurchased by the Chilean Government, which
obtained for the comparatively modest sum of £1,400,000 not only this
fine vessel but three more destroyers, sister ships of the _Lynch_ (the
_Williams Rebolledo_, _Simpson_ and _Uribe_) and a naval tug. About the
same time the British Government also presented to Chile six submarines
and fifty aircraft, a gift associated with British appreciation of the
sympathetic attitude of Chile at the time when the exigencies of war
brought about detention of the vessels under construction.
The dreadnought _Latorre_ displaces 28,000 tons, has a length of 125
feet, beam of 92 feet, and draws 28 feet of water. She carries 30 guns
of 14 inches, 3 inches and 4 inches, as well as a number of machine-guns
and four torpedo tubes. Her speed is 23 knots, and her full crew 1075
men. She burns coal and has a bunker capacity of 1200 tons. The five new
destroyers each displace 1850 tons, are 320 feet long, are armed with
six 4-inch guns, and have a speed of over 31 knots; bunker capacity, 507
tons of coal; crew, 176. These vessels were laid down in accord with the
plans created for the modernisation of the Chilean fleet in 1910, and
their incorporation into the navy of Chile renders this country the
possessor of an excellent fighting squadron, equipped in consonance with
the experiences of the great war.
The possession of good modern vessels of war is one thing; adequate
operation of them is quite another, as more than one young nation has
discovered to her cost. In Chile, however, a traditional naval feeling
has existed for a century, aided by the inheritance of a considerable
proportion of blood from British seamen, and the work of a group of
British naval instructors who were mainly responsible for efficient
development in the service—as the German military instructors moulded at
least the exterior of the army in the years before the war.
When I had the pleasure of visiting Chilean naval vessels in Talcahuano
in 1920 at the invitation of the genial Admiral Fontaine, it was
difficult to realise that the sturdy and well-groomed young officers,
many of them bearers of British names, clad in replicas of the British
uniform, were going to a foreign country when they set out, a few days
later, to fetch back from Britain the new Chilean ships of war.
The Chilean fleet in early 1922 consisted of two battleships, the
French-built _Prat_ (acquired 1890), with a war strength of 466 men, and
the British-built _Latorre_ (1913–20) carrying about 1100 crew; the two
armoured cruisers, the _O’Higgins_ and the _Esmeralda_, were constructed
at Elswick in 1897, carrying nearly 600 men each; three cruisers of
another type, the _Blanco_, _Chacabuco_ and _Zenteno_, were built in the
same yards following the acquisition in 1890 of the French-built
_Errazuriz_. In addition to these large vessels, Chile has two torpedo
cruisers built by Laird in 1890; the _Tomé_ and _Talcahuano_; five
modern destroyers (flotilla leaders) constructed between 1912 and 1914;
seven older destroyers (the _Thompson_, _O’Brien_, _Jarpa Gamero_,
_Orella_, _Riquelme_ and _Serrano_, carrying 88 men each) built at
Laird’s; five torpedo-boats (_Contreras_, _Hyatt_, _Mutilla_, _Rodrigue_
and _Videla_) built in 1896 in the Yarrow yards, carrying 36 men each,
war strength; the six new submarines referred to above, built by the
Electric Boat Company, Ltd., in 1915, needing a total war strength of
108 men; one training ship, the _General Baquedano_, built at Elswick in
1898, a schooner with auxiliary engines, carrying 253 men; three
transports, the _Rancagua_, _Maipo_ and _Angamos_, with a complement of
86 men each; one sailing ship, the _Lautaro_, built in Glasgow in 1896;
ten patrol boats, of which six older vessels were built on the Seine
between 1890 and 1905, while four boats acquired in 1919 were built in
Helsingfors. There is also still upon the list an old ironclad, the
ex-_Cochrane_, built at Elswick in 1875, carrying a crew of 132 men.
Chile reckons the peace strength of her navy afloat and ashore at 8377
men, while the naval expenses amount to about 14,000,000 Chilean pesos;
in war times the personnel would be increased by 1020 men, costs being
brought up to 15,200,000 pesos. Naval reserves are calculated as 35 per
cent over the war footing, as regards personnel, while in the event of
hostilities aid of great practical value exists in the steamers of the
Government-controlled Compañia Sud Americana, transformable into
auxiliary cruisers.
A certain number of men are annually recruited compulsorily for one
year’s service, but as these conscripts only amount to three or four
hundred, the naval forces are chiefly made up of volunteers who enlist
for three to ten years; many conscripts after serving their initial year
elect to remain under this system. In a maritime country such as Chile
seamanship is popular, and the navy never has difficulty in filling the
lists with young men who are developed rapidly into smart and
well-disciplined sailors. The naval schools of Chile are adequate and
well equipped: in Valparaiso is a fine establishment training 200
cadets, of whom 20 to 30 are annually passed as junior naval officers;
the Naval Academy, part of the same building, trains twelve higher rank
officers. Also in Valparaiso is the Navigation School, passing about six
officers yearly, and the School of Mechanics training 120 pupils is
supplying yearly 30 to 40 petty officers. Cadets of the Naval School
receive a second-class midshipman’s certificate after five years’
instruction, and are then sent to the _Baquedano_ for advanced technical
training and a 2000-mile sailing trip, before the first-class
certificate is granted. It is significant of Chile’s high repute as a
trainer of young sailors that cadets from several other South American
countries are to be seen in Chilean naval schools.
Besides the Valparaiso establishments, Talcahuano has a Mechanical
School for naval engineers, with 200 cadets in training; here also young
officers obtain instruction in torpedo work and radiotelegraphy; this
school turns out about 120 seamen, 30 wireless operators, and 20
midshipmen, as well as qualifying an average of 10 officers. On board
the ex-_Cochrane_ is a gunnery school, training 120 men every year; on
the sailing-ship _Lautaro_ is a school for training pilots of the
Chilean merchant marine, as well as for the navy; the corvette _Abtao_
is used as a training school for boys, and here 150 lads are prepared
yearly, with the obligation of serving five years in the navy. The
_Baquedano_ corvette receives boys from the _Abtao_ and midshipmen
qualified from the Valparaiso school for a year’s voyage of instruction
before they assume duty in the regular service.
Chile has four naval bases, at Arica, Valparaiso, Talcahuano, and Punta
Arenas; the latter has none but mobile defences, since the Treaty made
with Argentina at the time when boundary limits were settled stipulates
that the Strait of Magellan shall not be fortified, a decision which
will probably be modified in view of Chile’s undoubted right to protect
the property and lives of her nationals in the rapidly developing
district of Punta Arenas and a number of inlets and islands. No
belligerent or other vessel would be prevented by Chilean fortifications
from passing from Pacific to Atlantic waters or _vice-versa_, since the
Cape Horn route offers open waters.
The Hydrographic Bureau attached to the Chilean navy has been
responsible since its inception in 1874 for constant exploration and
surveying work directed to all parts of the coast, but particularly to
the intricate waterways of the south. Over 150 maps and charts have been
published by this Bureau, constantly in communication with the
equivalent services in the most advanced countries.
The three first-named naval bases possess fixed land defences, as well
as movable and submarine defences; at the chief station, Talcahuano, are
two dry docks, one of 45,000 tons and the older of 15,000 tons capacity,
as well as a floating dock of 1200 tons. Arrangements are also made with
private dockowners in Mejillones (Antofagasta) and Valparaiso for
repairs when needed, the shipyards of Punta Arenas, Chiloé, Valdivia,
and Constitución also offering useful help both as regards construction
and repair work. In point of numerical strength, the Chilean navy is
second only to that of Brazil, while as a matter of fighting record this
service has been conspicuously successful on the three occasions when
Chile has been at war during the last hundred years. Her history is
firmly bound to her maritime tradition, and her political influence in
the future will undoubtedly be considerably affected by her vigorous
command of the sea.
The army of Chile is a citizen army; its strength, year by year, is
under 20,000 men, of whom about half are newly conscripted; but every
healthy man over twenty-one years old is due to receive a year’s
training, and is as a matter of fact very rapidly made into good
fighting material. I have seen extremely smart soldiers turned out in
six months’ time in the training camps of Chile.
There is no doubt that in case of need the country could raise and equip
a hundred thousand men at least partly trained to arms in a few weeks’
time. Discipline is good, the uniform neat, weapons of modern pattern
and well kept. The cavalry is conspicuous for first-class condition in
particular; horses and horsemanship are of a remarkably high quality.
The aircraft branch of Chile’s service is being steadily developed; the
daring and skill of the Chilean aviator was displayed when Lieutenant
Godoy crossed the Andes into the Argentine—the pioneer to perform this
hazardous feat.
CHAPTER XIV
IMMIGRATION
_The First Immigrants of the South.—Araucanian Lands._
Organised immigration efforts began in Chile just before the middle of
the nineteenth century, during the régime of President Bulnes; they
ceased within a few years, and recommenced between 1881 and the end of
the century: thenceforth the flow has been regulated by a series of laws
of strict tendencies. For a number of years the largest contributor of
blood to Chile has been Spain, but there are no colonies such as those
created by the Brazilian system, newcomers of today usually finding
industrial employment in cities, or the coal, nitrate and copper camps.
For several years before 1914, when immigration practically ceased, the
average entry was less than 2000, of whom at least 75 per cent were
Spaniards. Chile’s first batch of regular immigrants arrived in 1850,
following the efforts of an energetic agent in Europe. There were 70
German men, 10 women and 5 children in the party, who sailed round the
Horn, had a passage of 120 days and were landed at Corral. Both Valdivia
and Corral were economically dead at this period; it would perhaps be
more exact to say that they had never lived. The sea-port and the
riverine city had been maintained as frontier posts against pirates on
the ocean and Indians on land during the Spanish colonial days; a small
mixed population had grown up as a result of Valdivia’s utilisation as a
dumping-ground for convicts from all the West Coast. Evildoers were
shipped here as a convenient means of obliteration, and a number never
returned north. For thirty years following independence from Spain
Valdivia languished, the forts decaying and the soldiers indifferent.
There was no connection with the rest of Chile except by sea, for the
land of the unsubdued Araucanians lay, a broad belt of forbidden land,
below the populous towns of the Central region.
Corral had twenty-eight houses when the Germans landed; Valdivia’s plaza
was a rubbish-heap, the streets unmade, the one-story houses of mud had
unglazed windows. To add to the troubles of the agent who had brought
the settlers, governmental negotiations for land on which to plant the
colony had not been completed. Vicente Perez Rosales, the agent, tells
in his memoirs that as soon as immigration to the south loomed in view
as a fact, tracts of land that had been wild and valueless suddenly
acquired owners and a price. Enterprising citizens went forth into the
woods, found some ancient Indian who was willing for a consideration to
swear that such and such a tract was his inheritance from his fathers,
and, for another consideration, to sell it.
Vicente Perez found it an extremely difficult matter to fight this new
flood of landowners, and had no time to spend upon litigation; so,
philosophically, he adopted similar methods, and presently acquired
territory. But meanwhile provision had been made for the first arrivals
by the public spirit of Benjamin Viel, a French citizen of Valdivia, who
gave for their settlement the pretty Isla de la Teja which lies at the
confluence of the Calle-Calle and the Cruces rivers in front of Valdivia
City. Today the island is covered with prosperous businesses, most of
them carrying German names—breweries, a paper mill, two or three
shipbuilding yards.
[Illustration: Valdivia, a Flourishing New Southern City.]
[Illustration: Punta Arenas, the Southernmost City in the World.]
[Illustration: Puerto Varas, facing Calbuco Volcano, Lake Llanquihue.]
The agent then went to look for interior land for the next batches of
colonists, and, finding that forest country was unclaimed, started to
explore what was still virgin country to the white man. He lived on
honey and wild nuts, struggled through dense woodland to the edge of
Lake Llanquihue, chose his ground, and then gave his chief Indian scout,
the celebrated Pichi-Juan, thirty pesos to burn clearings through the
heart of the forest. It was this Indian who brought the first fifty yoke
of oxen to the borders of the Gulf of Reloncaví, driving them through
the jungle from Osorno and opening the first track.
Pichi-Juan took three months to burn a belt five leagues wide, and
fifteen leagues long, through the Osorno Valley, leaving isolated woods
to serve for house-material and fuel. Puerto Montt, at Melipillo, was
founded in February, 1853, among blackened stumps, and the new colony,
also of Germans, had two bad winters when the crops rotted in the
ground; but by 1861 had progressed so well that the town was made the
head of the province.
One hundred and five more settlers had come in 1852; another batch four
years later. By 1858 Puerto Montt was self-supporting, with cultivated
fields, flour mills, and was exporting brandy and honey, planks, tanned
leather and wheat flour. Between the foundation of the settlement and
1864, when immigration of German families ceased, 1363 people had
entered. Henceforth the opened territory received continual additions of
energetic people from many parts of the world, Chileans themselves went
south, and today there is no better developed and managed part of Chile.
_Araucanian Lands_
A new spurt of immigration occurred after 1881, when the Mapoche Indians
obstinately held claim to sovereignty over the broad belt of lands known
as Araucania was finally destroyed by the republican forces of Chile.
With the frontier barrier overthrown, farming lands lay open, and the
Government made a fresh bid for European settlers.
Agents were sent out to Switzerland, France, England and Germany, and
prospective colonists were offered 40 hectares of land (about 100 acres)
in some regions; in others, twice this amount; part of the passage-money
was given, a yoke of oxen, seeds, implements, materials for house
construction, and a cash advance towards the expenses of the first year.
Against these advances was set off a mortgage upon the property, to be
repaid in three years.
By the year 1884 a French-Swiss colony had been established at
Quechereguas, and another at Traiguen, fifteen miles distant. In the
same region, at Victoria, were Germans and Swiss; French settlements had
been made at Quina, Angol and San Bernardo, while in the Temuco region
were more Swiss colonies, as also at Quillen, Puren, Galvarino, Contulmo
and Ercilla. Between 1881 and 1887 the European newcomers had invested
8000 francs (the Chilean peso being then worth five francs) in land, and
the colonists in Araucania numbered about 4000.
Their early life had its difficulties. When railways began construction
through the long-secluded territory the Indians became infuriated, and
the unfortunate colonists suffered from repeated raids. Property was
destroyed and settlers attacked and killed when the Angol-Traiguen
section of the line was commenced, and eventually a special police force
was established to protect the new settlements. The Swiss Government
made investigations through their consulate in Valparaiso, raising
certain points in connection with the well-being of the Swiss
immigrants, their physical security, and delay in obtaining land titles,
and, although the Chilean authorities did their best to ameliorate
conditions, a check to the invitation extended was felt for a time.
However, the young towns began to prosper, the Chilean Government
planned and began more railways, and before the end of the century the
whole territory had been tentatively opened. Cultivated fields spread
over the face of the old Indian reserve, joining eventually with the
Valdivia and Llanquihue lands settled thirty years previously.
Two small specialised groups of immigrants are to be seen in the south
in addition to the German and Swiss wave. After the last Boer War, a
number of farmers came from South Africa with their families, and
settled upon the Island of Chiloé. Here the fair-haired children of the
Boer folk thrive, the farms are neat and well kept, and the properties,
many of them extending to the sea’s edge, appear to flourish. The other
transplantation is that of a group of Canary Islanders, a hardy folk who
have acquired land on the beautiful Budi Lagoon, on the coast of Cautín
Province. In the southern provinces below the Bio-Bio, however, the long
existence of the Spanish outposts next door to Indian populations had
its effect upon both groups. The Indians learned quickly to adopt the
European habit of keeping domestic animals—they are said to have owned
50,000 sheep by 1567—and to till the soil; the Spaniards or their
descendants of mixed blood learned to live contentedly in houses of mud
bricks, to eat Indian food and to prepare it in the Indian manner. The
southern tribes had no domestic cooking vessels: holes in the soil,
beaten hard and lined with stones, were heated with wood fires, and the
food, thickly wrapped in leaves, was placed in a red-hot cavity and
covered down with branches: all kinds of food together—shell-fish,
birds, green vegetables, potatoes—were put in, the whole coming out as
an appetising, steaming mass. This _curanto_ was adopted by the
mestizos, and still survives in certain localities as a favourite dish,
exactly as the old Peruvian _locro_, the potato stew of Inca days, is
still an indispensable item of the menu of upland West Coast towns
today.
Neither coffee nor tea were to be had in the south in early days; the
former in fact had not yet come into general European use, while the
import of tea was forbidden under the Spanish colonial régime; the
mestizos took to a drink made of ground and parched maize mixed with
water, or chicha, or the infusion of yerba maté, imported overland from
Paraguay. The latter custom still survives in country regions, while the
colonists from Central Europe of last century filled their need for
coffee with a decoction of dried, burnt and ground figs. The use of the
woollen poncho, a garment excellently adapted to the climate, has long
been general amongst the farming classes or any others spending much
time out of doors and, especially, in the saddle.
Captain Allen Gardiner, in Chile between 1814 and 1838, observed that in
the south a spade was used by the Chilenos which was a copy of the
Indian implement, made of a horse’s blade-bone lashed to a
four-foot-long pole; that thread was spun by hand without a wheel, and
cloth woven upon the “very rudest description of a loom”; and that the
descendants of both races built their ranchos of an oval shape, with mud
floors, wattled sides, no windows, an interior row of supporting posts,
and a roof with openings at each end of a raised ridge-coping; the fire
was built in the middle of the floor.
Material comforts brought by contact with the world, and prosperity
resulting from access to markets, transformed the mode of life after the
arrival of colonists, the advent of the railway, and the commencement of
steamship services. When flowers began to be seen in the window-spaces
of southern houses in place of iron grilles, as Vicente Perez Rosales
says, it was the signal of a new standard.
Formal colonisation in Chile is today little needed, but there is a
constant informal inflow of white foreigners of good standing who in a
considerable proportion marry the charming Chilean women and are added
to the permanent population. No great wide spaces are undeveloped, and
the natural increase of a healthy land will suffice for industrial
needs.
CHAPTER XV
CHILEAN LITERATURE
_Conditions of Authorship.—Historians.—Politicians, Engineers and
Novelists.—The Society Novel.—Realistic School.—Poets._
Conditions of authorship in Chile are not altogether encouraging to the
writer of books. The journalist has a fair chance, for in this as in
almost every Latin-American country where prosperity is at least
recurrent, there is a large output of daily and weekly papers; if the
publishers are unable to offer any great financial reward to talent,
they are keenly sympathetic, and the writer of light or learned essays
is eagerly welcomed and rapidly renowned. But publishers of books, as
developed in Europe, are unknown in the Americas south of the Rio
Grande. Therefore the author of distinction or wealth frequently takes
his manuscripts to Paris or Madrid, where he seeks a professional
publisher to issue his work, and although he may share in the expenses
of publication he is consoled by the assurance of expert distribution.
The way of the author publishing in Chile is harder. He goes to a
printer with his book, makes a personal contract, pays the bill, and
then has to market his wares. Any advertising is performed at his own
expense and he must depend for sales upon the local bookstores. He is
secure of receiving encouraging reviews in the local press, unless he
has become unpopular in any particular quarter for, perhaps, political
reasons, and the bookstores always seem proud to display the groups of
“autores chilenos” upon their shelves. But, in the case of a serious,
non-fiction book, the author rarely prints more than 200 copies, and
thinks himself lucky if he sells 50. A novelist who has already achieved
something of a name probably prints 500 copies and may reasonably expect
to sell half that number.
The lack of professional publishers all over Spanish America appears to
be due chiefly to mental dependence upon other countries and
particularly upon France. By far the greater proportion of books offered
for sale in any Spanish American town is French, or translations into
Spanish of French books, the list ranging from such classics as the
works of Voltaire, Rousseau and Nordau to Zola, Dumas, Anatole France,
Guy de Maupassant and the more modern writers of fiction. Conan Doyle’s
detective tales still sell freely in Latin America, as do the works of
Scott, Kipling, Rider Haggard, Hardy, and a few other “standard” English
authors, in Spanish translations some of which are not so much
incredibly bad as extraordinary misfits. The oddest translation of this
kind that I have ever picked up from a Latin-American bookstall was of
Sudermann’s “Mill.” I found it on a forlorn newsstand in interior
Nicaragua, and kept it as a shining example of the difficulty of
translating into a Latin from a Teutonic tongue. Neither the speech of
the German peasants, the routine of the mill, the ideas or scenery
“went” in Spanish, and it is at least partly because a French story
translates so happily that Latin America is flooded with French
literature. All these translations are made in Europe, and are generally
published in Madrid; as a result, Latin America reads, in the main, what
Spain reads.
Under these circumstances it is admirable that the slender stream of
Chilean literature persists. Examining the output, one concludes there
are today two main classes of producers: first, the authors who are true
artists, pricked by the age-old necessity for writing, and secondly the
propagandists who for the sake of public service, or political reasons,
wish to present their views. In the delicate mid-shades one finds the
genuine historian; the personage whose aim is to achieve a literary
reputation; and the sound economic essayist.
As regards history Chile has been well served by her own sons. The
bright spirit of Benjamin Vicuña Mackenna, descendant of one of the
distinguished Irish settlers in Chile, informs his “History of Chile,”
while excellent work was also done by Barros Arana in his monumental
record. It would be difficult to exaggerate the value of another series
of productions by José Toribio Medina. This delver into archives has
been producing for many years the result of tireless and critical work,
the books being printed “en casa del autor” (in the author’s house). His
series of “Documentos ineditos para la Historia de Chile” run to twenty
volumes; we are also indebted to him for a detailed and fully documented
account of the Inquisition in Chile, in addition to similar works
dealing with the Inquisition in Peru and Mexico. He is, in fact, one of
the most indefatigable workers in the Latin-American field of history.
Among other living historians of Chile is Dr. Domingo Amunátegui Solar,
Rector of the University of Chile, while Chilean geography owes much to
Don Ernesto Greve, head of the Geographical Board in the Public Works
Department in Santiago and to the devoted work of Dr. J.G. Guerra.
Of political monographs, Chile has sufficient writers of this class of
work coming from the ranks of journalists as well as from those of the
professional politician; a glance at a pile of such pamphlets leads
inevitably to the conclusion that only a small proportion can possibly
be disposed of by sales. But among the political writers whose essays
are frequently of wider interest is the author of “The Neutrality of
Chile,” Enrique Rocuant.
The distinguished engineer, Santiago Marín Vicuña, is one of the best
Chilean writers upon economic subjects, his range covering railways,
mines, irrigation, ports, canals, etc. The press of the excellent
_Mercurio_ of Santiago reprints in book form many of these and kindred
articles of national concern, performing sound work in bringing the
acute problems of the country before the public, never more needed than
in republics where continuity of domestic as well as foreign policies is
often lacking.
In the realm of fiction it cannot be said that Chile is rich. She has
never yet produced a great novel. But there is consolation in the fact
that neither have most of her sister states, the greatest wealth of
literature, particularly of the genuinely national school, flowering in
Portuguese and not Spanish America; the novels, belles lettres,
historical studies and poetry of Brazil have been and are poured forth
in quantities that are torrential compared with the thin streams from
many other Latin-American countries. The fact is curious when one
considers the present strength of Spanish literature compared with that
of Portugal. It would be unfair to Spanish America if one did not seek
an explanation of her attenuated literary production on other grounds
than those of mental capacity, and unfair to Chile if her output were
not considered in relation to that of all other parts of Spanish
America. Spanish America during the major part of the nineteenth century
underwent constant political upheavals resulting in the preoccupation of
the most brilliant men with presidential disputes and, not infrequently,
the exile of the most active citizens from a share in their country’s
advancement and ideas. Behind the former Spanish colonies lay, also, a
traditional acceptance of formalities and inhibitions that were far from
encouraging to intellectual development.
Nevertheless, here and there rose bright founts of literary production
during last century. It is not surprising that the best of these
originated in the regions where the viceregal courts had been
established for three hundred years, where the Royal Audiences and
universities had been set up and a nucleus of well-educated people
settled. The best-known novel of South America (aside from Taunay’s
famous “Innocencia”), the sentimental “Maria” of Jorge Isaacs, is not a
case in point, however, for the author, writing in proud and
intellectual Colombia, was the son of an English Jew.
But amongst the shining examples to be found is the list of novels put
out by José Milla in Guatemala, and the work of Ricardo Palma in Lima.
Milla, an indefatigable worker of fine intellectual training, put most
of his romantic-historical novels into a colonial setting, and enjoyed a
great local vogue, while the “Tradiciones de Peru,” although purporting
to be legendary rather than fiction, strikes a somewhat similar note.
Chilean literature has not developed along like lines. Here the
development of the novel was chiefly based upon the internal political
struggles of the country during the later part of the nineteenth
century, and, with such themes as that of the revolution against
Balmaceda fading from public interest, the military-patriotic story has
yielded to two chief classes, the society novel and pictures of the life
of Chilean peasants and workmen.
The former are not infrequently of an insufferable length and
insipidity; the scene is nearly always confined to Santiago, and the
author devotes half his pages to minute descriptions of the heroine’s
costumes, while the rest of the space is taken up with endless
discussions about _amor_. For instance, in the highly reputed “Martin
Rivas” of the late Alberto Blest Gana, one of the most polished and
admired Chilean novelists, it is impossible to discover why Edelmira,
Leonor, Adelaide, or Matilde should “love” or dislike Martin, Agustin,
Rafael, Emilio, or Clemente; not only is all the conversation of the
young people based upon the question of whether someone does or does not
cherish a heart-affair, but all the fathers, mothers, uncles and
brothers are represented as perpetually running about suggesting that
their sons, daughters, sisters, etc., should enter into matrimony. The
high principles of the virtuous Martin do not prevent him from suborning
a soldier and police official in order to escape from jail, but his
worst crime in the eyes of the reader is likely to be his interminable
letters of loquacious sentimentality, which unfortunately set as well as
followed a fashion. “Los Transplantados,” displaying the Chilean who
elects to live out of Chile, is generally placed second in popularity.
This novel and “Martin Rivas” were imitated in a trickling stream of
politico-social-amatory novels, of which perhaps the best-known late
successor is Luis Orrego Luco’s “Al Traves de la Tempestad,” in two
thick volumes whose pages, devoted as they are to unctuous accounts of
the heroine’s feathers and embroidered dresses, are relieved by
occasional strokes of interesting political portraiture of thirty years
ago.
By far the most interesting and vivid fiction of today is that of the
realistic school, dealing with the Chilean workman, bandit, etc. The
methods of Blasco Ibañez inspire much of this output, and it frequently
happens that in order to achieve an appearance of strength the author
descends to a sordid brutality that is apt to defeat its own ends. We
don’t believe it. This murdering, lying, callous drunkard is not a
typical Chileno, says anyone who knows Chileans, and we begin to suspect
the novelist of cultivating misery in the first place because he thinks
it makes his work strong and secondly because he really has not studied
the Chilean working-class very thoroughly, and trusts that his readers
are equally unaware. An example of this class is “El Roto,” by Joaquin
Edwards, published in the middle of 1920. “El Roto” followed the work of
several other writers dealing with the life of the _campesinos_
(countryfolk), miners, _huasos_ (cowboys), etc., of Chile. Baldomero
Lillo is perhaps the most lucid, restrained and sympathetic of the
members of this school, and his “Sub-Terra” is a stronger collection of
short stories than those of “Sub-Sole.” Lillo is the avowed friend of
the poor and simple; his miners and beggars are invariably wronged, and
the bailiff or foreman the wicked aggressor. His most successful tales
are pitched in a minor key, a tragedy the inevitable conclusion; but his
delicacy of expression, admirable sincerity and brevity, and the plain
fact that he knows the life of which he writes, single him out from the
brutal-realistic stream. Lillo worked in the coalmines of Lota in his
youth, was afterwards an employé in a store in Lebu, and did not begin
to write until years afterwards he came to Santiago and joined the band
of young Chilean writers that included his distinguished brother, the
poet Samuel Lillo. Don Baldomero is not a fertile producer, but his work
is of steady quality. Another portrayer of virtuous _campesinos_ is
Federico Gana, whose “Días de Campo” is a pleasant, smoothly written
series of scenes. In quite another manner are the stories of Mariano
Latorre, whose most striking volumes are “Cuentos del Maule” and “Cuna
de Cóndores.” Latorre’s background in the latter tales is the Chilean
cordillera, a region plainly well known to him; he has a gift for
incisive description, and if his characters are frequently insensible,
melancholy and animal, they are at least rarely sentimental. Don Pedro
Cruz, a well-known Chilean critic, has criticised Latorre for playing to
the gallery with his sententious insistence upon the characteristics of
the Chilean race as displayed by his rather morbid peasantry, and,
speaking in general of the school to which Latorre belongs, declares:
“We are tired of the idiocies of Peiro, the brutalities of Goyo, the
sensuality of Florinda, the cunning of Ermelinda, although all this is
presented to us with a mixture of dawns, sunsets, trees, brooks and
fragrant breezes,” and roundly charges the authors with lack of
imagination and inadequate study of their own environment; the gross
peasantry shown in these stories is not, he says, genuinely Chilean, as
it pretends to be: “Character consists in a mode of thinking and
feeling, and these writers seek the national character in precisely
those individuals who think and feel the least.”
Among the minor writers of fiction are Augusto Thompson, Fernando
Santiván, Diego Dublé Urrutia, Egidio Poblete, Rafael Maluenda and
Francisco Zapata Lillo, most of them writers of short stories and
delicate sketches rather than of profound studies. A tendency towards
decision of style and condensation of expression has undoubtedly made
itself felt during the last decade, and the scores of facile pens in
Chile promise the development of the national novel.
Amongst the most interesting recent work is the output of a group of
Chilean women writers. The charming “Tierra Virgen” of Señora Echeverria
y Larrain (“Iris”) describing the southern lakes and woods of Chile, is
a cameo of literature, while the work of two younger writers, Laura
Jorquera (“Aura”) and Elvira Santa Cruz (“Roxane”) is sincere and of
remarkable promise. The former writer’s “Tierras Rojas,” a tale of life
in the high copper plains of Antofagasta, is a genuine picture and her
“En Busca de un Ideal” a pleasant love story. Elvira Santa Cruz has, I
think, done nothing better than her “Flor Silvestre,” with its
presentation of life in the Chilean countryside.
Drama has received a number of Chilean contributions, although it is but
rarely that the visitor to Chile has the opportunity of seeing a Chilean
play. Acevedo Hernandez, Videla y Raveau, Armando Monk, and Rafael
Maluenda have all written plays of merit. But while playhouses are
chiefly filled with foreign companies acting foreign plays, the Chilean
author has little to stimulate his talent.
Like every other Latin-American country, Chile claims a large number of
delightful versifiers. A sense of melody and love of sweet words is part
of the Latin inheritance, and development of sentiment is encouraged by
the fine climate, physical beauty and spring of life found in such happy
regions as Chile. The musical quality of the Spanish tongue lends itself
to the expression of emotion, and no shame is felt in fervid outbursts;
environment and vehicle combine to encourage the poet of South America.
There has been for half a century a considerable group of young poets in
Chile, many of whom turn in later life to politics, journalism or
another profession; the residuum of mature poets is small. But this is
not because Chile is an unkindly host to the poet: on the contrary, she
is a genial foster mother. The world does not forget that the greatest
of Latin-American writers of noble verse, Rubén Darío, although a
Nicaraguan-born, found here his first literary encouragement, and that
the electrifying “Azul” was published in 1888 in Santiago. Darío was at
the time a weigher in the Custom house at Valparaiso, and Armando Donoso
says, in his Anthology of Contemporary Chilean Poets, that he was no
doubt a very poor weigher. At least, however, he was immediately
recognised as a great poet, and it was Chilean appreciation that set his
feet upon the triumphal path that he trod until his death. As kindly was
Chilean nurture of the genius of another exile, the Venezuelan poet
Andres Bello.
Following Darío’s shining wake, a cluster of Chilean verse-makers began
to publish in the early 90’s: the beginning of the new century showed a
growing list as the work of young Chileans. Included in these early
volumes is the “Ritmos” of Pedro Antonio González; “Versos y Poemas,” by
Gustave Valledor Sánchez; “Esmaltines,” Francisco Contreras; “Campo
Lirico,” Antonio Borquez Solar; “Brumas,” Miguel Recuant; “Del Mar á la
Montana,” Diego Dublé Urrutia; and “Matices,” by Manuel Magallanes
Moure, who has since greatly added to his early laurels. Recently a
selection of his poems, “Floreligio,” was published by J. Garcia Monje
in Costa Rica, that stronghold of Latin-American literature. Magallanes
Moure is an excellent painter as well as a poet of the front rank in
Chile.
Striking a less contemplative and minor note than Moure, the
distinguished Pro-Rector of Santiago University, Samuel Lillo, is one of
the most admired poets. His “Canciones de Arauco” has a good deal in
common with the verse of Brazilian “Indianism,” and the “Canto Lirico,”
“Chile Heroico,” “La Escolta de la Bandera” and the poem to Vasco Nuñez
de Balboa, strike a patriotic note. No poems, perhaps, are more widely
known in Chile than those of the singer Carlos Pezoa Veliz, dead in his
promising youth; and other well-loved verse is that of Victor Domingo
Silva.
Again in the realm of poesy the Chilean woman has a high place. The
brilliant lady who hides her identity under the pseudonym of Gabriela
Mistral is not only a poet but an authority upon literature: a few years
ago she was awarded the Nobel prize for literature in partnership with
the Spanish dramatist Echegaray.
CHAPTER XVI
NATIVE RACES OF CHILE
_Inca Control.—Racial Divisions.—The Southern
Tribes.—Araucanians.—Race Mixture.—Archæology._
Before the coming of the Spaniards to Chile, an important line of
division already lay between the native folk who accepted the domination
of the Inca and those who successfully resisted his rule. The physical
sign of that division was the Maule River.
But both north and south of the Maule the various tribes differed widely
in blood, in speech and habits and in capacity for the adoption of alien
culture. Divergence of a marked character must have existed for a long
time between the primitive, fish-eating coast dwellers and the people
living in the great longitudinal valley, who, although they were in all
probability originally hunters, had taken to the cultivation of such
food staples as maize and potatoes. The coast dwellers were not all of
the same race, although necessity induced somewhat similar living
habits: T. A. Joyce shows that upon the strip between Arica and the
Atacama desert were a colony of the Uros, whose real home was on the
Desaguadero River leading south from Lake Titicaca, but who were planted
on the Pacific littoral in accordance with the Inca system of
transferring tribes. South of these groups were the wood and skin huts
of another colony brought from Bolivia, the _mitimaes_ of the Charca
tribe, who buried their dead in a contracted position. South of Tarapacá
were groups known collectively as Changos, living the same simple life
but practising extended burial. The practical, industrious system of the
Incas could do little with such folk except, probably, to levy a tribute
of fish, and chief attention was turned to the fertile country of the
central valley. Here agricultural life seems to have been forced upon
certain regions through scarcity of game, for although guanacos, birds
and a few small edible animals are found all the way from Coquimbo to
Cape Horn, such creatures as the pudu and the huemul (small and larger
deer) are found only in forestal belts. South America has never
possessed any great quantity of large game animals, and Chile in
particular has a surprisingly short list of indigenous quadrupeds,
although she has always been well stocked with both land and sea-birds.
Today the “Indian” has practically disappeared from the major part of
the coast and from the beautiful central valley of Chile. The 50,000
Araucanians who survive in the Temuco region (Province of Cautín) do not
retain more than dwindling traces of their former customs; in the deep
forestal area of Valdivia and Llanquihue, as for instance upon the
island in Lake Ranco with its group of “Huilliches,” a few people are
found under conditions still approximating to their pre-Spanish state.
But in the extreme south where the freezing water-mazes of the
stormswept archipelagos have tempted few newcomers, the native groups of
Yahgans and Onas and Alakalufs are living in much the same manner as
that described by observers three or four hundred years ago. Here and
there, as near the newly developed farms of Tierra del Fuego, where the
native folk have learnt herding, habits have been definitely changed,
but in the main the folk of the Magellanic regions have been left in
undisputed possession. The natural conditions under which they exist are
not conducive to cultural development. The daily struggle for food
absorbs all effort, and it is only when an outside civilisation armed
with tools and machinery and modern economic knowledge has imposed its
will that the effects of the inclement climate have been conquered.
Despite missionary effort, the southerly native people, among the most
primitive and most miserable tribes in the world, sharing the common
fate of their happier kin of the pleasant lands to the north, have
almost disappeared. Today the traveller traversing by local steamer the
wonderful Smyth’s Channel and nearby inlets and fjords may see, as the
earliest travellers saw, the open canoe of the “Indians” with a wood
fire burning continually upon a tiny hearth of clay, paddled through the
chilly waterways by folk whose dark skins are practically unprotected
from the wind and rain. The Fuegians meet any passing vessel to beg for
clothes and food as they begged from the _Beagle_, but contact with
newcomers has taught them nothing but a new list of small demands. In
the developing life of Chile they seem to have no place.
To discover the true racial differences between the native inhabitants
of Chile before the Spanish conquest is a task requiring more evidence
than lies as yet before us. It is rendered more difficult by the absence
of temples or permanent dwellings and by the comparatively small witness
yielded by graves. Only in the north, in the dry belt, are cemeteries
offering a considerable bulk of remains; here are such sites as Calama
and Pucara, near Chiu-Chiu, where Inca influence is plain although the
residents had certainly attained to no more than a modest cultural
status. The pottery found in the cemeteries of Arica and the Antofagasta
sites is rough and simple; the weaving coarse. The houses were mere
quadrangles of cemented rubble where, as at Pucara, ruins survive in the
rainless country. These are, however, beyond ancient Chile. Nothing so
advanced as this proof of settled communities is found south of Copiapó,
and seekers must fain rely upon the evidence of shell-heaps and
arrowheads, plus the records of early visitors and such help as is
afforded by the life of indigenous folk surviving today.
The names of tribes as recorded or in use are not racial. The cloud of
these appellations confuses the enquirer until he realises that Araucana
is a Spanish derivative of the Quechua “Auca” or rebel; that Picunche
means simply “People of the North” as Huilliche means “People of the
South”; Puelche, “People of the East,” and Moluche, “of the West,” while
the name Mapoche or Mapuche indifferently exchanged for Araucanian today
is a local term indicating inhabitants of a certain territory. Joyce
considers that the evidence proves existence of an agricultural folk in
Central Chile before the Inca conquest, speakers of the Araucanian
tongue prevailing from Atacama to Chiloé. Upon these people of sedentary
habits had descended a wave of nomads from over the Andes, Pampa-bred
hunters who as in many allied cases adopted the speech of the invaded
land. The speech of the rebels or Aucaes survived Inca control following
the invasion from Peru about the middle of the fifteenth century. Of the
tribes found by the Spaniards a century later, the most northerly
Araucanian speakers were the Picunche, a mixture of Pampa immigrants
with remnants of the old “rebel” stock, the latter predominating; the
Moluches, farther south, showed signs of descending in the main from the
Pampa invaders, although among them were found agricultural groups where
older habits had prevailed. In the Andean foothills were the Puelches,
closely allied to tribes of the Argentine plains, who had crossed the
lower mountain passes between Villarica and Corcovado.
Far south, three racial divisions are admitted. Two of these are
commonly known as Fuegians, and these scant tribes, Alakalufs of the
southwest and Yahgans dwelling in the most southerly part of Tierra del
Fuego, are a much more primitive folk than the few and diminishing Onas,
a taller, round-headed race allied to the big Patagonians, and
inheriting from their kin a fair degree of hunting skill. A number of
the Onas have taken kindly to a shepherd’s life since the creation of
scientific Fuegian farms, but the Yahgans remain as they have always
been known to history, a fish-eating, practically amphibious race,
unreconciled to civilisation. The long-headed Alakalufs of the Chonos
Archipelago have been forced, whatever their origin, into a mode of life
much like that of the Yahgans, depending chiefly upon the sea for
livelihood, using arrows and harpoons for killing fish, constructing
canoes and showing skill as watermen.
Very finely worked arrowheads have been and are still being made by
these southerly folk: Chilean specimens are among the best weapons of
the kind found in the Americas. But neither the Onas nor Fuegians have
ever constructed pottery, or know anything of the loom; shell-fish,
seal-meat and fungus, forming their chief food, is frequently eaten raw.
Alakaluf homes are huts of sticks, covered with skins, and carried by
canoe from place to place. They have no chiefs, dwell in family groups,
and we know nothing of their gods. They have as a whole resisted efforts
to Christianise them.
_Araucanians_
Among the great body of Araucanian speakers dwelling in Central Chile at
the time of the Spanish conquest a more definite culture existed.
Religious beliefs were probably genuinely Chilean, since they are quite
distinct from the ideas found on the other side of the Andes. The
supreme Deity Pillan was a sky-god with his dwelling in the volcanos,
and was propitiated by that world-wide institution the medicine man,
here called a Machí. Faith still survives, but so completely has
soothsaying been relegated to women that a case has been known of a male
Araucanian dressing as a woman and keeping up an elaborate life-long
farce in order to hold the berth. “Cures” of the sick by fumigation and
various drinks, and yearly ceremonies under the sacred canelo (a kind of
cinnamon) tree, called forth the major symbols of the Araucanian cult,
but there were neither temples nor images of deities.
The aboriginal Araucanian may be credited with the invention or adoption
of chicha, a fermented drink made of berries or maize (and after the
coming of the Spaniards, of apples from the trees planted by colonists
or missionaries); of the poncho, well woven of guanaco wool, or later of
sheep’s wool; and of the cultivation of maize and the potato. Native to
the West Coast, the potato grows wild today over the chief part of Chile
and the adjacent islands, and formed a valuable contribution to the
limited list of pre-Spanish foods. The use of certain seaweeds, with
cochayuyo as the most succulent, in stews, was doubtless an aboriginal
habit; it survives in South Chile, and in such coastal markets as that
of Valdivia this dried sea-weed is sold and eaten in enormous
quantities. The seeds or nuts of the Chilean pine formed another part of
the old diet. The method of cooking food in stone-lined holes in the
ground is a native custom that remained in use among both “Indians” and
Creoles in the more remote districts until recent times. There seems no
doubt that the game called by the Spanish “chueca,” played with a ball
struck with curved sticks, is genuinely Chilean; it bears a strong
resemblance to hockey. The bolas with which the Chilean _huaso_ (cowboy)
is so efficient was not known on the West of the Andes until after the
Spanish conquest. But with the speedy adoption of the horse and rapid
increase of cattle this implement from the Patagonian pampas became
widely used. Within thirty years after the entry of Pedro de Valdivia
into Chile the horse had spread throughout the inhabited part of Chile,
and mounted Araucanians, hardy and expert, were giving battle to the
cavalry of the Spaniard.
The Araucanian fought to retain his independence for over three hundred
years. It was a contest in which he was doomed to fail in the long run,
but he received from his enemies unstinted appreciation of his courage.
The famous poem “La Araucana” written by Ercilla, a soldier in
Valdivia’s army, embodies a Spanish concept of chivalry rather than that
of the Mapuche; his noble Indian is a mediæval Spanish knight, and the
verses frequently quoted as proof of Araucanian virtues display chiefly
the convention of generous sentimentality infusing the European
literature of the sixteenth century. But undoubtedly the Araucanian
possessed qualities that all the world agrees to admire: he defended his
own, and showed tenacity and ability in that defence. From a series of
tribes living loosely in family groups, obeying no overlord in times of
peace, the native folk evolved a strong fighting confederation. The
Toquis, or wartime leaders, supported by their Ulmen or district chiefs,
developed genuine skill in warfare, and turned the whole of the tribes
living south of the Maule into a mobile fighting community. The task was
rendered easier by the old nomadic habits of a large part of the
population.
The hostile relations between the earliest Spaniards and the Araucanians
became crystallised with succeeding years, a feeling constantly renewed
by women-hunting and house-burning raids upon the Spanish colonies,
followed or preceded by ruthless attacks upon the Indian camps. The
repeated treaties and parliaments arranged by the Spanish authorities
with the Indian leaders during later colonial times were little more
than symbols of optimism.
As far as Spain was concerned, good intentions towards the original
owners of the Americas were frequently pricked to action by the
priesthood, consistent advocates of the indigenous folk. When Charles V,
pressed by Bartolomé de las Casas, published in the year 1542 the “New
Laws” relating to the treatment of American natives it was with a
determination to secure the Indians’ well-being which was only surpassed
by the determination of the colonists to make the greatest possible
industrial use of these folk. “Our principal intention and will”
declared the king, “has always been to preserve and augment the numbers
of Indians, that they may be taught the articles of our holy Catholic
faith and may be well treated as fellow men and our subjects, as indeed
they are.” The strict accompanying rules against enslavement or overwork
of the Indians, and the minute instructions to the Audiencias and
Procurator Fiscal were avoided with dexterity in the colonies from
Mexico southwards, and not all the efforts of the missionary padres
could render them effective, although these and similar laws were
repeated by successive monarchs, and notably by Philip III, at the
instance of that famous apostle of the West Coast, Father Luis de
Valdivia. It cannot be said that, with regard to the Araucanians, this
backing was either badly needed at the time or requited with gratitude;
but it was followed by missionary efforts aiming at Christianisation of
these wild and stubborn people. The Father Nicolas Mascardi, working in
South Chile about 1670, “merited the crown of martyrdom that he
received”; nevertheless the good Philippe de la Laguna took up the task,
converting “Puelches and Poyas” in the mainland region opposite Chiloé,
but making, apparently, little impression of permanence. The
_intransigeance_ of the southerners saved them for a time, for the more
amenable Picunche and simple Changos, accepting the foreign yoke,
rapidly diminished—the survivors losing caste with such finality that
Ocampo, writing of West Coast conditions in 1610, declared that the
Indians were generally downtrodden by the Negroes imported to supplement
them as workers, “with ill-treatment both of word and deed, so that the
Indians called the Negroes their lords, and the Negroes called the
Indians dogs.” It should be said that Ocampo’s comment applied more to
Peru than to Chile, where neither climate nor rich mines warranted the
introduction of any large number of African slaves.
Today the Araucanian who resisted Spanish control is not in better case
than the docile native of the more northerly part of the West Coast.
Their definite overthrow as an independent people dates from 1882, when
Chilean troops seasoned by the campaign with Bolivia and Peru marched
across “la Frontera” and put an end forever to Araucania as a native
stronghold in the middle of republican Chile. By this time Valdivia and
Llanquihue had been colonised, and Araucania stood, fenced against north
and south, in the way of free communication and development. A land
reservation has been allotted in the province of Cautín, its limits
beginning about half a mile outside the town of Temuco. Here dwell some
40,000 to 50,000 Mapuches. The majority are nominally Christianised, and
in addition to the state schools, there are a couple of well-run British
mission establishments near Quepe, where farming and handcrafts are
taught. The younger folk take fairly readily to instruction, but on the
whole the Indians prefer to withdraw themselves from contact with all
foreigners, to live in the native _rucas_, huts of mud and thatch, to
prepare food in the ancient manner, and to work only when a little money
is needed to buy provisions. The women are adepts at the loom, weaving
beautiful ponchos or mantos, and boldly patterned and tinted rugs and
saddle-cloths. Now and again one meets in the streets of Temuco a group
of Araucanians with rugs for sale: there are two or three women and the
male head of the family, who is credited with doing no work but with
careful shepherding of his household. The women have a certain good
looks; the faces are extraordinarily broad, pale bronze in hue, with a
touch of red on the cheeks; the hair is straight and black, plaited and
bound with bright ribbons. The dress consists of a fold of cloth wound
round the waist and held in place by a gaily patterned belt; a bodice,
and a large shawl fastened with a big silver topo or pin. A wealthy
woman will wear silver ornaments across the forehead, in the ears and on
the neck in addition to the almost indispensable topo, and no Araucanian
will sell these adornments from the person, although in hard times they
may be taken to the pawnshop.
[Illustration:
Araucanian Indian, Spinning.
Note the solid wooden wheel of the country cart.
]
[Illustration:
Araucanian Mother and Child.
The hide-and-wood cradle is slung upon the woman’s back when she goes
outside the hut.
]
Racial purity amongst these survivors is not to be expected. There had
been a considerable mixture of blood between North, South, and the
Transandine groups before the Spanish entry, brought about not only by
wars and migrations, but by the custom prevailing among the indigenous
folk of Central Chile of seeking wives outside the tribe. During the
colonial period numbers of white women were systematically seized and
held by the Indians, the resulting admixture of blood accounting for the
comparatively blond strain seen in some of the Araucanian families.
Correspondingly, there was a certain absorption of native blood into the
Spanish towns and settlements, Indian girls and children having passed
into the possession of the Europeans from time to time: but racial
traits have in both cases yielded a great deal to environment, and the
mixed-blood youth of the Spanish sphere of influence is not remarkable
for sympathy with the dwindling remnants of the Araucanian tribes. The
child of the soil appears to be doomed here for very much the same
reasons as the Red Indian is doomed in the states of the North American
Union: he is irreconcilable and sullenly proud; has been conquered by
slow pressure plus the spread of alcoholism and disease; and in spite of
honestly-meant legislation on the part of the present rulers of the
country, is progressively stripped of his remaining property. During a
session of the National Congress in Santiago in early 1921, the Deputy
for Temuco, Dr. Artemio Gutierrez, made a strong protest against the
“constant victimisation” of the Indians by grasping exploiters. He
attacked the municipal authorities for failing to defend the
Araucanians, declaring that spoliation, even the robbing of the native
huts, was permitted, and complained that although the State Government
exempts the Indian from taxes the municipalities do not. “The Indians
are not even masters of the two, four, five or ten hectares they
operate, for they are only in control through the grace of the State,”
he declared, adding that many of these folk cross to the Argentine to
escape their home troubles. Conditions of the kind seem almost
unavoidable in a country rapidly filling up with a new population,
against which the old resolutely sets its face; nothing perhaps is more
typical of this attitude than an incident occurring at the ceremony in
connection with the opening of the railway into Temuco town some years
ago. Amongst the personages of the vicinity invited to attend the entry
of the first train were the local Indian chiefs: they came, with an
entourage of followers, bedecked in feathers, with fine ponchos, mounted
upon fast horses, and were placed in a long double row, facing the line
from either side. The assembly waited, fidgeted, talked; but the
Araucanians sat motionless on motionless steeds, their swarthy,
strong-featured faces set like wood. Presently the smoke of the engine
was seen in the distance, and with a piercing shriek of the whistle
Temuco’s first railway train rushed forward. The people swayed,
applauded, crowded to the rail’s edge, exclaimed excitedly: but not an
Araucanian moved so much as his eyes to glance at the steel monster. It
thundered forward and passed; the crowd pushed across the track, waved
hands and shouted; the Araucanians sat their horses, did not turn their
heads to send a look at the people or the train, and in a few moments
turned off and without a word or a change of expression galloped away.
The ancient rebel refused to take the least outward interest in the
white men’s doings.
One sees in Chile a mirror of what is happening or has already happened
in the major part of the Americas—the gradual extinction of an embryo
civilization. Whatever beginnings the Chilean race had made towards the
development of a social system, the evolution of a tongue and a cult,
have been fruitless. In other continents the impression is given, very
frequently, that the existing culture is built upon an older form, that
it is the first seed of an ancient civilisation that has eventually
flowered through whatever inner struggles and changes: in the Americas
the developing civilisation has been introduced and superimposed, the
young shoot of earliest native growth cut short and fatally withered.
The archæology of Chile does not offer a field for study comparable with
that of Mexico, Peru or Central America, with their splendid ruins of
temples and burial grounds containing ceramic treasures, textiles and
human remains. Because there is less that is spectacular, the Chilean
area has been less adequately studied, and there is much work still to
be done. Valuable researches have been made by the indefatigable José
Toribio Medina, author of “Aborigines de Chile,” published in 1888, and
by R. E. Latcham, author of “Anthropologia Chilena,” while the devoted
energy of Dr. Aureliano Oyarzún in the field of physical anthropology is
of the highest interest. Dr. Oyarzún has published many ethnological
monographs and directs an excellent ethnographical Museum at Moneda 602,
Santiago. A second collection in Santiago, containing much Peruvian
pottery obtained during the War of the Pacific, is housed by the State,
while a third is in the University buildings, possessing many specimens
from Easter Island. Concepción owns a small but well-kept archæological
museum, but the scarcity of purely Chilean specimens displays the gap in
present knowledge.
CHAPTER XVII
EASTER ISLAND
_A Lost Culture.—Fate of the Islanders.—The Statues.—The Bird
Cult.—Wooden Carvings._
Chile is the only South American country owning territory situated at a
considerable distance from her shores; it was picked up, in fact, in
1888 as a kind of derelict child of Spain in whom nobody had much
interest.
For Easter Island has little commercial importance; it has never yielded
precious metals, includes no fair widespread lands inviting agricultural
settlers, and has no woodlands nor a single river. The sheep and cattle
bred upon the island are the property of one company, a British
enterprise, and the natives are but a couple of hundred in number. The
island lies in a lonely position, at the extreme west of the South
Pacific series, and measures but thirteen miles in length and about
seven in width. The hues of the land are sand and tawny; the sea is a
faithful mirror of the turquoise sky; the dreamy heat of Polynesia
endures throughout the year. Easter Island is lonely, lazy,
unproductive, a little speck upon the broad breast of the Pacific.
But shut within its tiny compass, it holds one of the great mysteries of
the world. It contains one of the keys to Polynesian culture, although
it bears no apparent connection, as was once believed, with ancient
American civilization. The strange, almost incredible evidence upon
Easter Island speaks of a culture at once more advanced and more
primitive than that which should be most intimately connected with it.
For instance, the Easter Islanders speak a language which is a branch of
a Polynesian tongue; in certain aspects, the culture of the old people
is clearly allied to that of Polynesia in general. But—here is the
problem of the ethnologists—Easter Island possessed a written language:
the early European visitors put it upon record that the learned men of
the territory could read the script of the wooden tablets of which
specimens still exist. But Polynesia never had a written language, and
pre-Spanish South America, the nearest mainland, was equally ignorant;
the nearest country to the east with any idea of such script was Central
America, in the Maya culture-area, and the nearest to the west was
Sumatra.
The striking and eloquent evidence of Easter Island is fast
disappearing. Two hundred years ago, when it was first visited by
Europeans, stone statues stood, with their tawny headdresses, as a thick
fringe upon the coast, and there were perhaps a couple of thousand
natives, divided into tribes spread over the land, among whom were the
small clan of “wise men” who chanted from the script of the wooden
tablets.
Today the natives are reduced to a handful grouped at one end of the
island, the learned men have all passed away, and not a single statue
stands upright upon the platforms of the coastal memorials. A part of
the sea-border where a series of highly interesting carved rocks stand
is being undermined by the sea, and in a few years little will be left.
Science is therefore deeply indebted to the splendid work of the
Routledge Expedition of 1914–15 in chronicling the exact results of a
thorough examination of the remains, as well as for the indefatigable
research work throwing new light upon this strange and ancient culture.
Modern historical knowledge of Easter Island is scanty. It was
discovered by the Dutch Admiral Roggeveen on Easter Day, 1722, when he
was searching for a small island seen previously by the English corsair
Davis. Roggeveen stayed here for a week, recorded the cultivation of
sugar, sweet potatoes, bananas and figs by the natives, and noted the
thirty-foot high stone statues that stood thickly upon the sea’s edge.
Fifty years later came a Spanish expedition under González, who took
formal possession for the King of Spain and had a map made. A few years
later, in 1774, Captain Cook sailed into the western bay retaining his
name, the expedition’s botanist, Forster, leaving an account of the
island; La Pérouse of unlucky memory was here in 1778. These later
visitors saw little cultivation, thought the island poor, and, according
to Cook, the natives no longer venerated the statues. When the British
Admiralty sent the _Blossom_ here in 1825 the figures near the shores
were nearly all ruined.
_Fate of the Islanders_
Destruction of the natives and their peculiar culture proceeded at the
same time. American sealers, short of hands, raided the villagers from
the early nineteenth century, and when, about 1855, the exploiters of
the Peruvian guano beds needed workers they sent slave-hunting
expeditions to the Pacific. In the course of these raids one thousand
men are said to have been taken to Peru, the prisoners including chiefs
and “wise men.” Principally at the instance of the French, who sent
French-Chilean missionaries about this time to the island, a number were
returned, but only fifteen reached Easter Island alive. These took back
the germs of small-pox with them, and the remaining islanders were
decimated by this disease and by phthisis, introduced, apparently, by
the devoted French priests. This mission had converted all Easter Island
to Christianity by the year 1868, and in the zeal of proselytisation
brought about the destruction of quantities of the inscribed wooden
tablets.
Commercial exploitation of the island by French traders operating from
Tahiti led to the shipment of many natives to Tahitian plantations and
the gathering of the 175 survivors into one small settlement at the
western end of the island (at Mataveri) by the time that the _Topaze_
called in 1868. This vessel took away the two stone statues that are,
fortunately, now preserved in the British Museum. The American vessel
_Mohican_ came in 1886, the paymaster Thomson subsequently publishing an
account of the conditions, and retailing a few folk-stories; a statue
was excavated and taken to Washington. In 1888 the Government of Chile
formally took possession of the island, retaining part of the western
territory for the permanent use of the natives. The rest of the island
is under the control of a British stock-raising company with
headquarters in Valparaiso.
That is the brief record of Easter Island from the outside. But it has
been increasingly plain since archæology and ethnology took form as
organised sciences some fifty years ago that the strange series of stone
figures and wooden carvings emanating from Easter Island presented a
magnificent puzzle. The work done with courage and ability by the
Routledge expedition will perhaps only be adequately appreciated when
the remains upon the island are no longer intelligible to the remaining
natives. This time is rapidly approaching, and the resulting mystery
adds to the picturesque quality of this lonely spot.
_The Statues_
The majority of the figures bordering the sea were overthrown during
tribal feuds. These figures originally stood at the end of sloping
platforms of stone slabs, called _ahus_, upon which the bodies of the
dead were laid, or under which they were buried; and the figure upon
each _ahu_ was crowned with an enormous “hat,” five to eight feet in
diameter, of reddish volcanic stone brought from one spot, a quarry on a
slope of the volcano Punapau.
But these statues of the burial-places formed only one of the island
series. The Routledge Expedition identified three roads, apparently
connected with tribal ceremonies or rights, which were once bordered by
giant figures; while on the interior as well as the exterior slopes of
the volcano Rano Raraku, in the southeast, are scores of these strange
carvings. The slopes of Raraku are almost the sole sources of the “image
stone” used by the islanders, and in the quarries are to be seen huge
heads in all stages of preparation, some completed and in process of
removal. The figures vary in size, some weighing 40 to 50 tons, but all
follow a similar design: a tremendous face, with closed lips, and long
nose with a concave bend. The back of the head is so narrow as to be
almost negligible, but a distinguishing feature is the length of the
ear-lobes, distorted to four or five times the natural size. The back is
carved with some care, and a curious design that includes circles is
often marked out upon it; the shoulders are well shaped, but the arms
and hands are shown by a simple and well-conventionalised method, the
fingers frequently meeting across the front of the waist. At the hips
the carving ceases, the rest of the stone being generally shaped into a
peg for convenient erection. Severely simple and quite primitive as the
figures are, there is a fine dignity, a repose, about the slightly
up-tilted faces that is impressive; the effect of the statues _en
masse_, as they are still to be seen, many of them erect, with the faces
looking out from the mountain on the slopes of Raraku, is remarkable,
even through the deadening medium of a black and white photograph. Why
the statues were carved in such number—there are 150 above the crater
lake of Raraku—and why the work ceased, is one of Easter Island’s
problems. The unanimity of design, its peculiar conventions, and the
skill and decision of the workmanship, suggest a “school”; and as the
writers and readers were a special inner guild, so, apparently, were the
image-makers. It is true that there seems to have been at one time an
itch for carving, for in certain regions every piece of stone that
projected from the ground has been carved as it lay, without any attempt
to remove it: perhaps, a beneficent influence was created with each
serene carved face. But it is certain that many of the statues were set
up to mark boundaries, and were so well known that their special names
still survive. The larger figure now under the portico of the British
Museum, for instance, which comes from Orongo, is “Hoa-Haka-Nana-Ia,”
which may be rendered in English, “There is a friend who watches”; the
inference certainly being that this statue stood on a boundary. The
image stone is a fairly soft volcanic rock, and the tools used, many of
which have been found near the images in the quarries, were pieces of
harder stone, roughly chipped, bearing a striking similarity to the
tools found near Stonehenge, and used in dressing the monoliths. The
natives had, of course, no metal. A people of extremely simple habits,
they neither made any kind of pottery nor wove cloth, using beaten bark
(_tapa_) for body-coverings. Food was cooked in holes in the ground,
lined with stones and heated. Fresh water was and is obtained only from
the crater lakes or other collections of rain. The people seem to have
lived contentedly in the many caves on the island, but also built huts
of a uniform pattern: in shape long and very narrow, the hut had a floor
of stones edged with a little wall of slabs; from this sprang a series
of twigs, bent and interlaced together at the top, and covered thickly
with leaves. Food consisted chiefly of the sweet potato, a kind of
sugarcane, and bananas; there was no animal upon the island yielding
meat except a small rodent, but the islanders were expert fishermen, and
also, in the season, caught great quantities of the sea-birds that visit
the nearby rocks to breed.
_The Bird Cult_
The Routledge Expedition, with good fortune and exquisite patience,
discovered and elucidated the extremely interesting story of the Bird
Cult of Easter Island. Dependent upon the sea-birds’ coming for an
important part of their food-supply, the islanders evolved a series of
rites connected with the event. The chief ceremony was concerned with
the securing of the first egg, deposited on Moto Nui, one of three
little rocky islets opposite the highest peak of Easter Island, Rano
Kao, at the southwestern edge. At a spot called Orongo, on a slope of
Rano Kao, are still to be seen fifty stone huts, where the people went
in September and waited for the sea-birds’ coming. Several birds visit
the rocks, but it is the egg of the Sooty Tern, known as _manu-tara_,
that was the islanders’ objective; competition among the watchers was
keen, and only members of the temporarily most powerful clan, or their
friends, could take part in the contest. The competitors, men of
substance, waited in special houses, but deputed servants to swim to the
islet when the season was at hand; carrying food, these men lived in a
big cave, whose carvings are still to be seen, until the curious scream
of the birds heralded their coming. When the first egg was found, the
deputy shouted the news to his employer (who shaved his head and painted
it red), and swam ashore with the precious egg in a tiny basket tied to
his forehead. The victor and his rejoicing party danced ceremonially,
carrying the egg, all the way from the west to the eastern end of the
island, where the bird-man went to a special house for a year, at
Orohié, on Rano Raraku’s slope, strict tabu being maintained for five
months. Each old egg was as a rule given to the incoming bird-man, and
by him buried on Raraku.
Mrs. Routledge says that apparently the last year in which the dominant
clan went to Orongo to await the birds was in 1866 or 1867, although the
competition for the first egg survived for some twelve years afterwards.
Legends of the Easter Islanders appear to point to their racial origin
upon other Pacific islands, and migration in at least two separate
periods, a tradition which is confirmed by the divergence of types
found, and the number of shades, from dark brown to nearly white, of the
skin of the different people. Stories of the wars between the “Long
Ears” and the “Short Ears” suggest that the image-makers, always
depicting elongated ear-lobes, differed in tribal attributes from their
opponents. None of the native settlements upon Easter Island appear to
be of very old establishment.
_Wooden Carvings_
A curious and beautiful series of small objects is typical of the
peculiar culture of Easter Island. The natives had, of course, no metal,
and it must have been with stone or hardwood tools that quantities of
small wooden figures made in former days in Easter Island were carved.
It is not known with certainty whether the territory formerly included a
larger number of trees, offering timber for this work and for the larger
canoes of which tradition speaks, or whether use was made of driftwood.
Today there are no trees of the quality shown by the figures.
The most striking of the old wooden objects represent human
figures—rarely, those of women, and most commonly, of singularly
emaciated men. Specimens of the latter are beautifully finished, and the
head shows “long ears” and faces with “imperials” or little beards, and
marked aquiline features, quite distinct in type from these of the
conventional stone faces. These statuettes are from 29 to 30 inches in
height, the carving bearing a technical resemblance to the “lizards,”
another highly-finished series. Crescent-shaped breast ornaments,
formerly worn by women, have almost entirely disappeared, although a few
specimens survive, one, in the British Museum, bearing inscriptions. The
dancing-clubs or paddles belong to another series of high artistic
merit, but the most interesting of the wooden carvings from an
ethnological point of view are the tablets engraved with signs whose
meaning was lost when, sixty years ago, the last of the _ariki_ (learned
men) died, a slave in the guano fields of Peru.
Tradition upon the island states that the wooden figures were originally
made by a great ariki, named Tuukoihu, one of the first immigrants to
Easter Island from the western islands; but the art of wood carving
still survives feebly, chiefly in the manufacture of objects for sale,
as antiques, to unsuspecting visitors.
The natives today wear clothes, a habit which has probably tended to
render them more liable to disease; they number about 250. Retaining
their two-hundred-year-old reputation of being courageous and persistent
thieves, they have however lost many of their ancient arts and are not
addicted to regular work. But they are of a physically fine type, appear
to possess a gift of wit, and, unless when instigated to anger by their
equivalent for medicine men or women, are an amiable people. They
formerly tattooed the body in definite conventional patterns; their
religious cult was chiefly connected with respect to ancestral dead, and
ideas of spirits, kindly or the reverse. A certain clan, the Miru,
assumed possession of supernatural powers, and specially gifted men and
women were given the usual homage of the medicine man. But religious
ceremonies, as apart from the burial rites, initiation into the bird
cult, and, later, ritual connected with the visits of European ships, do
not appear to have existed.
Of weapons, quantities are found; black obsidian flakes, roughly chipped
at edges, with a short stem bound to wooden handle, are typical.
Exterior communication with Easter Island depends upon the Chilean
Government, sending an Admiralty vessel yearly, and upon the visits of a
sailing ship sent to bring away the wool clip, product of the flock of
the 12,000 sheep, by the commercial company of Valparaiso leasing the
main part of the territory.
The Chilean vessel sent of recent years on the trip is the training ship
_Baquedano_, a corvette fitted with auxiliary engines.
Visits of the British company’s boat are rare, and the representatives
at Mataveri are cut off from the outside world for long periods. During
the early months of the war five vessels of the German fleet appeared in
Cook’s Bay: the _Scharnhorst_, _Gneisenau_, _Leipzig_, _Nurnberg_ and
_Dresden_; they used the island as a naval base for six days, gave out
the first news, considerably garbled, of the war, and went away, first
to sink the _Good Hope_ and _Monmouth_ off Coronel and later to meet
their fate at the Falklands. The _Prinz Eitel Friedrich_ also entered on
December 23, went out and captured a French barque, and sunk her inside
the three-mile limit in Cook’s Bay, after landing her crew and that of a
British sailing ship taken off Cape Horn.
CHAPTER XVIII
A NOTE UPON VITAL STATISTICS
Today Chile calculates her area at over 300,000 square miles, with a
population not far exceeding four millions. There is plenty of room for
at least twenty million people, although one must rule out from possible
settlement certain areas of the rugged south, and of the arid north,
where, however, scientific irrigation may bring unsuspected regions into
the realm of cultivated and settled country.
The growth of population in Chile has not kept pace with that of some
other of the South American nations, partly because definite efforts to
invite immigration have long been discontinued. Numerical success has
not always been accompanied by peaceful assimilation, and Chile, with no
great untouched areas to fill, prefers to wait for the natural increase
of her people. Since 1820, when the total Chilean inhabitants did not
reach one million, the number has quadrupled, a few hundred thousand
persons of foreign blood adding, during the century, to the stock; today
the foreign-born residing in the country are calculated at 135,000, of
whom 100,000 are men.
A brief examination of the population figures of Chile shows some
illuminating details, and nothing is clearer than that the apparently
rapid growth of certain regions is not due entirely or even chiefly to
an influx from outside Chile, or to natural increase, but to a shifting
of the workers from one point to another in response to industrial
demand. Antofagasta city, which did not figure at all in the census of
1875 counted 8000 people ten years later, and 70,000 in 1919. This
concentration is of course a result of the magnificent rise of the
nitrate industry, and while a proportion of the employés are Bolivian
and Peruvian, most are drawn from more southerly Chilean districts.
Valparaiso, always a prosperous city, despite recurrent earthquakes,
shows a progressive rise during the last half century from 70,000 to
220,000 people, its lovely residential suburb, Viña del Mar, counting
35,000 more; Santiago also has made strides in accord with her
political, social and financial status, the population numbering
425,000, as against 116,000 in 1865 and 333,000 in 1907. Concepción is
another city showing legitimate and steady increases—75,000 people today
as compared with 14,000 fifty years ago. Iquique, another of the new
nitrate towns, has about 50,000 people, appearing in statistics, like
Antofagasta, only twenty-five years ago.
Agricultural and industrial Chillán, in the south, has over 40,000
people; Temuco, opened to the general population of Chile only after
“the Frontier” was broken down in 1882, made its first appearance in the
census of 1885, and has now 35,000 people. Valdivia, with but 3000
people in 1865, now has 30,000.
But Copiapó, with diminished mining, has a few thousand people less than
she counted in 1865; Lebu has lost half its people since 1875, and has
now less than 3000; Tomé has been practically stationary for fifty
years, for similar industrial reasons.
Two new agricultural and pastoral centres in the south show sustained
activity, Puerto Montt and Punta Arenas. Puerto Montt, like Valdivia,
drew a strong part of its population from Germany and has today 8000
people; Punta Arenas, with less than two hundred inhabitants in 1865,
has 25,000 people. Forty per cent of these are calculated to be
foreigners, chiefly Scots, or Falkland Islanders of Scots blood, and
Yugo-Slavs; the only other city showing so large a proportion of
foreign-born residents is Tarapacá, while Antofagasta has 16 per cent of
non-Chileans.
Vital statistics in Chile are carefully kept and promptly published;
they do not always give satisfaction. A storm of protest was roused, for
example, in the Santiaguino press, led by the outspoken and admirably
edited _Mercurio_, when Santiago’s figures for the first four months of
1920 were issued. Infant mortality was shown to be extremely high in
that period,—5237 deaths to 4777 births,—a fact which called for
investigation by the health authorities, while stress was laid upon the
listing of 2402 of the births as illegitimate. “If on the one hand our
population does not increase in the normal proportion, while on the
other the race is debilitated in the manner revealed by the figures, it
is useless for us to claim proudly that we are a well-defined and
homogeneous nationality,” declared the _Mercurio_, and a cloud of
articles appeared to account and to suggest remedies for the conditions
shown by the official figures.
As regards infant mortality, there seems to be no doubt that the rate is
high for Chile, a fact surprising in view of the healthful climate and
abundance of good food produced in the country. Santiago province
registered during 1919 a death rate of children under one year of 37 per
cent, nine thousand dying out of twenty-four thousand born. Many other
towns registered high mortality rates, but inside this figure. Of these
same 24,000 babies, 10,000 were born out of wedlock.
The two sets of figures no doubt have relation to each other, but it
should be said at once that large numbers of the children officially
registered illegitimate are only officially so regarded. Civil marriages
only are recognised by Chilean law, and if this ceremony is omitted the
couple are officially unmarried although a priest may have united them.
In the country districts, distances are far and marriage fees no light
matter to an agricultural population; many stories are told of young
couples making a long journey to the nearest office where a wedding may
be performed, finding it shut, and returning to set up house without
being able to make another attempt at matrimony. The clergy are accused,
perhaps without sufficient reason, of setting their faces against the
civil marriage, and there was certainly a period in Chile, when the laws
were first enforced, when devout children of the Church who refused to
go through the official form were forbidden the religious ceremony, and
marriages amongst the more obstinate circles practically ceased.
With regard to mortality, no explanation can excuse the loss of so large
a part of the precious life blood of the country. One of the reasons is
certainly to be looked for in the economic independence of many women in
Chile. The woman wage-earner, of whom there is a larger number than in
most Latin-American countries, is not always disposed to risk permanent
association with an unsatisfactory mate—for divorce is scarcely known in
Chile; and where no special social disability results, she prefers
freedom. The whole question is one in which the future of Chile is
concerned, and attracting the attention of thoughtful Chileans, has
called for better housing regulations and schemes for the education of
young mothers in infant care. A group of the admirable Club de Señoras,
the characteristically Chilean association of wealthy, forceful and
intellectual women of Santiago, is working towards the solution of a
serious social problem.
Through the force of economic circumstance, the question of the
employment of women is not one which is likely to be reconsidered in
Chile.
Large groups of men are drawn to isolated camps in the copper and
nitrate fields, and there is a resulting tendency for women in the other
regions to take up work in factories, public services, etc.
It was the War of the Pacific that brought women into the employ of the
street-car companies in Valparaiso and Santiago, for with the men absent
in the army there were gaps in the ranks of workers. When the men
returned their female supplanters refused to give up their berths, and
remained victors. One feels sympathy with their spirited attitude, and,
despite the unlovely dress imposed by the German tramway owners in early
days (which includes the apron of a _hausfrau_) they make a generally
good impression. It is doubtful whether such work is well suited to
women; the hours are long—the old (now altered) time schedule kept
certain women at work as conductors for fourteen hours a day—and the
strain is plainly great upon feminine endurance.
Employment in the Chilean post-offices is not within the same category,
but one becomes in South America so well accustomed to the general and
graceful habit of service to women that a certain mental adjustment is
required before one becomes inured to receiving service from them. If
the far-famed Chilean politeness, a genial flame of nation-wide
brightness, suffers an occasional eclipse, it is almost invariably due
to the widespread employment of women.
PROVINCES AND POPULATION OF CHILE
_Province_ _Departments_ _Area in _Population,
Sq. Census of
Kilometres_ December,
1920_
Tacna Tacna, Arica, Tarata 23,306 38,902
Tarapacá Tarapacá, Pisagua 43,220 100,533
Antofagasta Antofagasta, Tocopilla, Taltal 120,183 172,330
Atacama Copiapó, Chañaral, Freirina, 79,531 48,413
Vallenar
Coquimbo La Serena, Elqui, Ovalle, 36,509 160,256
Coquimbo, Combarbalá, Illapel
Aconcagua San Felipe, Petorca, Putaendo, La 14,000 116,914
Ligua, Los Andes
Valparaiso Valparaiso, Quillota, Limache, 4,598 320,398
Casablanca
Santiago Santiago, La Victoria, Melipilla, 15,260 685,358
San Antonio
O’Higgins Rancagua, Cachapoal, Maipo 5,617 118,591
Colchagua San Fernando, Caupolicán 9,973 166,342
Curicó Curicó, Santa Cruz, Vichuquén 7,885 108,148
Talca Talca, Lontué, Curepto 10,006 133,957
Maule Cauquenes, Constitución, Chanco, 7,281 113,231
Itatá
Linares Linares, Loncomilla, Parral 10,279 119,284
Ñuble Chillán, San Carlos, Bulnes, 9,050 170,425
Yungay
Concepción Concepción, Coelemu, Talcahuano, 8,579 247,611
Puchacai, Lautaro, Rere
Arauco Lebu, Arauco, Cañete 5,668 60,233
Bio-Bio La Laja, Nascimiento, Mulchen 13,863 107,072
Malleco Angol, Collipulli, Traiguen, 8,555 121,429
Mariluán
Cautín Temuco, Imperial, Llaima 16,524 193,628
Valdivia Valdivia, Villarica, La Unión, Rio 23,285 175,141
Bueno
Llanquihue Llanquihue, Osorno, Carelmapu 90,066 137,206
Chiloé Ancud, Quinchao, Castro 18,074 110,331
Territory of Magallanes 169,251 28,960
───────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────
=Total Chilean Territory= =750,572= =3,754,723=
[Illustration: POLITICAL MAP OF CHILE RAILROAD MAP OF CHILE]
CHILEAN TERMS
_Aji_: small red peppers, highly aromatic, grown in the northerly
regions; used extensively in Chilean cooking.
_Alerce_: a tall conifer of South Chile; fine lumber. _Alerzal_, a
wood of _alerce_ trees.
_Algarroba_: the sweet pod of the minosa-like Algarrobo tree (North).
_Algarrobo_: (al carob, Arabic), term applied by Spanish to small
thorny tree bearing pods used as cattle fodder (North).
_Antofagastino_: native of Antofagasta.
_Arenal_: sand desert, sand-laden wind.
_Atacameño_: native of Atacama.
_Avellano_: small tree (Central and South) yielding the avellana, a
soft-shelled nut resembling the hazel.
_Bolas_: throwing weapon used by mounted cattlemen or hunters; long
pliable rope or hide thong with heavy weights at either end, flung
in such a manner that it enwraps and twists about the legs of the
animal pursued.
_Boldo_: a small tree yielding the drug _boldaina_.
_Boquete_: a mountain pass.
_Brasero_: deep dish or bowl, usually made of copper or silver, filled
with charcoal and heated for cooking purposes or to warm a room.
_Butre_: smallest wild bamboo.
_Cajón_: a gap in the high mountains.
_Caliche_: strata containing nitrate of soda.
_Camanchaca_: fog or mist over the northern plains.
_Cancha_: depot (for ores, North); gun-park; tennis-court.
_Candeal_: hard brown wheat of the southerly provinces.
_Canelo_: sweet-smelling small tree (Central Chile), the “South
American cinnamon.”
_Capacho_: bag used for carrying ore, made of hide.
_Capataz_: foreman of workers.
_Carbonado_: a Chilean soup.
_Cardón_: applied to various thistles and especially to the big
blue-flowered _Cynara cardunculus_, growing through Central and
South Chile, but the term is also used for many spiny plants and
leaves, for the wild artichoke and the thorny leaves of the Puya.
_Cateo_: the search for a mine.
_Cazuela_: thick stew, made with chicken, rice, potatos, aji, etc.
_Chacolí_: country wine, lightly fermented.
_Chacra_: a small cultivated plot of land.
_Chagual_: applied generally to _Puya chilensis_ or _Puya coarctata_,
growing freely from the sea-border to Andean slopes in all Central
Chile: the tall spike of blue, or in other varieties yellow
flowers is the “chagual,” while the spiny leaf is called “cardón”
and the big thorns used as knitting-needles; the flowers are
gathered for their honey.
_Chaucha_: twenty centavo piece.
_Chañar_: small tree (North), yielding date-like fruit. _Chañaral_,
group of chañar trees.
_Charqui_: dried meat (“jerked” beef).
_Charquican_: Chilean dish made with charqui.
_Chicha_: heavy liquor made from grapes or apples; formerly made from
wild berries by Indians of Chile.
_Chileno_ (a): native of Chile.
_Chillehueque_: Araucanian name for the Guanaco.
_Chilote_: native of Chiloé.
_Chinchilla_: small fur-bearing rodent, today scarce and valuable.
_Chingana_: wattled booths set up at fairs for the assembly of
musicians and dancers.
_Choapino_: saddle-cloth, woven of thick black-dyed wool (South).
_Choclo_: maize.
_Cholo_: a Peruvian. Cf. _Godo_, a Spaniard; _Gabacho_, Frenchman.
_Chonta_: palm growing on Más a Tierra island (Juan Fernandez group),
yielding a fine wood of which walking sticks and canes are made,
prized for the bright yellow and black pattern of the wood. The
young head of the palm is cooked and eaten as a “cabbage.”
_Choros_: large mussels found off Chilean coast, eaten in great
quantities.
_Chuño_: arrowroot; or frozen and dried potatoes.
_Chuso_: a stupid fellow.
_Cochayuyo_: sea-weed, stewed in the south for soup, like _luche_.
_Coihue_, _Coigüe_: large tree (South), yielding hardwood and a red
dye.
_Colihue_: wild bamboo. _Colihual_, bamboo thicket.
_Condor_: giant vulture (Sarcoramphus) of the Andes, ringed with white
about the neck. Appears on Chilean coat-of-arms together with the
native deer _huemul_. Araucanian name, _manqui_.
_Congrio_: a Chilean fish, generally liked; as also is the _corbina_,
_robalo_ and delicate _pejerey_.
_Copihue_: wild vine with a large, rosy bell. The national flower of
Chile.
_Coquimbano_ (a): native of Coquimbo.
_Cueca_: a popular soup.
_Cueca_, or _sama-cueca_: the Chilean national dance.
_Culén_ (_Cytisus Arboreus_): prophylactic against witchcraft: leaves
dried to make a medicinal tea and gum from stalks; well known as a
vermifuge.
_Cupilca_: thick liquid or thin paste made with toasted and powdered
wheat or maize and mixed with chicha or chacolí.
_Curado_: “half seas over.”
_Curanto_: Indian dish of meat and vegetables, originally cooked in a
stone-lined hole in the ground.
_Cuyano_: a native of the Argentine. Properly, applied to one born in
the old province of Cuyo, formerly including the then Chilean
provinces of Mendoza, San Juan and San Luis, but used familiarly
of any one born in Argentina.
_Despacho_: shop or store on an estate or mine where goods are sold to
employés.
_Empanada_: a paté, filled with chopped meat, onions, gravy, etc., and
served hot.
_Estrada_: raised bench generally built across the end of a living
room, used in colonial days as a seat for all the ladies of the
family.
_Fernandecino_ (a): native of the Juan Fernandez group of islands.
_Floripondio_: large white pendant flowers of the _Datura arborea_,
growing as a fairly large tree in Chile. Infusions yield the
_huanto_, a drugging drink used in regions of Quechua influence by
witch-doctors to obtain insensibility and visions; _huanto_ is
similar in effect to the _natema_ of Amazonian headwaters; _caapi_
of Eastern Ecuador, and _ayahuasca_ of Peru.
_Fundo_: a general farm. _Fundo de rulo_, a non-irrigated farm.
_Futre_: a pretentious person; in copper mines, a ghost or imp.
_Garúa_: fine rain, like a “Scotch mist” (North).
_Guachuchero_: a liquor-smuggler (mining regions).
_Guagua_: a baby (Araucanian Indian).
_Guaira_, _guairachina_: little smelters built on hilltop to catch the
breeze.
_Gualcacho_: (Araucanian) plant yielding a small native grain similar
to but more delicate than maize.
_Gualhue_: (Araucanian) damp ground, usually near a river, suitable
for maize cultivation.
_Guanaco_: ruminant quadruped, still found in considerable numbers in
the wild mountainous regions, all the way from the Bolivian border
to Tierra del Fuego. Rugs and coverings made of the thick tawny
hair, and the flesh eaten by Indians. In Ch. slang, a “guanaco” is
a country bumpkin, a “hayseed.”
_Guaso_, _huaso_: a cowboy (Central Chile).
_Guemul_, _huemul_: the native deer of Chilean woodland.
_Hacer-se Sueco_: to be unintelligible.
_Huacho_: properly, a motherless calf, but applied to any waif.
_Huasca_: a whip: originally applied to a supple creeper or liana of
the forests, used as a cord or thong.
_Humita_: maize paste.
_Inquilino_: farm-worker on a Chilean estate, on special conditions.
Usually given free house, land for cultivation, rations, small
wages, and use of implements.
_Invernado_: wintering-place for cattle.
_Litre_: a tree used for fuel. Leaves poisonous, affecting persons in
the tree’s shade.
_Llareta_ (_Lareta acaulis_): umbelliferous plant of low growth,
spreading to an enormous size like a giant mushroom: grows in
uplands of Tacna and Antofagasta, and is cut, dried on lower
slopes, and brought down to inhabited regions to serve as fuel.
_Luche_: sea-weed used for making stews.
_Lumo_: a large tree supplying good timber.
_Machí_: medicine-woman of the Araucanians.
_Maitén_: tree with white wood. Leaves infused to obtain a febrifuge.
_Mampato_: the small Chilean pony.
_Manco_: properly, a one-armed man, but applied to broken-down horses.
_Manta_: a finely-woven poncho, often of alpaca or vicuña wool.
_Manto_, black shawl worn by women when attending church services.
_Mineral_: a mineral reef or group of mines.
_Molle_: small tree with sweet-scented flowers and medicinal berries,
formerly used by Indians for making chicha.
_Paco_: slang term for a policeman.
_Palqui_: plant yielding mauve or yellow flowers: ashes used in
soap-making.
_Pampa_: a plain. _Pampas salitreras_, nitrate fields.
_Panqui_ or _Pangui_ (_Gunnera peltata_): plant with large
rhubarb-like leaves, yielding a black dye and tannin. Grows in
great quantities upon the islands of Juan Fernandez. _Pangal_, a
mass of Pangui plants.
_Penquisto_: native of Penco: applied to inhabitants of Concepción
City, the former Penco, or of Concepción province.
_Pirquén_: system by which the miner (pirquenero) works a vein on his
own account, paying a royalty on production.
_Politiquero_: a professional politician: used derogatively.
_Porotos_: beans.
_Porteño_: native of “the port”: usually, of Valparaiso.
_Pudu_: the miniature deer of South Chile.
_Pulpería_: store at a mine or nitrate oficina.
_Puno_: mountain sickness due to rarefied air: more commonly called
_soroche_ in Peru and Bolivia.
_Puntarrense_: native of Punta Arenas.
_Puya_ (Puya chilensis, formerly listed as Pourretia coarctata): group
of plants common in Chile, belonging to the genus Bromeliacrae,
different varieties bearing light or dark blue or yellow flowers
arranged in a huge spike; large orange stamens. The spiny leaves
form a thick rosette at the base, in a form similar to that of the
related pineapple. Feature of landscape in Central Chile, on spurs
of hills. The light pith of the mature stem of the tall
flower-spike, more buoyant than cork, is used for fishing floats
and for sharpening razors.
_Quelghen_: the Chilean native strawberry, remains white when ripe,
very sweet.
_Quila_: the small climbing bamboo of the South.
_Quillay_: a tree yielding a saponaceous bark much used in Chile.
_Quintral_: a beautiful scarlet-blossomed parasite upon poplar and
other trees.
_Quisco_ (_Cereus quisco_): columnar cactus of Central and northerly
Chile, called “torch thistle”; thorns used as needles; grows 12 to
18 ft.
_Raule_: a fine timber tree with red wood.
_Robie_: properly, oak, but applied to the Chilean beeches (South).
_Roto_: a “ragged man,” originally: now applied to any worker.
_Salitre_: nitrate of soda.
_Santiaguino_ (a): native of Santiago.
_Siutico_: “low-class” person; same meaning as _mediopelo_.
_Soroche_: See _Puno_.
_Tajamar_: wall or bank built to restrain the flood of sea or river;
that of the Mapocho river a famous promenade in Santiago.
_Templados_: people in love; same meaning as _encamotados_.
_Ulmo_: drink made of parched and ground corn or maize (Indian).
_Valdiviano_: a native of Valdivia; also name of a vegetable soup.
_Ventisqueros_: glaciers; frequently driven by wind into frozen snow
pinnacles, commonly called in Chile “nieves penitentes.”
_Williwaw_: a squall in Magellanic territory (Scots).
------------------------------------------------------------------------
TRANSCRIBER’S NOTES
Page Changed from Changed to
59 the Spaniards troubling that the Spaniards troubling that
region given up. The region gave up. The
105 became Lady Calcroft and became Lady Callcott and
published a perennially published a perennially
187 Work on the Portrerillos Work on the Potrerillos
installation was suspended installation was suspended
213 Chiléo’s 134 inches; the genial Chiloé’s 134 inches; the genial
softness of the climate softness of the climate
221 The evergreen beech (_Fagus The evergreen beech (_Fagus
antarticus_) flourishes in antarcticus_) flourishes in
● Typos fixed; non-standard spelling and dialect retained.
● Used numbers for footnotes.
● Enclosed italics font in _underscores_.
● Enclosed bold or blackletter font in =equals=.
*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK CHILE TODAY AND TOMORROW ***
Updated editions will replace the previous one—the old editions will
be renamed.
Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright
law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works,
so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United
States without permission and without paying copyright
royalties. Special rules, set forth in the General Terms of Use part
of this license, apply to copying and distributing Project
Gutenberg™ electronic works to protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG™
concept and trademark. Project Gutenberg is a registered trademark,
and may not be used if you charge for an eBook, except by following
the terms of the trademark license, including paying royalties for use
of the Project Gutenberg trademark. If you do not charge anything for
copies of this eBook, complying with the trademark license is very
easy. You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose such as creation
of derivative works, reports, performances and research. Project
Gutenberg eBooks may be modified and printed and given away—you may
do practically ANYTHING in the United States with eBooks not protected
by U.S. copyright law. Redistribution is subject to the trademark
license, especially commercial redistribution.
START: FULL LICENSE
THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE
PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK
To protect the Project Gutenberg™ mission of promoting the free
distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work
(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase “Project
Gutenberg”), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full
Project Gutenberg™ License available with this file or online at
www.gutenberg.org/license.
Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg™
electronic works
1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg™
electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to
and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property
(trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all
the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or
destroy all copies of Project Gutenberg™ electronic works in your
possession. If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a
Project Gutenberg™ electronic work and you do not agree to be bound
by the terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person
or entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8.
1.B. “Project Gutenberg” is a registered trademark. It may only be
used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who
agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few
things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg™ electronic works
even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See
paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project
Gutenberg™ electronic works if you follow the terms of this
agreement and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg™
electronic works. See paragraph 1.E below.
1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation (“the
Foundation” or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection
of Project Gutenberg™ electronic works. Nearly all the individual
works in the collection are in the public domain in the United
States. If an individual work is unprotected by copyright law in the
United States and you are located in the United States, we do not
claim a right to prevent you from copying, distributing, performing,
displaying or creating derivative works based on the work as long as
all references to Project Gutenberg are removed. Of course, we hope
that you will support the Project Gutenberg™ mission of promoting
free access to electronic works by freely sharing Project Gutenberg™
works in compliance with the terms of this agreement for keeping the
Project Gutenberg™ name associated with the work. You can easily
comply with the terms of this agreement by keeping this work in the
same format with its attached full Project Gutenberg™ License when
you share it without charge with others.
1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern
what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are
in a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States,
check the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this
agreement before downloading, copying, displaying, performing,
distributing or creating derivative works based on this work or any
other Project Gutenberg™ work. The Foundation makes no
representations concerning the copyright status of any work in any
country other than the United States.
1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg:
1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other
immediate access to, the full Project Gutenberg™ License must appear
prominently whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg™ work (any work
on which the phrase “Project Gutenberg” appears, or with which the
phrase “Project Gutenberg” is associated) is accessed, displayed,
performed, viewed, copied or distributed:
This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most
other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions
whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms
of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online
at www.gutenberg.org. If you
are not located in the United States, you will have to check the laws
of the country where you are located before using this eBook.
1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg™ electronic work is
derived from texts not protected by U.S. copyright law (does not
contain a notice indicating that it is posted with permission of the
copyright holder), the work can be copied and distributed to anyone in
the United States without paying any fees or charges. If you are
redistributing or providing access to a work with the phrase “Project
Gutenberg” associated with or appearing on the work, you must comply
either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 or
obtain permission for the use of the work and the Project Gutenberg™
trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or 1.E.9.
1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg™ electronic work is posted
with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution
must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any
additional terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms
will be linked to the Project Gutenberg™ License for all works
posted with the permission of the copyright holder found at the
beginning of this work.
1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg™
License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this
work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg™.
1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this
electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without
prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with
active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project
Gutenberg™ License.
1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary,
compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including
any word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access
to or distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg™ work in a format
other than “Plain Vanilla ASCII” or other format used in the official
version posted on the official Project Gutenberg™ website
(www.gutenberg.org), you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense
to the user, provide a copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means
of obtaining a copy upon request, of the work in its original “Plain
Vanilla ASCII” or other form. Any alternate format must include the
full Project Gutenberg™ License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1.
1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying,
performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg™ works
unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9.
1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing
access to or distributing Project Gutenberg™ electronic works
provided that:
• You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from
the use of Project Gutenberg™ works calculated using the method
you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is owed
to the owner of the Project Gutenberg™ trademark, but he has
agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the Project
Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments must be paid
within 60 days following each date on which you prepare (or are
legally required to prepare) your periodic tax returns. Royalty
payments should be clearly marked as such and sent to the Project
Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the address specified in
Section 4, “Information about donations to the Project Gutenberg
Literary Archive Foundation.”
• You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies
you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he
does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg™
License. You must require such a user to return or destroy all
copies of the works possessed in a physical medium and discontinue
all use of and all access to other copies of Project Gutenberg™
works.
• You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of
any money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the
electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days of
receipt of the work.
• You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free
distribution of Project Gutenberg™ works.
1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project
Gutenberg™ electronic work or group of works on different terms than
are set forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing
from the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the manager of
the Project Gutenberg™ trademark. Contact the Foundation as set
forth in Section 3 below.
1.F.
1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable
effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread
works not protected by U.S. copyright law in creating the Project
Gutenberg™ collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg™
electronic works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may
contain “Defects,” such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate
or corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other
intellectual property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or
other medium, a computer virus, or computer codes that damage or
cannot be read by your equipment.
1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the “Right
of Replacement or Refund” described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project
Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project
Gutenberg™ trademark, and any other party distributing a Project
Gutenberg™ electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all
liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal
fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT
LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE
PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH 1.F.3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE
TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE
LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR
INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH
DAMAGE.
1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a
defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can
receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a
written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you
received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium
with your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you
with the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in
lieu of a refund. If you received the work electronically, the person
or entity providing it to you may choose to give you a second
opportunity to receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If
the second copy is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing
without further opportunities to fix the problem.
1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth
in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you ‘AS-IS’, WITH NO
OTHER WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT
LIMITED TO WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTABILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE.
1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied
warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of
damages. If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement
violates the law of the state applicable to this agreement, the
agreement shall be interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or
limitation permitted by the applicable state law. The invalidity or
unenforceability of any provision of this agreement shall not void the
remaining provisions.
1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the
trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone
providing copies of Project Gutenberg™ electronic works in
accordance with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the
production, promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg™
electronic works, harmless from all liability, costs and expenses,
including legal fees, that arise directly or indirectly from any of
the following which you do or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this
or any Project Gutenberg™ work, (b) alteration, modification, or
additions or deletions to any Project Gutenberg™ work, and (c) any
Defect you cause.
Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg™
Project Gutenberg™ is synonymous with the free distribution of
electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of
computers including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It
exists because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations
from people in all walks of life.
Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the
assistance they need are critical to reaching Project Gutenberg™’s
goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg™ collection will
remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project
Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure
and permanent future for Project Gutenberg™ and future
generations. To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary
Archive Foundation and how your efforts and donations can help, see
Sections 3 and 4 and the Foundation information page at www.gutenberg.org.
Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation
The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non-profit
501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the
state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal
Revenue Service. The Foundation’s EIN or federal tax identification
number is 64-6221541. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg Literary
Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent permitted by
U.S. federal laws and your state’s laws.
The Foundation’s business office is located at 809 North 1500 West,
Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887. Email contact links and up
to date contact information can be found at the Foundation’s website
and official page at www.gutenberg.org/contact
Section 4. Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg
Literary Archive Foundation
Project Gutenberg™ depends upon and cannot survive without widespread
public support and donations to carry out its mission of
increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be
freely distributed in machine-readable form accessible by the widest
array of equipment including outdated equipment. Many small donations
($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt
status with the IRS.
The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating
charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United
States. Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a
considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up
with these requirements. We do not solicit donations in locations
where we have not received written confirmation of compliance. To SEND
DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any particular state
visit www.gutenberg.org/donate.
While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we
have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition
against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who
approach us with offers to donate.
International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make
any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from
outside the United States. U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff.
Please check the Project Gutenberg web pages for current donation
methods and addresses. Donations are accepted in a number of other
ways including checks, online payments and credit card donations. To
donate, please visit: www.gutenberg.org/donate.
Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg™ electronic works
Professor Michael S. Hart was the originator of the Project
Gutenberg™ concept of a library of electronic works that could be
freely shared with anyone. For forty years, he produced and
distributed Project Gutenberg™ eBooks with only a loose network of
volunteer support.
Project Gutenberg™ eBooks are often created from several printed
editions, all of which are confirmed as not protected by copyright in
the U.S. unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not
necessarily keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper
edition.
Most people start at our website which has the main PG search
facility: www.gutenberg.org.
This website includes information about Project Gutenberg™,
including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary
Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to
subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks.
