Colonial Décor

Six years after Alexander von Humboldt, Fürchtegott Thunderbolt reached the foot of Chimborazo in August 1808. In his originally secret notes—intended solely for the prince of Electoral Hesse—he reported “fire-spewers long inactive since time immemorial” in the vicinity of Chimborazo. Thunderbolt expected an eruption of Cotopaxi. A glacier cloaked the crater. Fire and snow met in an improbable conjunction. Alexander von Humboldt described how a geological blast furnace furiously stripped the crater of its snow:

“In dark red glow the fiery column of the spraying rain of slag rose to a tremendous height. The mountain rebelled so terribly that its complaint was heard (in Colombian) Honda.”

Reckless cultivation of fields in endangered areas could yield good harvests for a hundred years; then, all at once, incandescent ejecta would blast the hacienda into a lump, and paradisiacal myrtle gardens and orange groves would vaporize.

Thunderbolt noted llamas grazing on alpine pastures—and vagabonds, from whom he hid behind a row of stone staves. “The staves withstood dolmens.” The scattered ones reached the Neolithic artifacts. Thunderbolt expected to witness a piece of dangerous folly. His expectations were surpassed.

“Now the men danced against trees and rocks, while their female companions moved in a circle with growing expression, to the summons of a drum.”

Thunderbolt continued his journey in eastern Ecuador. He noted: “The ground lay desolate. The fields gave the saddest impression of indigenous indolence. The maize grew at most two feet high and took thirteen months to mature. Cattle roamed freely on pastures that were communal property.”

Thunderbolt reached the former Inca capital, Quito. The city lay so hidden that he stumbled into it as into a trap. It reminded Thunderbolt of an Alpine village. One did not build high because of earthquakes and lived on the first floor of two-storey houses. On the ground floor were shops and workshops. No cart was suited to the steep tracks.

Alfonso, a father of twelve, offered his services to the tourist as a porter. Thunderbolt—now accompanied—noticed ruins “in an advanced state of weathering.” What stood well and firm showed preferences of the Renaissance. What was poor revealed “the weak side of the Baroque.”

The Protestant Thunderbolt denied Catholic colonial décor any recognition. The knight vowed to become an old bachelor; he fastidiously inspected façades and missed ornaments like those in Moscow, glazed tiles like those in Lima, mosaics as found elsewhere. He praised frescoes and accused altars of arrogance. His perception denounced Quito. A military band entertained the public in front of the archbishop’s palace; Thunderbolt found the music “garrulous,” the musicians’ uniforms “pompous.” He missed a good public school. No one was engaged in productive activity. The people were fatalistic in their expectation of natural disasters. Ladies, whenever they deemed it appropriate to pause, would have a carpet laid beneath their soles by the girl who always accompanied them, and would sometimes have the bench belonging to the sedan chair set up as well.