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Writing Type: Book
Extracts from his book.
Keywords: Women, Buenos Aires, San Luis, Mendoza, Santa Fe, indigenous women, gauchos, pampas
Publisher: Southern Illinois Press, London and Amsterdam, 1967.
Archive: Centre of Latin American Studies (CLAS) Library, Cambridge.
Text:
p.20
At Buenos Aires the men and women are rarely seen walking together; at the theater they are completely separated; and it is cheerless to see all the ladies sitting together in the boxes, while the men are in the pit slaves, common sailors, soldiers, and merchants, all members of the same republic.
p.33
SAN LUIS
Fifth day (from Buenos Aires). We arrived an hour after sunset fortified post scrambling in the dark for the kitchen cook unwilling correo (the courier) gave us his dinner huts of wild looking people three women and girls almost naked ("They be so wild as the donkey," said one of the Cornish party, smiling; he then very gravely added, "and there be one thing, sir, that I do observe, which is, that the farther we do go, the wilder things do get!") their strange appearance as they cooked our fowls. Our hut old man immovable ¬Maria or Mariquita's figure little mongrel boy three or four other persons. Roof supported in the center by a crooked pole holes in roof and walls walls of mud, cracked and rent¬a water jug in the corner on a three pronged stick. Floor, the earth the eight hungry peons, by moonlight, standing with their knives in their hands over a sheep they were going to kill, and looking on their prey like relentless tigers.
In the morning, Morales and the peons standing by the fire the blaze making the scene behind them dark and obscure the horizon like the sea, except here and there the back of a cow to be seen wagon and coach just discernible.
In the hut all our party occupied with the baggage lighted by a candle crooked and thin. Scene of urging the patrón to get horses, and Mariquita to get milk the patrón wakening the black boy.
Twelfth day. Left the post hut with three changes of horses to get to San Luis, distant thirty six miles inquired the way of one of the gauchos who was drawing the carriage he dismounted and traced it with his finger on (p.34) the road we were to turn off, when about three leagues, at a dead horse which we should see. I then galloped on with one of my party, knowing that we were to see no habitation until we got to San Luis we had three hours and a half of daylight. About halfway we began to think we had lost our path; however, we were sure to be wrong if we stopped to debate, and we therefore galloped on. Our horses got tired, and the sun was nearly setting without any appearance of houses, but as the lower edge touched the horizon, we discovered a hut, and riding up to it, we were informed by a little girl that we were near San Luis. We got to the post just as it was dark, and eagerly inquired of the wild group if there was an inn in the town. :'No hay! señor; no hay!" We then inquired for beds. 'No hay! señor; no hay!" "Is there a café?'' "No hay! señor," in exactly the same tone of voice. When we looked round us, we found nothing but bare walls and fleas. We happened (that day) to have English saddles, and we therefore began to ask again about beds. The woman told us we should have hers, and in a few moments she brought mattress and all rolled up, and laid it down on the floor; however, when I cast my eyes on the blanket, and above all the sheets, I begged in the most earnest manner that she would let me have something a little cleaner. "Son limpias," (they are clean) said the woman, taking up the sheet, and pointing to a little spot which looked whiter than the rest. There was no use in arguing the point, so I walked out of the hut, leaving the corner of the sheet in the woman's hand, and declaring that it was quite impossible to sleep there.
I went to the door of the maestro de posta (postmaster), and told him that I had ridden all day without eating; that I was very hungry, and begged to know what we could have: "Lo que quiera, señor," tenemos todo" (whatever you choose, we have everything).
I knew too well what "todo" meant, and he accordingly explained to me that he had "carne de vaca and gallinas" (beef and fowls). I ordered a fowl, and then went to my room. The sight of the bed again haunted me, and (p.35) after looking at it for some time with every inclination to persuade myself that it was even bearable, but in vain, I resolved to go to the governor, deliver my letters, and see what I could do with him.
I procured a guide, who was to lead me in the dark to the governor's house. After walking some distance, "Aquí está," said the man. "What, is that it?" said I, pointing to a door at which some black naked children were standing.¬ No, it was the next house.
The governor was not at home, but I found his wife sitting on a bed, surrounded by ladies requested to sit down, but hurried off to the coronel he was not at home, said the young lady, who begged me to sit down. Went to the barracks my reception an ordenanza or soldier ordered to return with me to the post, to desire the postmaster to treat me with particular respect. The town of San Luis by moonlight no houses to be seen, but garden walls of mud. Went to look after my dinner found the girl who was to cook it sitting in the smoke with the peons. I saw a black iron pot on the fire in which I supposed was my fowl ' I asked if the fowl was there? "No, señor, aquí está," said the girl, throwing an old blanket off her bare shoulders, and showing me the fowl alive in her lap. I was going to complain, and I fear to swear, but the smoke so got into my eyes and mouth that I could neither see nor speak. At last I asked for eggs, "No hay, señor." "Good heavens!" said I, "in the capital of San Luis is there not one single egg?" "Yes," she said, but it was too late, she would get me some mañana (tomorrow). She asked me if I liked cheese. "Oh, yes," said I, eagerly. She gave me an enormous cheese, and insisted on my taking the whole of it, but she had no bread.
I had hurt my right arm by my horse falling; how I carried the cheese into my room, and then did not where to put it. The floor was filthy the bed was worse, and there was nothing else; so supporting it with lame arm, I stood for some seconds moralizing on the state of the capital of the province of San Luis.
p.39
MENDOZA
The town of Mendoza is situated at the foot of the Andes, and the country around it is irrigated by cuts from the Rio Mendoza. This river bounds the west side of the town, and from it, on the cast side, there is a cut or canal about six feet wide, containing nearly as much water as would turn a large mill. This stream supplies the town with water, and at the same time adorns and refreshes the alameda or public walk. It waters the streets which descend from it to the river, and can also be conducted into those which are at right angles.
Mendoza is a neat small town, built upon the usual plan. The streets are all at right angles; there is a plaza or square, on one side of which is a large church, and several other churches and convents are scattered over the town. The houses are only one story high, and all the principal ones have a porte cochère, which enters a small court, round the four sides of which the house extends.
The houses are built of mud, and are roofed with the same. The walls are whitewashed, which gives them a neat appearance, but the insides of the houses, until they are whitewashed, look like an English barn. The walls are of course very soft; occasionally a large piece of them comes off, and they are of that consistency that, in a very few moments, a person, either with a spade or a pickaxe, could cut his way through any wall in the town. Several of the principal houses have glass in the window sashes, but the greatest number have not. The houses are, almost all little shops, and the goods displayed are principally English cottons.
The inhabitants are apparently a very quiet, respectable set of people. The governor, who is an old man, has the manners and the appearance of a gentleman: he has (p.40) a large family of daughters, who are pleasing looking girls. The men are dressed in blue or white jackets, without skirts. The women are only seen in the day sitting at their windows, in complete dishabille, but in the evening they come upon the alameda, dressed with a great deal of taste, in evening dresses and low gowns, and completely in the costume of London or Paris. The manner in which all the people seem to associate together, shows a great deal of good feeling and fellowship, and I certainly never saw less apparent jealousy in any place.
The people, however, are extremely indolent. A little after eleven o'clock in the morning, the shopkeepers make preparations for the siesta; they begin to yawn a little, and slowly to put back the articles which they have, during the morning, displayed on their tables. About a quarter before twelve they shut up the shops, the window shutters throughout the town are closed, or nearly so, and no individual is to be seen until five, and sometimes until six o'clock, in the evening.
During this time I used generally to walk about the town to make a few observations. It was really singular to stand at the corner of the right angled streets, and in every direction to find such perfect solitude in the middle of the capital of a province. The noise occasioned by walking was like the echo which is heard in pacing by oneself up the long aisle of a church or cathedral, and the scene resembled the deserted streets of Pompeii.
In passing some of the houses I often heard people snoring, and when the siesta was over, I was often much amused at seeing the people awaken, for there is infinitely more truth and pleasure in thus looking behind the scenes of private life, than in making formal observations on man when dressed and prepared for his public performance. The people generally lie on the ground or floor of the room, and the group is often amusing.
I saw one day an old man (who was one of the principal people in the town) fast asleep and happy. The old woman his wife was awake, and was sitting up in easy (p.41) dishabille scratching herself, while her daughter, who was a very pretty looking girl of about seventeen, was also awake, but was lying on her side kissing a cat.
In the evening the scene begins to revive. The shops are opened; a number of loads of grass are seen walking about the streets, for the horse that is carrying them is completely hid. Behind the load a boy stands on the extremity of the back; and to mount and dismount he climbs up by the animal's tail. A few gauchos are riding about, selling fruit; and a beggar on horseback is occasionally seen, with his hat in his hand, singing a psalm in a melancholy tone.
As soon as the sun has set, the alameda is crowded with people, and the scene is very singular and interesting. The men are sitting at tables, either smoking cigars or eating ices; the ladies are sitting on the mud benches which are on both sides of the alameda. This alameda is a walk nearly a mile long, between two rows of tall poplars; on one side of it are the garden walls of the town, concealed by roses and shrubs, and on the other the stream of water which supplies the town.
It will hardly be credited that, while this alameda is filled with people, women of all ages, without clothes of any sort or kind, are bathing in great numbers in the stream which literally bounds the promenade. Shakespeare tells us, that "the chariest maid is prodigal enough if she unveil her beauties to the moon, “but the ladies of Mendoza, not contented with this, appear even before the sun; and in the mornings and evenings they really bathe without any clothes in the Río Mendoza, the water of which is seldom up to their knees, the men and women all together; and certainly, of all the scenes which in my life I have witnessed, I never beheld one so indescribable.
However, to return to the alameda the walk is often illuminated in a very simple manner by paper lamps, which are cut into the shapes of stars, and are lighted by a single candle. There is generally a band of music playing, and at the end of the walk is a temple built of mud, which (p.42) is very elegant in its form, and of which it may truly be said "materiam superabat opus."
The few evenings I was at Mendoza, I always went as a complete stranger to this alameda to cat ices, which, after the heat of the day, were exceedingly delightful and refreshing; and as I put spoonful after spoonful into my mouth, looking above me at the dark outline of the cordillera, and listening to the thunder which I could sometimes hear rumbling along the bottoms of the ravines, and sometimes resounding from the tops of the mountains, I used always to acknowledge that if a man could but bear an indolent life, there can be no spot on earth where he might be more indolent and more independent than at Mendoza, for he might sleep all day, and eat ices in the evening, until his hourglass was out. Provisions are cheap, and the people who bring them quiet and civil; the climate is exhausting, and the whole population indolent "Mais que voulez vous?" how can the people of Mendoza be otherwise? Their situation dooms them to inactivity - they are bounded by the Andes and by the pampas, and, with such formidable and relentless barriers around them, what have they to do with the history, or the improvements, or the notions of the rest of the world? Their wants are few, and nature readily supplies them the day is long, and therefore as soon as they have had their breakfasts, and have made a few arrangements for their supper, it is so very hot that they go to sleep, and what else could they do better?
p.51
PROVINCE OF SANTA FE
Traveling from Buenos Aires to Mendoza by myself, with a birloche, or two wheeled carriage entrance behind two side seats had two peons Pizarro, who had already traveled twelve hundred miles, and Cruz, a friend of Pizarro, had traveled for three days a hundred and twenty miles a day Pizarro's fidelity and attention at night when he got in, his dark black face tired, and covered with dust and perspiration his tongue looked dry, and his whole countenance jaded yet his frame was hard as iron. His first object at night to get me something to eat to send out for a live sheep. He made a fire and cooked my supper as soon as I had supped, he brought me a candle at the carriage door, and watched me while I undressed to sleep there then wished me good night, got his own supper, and slept on his saddle at the wheel of the carriage. As soon as I awoke, and, before daylight, anxious to get on, I used to call out "Pizarro!" "Aquí está l'agua, señor," said he, in a patient low tone of voice he knew I liked to have water to wash in the morning, and he used to get it for me, sometimes in a saucer, sometimes literally in a little maté cup, which did not hold more than an eggshell, and in spite of his fatigue he was always up before I awoke, and waiting at the door of the carriage till I should call for him.
Province of Santa Fe to be described its wild, desolate appearance has been so constantly ravaged by the Pampas Indians, that there are now no cattle in the whole province, and people are afraid to live there. On the right and left of the road, and distant thirty and forty miles, one (p.52) occasionally sees the remains of a little hut which has been burnt by the Indians, and as one gallops along, the gaucho relates how many people were murdered in each how many infants slaughtered and whether the women were killed or carried away. The old post huts are also burnt - new ones have been built by the side of the ruins, but the rough plan of their construction shows the insecurity of their tenure. These huts are occupied only by men, who are themselves generally robbers, but in a few instances their families are living with them. When one thinks of the dreadful fate which has befallen so many poor families in this province, and that any moment may bring the Indians again among them, it is really shocking to see women living in such a dreadful situation to fancy that they should be so blind, and so heedless of experience; and it is distressing to see a number of innocent little children playing about the door of a hut, in which they may be all massacred, unconscious of the fate that may await them, or of the blood thirsty, vindictive passions of man.
We were in the center of this dreary country I always rode for a few stages in the morning, and I was with a young gaucho of about fifteen years of age, who had been born in the province his father and mother had been murdered by the Indians he had been saved by a man who had galloped away with him, but he was then an infant, and remembered nothing of it. We passed the ruins of a hut which he said had belonged to his aunt. He said that, about two years ago, he was at that hut with his aunt and three of his cousins, who were young men that while they were conversing together a boy galloped by from the other post, and in passing the door screamed out, "los indios! los indios!" that he ran to the door, and saw them galloping towards the hut without hats, all naked, armed with long lances, striking their mouths with their bridle hands, and uttering a shriek, which he described as making the earth tremble. He said that there were two horses outside the hut, bridled, but not saddled that he (p.53) leapt upon the back of one and galloped away that one of the young men jumped on the other, and followed him about twenty yards, but that then he said something about his mother, and rode back to the hut that just as he got there the Indians surrounded the hut, and that the last time he saw his cousins they were standing at the door with their knives in their hands that several of the Indians galloped after him, and followed him more than a mile, but that he was upon a horse which was "muy ligero (very swift), muy ligero," said the boy; and as we galloped along he loosened his rein, and darting on before me, smiled at showing me the manner in which he escaped, and then curbing his horse to a hand gallop, continued his history.
He said that when the Indians found he was getting away from them, they turned back that he escaped, and that when the Indians had left the province, which was two days after, he returned to the hut. He found it burnt, and saw his aunt's tongue sticking on one of the stakes of the corral; her body was in the hut; one of her feet was cut off at the ankle, and she had apparently bled to death. The three sons were outside the door naked, their bodies were covered with wounds, and their arms were gashed to the bone, by a series of cuts about an inch from each other, from the shoulder to the wrist.
The boy then left me at the next post, and I got into the carriage the day getting hot, and the stage twenty-four miles. After galloping about an hour, I saw a large cloud of smoke on the horizon before me; and as the Indians often burn the grass when they enter the country, I asked Pizarro what it was? He replied, "Quién sabe, señor, what it may be"; however, on we galloped.
I took little notice of it, and began to think of the dreadful story the boy had told me, and of many similar ones which I had heard; for I had always endeavored to get at the history of the huts which were burnt, although I always found that the gauchos thought very little about it; and that the story was sometimes altogether in oblivion, (p.54) before time had crumbled into dust the tottering mud walls which were the monuments of such dreadful cruelties.
It appears that the Pampas Indians, who, in spite of their ferocity, are a very brave and handsome race of men, occasionally invade "los cristianos," as the gauchos always term themselves, for two objects to steal cattle, and for the pleasure of murdering the people; and that they will even leave the cattle to massacre their enemies.
In invading the country, they generally ride all night, and hide themselves on the ground during the day; or, if they do travel, crouch almost under the bellies of their horses, who by this means appear to be dismounted and at liberty. They usually approach the huts at night at a full gallop, with their usual shriek, striking their mouths with their hands and this cry, which is to intimidate their enemies, is continued through the whole of the dreadful operation.
Their first act is to set fire to the roof of the hut and it is almost too dreadful to fancy what the feelings of a family must be, when, after having been alarmed by the barking of the dogs, which the gauchos always keep in great numbers, they first hear the wild cry which announces their doom, and in an instant afterwards find that the roof is burning over their heads.
As soon as the family rush out, which they of course are obliged to do, the men are wounded by the Indians with their lances, which are eighteen feet long, and as soon as they fall they are stripped of their clothes; for the Indians, who are very desirous to get the clothes of the Christians, are careful not to have them spoiled by blood. While some torture the men, others attack the children, and will literally run the infants through the body with their lances, and raise them to die in the air. The women are also attacked, and it would form a true but a dreadful picture to describe their fate, as it is decided by the momentary gleam which the burning roof throws upon their countenances.
(p.55) The old women, and the ugly young ones, are instantly butchered; but the young and beautiful are idols, by whom even the merciless hand of the savage is arrested. Whether the poor girls can ride or not, they are instantly placed upon horses, and when the hasty plunder of the hut is concluded, they are driven away from its smoking ruins, and from the horrid scene which surrounds it.
At a pace which in Europe is unknown, they gallop over the trackless regions before them, fed upon mare's flesh, sleeping on the ground, until they arrive in the Indians' territory, when they have instantly to adopt the wild life of their captors.
I was informed by a very intelligent French officer, who was of high rank in the Peruvian army, that, on friendly terms, he had once passed through part of the territory of these Pampas Indians, in order to attack a tribe who were at war with them, and that he had met several of the young women who had been thus carried off by the Indians.
He told me that he had offered to obtain permission for them to return to their country, and that he had, in addition, offered them large sums of money if they would, in the meanwhile, act as interpreters; but they all replied that no inducement in the world should ever make them leave their husbands, or their children, and that they were quite delighted with the life they led.
While I was sitting upon the side scat of the carriage, reflecting on the cruelties which had been exercised in a country which, in spite of its history, was really wild and beautiful, and which possessed an air of unrestrained freedom which is always exhilarating, I remarked that the carriage was only at a walk, an occurrence which in South America had never before happened to me, and in an instant it stopped. "Vea, señor," said Pizarro, with a firm countenance, as he turned back to speak to me, "qué tanta gente!" he pointed with his right hand before him, and I saw that the smoke which I had before observed was dust, and in it I indistinctly saw a crowd of men on horseback (p.56) back in a sort of wild military array; and on both flanks, at a great distance off, individual horsemen, who were evidently on the lookout to prevent a surprise. Our horses were completely tired; the whole body were coming rapidly towards us, and to mend the matter, Pizarro told me that he was afraid they were los indios. "Señor," said he, with great coolness, and yet with a look of despair, " - ¿Tiene armas a fuego ?" I told him I had none to spare, for I had only a short double barreled gun and two brace of pistols. "Aquí un sable, Pizarro!" said I, pushing the handle of a saber towards him from the window of the carriage. " ¡ Qué sable!" said he, almost angrily; and raising his right arm perpendicularly over his head, in a sort of despair, he added, "contra tanta gente!" but while his arm was in the position described, " ¡ Vamos! " said he, in a tone of determined courage, and giving his hand half a turn, he spurred his jaded horse, and advanced instantly at a walk. Poor Cruz, the other peon, seemed to view the subject altogether in a different light; he said not a word, but as I cast a glance at him, I perceived that his horse, far from pulling the carriage, was now and then hanging back a little a just picture of his rider's feelings. I could not help for a moment admiring Pizarro's figure, as I saw him occasionally digging his spurs into the side of his horse, which had me, the carriage, Cruz, and his horse to draw along; however, I now began to think of my own situation.
I earnestly wished I had never come into the country, and thought how unsatisfactory it was to be tortured and killed by mistake in other people's quarrels however, this would not do. I looked towards the cloud of dust, and it was evidently much nearer. In despair, I got my gun and pistols, which were all loaded, and when I had disposed of them, I opened a small canvas bag which contained all my ammunition gimcracks, for my gun and pistols had all fulminating locks. I ranged all on the seat before me the small powder flask, the buckshot, the bullets, the copper caps, and the punched cards; but the motion of the carriage danced them all together, and once (p.57) or twice I felt inclined, in despair, to knock them all off the seat, for against so many people resistance was useless; however, on the other hand, mercy was hopeless, so I, at last, was driven to make the best of a very bad bargain.
The carriage, which had a window at each of the four sides, had wooden blinds, which moved horizontally. I therefore shut them all, leaving an embrasure of about two inches, and then for some seconds I sat looking at the crowd which was coming towards us.
As they came close to us, for until then I could scarcely see them for dust, I perceived that they had no spears, and next that they wore clothes; but as they had no uniforms I conceived that they were a crowd of montoneros, who are quite as cruel as the Indians; however, as soon as they came to us, and when some of them had passed us, Pizarro pulled up and talked to them. They were a body of seven hundred wild gauchos, collected and sent by the governors of Córdoba and some other provinces, to proceed to Buenos Aires to join the army against the Brazilians; and on their flank they had scouts, to prevent a surprise by the Indians, who had invaded the country only a few weeks before.
It was really a reprieve; everything I saw for the rest of the day pleased me and for many days afterwards, I felt that I was enjoying a new lease of my life.
p.61 A fort in Santa Fe.
After being in the post hut a few minutes, I heard a sigh, and looking into the corner from whence it proceeded, I saw an old sick woman lying on the ground. Her head was resting on a horse's skull, close to a great hole in the wall, and when she earnestly asked me if I had anything "por remedio," I instantly advised her to move herself into a warmer corner. She was feverish and ill, and seemed disappointed at the advice I had given her she did not understand what the hole in the wall could possibly have to do with her illness, and she again asked me if I had any "remedio."
I had in my waistcoat pocket a little dirty paper parcel of calomel and jalap, which I had promised, much against my will, to carry with me, and which I had already twice carried across the pampas. I did not exactly know how much there was of it, but I had a great mind to shake a little of it into the old woman's mouth, for I thought (as she had certainly never tasted calomel before) it would probably work a miracle within her; however, she was so ill that, upon reflection, I did not feel authorized to give it to her, and besides I thought that if she died I should have to answer for it when I returned, so, partly from conscience and partly from prudence, I left her.
I may observe that this old woman was the only sick person I ever saw in South America. The temperate lives the people lead apparently give them an uninterrupted enjoyment of health, and the list of disorders with which the old world is afflicted is alto ether unknown.
p.62
Arrived at a post hut, and found its owner, Don José, skinning a cow he had just killed – he was assisted (p.63) by a black woman of about fifty, who busily continued the operation, while Don José slowly walked towards the corral to catch me a horse.
A pan of muddy water was outside the door, and I tossed a real to the black woman to let me wash my face in it; but when I asked her if there was a piece of looking glass in the hut, she replied with considerable contempt, and without raising her grey woolly head, "Aquí no hay. " At this moment a young gaucho, who was playing with some children near the door, recognized me; he had once ridden with me as a postilion, and he now offered to saddle my horse.
I was therefore going to lie down for a few minutes among the long grass to rest myself, when passing the corner of the hut I saw close before me a female figure pounding corn. She was the only daughter and eldest child of Don José (who was a widower), and she was about sixteen years of age. Her whole dress consisted of a coarse woolen petticoat, and over her bare shoulders was loosely thrown (as a shawl) an old scarlet poncho. With a large wooden pestle which she held in both hands, and which she lifted above her head, she was pounding Indian corn in a mortar rudely hewn out of one end of the trunk of a tree, which must have been dragged to the hut, for the purpose, more than a hundred miles. As soon as I appeared before her, with one hand she closed her poncho in front, and continued to pound the corn with the other; however, as soon as I asked her a few questions about the corn, she began earnestly and with great naivete to explain to me the whole operation, and then working the pestle with both her hands, she illustrated her art both by practice and theory, pounding and expounding at the same time; and although I cared but little how the corn was pounded, yet it was impossible to help admiring the artless simplicity and innocence of the girl's countenance, manners, and appearance. The plain of brown grass extended around us, and the horizon was like the circle which is seen at sea. No cattle were in sight and in no (p.64) direction was there anything to arrest the eye, but the hut the corral the old blind woman intently skinning the cow and this girl pounding her corn.
As she was in the middle of her explanation, I interrupted her by observing that "la negra" (the black woman) had told me there was no looking glass in the hut. "No hay, señor," said the girl. What then, said I, have you never seen your own face? "No, señor," she replied, looking down at the corn. I instantly thought whether it would be possible to describe it to her, but "señor! señor! "señor! " vociferated the boy as he came from the corral leading my horse.
I therefore at once walked to meet him but before I mounted my horse, I took a little memorandum book from my pocket, and wrote in it "Black woman skinning a cow," for the rest of the scene I thought I should remember.
I arrived for the night at a hut, where there were fowls, and I begged the woman to cook one of them immediately.
As soon as the water in a large pot had boiled, the woman caught a hen, and killed it by holding its head in her hand; and then, giving the bird two or three turns in the air, to my horror and utter astonishment, she instantly put the fowl into the pot, feathers and all; and although I had resolved to rough it on my journey, yet I positively could not make up my mind to drink such broth or "potage au naturel'' as I thought she was preparing for me. I ran to her, and, in very bad Spanish, loudly protested against her cookery; however, she quietly explained to me that she had only put the fowl there to scald it, and as soon as I let go her arm she took it out. The feathers all came off together, but they stuck to her fingers almost as fast as they had before to the fowl. After washing her hands, she took a knife, and very neatly cut off the wings, the two legs, the breast and the back, which she put one after another into a small pot with some beef suet and water, and the rest of the fowl she threw away.
(p.75)
As soon as the baggage mules were ready, we took up our pistols and carbines, and after mounting our mules and shaking hands with the crowd who had assembled in the yard, we bade adieu to the fonda of Mendoza. The last person that I bade farewell to was the old black cook, who was really crying to see us go. She was one of the most warm hearted and faithful creatures I had ever met with. She came to me just before I started, to beg me to take care (p.76) of myself, and she was then half laughing and half crying. I was at the moment going to throw away a pair of green goggle spectacles, with shining, lacquered rims, which I had bought to cross the snow of the cordillera, but which I had just condemned as troublesome and useless; however, seeing the old woman's grief, I gave them to her, and put them on the bridge of her short black nose, sticking the ends of them into her woolly hair. She considered it, perhaps, as an act of kindness, and began to cry; and although the group around us were roaring with laughter, the spectacles remained on her nose all the time I was conversing with her. She then took them off, and looking at them with great pride and delight, put them into the bosom of her gown.
The saddling of the mules had taken up so much time that the sun had nearly set. It was still oppressively hot; however, the siesta, which with eating, &c., is in Mendoza an operation of six hours, was over, and the people were standing at their doors to see us pass; but as we went by the alameda road, we soon got out of the town. In the stream which runs along the row of poplars which shade this alameda, or public walk, the people were bathing as usual, without any dresses, and apparently regardless of each other. The young called out to us, and many jokes were taken and given.
p.78 [The thermal baths of Villavivencio]
As I had no time to lose, and wanted to bathe, I asked a man who was looking out of a tent where the baths were. With the indifference and indolence usual in the country, he made no reply, but he pointed with his chin to some little walls close before him, two or three feet high, built with loose stones and in ruins. I was also close to them, so I took off my jacket and my belt of pistols, and walked towards them; but not believing they could be baths, I looked towards the man, and asked him if they were there. He made with his head the usual sign of "sí"; so I walked towards the walls, and to my astonishment I found a hole a little bigger than a coffin, with a woman lying in it! Seeing that there was no room for me there, I reconnoitred the spot, and found another hole about ten yards above the lady, and another (p.79) about the same distance below her. As the water ran from the one to the other, I thought I might as well act the part of the wolf as be the lamb, and I therefore went up the stream, and got into the upper bath. I found the water very hot and agreeable and without troubling myself about its analysis, drank some from the spot where it issued from the ground, and feeling that I had then given it a fair trial, I set off to return. In passing the huts and the tents I looked into them; they were crowded with men, women, and children, of all ages, and mingled together in a way which would not altogether be admitted at our English bathing places; but among the Andes customs and ideas are different, and if a lady has there the rheumatism, she sees no harm in trying to wash it away by the waters of Villavicencio.
p.83 The Uspallata mines
We then earnestly inquired of the man what he had for us to eat. And as we all three stood round him, our earnest and greedy looks were an amusing contrast to the calm tranquillity with which he replied "No hay," to everything we asked for; at last we found out that he had dry peaches and live goats. We put some of the former into a pot to boil, and in process of time the boy, who was sent out on horseback with a lasso to catch a goat, arrived. The little fellow could not kill it, and the man was gone for wood; so partly to put an end to the animal's fears, and partly because I was very hungry, I put a pistol to his car, and in a short time he was roasting on the burning embers.
At this moment an English lady, a child about seven years old, two or three younger ones, and a party of peons arrived. They had, with no other protection, passed the cordillera, and had ridden for twelve or fourteen hours that day in order to get to Uspallata.
The situation of a countrywoman with a family of little children interested us very much, and it was pleasing to hear that they had crossed the cordillera without any accident. The eldest child, who was a very fine boy, had ridden the whole way, but the other little chubby faced creatures had each been carried upon a pillow in front of the peons' saddles.
In the history of the hut of Villavicencio I had often heard that, in spite of its desert situation and want of comfort, an English lady, who was passing with her husband to Chile about seven or eight years ago, had been confined there, and had remained there until she and her little infant were capable of prosecuting their perilous journey; and when I saw the wretched abode, I had often felt how cheerless it must have been for her to have remained there so long.
The lady who now came to Uspallata was the very (p.84) person whose singular sufferings I have described, and the fine little boy was the child that was born at Villavicencio.
He had been in Chile ever since, and now the little manly fellow had ridden across the cordillera, and was about to introduce his brothers and sisters to the wild hovel in which it had been decreed that he should be born.
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