Book: A Vanished Arcadia,

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In 1628 Montoya seems to have met for the first time Padre Diaz Tano,
who afterwards was his companion both in the retreat from Guayra
down the Parana and in his mission to the King. No matter
whether a man make his career with Indians in the wilds of Paraguay
or amongst the so-called reasoning people in more sophisticated lands,
if he once show himself superior to the ordinary run of men,
there is something of an invidious character certain to be attributed to him
by those who think that genius is the worst attribute that man can have.
This, Montoya did not escape from amongst the Spaniards, but the Indians,
at least, were less envious, being perhaps less educated, for they believed
that the soul of one of their `caciques',* known in his life as Quaratici,
had entered into him. The rumour reached at last a chief called Guiravera,
known to the Spaniards as the `Exterminator' from his cruelty,
who, hearing that the soul of his late rival had entered into Montoya,
came to see him at the head of a large retinue of people of his tribe.
Montoya and Maceta were at Villa Rica, and on the chief's approach
they happened to be seated in the plaza of the town. As he approached them,
followed by his men, and with a threatening air, they remained seated,
merely motioning him to take a seat upon a bench. This he did, after making
one of his men cover the seat with a tiger-skin and stand behind on guard.
What passed between them, most unluckily, Montoya has not set down.
What he has told us only makes us wish for more, for it appears
that after the usual salutations Guiravera refused to speak,
and getting up walked about the town, silently looking at everything.
But, as it ever happens, even Montoya was no exception
to the general run of history-writers, who usually are occupied alone
with facts which seem to them important at the time,
forgetting that posterity (for whom they write) can judge of the result
as well as they themselves, but thirst for details to complete the chain
betwixt them and their predecessors. One thing is set down `in extenso'
-- not by Montoya, but by another Jesuit -- that is,
the sermon which Montoya preached to bring the chief into the fold.
Considered as a sermon it does not seem out of the common way,
and judged by its results was futile at the time, for the chief
answered coldly that he would think the matter over, and then retired
into the woods. But the seed thus sown in Villa Rica was to bear fruit,
for in a year the chief, either tired of his ancestral gods or having pondered
on the sermon, came into the fold and was baptized as Paul.

--
* `Cacique' = chief.
--

An irruption*1* of the Mamelucos called Father Montoya from
baptizing Indians and recovering their souls to the more prosaic,
if as useful, task of saving their bodies, which he did
at the immediate peril of his own. The Mamelucos had appeared (1628)
before the Reduction of Encarnacion, and many of the Indians had already
taken refuge in the woods. Those who remained were like a flock of sheep
without a shepherd, and knew not what to do. Padre Montoya hastened
to the spot, and called on every Christian to take up arms.
Under the circumstances he undoubtedly was right; still, in reading history
one is puzzled to observe how often and in how many different countries
Christians have to resort to arms. But before proceeding to extremities,
Montoya sent out Fathers Mendoza and Domenecchi with some of
the principal inhabitants of the reduction to parley with the Mamelucos,
who, under their celebrated leader Antonio Raposo, were encamped
outside the place. Upon arriving within range of the Paulista camp
they were greeted with a shower of balls and arrows, which killed
several of the Indians and wounded Father Mendoza in the foot. But when,
in spite of his wound, the Jesuit advanced towards the camp and insisted
on speaking with the leader, the Mamelucos were so struck with his courage
that they gave up to him several of the Indians whom they had taken prisoners
upon the previous day. Next day Father Montoya, encouraged by
the unhoped-for success of Father Mendoza, went out himself,
and, facing the Paulistas, somewhat imprudently threatened them
with the wrath of Heaven and the King if they did not retire.
The wrath of Heaven is often somewhat capricious in its action,
and the King of Spain, although as wrathful as he had been an Emperor,
was too far away to inspire much terror in his subjects on the Parana.
So that the Paulista treated the wrath of both their Majesties
as qualities which he could well neglect, and for sole answer
ordered his men to march upon the town. But, whether owing
to their hard hearts having been touched by the good Father's eloquence,
or the fact that the neophytes were under arms, when the Paulistas
arrived close to the town they altered their intentions and filed off
into the woods. Profiting by the respite from hostilities,
Montoya, in conjunction with Padre Diaz Tano and a Father bearing
the somewhat curious name of Padre Justo Vansurk Mansilla,*2*
devoted all his attention for the time to the Mission of Santa Maria la Mayor,
which was the most flourishing of all the missions of the time,
and which to-day still shows the greatest remnants of the Jesuits' work,
both in regard to architecture and the remains of Indian population
still settled on the old mission lands. But even there
the Jesuits did not escape without their trials, for it appears*3*
that a quantity of new proselytes arrived with women, whom the good Fathers
stigmatized as `concubines', and whom the ignorant Indians
in the innocence of their hearts looked on as wives. The order being given
to dismiss these concubines (or wives), a few submitted; but the rest,
leaving the mission, started cultivating a tract of land in the vicinity.

--
*1* These raids were known as `malocas'.
*2* In Paraguay it was not unusual for foreign Jesuits
to hispaniolize their names; thus, Smith became Esmid.
But it was more usual to add a Spanish name, as appears
to have been the case with P. Vansurk Mansilla. Father Manuel Querini,
in his report to the King of Spain in 1750, mentions the names of Boxer,
Keiner, and Limp, with many other French, English, and German names,
amongst those of priests at the various missions.
*3* Montoya, `Conquista Espiritual'. Also Charlevoix.
--

Then the good Fathers, with Montoya at their head, hit on a stroke of genius.
Taking the opportunity when the seceding Indians were away
gathering their crops, they set fire to their houses and carried off
the children and the women,* back to the mission. The recalcitrants
appeared next day at Santa Maria la Mayor, and were received again
into the bosom of the Church. Heresy, also, now and then made its appearance,
for two rascals, having built two temples upon two hills,
transported to them the skeletons of two magicians long since dead,
and the fickle people left the churches empty, and went to worship
at the magicians' shrines. But in this season of sorrow and of care,
and whilst the churches in the Mission of Encarnacion were left deserted,
Montoya once again showed his determination, and put things right.
Not being able to cope alone with the heathen, Father Diaz Tano
went to Guayra, and induced Montoya (still the superior of the reductions
in that province) to give his aid. He came, and, having armed
some of the faithful, at dead of night attacked the temples and razed them
to the ground.

--
* It is certain that the Guaranis, like many other Indians,
were polygamists, and Xarque, in his `Vida Apostolica
del P. Joseph Cataldino', thus explains the matter:
`El tener tanto numero de concubinas, no solamente lo ocasiona
su natural lascivo, sino tambien, el vicio de la embriaguez,
pues teniendo tantas criadas tenian con mas abundancia su cerveza y vino.'
Thus Xarque seems to agree with the late Miss Mary Kingsley,
who in one of her books (though she says nothing about
the `natural lascivo' of the negroes of the West Coast of Africa)
seems to attribute the polygamy of the negroes to the difficulty
a man experiences, in the countries in which she travelled,
in getting his food prepared by one wife.
--

In 1631 Montoya and others came in the forests of Guayra
upon the wild Caaguas. These they strove hard to civilize,
but, after labouring long, with all their eloquence were able
to induce only eighteen to return with them to the Encarnacion.
It was `with difficulty that they were able to give them
a sufficient knowledge of the mysteries of our faith to be able
to bestow the rite of baptism.' It may be that the Caaguas,
not having much to occupy their minds, approached the mysteries of our faith
in more receptive attitudes than is attained by those whose minds are full.
But, anyhow, Montoya, with true prudence, deferred their baptism
till just before their death, for a few months of life outside the forests
proved fatal to them all. Faith is a wondrous thing,
and able to move most things, even common-sense. One wonders, though,
why, when the Jesuits learned from experience that the poor Indians
invariably died when exposed to the burning sun upon the plains,
they continued in their fatal efforts to inflict baptism
on the unoffending people of the woods. If it were necessary,
it surely might have taken place in their own homes, and the patients then
might have been left to chance, to see how the reception of the holy rite
acted upon their lives.

In 1631 the Mamelucos broke into the province of Guayra.
All was confusion, and Montoya sent Father Diaz Tano to Asuncion
to beg the Governor, Don Luis de Cespedes, to send them help.
He answered that he could do nothing, and thus by leaving
the whole territory of Guayra without defence lost a rich province
to the Crown of Spain. Though at the time (1631) Portugal and Spain
were united, yet in the Indies their subjects were at war,
and though in Europe Spain was the stronger of the two,
in America the Portuguese conquered about that time rich provinces,
which to-day form part of the quondam Empire of Brazil.

Upon the failure of Don Luis de Cespedes to render help,
Padre Diaz Tano was despatched to Charcas*1* to lay the matter
before the Audiencia Real (the High Court of the Indies).
The frequent journeys and diplomatic negotiations in which
the Jesuits of Paraguay were engaged rendered them far more apt
to manage business than members of the other Orders in America.
Whilst in Guayra all was confusion, and the Paulistas swept through the land
ruining everything, upon the Uruguay things prospered, and Padre Romero
founded two new reductions (1631), known as San Carlos and Apostoles;
he also laid the foundation of that territory in which
the persecuted neophytes of Guayra were soon to find a safe retreat.
Father Diaz Tano by this time had returned from Charcas
with a decree of the High Court, declaring the action of Don Luis de Cespedes
in failing to protect Guayra against the Mamelucos prejudicial to
the interests of the King; but as neither he nor the High Court of Charcas
possessed any power by means of which to stimulate the Governor
to greater zeal, the decree was useless, and Tano and Ruiz Montoya
found themselves summoned hastily to meet a new attack. But before
they arrived the missions, both of San Francisco Xavier and of San Jose,
had been destroyed. As there were still three reductions undestroyed,
Montoya, as Provincial of Guayra, called all the Jesuits of the province
to deliberate as to their chance of making a defence. The debate ran high;
some of the priests wished that the neophytes should fight to the end;
others, more sensible, pointed out that the ill-armed and quite untrained
militia of the missions could do nothing with their bows and arrows
against the well-led and well-disciplined Paulistas all armed with guns.*2*
Padre Truxillo gave it as his opinion that it would be more prudent
to transport the Indians to a place of safety, and pointed out
that near the cataract of Guayra they would be able
to cross the river and place it between themselves and the Paulistas
in case of an attack. This advice seemed prudent to the rest,
and Father Truxillo set out to make his preparation for the march.
Few European travellers even to-day have visited the great cataract
known as El Salto de Guayra, or in Portuguese As sete Quedas.
Bourgade la Dardye*3* has described it in his book on Paraguay.
Situated as it is in the midst of almost impenetrable forests,
it has not even now been properly placed upon the map. Bourgade la Dardye
inclines to think he was the first to visit it since the expedition sent
by the elder Lopez, President of Paraguay, under Lieutenant Patino in 1861.
Before that time it had been left unvisited since 1788,
when the Boundary Commissioners sent to determine the dividing line
between the Spanish and Portuguese possessions camped near it for a week.
Felix de Azara writes about it in his `Historia del Paraguay',*4*
but he does little more than reproduce the account given
by the Boundary Commissioners. He places it in 24d 4' 27" lat.,
and refers to it as `a tremendous precipice of water*5*
worthy of Homer or of Virgil's pen.' He says the waters do not fall
vertically as from a balcony or window (`como por un balcon o/ ventana'),
but by an inclined plane at an inclination of about fifty degrees.
The river close to the top of the falls is about four thousand nine hundred
Castilian yards in breadth, and suddenly narrows to about seventy yards,
and rushes over the fall with such terrific violence as if it wished
to `displace the centre of the earth, and cause thus the nutation
which astronomers have observed in the earth's axis.' The dew or vapour
which rises from the fall is seen in the shape of a column
from many miles away, and on it hangs a perpetual rainbow,
which trembles as the earth seems to tremble under one's feet.
`The noise,' he says, `is heard full six leagues off, and in the neighbourhood
neither bird nor beast is found.' In Azara's time the journey
was not too pleasant, for he says: `He who wishes to see this fall
must cross the desert for thirty leagues from the town of Curuguaty
to the river Guatimi. There he must choose trees to construct canoes.
In these he must embark all those who go with him, arms and provisions,
and besides, where he embarks, leave an armed escort
to secure his base of supplies from the wild Indians' attack.
In the canoes he then must navigate the Guatimi for thirty leagues
until it joins the Parana, and always with much care,
for in the woods upon its banks are Indians who give no quarter.*6* . . .
Then there remain three leagues to sail upon the Parana,
then one can reach the falls either in the canoes or struggling along
the woods which fringe the river's bank.'

--
*1* Charcas is situated in what is now Bolivia, and was extremely inconvenient
for all dwellers on the eastern side of the Andes to reach.
Whether this was a masterpiece of policy calculated
to discourage lawsuits, or whether it was merely due
to Spanish incuriousness and maladministration, is a moot point.
*2* The Indians of the missions were not allowed to possess firearms
at this period.
*3* `Paraguay', Dr. E. de Bourgade la Dardye; English edition
by George Philips junior (London, 1892). The Indians
call it Salto de Canandiyu, which, according to Azara,
was the name of a `cacique' whom the first Spaniards met there.
*4* `Descripcion y Historia del Paraguay', Madrid, 1847.
*5* `Y es un espantoso despen~adero de agua', etc.
(`Descripcion del Paraguay', tomo i., p. 39).
*6* `No dan cuartel'.
--

Azara was, perhaps, of all the travellers of the last century,
the man who above all things shines in accuracy, and in point of fact
his description of the cataract is the best we have up to the present time.
Bourgade la Dardye tells us that not far above the cataract
the Parana expands into a lake almost five miles in breadth,
and from the lake the river issues in two great arms, which have
forced their way through the mountains known as the Sierra de Mbaracyu.

Dr. Bourgade la Dardye seems to think the circular eddies found in the whirls
are the most curious features of the falls. He describes them thus:
`They flow in falls varying from fifty to sixty feet in depth;
these circular eddies, which are quite independent of one another,
range along an arc of about two miles in its stretch.
They are detached like giant caldrons yawning unexpectedly at one's feet,
in which the flood seethes with incredible fury; every one of these
has opened for itself a narrow orifice in the rock, through which
like a stone from a sling the water is hurled into the central whirlpool.
The width of these outlets rarely exceeds fifteen yards,
but their depth cannot be estimated. They all empty themselves
into one immense central chamber about two hundred feet wide,
rushing into it with astounding velocity. . . . A more imposing spectacle
can scarcely be conceived, and I doubt whether abysses such as these
exist elsewhere in the world.' He places the falls in latitude 24d 2' 59",
but corrects the longitude given by Azara as 56d 55' west of Paris
to 58d 18' 8" -- that is, 53d 57' 53" west from Greenwich, which certainly
has some importance in fixing the breadth of the territory of Paraguay.

But neither Azara nor the French traveller, with their yards and feet,
their longitude and latitude, and the rest, give an idea
of the grandeur of the place. Buried in the primeval forests,
forgotten by the world, known to the wandering Indians who give no quarter
(any more to-day than in Azara's time), the giant cataract
is a lost wonder of the world. In the ruined missions on the Parana,
two hundred miles away, I have heard the Indians talk of it with awe.
They told how through the woods tangled with undergrowth,
matted together with lianas, they had hewed a path. Monkeys and parrots
chattered at them, and a white miasmatic vapour hung over trees and lakes,
burying the clearings in its wreaths, and lifting only at mid-day,
to close again upon the woods at night. They talked of alligators, jaguars,
the giant ant-eater, and the mysterious bird known to them as the `ipetata',
which in its tail carries a burning fire. In the recesses of the thickets
demons lurked, and wild Caaguas, who with a blowpipe and a poisoned arrow
slew you and your horse, themselves unseen. Pools covered
with Victoria regia; masses of red and yellow flowers upon the trees,
the trees themselves gigantic, and the moss which floated from their branches
long as a spear; the voyage in canoes, whirled like a cork upon the rapids;
lastly the falls themselves, and how they, awestricken at the sight,
fell prostrate and promised many candles to the Virgin and the saints
on their return, they talked of into the watches of the night.

Somehow, I like those countries which, as the province of Guayra
and Paraguay, appear to have no future, and of which the charm is in the past.
It pleases me to think that the sharp business men of times gone by,
patting their stomachs (the prison of their brain),
predicted great advancement, and were all deceived. For then it seems
as if the prognostications of to-day's schemes may also fail,
and countries which they have doomed to progress still remain as is Guayra,
their towns deserted, with but the broken spire of some old church
emerging from the verdure of the tropics, as the St. Paul's Rocks
rise sheer out of the sea. If there is charm in the unknown,
there is at least as great a charm in the forgotten,
and the Salto de Guayra is one of the most forgotten corners of the earth.
To this wild place Father Mendoza proposed to lead the Indians
from the Reductions of San Jose and San Francisco Xavier,
and then unite with them any of the fugitives he could assemble
from those reductions which had been destroyed. But even
the doglike patience of the Indians was at an end, and they preferred
to die or be led captives rather than run the chances of escape
in such a solitary place. In their despair, and placed between
the Paulistas and the fear of emigration, the neophytes turned,
as even more civilized people than themselves will turn,
on their best friends, and held the Jesuits responsible for all their woes.
Two Indian women, wives of `caciques', having been taken by the Paulistas,
the Indians broke into the church where a Jesuit (Padre Salazar)
was officiating, and interrupted him during the Mass
with the most bitter insults. One of the Indians menaced him with a lance,
another with an arrow, whilst a third tried to snatch the chalice
from his hands. He escaped, and ran, holding the chalice,
out into the woods, followed by two little Indian boys. Wandering about,
he fell in with the other Jesuits, all like himself outcasts,
without a church, and almost deserted by the Indians.
Padre Ruiz Montoya alone possessed a shadow of authority,
and he advised the outcasts with the remnant of their flocks
to retire into the woods, and sow a crop of maize for food,
whilst he endeavoured to get help from Paraguay. Hardly was this done,
when news was brought him which made him alter all his plans.
Two messengers came to inform him that an army of Paulistas
was marching on Villa Rica, and that a strong detachment of them
was advancing from the south. Then Padre Montoya took a supreme resolve,
and ordered the evacuation of the two principal reductions
(San Ignacio and Loreto) which yet remained intact. They were the first
which had been founded in Guayra, and were as important as
any of the Spanish towns in Paraguay. The churches, all the Jesuit writers,
as Montoya, Charlevoix, Mastrilli, and Lozano, are agreed,
were finer than any in the land. The Indians were, according to Montoya,
far better Christians than the inhabitants of the Spanish settlements,
and their faith and innocence were above all praise.
They cultivated cotton and had large herds of cattle,
so that the most bitter enemies of the Jesuits must allow
that much had been accomplished in the short space of two-and-twenty years.
In 1609 the Jesuits came to Guayra, and found it absolutely untouched;
and when in 1631 they left it, it was upon the road to become
one of the most flourishing American provinces of the Spanish throne.
The other missionaries imagined that nothing would persuade the Indians
to depart from their homes, where for so many years they had been happy;
but after Montoya explained to them his plans, they all assented to them
as with a single voice.

The plan by means of which the Jesuit Moses led his sheep
out of the wilderness of Guayra was most remarkable.
The river Parana forms a great artery between Brazil and Paraguay;
upon each side of it a network of rivers disembogue. The Paranapane,
on which most of the missions of Guayra were situated, flows from the east,
and falls into the Parana, not much more than fifty miles
above the cataract. After the last of the once-flourishing
six Jesuit reductions had been evacuated at the orders of Montoya,
he collected all the boats, rafts, and canoes, and after much persuasion
got all the Indians persuaded to follow him to seek for safer habitations
lower down the Parana. The population of the six reductions
has been estimated at about one hundred thousand souls; but of these,
during the years of 1629 and 1630, thousands had been led captive
to San Paulo, and thousands had dispersed into the woods.
Still, assembled on the banks of the Paranapane, there was
a multitude of Indians of every sex and age. Fortunately or unfortunately,
no record by an eye-witness exists,* except that written by Montoya,
and he is modest to a fault about all details, and absolutely silent
as to the part he played himself. He tells us that at the starting-point
were gathered two thousand five hundred families, and this
in spite of the dispersions and the efforts made by the Spanish settlers
in the town of Ciudad Real,** who feared, with cause, to be exposed
to the full fury of the Paulistas without allies. It appears the Indians
were in a state of spiritual exaltation, for some young men having remarked
the Jesuits were packing up a Christ and an image of the Blessed Virgin,
which in happier times had been miraculous, they declared
that to affront exile, and even death, in such good company
was a foretaste of heaven.

--
* At least, I have been unable to discover any other account
by an eye-witness.
** This city was situated near the great falls of Guayra,
and was destroyed by the Paulistas, as well as the city of Villa Rica,
after the Jesuits and their Indians left the province.
--

Montoya, in opposition to the modern style, tries to shift
the burden of the praise on to the shoulders of the Provincial,
Padre Francisco Lopez Truxillo,*1* but with indifferent success.
This matter of bearing your own praise will require regulation in the future,
when an advance of civilization has opened people's eyes to the perception
that praise is just as disagreeable to the sufferer as is blame.
The sentinel whom they had placed to warn them of the enemy's approach
gave the alarm. Montoya sent at once to Ciudad Real for help,
but the Spanish settlers were too hard pressed themselves to give assistance.
Nothing remained but to make a portage of all their rafts, boats,
and canoes, and then to re-embark and sail down the Parana
out of the reach of the Paulistas. Montoya passed in review his boats,
and found he had seven hundred, and that twelve thousand people
had embarked with him on leaving the Paranapane. When the Paulistas found
the Jesuits had evacuated all their towns, they burnt the churches,
on the principle, perhaps, that, the nests once pulled down,
the rooks would not return. They turned the Jesuit cells into barracks
for themselves, taking, as Montoya says with horror, `infamous women'
into those chaste abodes, where never woman had passed through the doors.
The Paulistas then entered into a rigorous examination*2* of the Jesuits'
private lives, hoping to find some scandal to bring against them.
Especially they questioned the Indian women, giving them presents to discover
everything they knew. All was in vain, the discipline of the Order,
or the strict conscientiousness of the individual members of it, not having
given scandal any hold.*3* The most difficult part of the great exodus
was now to come. The rapids and the cataracts of the Parana extend
to nearly ninety miles, and the whole country is a maze of tangled forest
interspersed with rocks. No paths exist, the place is desert,
and over the dank mass of vegetation the moisture from the clouds of vapour
thrown up by the falling water descends in never-ending rain.*4*
In order to endeavour to save the trouble of reconstructing
new rafts and canoes at the bottom of the cataract, Montoya launched
three hundred empty boats (sending an Indian in advance) to see if any of them
would arrive safely at the bottom of the falls. Not one escaped;
and so the pilgrimage began, almost without provisions and without arms,
in the middle of a country quite uncultivated, and where game was scarce.*5*
To make things worse, intelligence was brought that, a few miles below
the beginning of the falls, the Spaniards of Guayra had built a wooden fort,
surrounded with a strong stockade, hoping to intercept the retreating Indians,
and make slaves of any who might fall into their hands. Montoya himself,
dressed as an Indian, went out to observe the enemy, and on his return
the whole immense assemblage silently plunged into the woods,
leaving so little traces of its passage that the Spaniards in the fort
were still expecting them when they were far beyond their reach.

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