Chapter 25

Guayaquil.--First and Last Impressions.--Climate.--Commerce.--The Malecon.--Glimpse of the Andes.--Scenes on the Guayas.--Bodegas.--Mounted for Quito.--La Mona.--A Tropical Forest.

Late in the evening of the 19th of July, 1867, the steamer "Favorita" dropped anchor in front of the city of Guayaquil. The first view awakened visions of Oriental splendor. Before us was the Malecon, stretching along the river, two miles in length--at once the most beautiful and the most busy street in the emporium of Ecuador. In the centre rose the Government House, with its quaint old tower, bearing aloft the city clock. On either hand were long rows of massive, apparently marble, three-storied buildings, each occupying an entire square, and as elegant as they were massive. Each story was blessed with a balcony, the upper one hung with canvas curtains now rolled up, the other protruding over the sidewalk to form a lengthened arcade like that of the Rue de Rivoli in imperial Paris. In this lower story were the gay shops of Guayaquil, filled with the prints, and silks, and fancy articles of England and France. As this is the promenade street as well as the Broadway of commerce, crowds of Ecuadorians, who never do business in the evening, leisurely paced the magnificent arcade; hatless ladies sparkling with fire-flies[4] instead of diamonds, and far more brilliant than koh-i-noors, swept the pavement with their long trains; martial music floated on the gentle breeze from the barracks or some festive hall, and a thousand gas-lights along the levee and in the city, doubling their number by reflection from the river, betokened wealth and civilization.

[Footnote 4: The _Pyrophorus noctilucus_, or "cucujo," found also in Mexico and the West Indies. It resembles our large spring-beetle. The light proceeds from two eye-like spots on the thorax and from the segments underneath. It feeds on the sugar-cane. On the Upper Amazon we found the _P. clarus_, _P. pellucens_, and _P. tuberculatus_. At Bahia, on the opposite coast, Darwin found _P. luminosus_, the most common luminous insect.]

We landed in the morning to find our vision a dissolving view in the light of the rising sun. The princely mansions turned out to be hollow squares of wood-work, plastered within and without, and roofed with red tiles. Even the "squares" were only distant approximations; not a right angle could we find in our hotel. All the edifices are built (very properly in this climate) to admit air instead of excluding it, and the architects have wonderfully succeeded; but with the air is wafted many an odor not so pleasing as the spicy breezes from Ceylon's isle. The cathedral is of elegant design. Its photograph is more imposing than Notre Dame, and a Latin inscription tells us that it is the Gate of Heaven. But a near approach reveals a shabby structure, and the pewless interior is made hideous by paintings and images which certainly must be caricatures. A few genuine works of art imported from Italy alone relieve the mind of the visitor. Excepting a few houses on the Malecon, and not excepting the cathedral, the majority of the buildings have a tumble-down appearance, which is not altogether due to the frequent earthquakes which have troubled this city; while the habitations in the outskirts are exceedingly primitive, floored and walled with split cane and thatched with leaves, the first story occupied by domestic animals and the second by their owners. The city is quite regularly laid out, the main streets running parallel to the river. A few streets are rudely paved, many are shockingly filthy, and all of them yield grass to the delight of stray donkeys and goats. A number of mule-carts, half a dozen carriages, one omnibus, and a hand-car on the Malecon, sum up the wheeled vehicles of Guayaquil. The population is twenty-two thousand, the same for thirty years past. Of these, about twenty are from the United States, and perhaps twenty-five can command $100,000. No foreigner has had reason to complain that Guayaquilians lacked the virtues of politeness and hospitality. The ladies dress in excellent taste, and are proverbial for their beauty. Spanish, Indian, and Negro blood mingle in the lower classes. The city supports two small papers, _Los Andes_ and _La Patria_, but they are usually issued about ten days behind date. The hourly cry of the night-watchman is quite as musical as that of the muezzin in Constantinople. At eleven o'clock, for example, they sing "_Ave Maria purissima! los once han dedo, noche clara y serena. Viva la Patria!_"

The full name of the city is Santiago de Guayaquil.[5] It is so called, first, because the conquest of the province was finished on the 25th of July (the day of St. James), 1533; and, secondly, after Guayas, a feudatory cacique of Atahuallpa. It was created a city by Charles V., October 6, 1535. It has suffered much in its subsequent history by fires and earthquakes, pirates and pestilence. It is situated on the right bank of the River Guayas, sixty miles from the ocean, and but a few feet above its level. Though the most western city in South America, it is only two degrees west of the longitude of Washington, and it is the same distance below the equator--Orion sailing directly overhead, and the Southern Cross taking the place of the Great Dipper. The mean annual temperature, according to our observations, is 83°. There are two seasons, the wet, or _invierno_, and the dry, or _verano_. The _verano_ is called the summer, although astronomically it is winter; it begins in June and terminates in November.[6] The heavy rains come on about Christmas. March is the rainiest month in the year, and July the coldest. It is at the close of the _invierno_ (May) that fevers most abound. The climate of Guayaquil during the dry season is nearly perfect. At daybreak there is a cool easterly breeze; at sunrise a brief lull, and then a gentle variable wind; at 3 P.M. a southwest wind, at first in gusts, then in a sustained current; at sunset the same softened down to a gentle breeze, increasing about _7_ P.M., and dying away about 3 A.M. Notwithstanding heaps of filth and green-mantled pools, sufficient to start a pestilence if transported to New York, the city is usually healthy, due in great part, no doubt, to countless flocks of buzzards which greedily wait upon decay. These carrion-hawks enjoy the protection of law, a heavy fine being imposed for wantonly killing one.[7] It is during the rainy season that this port earns the reputation of being one of the most pestiferous spots on the globe. The air is then hot and oppressive, reminding the geologist of the steaming atmosphere in the carboniferous period; the surrounding plains are flooded with water, and the roads, even some of the streets of the city, become impassable; intolerable musquitoes, huge cockroaches, disgusting centipedes, venomous scorpions, and still more deadly serpents, keep the human species circumspect, and fevers and dysenteries do the work of death.

[Footnote 5: The ancient name was _Culenta_.]

[Footnote 6: The continuity of the dry season is broken by a rainy fit commencing a few days after the autumnal equinox, and called _el Cordonazo de San Francisco_. "Throughout South America (observes Mr. Spruce) the periodical alternations of dry and rainy weather are laid to the account of those saints whose 'days' coincide nearly with the epochs of change. But if the weather be rainy when it ought to be fair, or if the rains of winter be heavier than ordinary, the blame is invariably laid on the moon."]

[Footnote 7: The turkey-buzzard, the "John Crow" of the West Indies, is not a social bird, though a score are often seen together: each comes and goes by himself.]

The Guayas is the largest river on the Pacific coast; and Guayaquil monopolizes the commerce of Ecuador, for it is the only port. Esmeraldas and Peylon are not to be mentioned. Through its custom-house passes nearly every import and export. The green banks of the Guayas, covered with an exuberant growth, are in strong contrast with the sterile coast of Peru, and the possession of Guayaquil has been a coveted prize since the days of Pizarro. Few spots between the tropics can vie with this lowland in richness and vigor of vegetation. Immense quantities of cacao--second only to that of Caracas--are produced, though but a fraction is gathered, owing to the scarcity of laborers, so many Ecuadorians have been exiled or killed in senseless revolutions. Twenty million pounds are annually exported, chiefly to Spain; and two million pounds of excellent coffee, which often finds its way into New York under the name of "pure Java." There are three or four kinds of indigenous cacao on this coast, all richly deserving the generic title _Theobroma_, or "food for the gods." The best grows in Esmeraldas, as it contains the largest amount of oil and has the most pleasant flavor. But very little of it is exported, because it rots in about six months. The _cacao de arriba_, from up the River Guayas, is the best to export, as it keeps two years without damage. Next in order is the _cacao de abajo_, from down the river, as Machala, Santa Rosa, Balao, and Manabi, below Guayaquil. A still richer nut is the mountain cacao, but it is never cultivated. It is small and white, and almost pure oil. This oil, called cacao-butter, is used by the natives for burns, sores, and many cutaneous diseases. Cacao contributes more to the commerce of the republic than any other production of its soil. The flowers and fruit grow directly out of the trunk and branches. "A more striking example (says Humboldt) of the expansive powers of life could hardly be met with in organic nature." The fruit is yellowish-red, and of oblong shape, and the seeds (from which chocolate is prepared) are enveloped in a mass of white pulp. The tree resembles our lilac in size and shape, and yields three crops a year--in March, June, and September. Spain is the largest consumer of cacao. The Mexican _chocolalt_ is the origin of our word chocolate. Tucker gives the following comparative analysis of unshelled beans from Guayaquil and Caracas:

Guayaquil. Caracas.

Theobromine 0.63 0.55 Cacao-red 4.56 6.18 Cacao-butter 36.38 35.08 Gluten 2.96 3.21 Starch 0.53 0.62 Gum 1.58 1.19 Extractive matter 3.44 6.22 Humic acid 8.57 9.28 Cellulose 30.50 28.66 Ash 3.03 2.91 Water 6.20 5.58 ----- ----- 98.38 99.48

The coffee-tree is about eight feet high, and has dark green leaves, white blossoms, and green, red, and purple berries at the same time. Each tree yields on an average two pounds annually.

The other chief articles of exportation are hides, cotton, "Panama hats," manufactured at Indian villages on the coast, cinchona bark, caucho, tobacco, orchilla weed, sarsaparilla, and tamarinds.[8] The hats are usually made of the "Toquilla" (_Carludovica palmata_), an arborescent plant about five feet high, resembling the palm. The leaf, which is a yard long, is plaited like a fan, and is borne on a three-cornered stalk. It is cut while young, the stiff parallel veins removed, then slit into shreds by whipping it, and immersed in boiling water, and finally bleached in the sun. The same "straw" is used in the interior. The "Mocora," which grows like a cocoa-nut tree, with a very smooth, hard, thorny bark, is rarely used, as it is difficult to work. The leaves are from eight to twelve feet in length, so that the "straws" will finish a hat without splicing. Such hats require two or three months, and bring sometimes $150; but they will last a lifetime. They can be packed away in a vest pocket, and they can be turned inside out and worn, the inside surface being as smooth and well finished as the outside. "Toquilla" hats are whiter than the "mocora."

[Footnote 8: In 1867 there were exported to Europe of cacao, 197,260 quintals; cotton, 10,247 do.; caucho, 8911 do.; sarsaparilla, 149 do.; orchilla, 10,247 packages; quinine, 5000 do.; tobacco, 2000 do.; coffee, 1611 do.; tamarinds, 65 bbls.; sides of leather, 22,514; hats, 8397.]

The exports from Guayaquil bear no proportion to the capabilities of the country; Ecuador has no excuse for being bankrupt. Most of the imports are of English origin; lard comes from the United States, and flour from Chile.

The Malecon and river present a lively scene all the year round; the rest of the city appears deserted in comparison. The British steamers from Panama and Payta arrive weekly; Yankee steam-boats make regular trips up and down the Guayas and its tributaries; half a dozen sailing vessels, principally French, are usually lying in the stream, which is here six fathoms deep; and hundreds of canoes are gliding to and fro. But the _balsas_ are the most original, and, therefore, the most attractive sight. These are rafts made of light balsa wood, so buoyant as to be used in coasting voyages. They were invented by the old Peruvians, and are the homes of a literally floating population. By these and the smaller craft are brought to the mole of the Malecon, besides articles for exportation, a boundless variety of fruits--pine-apples (whose quality has made Guayaquil famous), oranges, lemons, limes, plantains, bananas, cocoa-nuts, alligator pears, papayas, mangos, guavas, melons, etc.; many an undescribed species of fish known only to the epicure, and barrels or jars of water from a distant point up the river, out of the reach of the tide and the city sewers. Ice is frequently brought from Chimborazo, and sold for $1 per pound. A flag hoisted at a favorite café announces that snow has arrived from the mountains, and that ice-cream can be had. The market, held every morning by the river side, is an animated scene. The strife of the half-naked fishmongers, the cry of the swarthy fruit-dealers--"Pinas!" "Naranjas!" etc., and the song of the itinerant dulce-peddler--"Tamales!" mingled with the bray of the water-bearing donkeys as they trot through the town, never fail to arrest the attention of every traveler.

But there is another sight more attractive still--one worth a long voyage, for Nature nowhere else repeats the picture. From the balconies of Guayaquil can be seen on a clear day the long, towering range of the Andes. We may forget all the incidents in our subsequent journey, but the impression produced by that glorious view is unfading. The sun had nearly touched the Pacific when the clouds, which for days had wrapped the Cordilleras[9] in misty robes, suddenly rose like a curtain. There stood, in inconceivable grandeur, one of the stupendous products of the last great revolution of the earth's crust, as a geologist would say, but, in the language of history, the lofty home of the Incas, made illustrious by the sword of Pizarro and the pen of Prescott. On the right a sea of hills rose higher and higher, till they culminated in the purple mountains of Assuay. Far to the left, one hundred miles northeasterly, the peerless Chimborazo lifted its untrodden and unapproachable summit above its fellows--an imposing background to lesser mountains and stately forests. The great dome reflected dazzlingly the last blushes of the west, its crown of snow fringed with black lines, which were the steep and sharp edges of precipitous rocks. It was interesting to watch the mellowing tints on the summit as the shadows crept upward: gold, vermilion, violet, purple, were followed by a momentary "glory;" then darkness covered the earth, and a host of stars, "trembling with excess of light," burst suddenly into view over the peaks of the Andes.

[Footnote 9: _Cordillera_ (pronounced Cor-de-yér-ra), literally a long ridge, is usually applied to a longitudinal subdivision of the Andes, as the east and west cordilleras inclosing the valley of Quito; _Sierra_ (from the Spanish for saw or Arabic _sehrah_, an uncultivated tract) is a jagged spur of the Andes; _Cerro_, "a hog-backed hill." _Paramo_ (a desert) is the treeless, uninhabited, uncultivated rolling steppes just below the snow-limit.]

Bidding "adios" to our Guayaquilian friends, we took passage in one of Captain Lee's little steamers to Bodegas, seventy miles up the river. The Ecuadorian government, strange to say, does not patronize these steamers, but carries the Quito mail in a canoe. The Guayas is a sluggish stream, its turbid waters starting from the slope of the Andes, and flowing through a low, level tract, covered with varied forms of vegetable life. Forests of the broad-leaved plantain and banana line the banks. The fruit is the most common article of food in equatorial America, and is eaten raw, roasted, baked, boiled, and fried. It grows on a succulent stem formed of sheath-like leaf-stalks rolled over one another, and terminating in enormous light green, glossy blades nearly ten feet long by two feet wide, so delicate that the slightest wind will tear them transversely. Each tree (vulgarly called "the tree of paradise") produces fruit but once, and then dies. A single bunch often weighs 60 or 70 pounds; and Humboldt calculated that 33 pounds of wheat and 99 pounds of potatoes require the same space of ground as will produce 4000 pounds of bananas. They really save more labor than steam, giving the greatest amount of food from a given piece of ground with the least labor. They are always found where the palm is; but their original home is the foot of the Himalayas. The banana (by some botanists considered a different species from the plantain) is about four inches long, and cylindrical, and is eaten raw. The plantain is twice as large and prismatic, and uncooked is unhealthy. There is another variety, _platanos de Otaheite_, which resembles the banana in size and quality, but is prismatic.

A belt of jungle and impenetrable brushwood intervenes, and then cacao and coffee plantations, vast in extent, arrest the eye. Passing these, the steamer brings you alongside of broad fields covered with the low, prickly pine-apple plant; the air is fragrant with a rich perfume wafted from a neighboring grove of oranges and lemons; the mango spreads its dense, splendid foliage, and bears a golden fruit, which, though praised by many, tastes to us like a mixture of tow and turpentine; the exotic bread-tree waves its fig-like leaves and pendent fruit; while high over all the beautiful cocoa-palm lifts its crown of glory.[10] Animal life does not compare with this luxuriant growth. The steamer-bound traveler may see a few monkeys, a group of _gallinazos_, and many brilliant, though songless birds; but the chief representative is the lazy, ugly alligator. Large numbers of these monsters may be seen on the mud-bank basking in the hot sun, or asleep with their mouths wide open.

[Footnote 10: The mango of Asia is superior in size and flavor to that of America. It is eaten largely in Brazil by negroes and cattle. The cocoa-palm is also of Asiatic origin, and is most abundant in Ceylon. It has a swollen stem when young, but becomes straight and tall when mature. The flowers burst into a long plume of soft, cream-colored blossoms. It is worthy of remembrance that the most beautiful forms of vegetation in the tropics are at the same time most useful to man.]

Eight hours after leaving the Malecon we arrived at Bodegas, a little village of two thousand souls, rejoicing in the synonym of Babahoyo. This has been a place of deposit for the interior from the earliest times. In the rainy season the whole site is flooded, and only the upper stories are habitable. Cock-fighting seems to be the chief amusement. We breakfasted with the governor, a portly gentleman who kept a little dry-goods store. His excellency, without waiting for a formal introduction, and with a cordiality and courtesy almost confined to the Latin nations, received us into his own house, and honored us with a seat at his private table, spread with the choicest viands of his kingdom, serving them himself with a grace to which we can not do justice. Much as we find to condemn in tropical society, we can not forget the kindness of these simple-hearted people. Though we may portray, in the coming pages, many faults and failings according to a New York standard, we wish it to be understood that there is another side to the picture; that there are virtues on the Andes to which the North is well-nigh a stranger. "How many times (says an American resident of ten years) I have arrived at a miserable hut in the heart of the mountains, tired and hungry, after traveling all day without any other companion than the arriero, to receive a warm-hearted welcome, the best, perhaps the only chair or hammock offered to me, the fattest chicken in the yard killed on my account, and more than once they have compelled me by force to take the only good bed, because I must be tired, and should have a good night's rest. A man may travel from one end of the Andes to the other, depending altogether on the good people he meets."

At Bodegas travelers take to mules or horses for the mountains, hiring one set for Guaranda and another at that village for Quito; muleteers seldom allow their animals to pass from one altitude to the other. These _arrieros_, or muleteers, form a very important class in Ecuador. Their little caravans are the only baggage and express trains in the republic; there is not a single regularly established public conveyance in the land. The _arrieros_ and their servants (_peons_) are Indians or half-breeds. They wear a straw or felt hat, a poncho striped like an Arab's blanket, and cotton breeches ending at the knees. For food they carry a bag of parched corn, another bag of roasted barley-meal (_mashka_), and a few red peppers. The beasts are thin, decrepit jades, which threaten to give out the first day; yet they must carry you halfway up the Andes. The distance to the capital is nearly two hundred miles. The time required is usually eight or nine days; but officials often travel it in four.

We left Bodegas at noon. It was impossible to start the muleteer a moment earlier, though he had promised to be ready at seven. Patience is a necessary qualification in a South American traveler. In our company were a Jesuit priest, with three attendants, going to Riobamba, and a young Quito merchant, with his mother--the mother of only twenty-five children. This merchant had traveled in the United States, and could not help contrasting the thrift and enterprise of our country with the beggary and laziness of his own, adding, with a show of sincerity, "I am sorry I have Spanish blood in my veins." The suburbs of Bodegas reminded us of the outskirts of Cairo; but the road soon entered a broad savannah instead of a sandy desert. At 3 P.M. we passed through La Mona, a village of twenty-five bamboo huts, all on stilts, for in the rainy season the whole town is under water. Signs of indolence and neglect were every where visible. Idle men, with an uncertain mixture of European, Negro, and Indian blood; sad-looking Quichua women, carrying a naked infant or a red water-jar on the back; black hogs and lean poultry wandering at will into the houses--such is the picture of the motley life in the inland villages. Strange was the contrast between human poverty and natural wealth. We were on the borders of a virgin forest, and the overpowering beauty of the vegetation soon erased all memory of the squalor and lifelessness of La Mona. Our road--a mere path, suddenly entered this seemingly impenetrable forest, where the branches crossed overhead, producing a delightful shade. The curious forms of tropical life were all attractive to one who had recently rambled over the comparatively bleak hills of New England. Delight is a weak term to express the feelings of a naturalist who for the first time wanders in a South American forest. The superb banana, the great charm of equatorial vegetation, tossed out luxuriantly its glossy green leaves, eight feet in length; the slender but graceful bamboo shot heavenward, straight as an arrow; and many species of palm bore aloft their feathery heads, inexpressibly light and elegant. On the branches of the independent trees sat tufts of parasites, many of them orchids, which are here epiphytal; and countless creeping plants, whose long flexible stems entwined snake-like around the trunks, or formed gigantic loops and coils among the limbs. Beneath this world of foliage above, thick beds of mimosæ covered the ground, and a boundless variety of ferns attracted the eye by their beautiful patterns.[11] It is easy to specify the individual objects of admiration in these grand scenes, but it is not possible to give an adequate idea of the higher feelings of wonder, astonishment, and devotion which fill and elevate the mind. This road to the Andes is a paradise to the contemplative man. "There is something in a tropical forest (says Bates) akin to the ocean in its effects on the mind. Man feels so completely his insignificance, and the vastness of nature." The German traveler Burmeister observes that "the contemplation of a Brazilian forest produced on him a painful impression, on account of the vegetation displaying a spirit of restless selfishness, eager emulation, and craftiness." He thought the softness, earnestness, and repose of European woodland scenery were far more pleasing, and that these formed one of the causes of the superior moral character of European nations. Live and let live is certainly not the maxim taught in these tropical forests, and it is equally clear that selfishness is not wanting among the people. Here, in view of so much competition among organized beings, is the spot to study Darwin's "Origin of Species." We have thought that the vegetation under the equator was a fitter emblem of the human world than the forests of our temperate zone. There is here no set time for decay and death, but we stand amid the living and the dead; flowers and leaves are falling, while fresh ones are budding into life. Then, too, the numerous parasitic plants, making use of their neighbors as instruments for their own advancement, not inaptly represent a certain human class.

[Footnote 11: Ferns constitute one sixth of the flora of South America; Spruce counted 140 species within the space of three square miles. Their limits of growth are 500 and 7000 feet above the sea.]