Amédée-François Frézier, Voyage to the South-Sea, and Along the Coasts of Chile and Peru (1717)

A Voyage to the South-Sea, and Along the Coasts of Chile and Peru, in the Years 1712, 1713, and 1714: Particularly Describing the Genius and Constitution of the Inhabitants, as well Indians as Spaniards: Their Customs and Manners; Their Natural History, Mines, Commodities, Traffic with Europe, &c., is a travel journal compiled in 1716 by Amédée-François Frézier, a French military engineer, mathematician, spy, and explorer under the French King Louis XIV, and published following the King’s death. The journal recounts Frézier’s information gathering mission to the Spanish ports and fortifications of South America, along the Pacific coastline as far as Callao, the port of Lima.

In 1712, King Louis XIV dispatched Frézier to the Americas to conduct hydrographical observations of the region and to report back on the land and the Indigenous forms of knowledge that were made secret by the Spaniards at that time. The French King tapped Frézier for his mission because of, inter alia, Frézier’s military background (especially, his expertise in military fortifications) and proven track record as an explorer. Frézier’s mission goals were intended to be secret, so Frézier and his team traveled under the guise of merchants. Frézier was charged with correcting as well as updating existing navigational charts, analyzing the fortresses of the western coast, investigating the inhabitants of the Viceregal cities, and obtaining information about the Spanish ports and markets. Following the War of Spanish Succession, King Louis XIV’s grandson was crowned King of Spain. Because of the newly forged connection between Spain and France, Frézier’s voyage also provided an opportunity to covertly monitor Spanish possessions and exports as well as assess potential strategies of attack should a conflict arise with the Spanish crown.

Frézier’s journal ranges from the factual to the anecdotal in tone. It presents a diverse array of musings, opinion and commentary from Frézier, who often wandered in his descriptions of his surroundings. This narrative voice found amongst observation and calculation is characteristic of the travel diary, a popular genre of the time.

The early modern period was marked by burgeoning global travel and trade networks and encounters, leaving world powers to scramble over control of resources. However, obtaining coveted reliable information regarding the Americas and the Spanish Viceroyalties was most difficult for other European countries and empires as Spain had for many years censored information of the American Viceroyalties from other countries. As a result, the Americas were exoticized and inquired after by many European audiences. A journal such as Frézier’s describing the inhabitants and customs of the Americas was a highly sought-after commodity at the time. So, when Frézier published his journal after King Louis’s death, it was an instant success in France as well as in the Netherlands and England. Frézier’s account not only met the informational needs of his monarch and of sailors and explorers (who relied on travel accounts as instructional texts for both shipboard authority and scientific observation), it also satiated the curiosities of an ill-informed European public.

Despite any effort by Freziér to objectively capture and report information for his King, the power dynamics of coloniality and imperial conflict subjectively shaped its codification. For example, Freziér’s discussion of city and port layouts addresses not only points of access but also references trade customs and how Viceregal architectural plans reshaped or adopted past, pre-conquest elements. Additionally, Freziér’s discussion of militias, international conflict, and potential alliances with the Indigenous communities also references pre-conquest technologies, governments, and military practice, as well as colonial oppression or appeasement. Also, Frézier mentions Indigenous mining practices and cultural production when he discusses resources exploited by the Spanish that could be economically beneficial to the French. Thus, even though Frézier’s account was principally aimed at providing military and economic intelligence to France, its contents illuminate a global colonial past and its complexities.

Frézier’s maps are particularly thorough for the time. While these maps did spark the occasional dispute as to their accuracy, they were widely accepted by Frézier’s contemporaries. The maps are often accompanied by miscellaneous information about surrounding areas. However, Frézier makes sure to not stray too far from the facts when describing the military establishments he encounters. Because his intelligence reporting was veiled as a travel journal, Frézier aims to deflect suspicions away from the true reason for his granular reporting of city plans and defenses by justifying them as simply “satisfy[ing] my curiosity.” (Frézier, A Voyage to the South Sea, 43).

Given the delicate nature of cartography, maps from this time were no stranger to errors that, while small on the print, had significant impact on voyages. Frézier documents one such error in his writing, writing “... it may be considered, that, without regard to its exact Longitude, it is wrong laid down with respect to that of S. Katharine. It has been effectually observ’d, that the Desart Coast, or of the Patagons, does not lie S.W and by S. and S.S.W. which has brought many Ships into Danger.” (Frézier, A Voyage to the South Sea, 30).

What is perhaps most contentious within the text however, is the location of the Island of Trinity. When traveling, Frézier notes on page 291 that, “It is therefore without Reason, that Edmund Halley has in his great Chart suppres’d the Island of Trinity, and given that Name to the Island of the Ascension, which he lays down very well in its Latitude of 20 Degrees 25 Minutes.” This comment allowed for a very unique interaction between the author, Frézier, and the postscript provided by Edmund Halley in the translated edition. Halley had, and acted on, the chance to insist within Frézier’s text that his findings were more accurate, going so far as to add a note to this page which reads “See the Postscript.” (Frézier, A Voyage to the South Sea, 291).

Upon following these instructions, it is found that Halley “is fully assured that M. Frézier is under a gross mistake, when he affirms that the Island of Ascension and Trinidad... are two different Islands ... And he challenges M. Frézier to produce any Authentick Account of Land seen thereabout.”(Frézier, A Voyage to the South Sea, 321). While both Halley and Frézier are confident in their own findings, Halley’s map cannot be found within the text, so it is difficult to conclude the accuracy of these maps aside from the contextual hearsay.

Upon arrival at each destination, Frézier would pass himself off as a merchant so he might visit sites without drawing unwanted attention. To further allay suspicion, he also ingratiated himself with the Spanish governors. Little did the Spanish know that Frézier’s was documenting the best approaches for attack, ammunition storage locations, routes of escape, estimated strength of the Spanish colonial governments (based on their expenses and the size of their militaries), gold and silver mines, and the living conditions of the Indigenous people (to weigh possible willingness to lend aid to the French if war were declared). With this strategy, Frézier was able to find crucial information for places like Penco (also known as La Conception), Santiago, and the gold mines of Tiltil in Chile, as well as Lima in Peru. Frézier devotes a significant portion of the book to mining practices, describing how the Viceregal government processed and managed ore output. The print, identified in the text as plate XXII, that accompanies these sections is by Nicholas Geurard, a late 17th-early 18th-century French printer.

Through the image, showing two llamas standing before various works for processing mercury in a hilled landscape, Guerard depicts the now-institutionalized Indigenous practice of transporting ore to refineries using llamas (referred to in the text as Peruvian sheep), as well as displaying various ore grinding mills and silver or gold refinement instruments. Freziér describes how the Indigenous workers are employed to mold silver parcels eight times per day and thoroughly stir the water mixtures with their feet to separate the silver in the image’s accompanying text (Frézier, A Voyage to the South Sea, 156-157). He also describes how, prior to the conquest, the Andeans would use furnaces to melt the lead from the ore rather than using Quicksilver to separate the silver from it, as the Spanish had done (Frézier, A Voyage to the South Sea, 159-160). These furnaces ran on wood and dung. Frézier is fascinated by the Peruvian people’s hidden histories and how they came to use such earth-based methods. Frézier is less interested in Chile’s pre-conquest gold mining practices, merely remarking that they were similar to those already known in Germany (Frézier, A Voyage to the South Sea, 109). These sections harken back to familiar practices in order to allow for his European audience to better understand Andean mining practices. Further, in mentioning the various Indigenous ways methods that aid in making mining an easier and faster process, Frézier presents to the French King a means of gleaning the rich deposits of the mines at a faster, less lethal pace should he seize control of the region.

Given his background and the principal, covert aims of his mission in the Americas, Frézier’s reports on the inhabitants of the Viceroyalties are largely directly dedicated to strategic information regarding economic export and trade procedures, and outlines of civil, ecclesiastical, and military structures and governance. In addition, Frézier supplies brief ethnographies of the “Indians of Chile” (Frézier, A Voyage to the South Sea, 57-75) and the “Indians of Peru” (Frézier, A Voyage to the South Sea, 263-274), both of the then-current Colonial period and the Andean pre-conquest past. These insights into tribal practices, both within and outside of Viceregal society, are also indirectly influenced by his mission goals. In an extensive section on Chilean Indigenous practices, Frézier describes the pre-conquest process of household chiefs being paid tribute, but people of areas were not (called caciques by the Spanish). The Spanish, following the conquest, took advantage of this tribute system and incorporated it into their own tribute systems that spread throughout the viceroyalties. If the Chileans live within the Spanish settlements, they are not expected to pay the Spanish king; instead, the Indigenous Chileans would be required to staff fortifications to defend against other tribes. All Indigenous communities subject to Spanish rule are required to pay the crown a yearly payment of ten pieces of eight in silver or commodities (Frézier, A Voyage to the South Sea, 59). This note of tribute practice is something useful to Louis XIV of France, both in lending information regarding fortification staffing in Chile, but also in familiarizing the Monarch with the tribute system that would likely continue should the French seize the region.

Indeed, beyond assessing the Indigenous Americans’ loyalty, intelligence, and military prowess, Frézier takes special note of signs of discontent with Spanish rule, which the French might exploit if they came into conflict with the Viceroyalties. He goes on to identify the forms of oppression imposed by the Spanish from which the French might free the Indigenous Americans to win their support in a conflict. Frézier goes into great detail about Chilean warriors’ tactics and how they fought the Spanish as well as other tribes. Frézier describes their weapons, some of which originated in these sovereign communities (pikes and lances dealt with dexterity), but the majority of which were confiscated from the Spanish (halberts, axes, and broadswords) (Frézier, A Voyage to the South Sea, 63-64).

The picture Frézier paints of the Indigenous Americans is shaped by his own European attitudes. Frézier is clear in his dislike of the manifestations of Indigenous Catholicism and general cultural practice in Chile and Peru, claiming that few people who live in sovereign tribes outside of the Viceroyalty are not true Christians beyond their baptisms by the Spanish. His sections on Indigenous Chileans further characterize the Indigenous communities he encounters as idolatrous as he accuses them of image worship and seeking sensual pleasure. Frézier claims that Indigenous Chileans would be perfect Christians if not for the rules against polygamy and inebriation, painting an image of the Chilean and Peruvian populations as licentious drunkards who are either fearful and heartless or malicious and lazy. This recurrent descriptor notably rears its head as Frézier, in his extensive documentation of Chilean practices and appearances, attempts to represent an Indigenous drinking song using Western schematics (Frézier, A Voyage to the South Sea, 66). On this page, Frézier transcribes the three notes that make up the tune into sheet music, clearly attempting to integrate Indigenous practice into a familiar European framework. He says the transcription was simple because the people sang it “in such an unartificial Tone, that three Notes would suffice to express the Whole.” Frézier attributes the lack of a lyrical set, as well as the song’s lack of rhyme or cadency, to the Chileans being so drunk that they are unable to sing a single set of lyrics. However, Frézier also mentions that the lyrics seem to adapt to “whatsoever occurs to their Fancy,” implying a far more intricate cultural practice of an adaptable song practice that Frézier cannot fully comprehend as an intentional practice. Frézier’s desire to document his encounters preserves the practice in his description while also obscuring the Indigenous lyrical practice due to its incompatibility with Western musical theory.

Frézier also writes of the practices and customs of the Spaniards throughout Chile and Peru, further adding to his pointed comparisons. Frézier’s dislike of the Spanish evidently outweighs his moral concerns for the Indigenous peoples of the viceroyalties, as his criticisms of Indigenous communities shifts, most likely as part of a strategy to undermine Spanish colonial controls and express a need for new Viceregal leadership. The Indigenous peoples, previously regarded as inferior due to alleged moral flaws, are now described as “among the most polite and well-governed nations,” oppressed by the harshness of Spanish dominance (Frézier, A Voyage to the South Sea, 74). However, other criticisms are shared between the colonists and the colonized, specifically those pertaining to religious practice. Frézier also finds the Spanish colonists unable to adhere to Church discipline. Nevertheless, he describes the various passion plays, and the fiesta of Our Lady of Mount Carmel at Pisco, in great detail and appreciation. He commends their piety within religious settings yet condemns their sin in everyday life. Frézier observes that among the Spanish colonists there is a “mixture of good and evil." (Frézier, A Voyage to the South Sea, 248) Furthermore, he makes the strange claim that the colonists of the Americas can be better people because of the Spanish conception of the Casta system, which claims that white Spaniards, among all other races, have blood purity and nobility. However, Frézier claims that this feeling of superiority enables the Spanish settlers to perform well in their mixed communities, as altruism feeds their vanity. Frézier also observes a dislocation of colonial Spanish identity, as they are opposed to associations with Spaniards from Spain (Frézier, A Voyage to the South Sea, 249-250).

Despite his criticism of the adulterous women’s duplicitous behaviors with plate XXIX, Frézier seemingly had no issue with his own deceptions of the Viceregal governments. Much of Frézier’s aforementioned undercover work consisted of identifying structural weaknesses within the given locations he arrived at. While he was largely successful in capturing this information, Frézier’s journey was not without conflict. Tensions were high in most areas as different colonial powers vied for the same resources. While in Santiago, a French man affiliated with mob activity shot and killed a Spanish soldier; because of the murder, “[a]ll the French then in the Town were committed to Gaol, Search being made for them from House to House.” (Frézier, A Voyage to the South Sea, 106). Because of the mass imprisonment, Frézier was only in Santiago for a short time before deciding to evacuate his ships.

Inter-European rivalries were not necessarily violent with each encounter. Frézier himself does not shy away from expressing his own prejudices, specifically directed at the Portuguese and Spanish. Upon arriving in San Salvador, Brazil, Frézier discusses the uneven roads, stating “The rich People, notwithstanding that Inconveniency, do not go a Foot; being always industrious, as well in America, as in Europe, to find Means to distinguish themselves from the rest of Mankind, they would be ashamed to make use of the Legs which Nature has given us to walk.” (Frézier, A Voyage to the South Sea, 297).

In addition to his expressed disdain for and conflicts with the European powers that occupy the Americas, Frézier’s account also encapsulates the high tensions that still remained between the Indigenous communities and the Viceregal governments. While in Lima, Peru, Frézier encounters an Incan man by the name of Ampuero. He further identifies Ampuero as a descendant of the assassinated Incan ruler Atahualpa, and Frézier notes that Ampuero is recognized for this regal status by the Inca people of the city years after Spanish colonization. The King of Spain is said to also recognize Ampuero’s status, crafting decrees to direct the Viceregal government to pay public homage to him as to not anger the city’s Incan inhabitants. However, in Lima Frézier observes Inca disdain for the Viceregal government and their displays of sovereignty, even under Catholic rule, despite the Spanish’s honorable treatment of the Inca elite. He specifically mentions an Indigenous display held at each change of Viceroy, in which Inca natives gather for Ampuero to honor “the Memory of the Death of Atahualpa, whom Francis Pizarro cruelly murdered.” (Frézier, A Voyage to the South Sea, 272). Frézier claims that the Incas have not forgotten their native Kings, and they reminisce about the times before conquest, about which they know only stories. Plate XXXI bears further evidence of the Inca people’s revolt against Spanish powers as the artist depicts the couple dressed in pre-conquest garb. Frézier notes that this practice of “clothing themselves in the ancient manner” is not uncommon among the Indigenous community of Lima, writing that the community wears this traditional garb on the day of the Nativity of the Virgin to mourn Atahualpa. Adopting the symbols of what Frézier identifies as their idolatry, Lima’s Indigenous community drinks in the street and throws rocks at the Spaniards that they encounter. The ruckus caused by the Inca elites often causes the Spanish colonists to have to barricade themselves within their homes. This practice is clearly documented by Frézier as a sign of dissatisfaction with Spanish rule as the Inca people live under it, as well as the possibility of an alliance with them should France seek war with the Viceroyalties. Ultimately, Frézier’s anecdotal approach to information collection allows for an interesting look at underlying tensions, conflicts, priorities, and beliefs in the Western World.

Freziér’s travel diary enjoyed immense popularity following its initial publication, viewed by European readers as a document finally drawing back the curtain and allowing the rest of the world to see the Americas’ rich resources and production. Audiences of the Netherlands and Britain specifically were eager to obtain the volume and satisfy their curiosities of the Viceroyalties. The 1717 edition of Freziér’s journal is the English translation of the original French that resulted from the excitement of European markets to consume the work. The English edition includes an accompanying preface, presumably composed by the printer, that discusses the reasons for translating the work, as well as a postscript and an additional section both penned by the famed English astronomer, geophysicist, mathematician, meteorologist, and physicist Edmond Halley. The English print was made for Jonah Bowyer, who sold it in his London bookshop, the Rose. Halley commends Bowyer for undertaking the English translation in his letter that follows the journal’s preface, recognizing that English readers want to satisfy their great curiosity regarding the seas and peoples of the Americas and further inquire “what may be of use.”

However, while Frézier’s journal provided European readership with coveted information long denied to them by Spanish censorship, some criticized the journal for what it did not reveal. Indeed, in the preface to the journal, Bowyer discreetly criticizes the scope of Frézier’s writing as somewhat wanting when he remarks that inclusion in the translated version of Sir Edmond Halley’s piece on the Jesuit settlements and commerce of Paraguay is a necessary addition. He goes on to comment that Frézier on occasion writes of the region, but neither visited Paraguay nor expanded upon its happenings. In contrast, Halley’s account not only surveys the region, but calls out the Jesuits’ abuses of power over the Indigenous peoples. Indeed, Halley accuses the Jesuits, and by extension the Catholic Church, of bribery, taking advantage of Indigenous laborers, misappropriation of crown funds, and conspiracy to take over the territory. Halley’s accusations were not unfounded, as only 60 years following the publication of the English edition, the Jesuit order was expelled from the Americas for their misdeeds (Danvila, Reinado de Carlos III, 673). Though Frézier’s volume neglects to acknowledge Paraguay beyond name and output as his travels did not take him so far north and does not acknowledge any purported clerical practices, the presence of Catholic missionaries is nonetheless present within the text.

Despite its shortcomings in the years following publication, Frézier’s journal served its purposes and readers well. In addition to its utility as a spy’s account for the French King and as a thrilling travel diary for an inquisitive readership, it was also a guidebook for other travelers to the Americas who chose to follow Frézier’s route. Naval narratives were frequently taken to sea to inform shipboard authority as well as scientific observation (Heinsen, “Others sat murmuring and idle upon the deck,” 1-2). This is one reason why Frézier gave great attention to describing coastlines and their irregularities, correcting maps, and teaching knots useful in traversing the South Sea. Frézier knew his audience would consist largely of others who would partake on voyages to the Americas and, by extension, that he might profit from his work beyond King Louis’ commission, so the choice to devote much of the text to hydrography and the particulars of the experience at sea was an obvious one to make.

Frézier’s journal was ultimately superseded by more detailed and unbiased Spanish accounts. Interestingly, Frézier’s journal went largely unused by the French military behind its commissioning. Nonetheless, in its time, A Voyage to the South Sea filled the knowledge gap concerning 18th century South America intentionally created by the Spanish crown.

The greatest contributions of Frézier’s journal clearly lie in its excellent maps, illustrations, and accounts of Viceregal governmental, military, and economic operations. However, in addition to everything that has been discussed, there is a wealth of accumulated miscellaneous knowledge that consistently provides fascinating insight into the early modern world and its priorities, as well as its conflicts and other flaws. Frézier’s musings and anecdotes range from technical to musical to social, and he frequently conveys genuine enthusiasm for his findings. From cartographical discourse to passing whim, A Voyage to the South-Sea offers far more than it was intended to. The dearth of information the volume contains from one of the very first non-Spanish perceptions of the mid-Colonial viceroyalties reveals in its folios the motivations and methods of European codification of Indigenous and viceregal knowledge, culture, and behaviors.

Ayscough, Samuel, compiler. The Monthly Review. Edited by George Edward Griffiths and Ralph Griffiths, vol. 71, R. Griffiths, 1795.

Manuel, Danvila y Collado. Reinado De Carlos III. Edited by Antonio Cánovas del Castillo. Vol. 3. 11 vols. Historia General De España. Madrid: Progreso Editorial, 1894.

Frézier, Amédée-François. A Voyage to the South-Sea, and Along the Coasts of Chile and Peru, in the Years 1712, 1713, and 1714: Particularly Describing the Genius and Constitution of the Inhabitants, as Well Indians as Spaniards: Their Customs and Manners; Their Natural History, Mines, Commodities, Traffic with Europe, &c. 1st English ed. London, England: Jonah Bowyer at the Rose on Ludgate Street, 1717.

Heinsen, Johan. “‘Others sat murmuring and idle upon the deck’: The Poetics of English Voyage Narratives from the South Sea c. 1700,” E-rea 11(11.2), 2014.

Porras, Stephanie. “Going Viral? Maerten de Vos’s St Michael the Archangel,” In Nederlands Kunsthistorisch Jaarboek, Vol. 66, 2016: 54–78.

Vela, B. A. de O. y. (1965). Historia de la Villa Imperial de Potosí. (L. Hanke & G. Mendoza, Eds.). Brown University Press.

Edited and Adapted for Americana by Rachel Moss.

This essay and the related annotations belong to the student-led project Illustrating Knowledge of the Americas in European Print, 1590–1781. Learn more at the project homepage: https://americana.jcblibrary.org/Illustrating_Knowledge/