Providence has liberally endowed the larger portion of Brazil with a fertile soil, an unrivaled flora, and a delightful climate. For a tropical country, it is remarkably temperate and salubrious. It has mountain scenery excelling that of Switzerland, with fertile valleys surpassing those of Italy, and myriads of rivers affording ample means of transportation with natural and abundant irrigation. Unlike many of her sister states, including those on the west coast of the continent, she is exempt from earthquakes and the destruction caused by devouring tidal waves. While so much of Mexico and thousands of miles of the Pacific coast are scorched by drought, there are no districts of Brazil exempt from regular and refreshing rains, the importance of which cannot be overestimated. To crown all else, the splendid harbor of her capital by its size, safety, and beauty invites the commerce of the world. It would certainly seem, when we realize all of these special advantages, that nature had intended so large and favored a portion of the globe to ultimately be the home of a great, powerful, and prosperous nation.
That the material growth of Brazil is mainly in the right direction is manifest to the most casual observer. The many lines of railways penetrating the country in every province will by and by prove to be effective means of development. Wherever the facilities are liberally afforded, not only individuals, but ideas, are sure to travel, and social and material improvement must follow. Civilization keeps pace with the iron horse. When the street rails penetrated the cañons of Utah, polygamy was doomed. Material facts are stronger than arguments of well-meaning moralists. The establishment of so many railroads through the wilds of South America may not be a paying matter, it is not so at this writing, but a great moral purpose, and that of true progress, will be subserved by them. They will be the agents of enlightenment and civilization to many wild tribes of Indians, at the same time opening broad and favorable tracts of territory for settlement by emigrants from the crowded and overstocked states of Europe.
On the homeward passage, when we visited Rio Janeiro for the second time, it was found to be rife with politics; but like Joseph's coat, of so many colors as to be confusing to a foreigner. It may reasonably be doubted if the natives themselves clearly understood what they wanted. The revolutionary element seemed very strong, and was led by men who had nothing to lose by agitation, but everything to gain by a lawless uprising. The most intelligent citizens predicted a popular revolution of some sort in the near future, and their anticipation proved to be correct. Revolution is chronic in South America.
Petropolis.—Summer Residence of the Citizens of Rio.—Brief Sketch of the late Royal Family.—Dom Pedro's Palace.—A Delightful Mountain Sanitarium.—A Successful but Bloodless Revolution.—Floral Delights.—Mountain Scenery.—Heavy Gambling.—A German Settlement.—Cascatinha.—Remarkable Orchids.—Local Types.—A Brazilian Forest.—Compensation.
Petropolis,—or the city of Peter,—the fashionable summer resort of the citizens of Rio Janeiro, is a modern town, dating only from 1844, and contains at that season of the year a population of some eight thousand. The intense heat of the crowded city in the summer months, not to mention its usually unhealthy condition, makes even the acclimated inhabitants seek a refuge in the hills. So long as the fever continues to rage, merchants leave their families here, and come up nightly to sleep and breathe the fresh, pure air. It is only on the coast and in crowded communities that epidemics prevail. We were told by residents that a case of yellow fever never originated at Petropolis; that it was too elevated for the citizens to fear anything of the sort. It is so generally throughout the country; the yellow fever prevails only in the ports and at sea level, a peculiarity also observable in Cuba and the several West Indian islands. When the fever prevails, as it does annually at Havana and Matanzas, the wealthy citizens, and all unacclimated people who are able to do so, retire inland to elevated localities, where they are comparatively safe from the scourge. The same rule applies to the coast cities of South America,—Pará, Pernambuco, Bahia, etc. It is a very important matter to the merchants of Rio that they have, within two or three hours' reach of their overheated city offices, a resort where they can sit in a dry skin and sleep in quiet and comfort. Had they not this resort, they would be obliged to succumb to disease, or to leave Rio for half of the year annually.
Petropolis is situated in the Organ Mountain range, about thirty miles from the metropolis, and is something less than three thousand feet above tide-water. The town is built in a slight depression among the well wooded hills, forming a vale of alpine beauty, easily reached from Rio by boat and rail. The latter portion of the trip, comprising a sharp mountain ascent, is made by a system of railroad like that by which the summit of Corcovado is reached. The popular route is to cross the harbor at Rio by a large and commodious steamboat, a distance of twelve miles, and then to take the steam-cars. There is also another railroad route, all the way by land. The late emperor's summer palace is the prominent feature of Petropolis, together with its elaborate gardens, covering some fifteen or twenty acres of land. Hither come the diplomatic representatives of foreign nations to enjoy the salubrious mountain air and the hospitable society of the best people of Rio Janeiro, and to lay aside many of the constraints of city life. A great contrast is apparent here to the crowded streets and narrow lanes of the uncleanly capital, while the air is undoubtedly remarkable for its healthful and invigorating qualities. The summer palace is surrounded by elegantly arranged grounds, planted with rare flowers and choice trees from every clime. In general effect it resembles an old English country house, except for the tropical vegetation, the fine verdant lawns of grass, the only ones of any extent in the country, being particularly noticeable. This mountain resort has been called the Versailles of Brazil.
It seems appropriate to recall, in brief, the family history of the late emperor, Dom Pedro II., of whose favorite abiding-place we are speaking. He enjoyed a distinguished reputation among modern rulers, was liberal, scholarly, and possessed of great experience of men and the world at large. Having been an observant and studious traveler in many parts of the globe, his endeavor was to adopt the best well-tried systems of other governments in educational and other matters relating to political economy. His system was mild, progressive, and designed for the general good of the people over whom he presided; in fact, it was too mild for the turbulent, unlettered masses of the provinces of Brazil. They were not intellectually prepared for such leniency.
The royal family of Portugal fled hither in 1808, at the time of Napoleon's invasion of that country, but returned to Europe in 1821. A national congress assembled at Rio Janeiro the next year, and chose Dom Pedro, eldest son of King Joâo VI. of Portugal, "Perpetual Defender of Brazil." He proclaimed the independence of the country, and was chosen "Constitutional Emperor." In 1831 he abdicated in favor of his only son, Dom Pedro II., who reigned as emperor until November 15, 1889, when he was dethroned by a bloodless revolution, and, together with his family, was exiled, Brazil declaring herself a republic under the title she now bears of the United States of Brazil. The feeling was nearly universal among the Brazilians that they desired to live under a republican form of government, but Dom Pedro II. was a man of such estimable character, so just, intelligent, and popular a ruler, that the revolution, which finally dethroned him, was deferred long after it was determined upon. The peaceful manner in which it was finally achieved is perhaps without precedent, and shows how thoroughly the mind of the active spirits of the nation was made up to this end. It was a politicalcoup d'état, accomplished without the burning of an ounce of gunpowder. The emperor himself seemed to accept the position as a foregone conclusion. We learned from persons who had been quite intimate with him that he had already anticipated the whole condition of affairs, foreseeing that it was inevitable. If this is so, he was wise as well as diplomatic and humane, for he had enough devoted adherents about him to have made a serious though doubtless futile conflict for possession. There are always myriads of the unthinking rabble ready to join and even fight for authority which is already established, especially when seconded, as was the case with Dom Pedro, by a strong personal popularity.
The palace at Petropolis is, with its extensive grounds, now offered for sale, the country having no further use for palaces. It is understood that a local syndicate propose to purchase the whole and cut up the land into building lots, which are very much in demand just at this writing. It would not be surprising if Petropolis were to double its population during the next four or five years. Speculators are already at work "booming" the place, and a summer home here is just what the Rio merchant requires.
Some queer stories are told about the every-day life of Dom Pedro by his neighbors. It seems, according to these reports,—for the truth of which we cannot vouch,—that he often chose as his associates and advisers uneducated persons of very humble origin, who had accumulated wealth by shrewdness and industry, besides which he latterly exhibited many very peculiar traits of character; but, as we say, it is difficult to decide whether these stories are to be relied upon. It is more than hinted that he had grown very weak minded, or, as the Scotch say, had a bee in his bonnet. At all events, it now appears that he did not possess the necessary energy and executive ability requisite to control a naturally turbulent and restless people, and that his summary dethronement, so peaceably accomplished, must have come sooner or later.
It is very natural to speculate upon the present state of affairs in this country, since the change has taken place. To render a republic possible and successful requires a liberal degree of intelligence among the common people, that is, the masses at large. Unfortunately Brazil cannot boast of such a condition among her population. The educated, cultured portion of the community is quite limited, consequently the country is hardly fit for self-government. Ignorant masses are only amenable to the strong arm, and cannot, while untaught, be controlled through the influence of reason and argument. Past experience shows us that while a republic in the United States, France, or Switzerland means freedom and order, in these half barbaric southern states it signifies an alternation of revolution and of military despotism. Subject to the rule of Dom Pedro, Brazil was alike free from despotism and from disorder, so that it may be questioned whether his liberal reign was not, under the circumstances, the truest republic for which Brazil was fitted. Indeed, while these lines are being written, the question of a return to the former style of government is openly discussed at Rio Janeiro, where a state of political imbroglio exists very similar to the conditions which caused the late disastrous civil war in Chili, on the other side of the Andes. Such a shocking outcome, however, need never be feared in Brazil as has been developed by the sister republic on the Pacific coast, since both intelligence and civilization are far more advanced in Brazil than in Chili.
The town of Petropolis and its neighborhood possesses good roads for driving purposes, this location having been for several years the pride and pleasure of the late emperor, who made the place what it now is by his liberal expenditures and the constant improvements which he instituted, paying for them out of his own private purse. The first selection of this healthful spot was also his idea, and he felt a personal pride in doing everything possible towards making it popular. The roads referred to lead one through delightful scenery and highly cultivated neighborhoods, beautified by art, until finally they lose themselves among the hills and amidst impenetrable forests. There are several fairly good hotels here, where the charges are moderate and the domestic conveniences execrable! The great variety of trees to be found in and about the town is marvelous, the palm and pine prevailing, interspersed with the beautiful feathery Brazilian cedar. The tree-ferns which grow here to a height of twelve feet are great favorites, with their bright green fronds, six feet in length, almost reaching the ground as the stalk bends gracefully with their weight. The scarlet passion flower is trained as an ornamental creeper in nearly every garden-plot, and tall fuchsias in various colors and pearl white camellias also abound. We have rarely seen the camellia in such variety of colors, or such profusion of flowers. It is often found blooming beside tall coffee-trees, themselves full of deep green clustering berries, the tree, where grown for ornamental purposes, being permitted to reach full proportions. Here one sees also a profusion of the rich green bamboo in prolific groves by the roadside, or surrounding humble cottages, thus forming a welcome shade. In midsummer, so rapid is the growth of the bamboo that every twenty-four hours adds two feet to its height, or in other words, it grows an inch each hour throughout the day and the night. Jack's fabulous beanstalk hardly surpasses the bamboo, though the former is an amusing myth, while the latter is simply a literal fact. Some very lovely gladioli and white roses were noted as adding their beauty to these charming hill gardens in the Organ Mountains. So abundant were the flowers of various kinds in the grounds which surrounded our hotel, that any one was welcome to pluck and appropriate them to the extent of his fancy. The public tables were supplied with fresh ones every day, forming great living pyramids of beautiful colors, emitting inimitable fragrance.
Our hotel was situated on gently rising ground, commanding a considerable view of the plateau on which the town stands, with Dom Pedro's palace in the middle foreground, shaded by groups of palms. It was a delight to sit out-of-doors and watch the cloud effects as they hung over the tree-covered hills and peaks, closing their ranks now and again, and sweeping over the valley like a dashing charge of cavalry; or cautiously advancing in single scuds like infantry deployed as skirmishers; or, again, mottling the sky in white and peaceful masses. At the brief twilight hour, it was like a living poem to note the varying sunset hues creeping along the valley and gleaming through the branches of the grand old trees which broke the sky-line of the mountains, and the soft lilac blush of the sky, like a profile in silhouette, with sharp curves and infinite detail. A deep, broad gulch, opening towards the west, afforded a lingering view of the golden, crimson, and pink horizon, long after the day had closed, and until the stars gleamed forth through the transparent atmosphere and glorified the advent of night.
This is nature in her happy moods. A little later, to these exquisite delights of the moment, an ugly obverse presents itself. "Only man is vile."
From opposite the open window where we sit penning these lines,—it is a Sabbath evening,—there comes the sharp rattle of diceboxes and billiard balls, together with the loud, angry talk of persons engaged at gambling games of cards, interrupted by the repeated cries of the presiding genius of the roulette table: "Make your game, signors, make your game," as he coolly rakes in the winnings of the bank. Italian, French, English, and Spanish adventurers mingle their jargon with Portuguese in the noisy throng who crowd the gambling "hell." It was said that seventeen thousand dollars were won by a Portuguese gentleman, last evening, in this "casino" just across the street, so losers to a like amount, on the same occasion, must have been rendered half desperate. The wretchedly demoralizing effect of gambling is apparent throughout all the cities of this republic, the common lotteries tempting the mass of the people, and various games of chance others who have money to risk.
Petropolis is extremely attractive in many respects, the scenery round about it very much resembling that of Switzerland. The broad streets are lined with such pretty villas and attractive gardens that one falls to making romantic pictures of possible delightful things which might naturally happen in them, and is led to peer into nooks and corners with a prying earnestness amounting almost to impertinence. These avenues contain in their centres deep canals, thirty or forty feet wide, having granite linings and the upper portion of the banks neatly sodded with grass. Through these canals the water from the surrounding hills flows in a pure, rapid stream, carrying away the drainage of the town, which is emptied into them by underground conduits. These water-ways are crossed by numerous small but substantial bridges, painted scarlet, while the rushing river imparts a delightful coolness.
The largest portion of the permanent inhabitants of Petropolis is composed of Germans, whose native tongue is heard on all sides, while the familiar clatter of wooden shoes speaks of Berlin, Dresden, and other German continental centres. The rosy-cheeked, flaxen-haired, blue-eyed children are also prima facie evidence of the prevailing nationality, though there are a large number of Italians who reside here. The latter keep small shops and are peddlers of fruit, or marble cutters and stucco workers, while many others find employment as gardeners.
The highway to a certain mining district passes through the town, and many donkeys laden with inland products are constantly to be seen in the streets en route for Rio, giving the place a business aspect hardly warranted by the local trade. From the neighboring hills charcoal burners drive their donkeys every morning, laden with that article for domestic use in the town, forming picturesque groups on the public square, where they await purchasers. Others bring small-cut wood from the hill for fuel, packed in little, narrow, toy carts, each drawn by a single donkey. Scores of donkeys bearing tall, widespread loads of green fodder are so hidden by the mass of greenery which they struggle under, that none of the animal is seen at all, leading one to imagine that Birnam wood has literally come to Dunsinane. These animals are almost always attended by women, who sell the fodder in the market and return home at night with such domestic necessities as are required. Women are the laborers here, as at home in Germany, where they perform the hard work, while their husbands guzzle beer and smoke endless tobacco.
Petropolis is, as we have said, steadily growing, but the banishment of the emperor will retard its progress, as it takes from the town its strongest element of assured success. We counted about a score of fine, large residences in course of construction. The climate here is like that of June in New England, and the verdure of the trees is perennial.
There is a charming excursion which strangers rarely fail to enjoy, namely, to a place familiarly known as the Cascades. The village adjoining these falls is called Cascatinha, and is situated in the lap of the Organ Mountains, about five miles from Petropolis. The road thither leads along the side of a small but boisterous stream, which gladdens the ear with its merry, gurgling notes, past lowly, thatched cottages, orange orchards, bamboo and banana groves, and green breadths of well-cultivated, undulating land, finally ending in the midst of a panorama of bold mountain peaks, lovely with varied gradations of tint, and subtlest effects of light and shade. Here the abundant water furnished by the river, which is artificially adapted to the purpose, forms a series of cascades and falls, at the same time furnishing the motive power for operating extensive cotton and woolen mills, which give employment to several hundred men and women. A very humble type of life mingles hereabouts with that of a much more refined character. Naked or half-clad children are seen here and there playing with those who are comparatively well dressed. Nice cottage homes adjoin those of the poorest class. Children of both sexes are observed, only partially covered with rags, who are endowed with a loveliness of eyes and features, together with handsome figures, causing one to reflect upon the unfulfilled possibilities of such childish beauty.
Men and women often bring into Petropolis and offer for sale beautiful orchids, which they find in the woods not far away. These they pack in green leaves, retaining a piece of the original bark or wood upon which they have grown. These pretty flowerings of exuberant nature are sold for a trifling price. Some are very remarkable in form and color, such as we have never before chanced to see, and for really rare ones the finders ask and receive good prices. We saw among them a specimen of the Flor del Espiritu Santo,—"Flower of the Holy Spirit,"—to find which is thought to bring to the fortunate discoverer good luck, as well as a handsome price for the orchid. These women may have passed whole days in their search of the forest, patiently breaking their way through nearly impassable jungles, before nature reveals to them one of her most dainty gems. As a rule, the forests are so dense that it is useless to try to penetrate them, except by following some beaten route,—a charcoal burner's road or a straggling way formed by a watercourse.
We well remember, but can only partially describe, the glory and beauty of the Brazilian primeval forest. The general tone of the color is brownish rather than light green, influenced by the absence of strong light, for though the sun is glowing in the open country, here it is twilight. Not one direct beam penetrates the density of the foliage, the sombre drapery of the woods. At first one is awed by the vast extent of the forest, by the dark, mournful shadows, by the gigantic trees reaching so far heavenward, forming here and there gothic arcades of matchless grandeur, and by the bewildering variety of the undergrowth. Scarcely a tree trunk is seen without its parasite, green with foliage not its own, "beyond the power of botanists to number up their tribe." These dense jungles might be in India, or a bit out of "Darkest Africa;" one is barred by an impenetrable wall of vegetation. Where palms occur, it is almost always in groups; being a social tree, it loves the company of its species. So with the bamboo, which is found in the more swampy regions, but always in groups of its own family. These damp woods are the home of the orchids; it is here that they revel in moisture, clinging to the trunks of tall, columnar trees, fattening on decayed portions of the bark, but forming bits of lovely color, while about the stems of other forest monarchs wind creeping vines of rope-like texture, binding huge trunks in a fatal embrace. Their final strangulation is slow, but it is sure,—only a question of time. Lofty trees bear charming flowers, as lowly shrubs do in our northern clime. Arborescent ferns vie with the palms in poetic beauty, with their elastic, tufted tops. Bunches of lilac and blossoms of snowy whiteness hang in the air. Drooping mosses depend like human hair from widespread branches, and soft, velvety moss carpets the way, with here and there dwarf mimosas trailing beneath the ferns. Long vines of woody climbers, in deep olive-green, twine and intertwine among the ranks of stout, aged trees, breaking out at short distances with pink, blue, and scarlet buds, rivaling the color of the birds which flash hither and thither like rays of sunlight breaking through the leafy screen. Now and again the shrill or plaintive notes of unfamiliar songsters fall upon the ear, mingling with the cooing of the wood-doves and the low drone of the dragon-fly. The magnificent arboreal growth of these forests develops itself into thousands of strange and beautiful forms, stimulated by the constant humidity of the high temperature.
The atheist must feel himself stifled for breath in the tropical forest, and his fallacious creed challenged by every surrounding object, while a new light illumines his unwilling soul with irrefutable evidences. The Supreme Being writes his gospel not in the Bible alone, but upon the grand old trees, the lowly flowers, the fleeting clouds, and upon the eternal stars. Those who seek nature for religious inspiration never fail to obtain it, untrammeled by the vulgar tenets of sectarianism or outraged by the tinsel of church forms and ceremonies.
The observant traveler from the north is fain to seek some consolation, some evidence of the glorious law of compensation, while comparing the features of these poetical latitudes with his own well-beloved but more prosaic home. He remembers that if these gaudy birds do flout in vivid colors that dazzle and charm the eye, they have not the exquisite power of song which inspires our more soberly clad New England favorites. Brilliancy of feathers and sweetness of song rarely go together, a natural fact which suggests a whole moral essay in itself. The torrid zone clothes its feathered tribes in glowing plumage, but the colder north endows hers with heart-touching melody. If the flowers of the tropics exhaust the hues of the prism, attracting us by the oddity of their forms, while blooming in exuberant abundance, the sweet and lowly children of Flora in higher latitudes greet the senses with a fragrance unknown in equatorial regions. Joy is nowhere all of a piece. Blessings, we are forced to believe, whether in the form of beauty of color, fragrance, or melody, are very equally divided all over the world, and those portions which have not one, as a rule, are almost sure to have the other. When we become eloquent and appreciative in the lively enjoyment of scenes in a new country, it is not always because they are more desirable or more beautiful than our own; it is the newness and the contrast which for the moment so captivate us. That to which we are accustomed, however grand, becomes commonplace; we covet and require novelty to quicken the observation. Were the sun to rise but once a year, in place of three hundred and sixty-five times every twelve months, we would willingly travel thousands of miles, if it were necessary, to witness the glorious phenomenon. The most charming natural objects please us in proportion to their rarity or our unfamiliarity with them.
Port of Santos.—Yellow Fever Scourge.—Down the Coast to Montevideo.—The Cathedral.—Pamperos.—Domestic Architecture.—A Grand Thoroughfare.—City Institutions.—Commercial Advantages.—The Opera House.—The Bull-Fight.—Beggars on Horseback.—City Shops.—A Typical Character.—Intoxication.—The Campo Santo.—Exports.—Rivers and Railways.
Santos is the name of a commercially important harbor situated on the east coast of South America about three hundred miles southwest of Rio Janeiro, after which city it is the greatest export harbor for coffee in Brazil. Otherwise it is about as uninteresting a spot as can be found on the continent. It became a city so late as 1839, and contains some twenty thousand inhabitants. Its annual export of coffee will reach an aggregate of two hundred and twenty-five thousand sacks. The bay is surrounded by a succession of hills, and is well sheltered, except on the southwest. The town is situated on the west side of the harbor, and hugs the shore, many of the houses being built upon piles. Behind the town to the westward rises a succession of mountain ranges. The immediately surrounding country is low and malarial, causing fevers to prevail all the year round. During the present season Santos has suffered more seriously from yellow fever than any other place on the coast in proportion to the number of its inhabitants. As a commercial port it has no rival in southern Brazil. Santa Catharina, Porto Alegre, and Rio Grande, the three harbors south of Santos, are rendered inaccessible for any but small craft, owing to sandbars at their entrances.
This is the present terminus of the United States and Brazil Mail steamship route from New York, and notwithstanding its many drawbacks in point of sanitary conditions, is yet growing rapidly in commercial importance. Its wretchedly unhealthy condition causes one to hasten away to the more elevated country, where St. Paul is situated, and where the traveler runs little or no risk of contracting yellow fever or malarial affections of any sort.
Santos is the port for St. Paul, with which it is connected by rail, and from which it is separated by about forty miles.
This capital of the state of São Paulo, St. Paul, contains some ninety thousand inhabitants. The province is credited with a million and a half. The city lies just under the tropic of Capricorn, southwest of Rio, about two thousand feet above the level of the sea, upon a high ridge, covering an elevated plateau of undulating hills. It enjoys the sunshine of the tropics, modified by the freshness of the temperate zone. It is venerable in years, having been founded in 1554, but it seems to have taken a fresh start of late, as its population has doubled in the last decade. As intimated, it is entirely free from yellow fever, which is so fatal at Santos, and has excellent drinking water, together with good drainage and well paved streets. The city contains some fine public buildings, and has many handsome adornments, being largely peopled by North Americans and English; the former prevail in numbers and influence, indeed, it has been called the American city of Brazil. There is also a large Italian colony settled here. St. Paul has a good system of tramways, several Protestant churches, and a number of educational and charitable public institutions, together with many of the attractions of a much larger capital. Among the popular amusements, the theatre of San José is justly esteemed, and is a well-appointed establishment in all of its belongings. There are two spacious public gardens, embellished with grottoes, fountains, choice trees, and flowers, while the private gardens attached to the dwellings are numerous and tasteful.
In the district round about the city venomous serpents are frequently met with, whose bite is as dangerous as that of the rattlesnakes of our northern climate. As the land is cleared and cultivated, they naturally and rapidly disappear. These reptiles fear man, and avoid his vicinity quite as earnestly as human beings avoid them. It is only when they are molested, trodden upon, or cornered, as it were, that they attack any one.
The city is connected with Rio Janeiro by a railway, and two other railroads run from it far inland. The Rio and St. Paul railway is fairly equipped, but the roadbed is not properly ballasted, and consequently one rides over the route in a cloud of dust, while suffering from the oscillations and jolting of the cars. This railway, however, is one of the most successful and profitable in the republic. It is some three hundred miles in length, and passes through a dozen or more tunnels, one of which is a mile and a half in length. This tunnel required seven years' labor before it was passable. There is just now a great "boom" of land values in and about St. Paul. It is towards this state that the tide of Italian emigration is largely directed, for some reason which we do not comprehend, but it is probably stimulated by a combined effort to this effect.
The passage southward from Rio Janeiro or Santos to Montevideo occupies about five days, but a large amount of rough ocean experience is generally crowded into that brief period, added to which the coasting steamers are far from affording the ordinary comforts so desirable at sea. Of the food supplied to passengers one does not feel inclined to complain, because a person embarking upon these lines does so knowing what to expect; but as regards the domestic conveniences and cleanliness generally, there is no excuse for their defective character. We are sorry to say that the class of Portuguese and Spaniards one encounters on these coasting vessels is far from decently cleanly in daily habits, carelessly adding to the unsanitary conditions.
The wind in these latitudes is not only inclined to be fierce, but it usually goes entirely round the compass at least once or twice during the voyage, and is more than liable to wind up, off the mouth of the river Plate, with a regular and furious pampero. This is a hurricane wind, which is born in the gorges of the Andes, and thence pursuing its course over nearly a thousand miles of level pampas, gains speed and power with every league of progress. The season in which these hurricanes—for in their fury they deserve to be thus designated—prevail, is from March to September, but they are liable to come at any time. The wind is considered by the people of Montevideo to be wholesome and invigorating, as far as the land is concerned, but seamen dread it on shipboard, and call it a Plate River hurricane. We know of no more disagreeable roadstead than that of Montevideo, when a pampero is blowing. We have seen ships under these circumstances, with two anchors down, obliged to resort to the use of oil on the sea, to prevent themselves from being swamped. Though the inhabitants represent a pampero to be comparatively harmless on the land, yet it does sometimes commit fearful havoc there also, especially among the unprotected herds of wild cattle on the plains, and upon all trees or plantations which lie in its devastating course. It is true that it brings with it a bracing and life-giving atmosphere from the snow-capped Andes far away, and if it could only do so with less forceful demonstration, it would be a welcome visitor in the heated days of these regions.
The most direct way to illustrate what these South American pampas are is to compare them to the vast prairies of our Western and Southwestern States. Any one familiar with those far-reaching, horizon-bounded plains knows what the pampas of the Argentine Republic are like. Beginning near the foothills of the Cordilleras, in their very shadow, as it were, these smoothed out, level lands extend hundreds of miles eastward to the great estuary of the Plate River, on the borders of the Atlantic Ocean. Though apparently sterile, the soil of the pampas, like the dry, baked land of Australia, only requires irrigation and cultivation to rival the most attractive valleys of Southern Europe. It is believed by scientists that these plains were once covered by a broad inland sea, connected directly with the Atlantic. In their present condition these pampas can hardly be called barren, since they give excellent grazing for extensive herds of wild cattle, which thrive and fatten upon the abundance of coarse, natural grass, similar to what is known as bunch grass in Texas and New Mexico. This product ripens and makes itself into standing hay, retaining its natural vitality and nutritious qualities throughout months of atmospheric exposure. After being close-cropped by the roving herds of cattle, the bunch grass renews itself, reproducing in great abundance.
Montevideo, the capital of Uruguay, is situated on the remarkable estuary of the Plate River,—Rio de la Plata, or "Silver River,"—whose spacious mouth is marked by two capes, Santa Maria and San Antonio, more than one hundred miles apart. Only a nautical observation will show just where the line of ocean ceases and that of the estuary begins. The unobservant passenger believes himself still sailing upon the broad ocean until he finally sights the land on which the city stands. The flag of Uruguay flying from various crafts—blue and white, in alternate stripes, with a glowing sun in the upper corner near the staff—indicates the near approach to the land it represents.
On the island of Flores, fifteen miles from Montevideo, there are a lighthouse and quarantine station. The island is formed by a rocky upheaval, not over twenty feet above sea level, measuring about a mile in length and two or three hundred yards in width. The fierce pamperos render the navigation of this estuary oftentimes precarious. When approaching the broad river's mouth from the north, sailors know that it is near at hand, long before land is seen, by the color of the water, which comes forth in such immense volume as to impart a distinct yellow hue to the ocean for a long distance from the coast. This effect is said to be discernible one hundred miles off the shore, but thirty or forty miles will perhaps be nearer the truth, and is at the same time a statement answering all legitimate purposes. The tide about the estuary is mostly governed by the wind, and so up the river, showing no regularity in its rise and fall. The current of the Plate opposite Montevideo runs at the rate of about three miles an hour. In extent, this ranks as the third great river of the world, draining, with its affluents, eight hundred thousand square miles of territory; a mammoth basin, which is only exceeded by those of the Amazon and the Mississippi.
The commercial activity of the port is shown by the arrival and departure daily of many large steamships, foreign and coastwise. Sixty European steamers are recorded as arriving here monthly, besides a number from the United States. The maritime business of the port is mostly in the hands of Englishmen, Americans, and Frenchmen. The native-born citizen evinces no genius in commercial matters. The department of the capital is the smallest in the republic, having an area of only twenty-five square miles, but it is fertile, well wooded and watered, its agricultural interests predominating, which is a most important fact in estimating the stability and pecuniary responsibility of any state.
The city is exceptionably well situated on a small rocky promontory, or rather we should designate it as a peninsula, jutting out into the estuary, three of its sides fronting the sea, and as its streets are nearly always swept by ocean breezes, it is cool and pleasant even in midsummer. The land rises gradually as it recedes from the shore, and then declines to the bed of a small stream which empties into the bay, thus affording a natural surface drainage. Uruguay is a little more than twelve times as large territorially as the State of Massachusetts, and is divided into thirteen departments. There are over half a million acres of land under good cultivation in the republic, the principal staples being wheat and corn. Extreme heat and extreme cold are alike unknown, the country being within the temperate zone. The mean summer temperature is 71° Fahr., that of autumn 62°, and of spring 60°. There are, therefore, but few things which the climate is too hot or too cold to produce, while for the raising of cattle on a large scale it is said to be the best section of South America, and this forms, we believe, its largest industry.
In approaching Montevideo from the sea, it is observed that the surrounding country is quite level, with scarcely a single object to break the distant view. Immediately upon landing one realizes that the city is clean and well built, though it is mostly made up of low structures one story in height. There are plenty of dwellings of two and three stories, however, in the more modern part of the town. Dominating the whole stand the lofty dome and towers of the cathedral, which faces the Plaza Constitution. The turrets are of striking proportions, each rising to the height of one hundred and thirty-three feet. The widespread dome would be grand in effect, were it not covered with glazed tiles of various colors, blue, green, yellow, and so on, the combined effect of which is anything but pleasing to a critical eye. Still, it is no more tawdry than much of the inside finish and meaningless ornamentation. There is an elaborate marble fountain in the centre of the plaza, besides some ornamental shrubbery and flowers. The very fine marble façade of the building occupied by the Uruguay Club adds to the beauty of the plaza. Near the fountain is a fanciful music stand, in which a military band is occasionally stationed to perform for the public pleasure. These South Americans would as soon give up the bull-fights as the popular outdoor evening concerts, the excellent moral effect of which no one can possibly doubt.
An abrupt hill at the head of the harbor, four or five hundred feet in height, known as the "Monte," gives the city its name, Montevideo. This hill is crowned by a small fort and lighthouse, the latter containing a revolving light which can be seen a long distance at sea. A couple of miles inland rises another hill called the Cerrito, or "little hill." Several times during revolutionary struggles, these two hills have been fortified by opposing parties, who have desired to control the city, but restless revolutionists are now at a discount, fortunately, in this republic of Uruguay, a class of uneasy spirits who have reigned quite long enough on the southern continent.
The town is built in the form of an amphitheatre, and has comparatively few edifices of importance. Its regular, straight streets and open squares are intensely Spanish. The Paseo del Molino is the fashionable part of the town, where the wealthy merchants reside in curious chalets, orquintasas they are called here. There is rather an extraordinary taste displayed in the matter of buildings on this Paseo. Swiss cottages, Italian villas, Chinese dwellings, and Gothic structures are mingled with Spanish and Moorish styles. This architectural incongruity is not picturesque, but, on the contrary, strikes one as very crude and ill-chosen. The charm of domestic residences in any part of the globe is a certain adaptability to the natural surroundings, and is, when well conceived, a graceful part of the whole. Inappropriate structures are to the eye like false notes in music to the ear, an outrage upon harmony. A Swiss chalet in Hindostan, or a Japanese bamboo house in England, is simply discordancy in scenic consistency. Nature should always be a silent partner in the creation and adaptation of architectural designs. In olden times the Jesuits built a large mill near this spot, and hence the name of the place.
The climate must be very equable and fine to admit of such fruit culture as exists here. The strawberries grown in the neighborhood are famous for their size and sweetness, the vines producing this favorite fruit all the year round. They are perhaps a little over-developed, and would doubtless be of finer flavor if they were smaller.
The Plaza de la Independencia is highly attractive, and so is the broad, tree-lined avenue known as the Calle del Dieziochavo de Julio, named after the anniversary of the Uruguayan declaration of independence. This, indeed, is thought to be the most effective boulevard in all South America. On festal occasions it is decorated in an original and brilliant manner, having colored draperies hanging from the windows and balconies, bright colored cambrics stretched from point to point, with the gay flag of the republic festooned here and there. Chinese lanterns are hung from the trees, and arches spanning the roadway and bearing national designs are all ablaze with ingeniously arranged gas jets. Down one side of this long avenue and up the other, it being over a hundred feet broad, a civic and military procession marches on the annual recurrence of the date which its name indicates, the several divisions headed by bands of music, with flags flying and drums beating. On such occasions the windows and balconies are filled with groups of handsome women, in gala dresses, together with pretty children in holiday costumes, who add charm and completeness to the scene. This avenue is the Champs Elysées of the southern continent, a thoroughfare of which the residents are justly very proud.
The streets and sidewalks generally are of better width in Montevideo than in most of the South American cities. Some few of the private residences display fine architectural taste, the dwellings being well adapted to the climate and the surroundings. Many of the city houses have little towers erected on their roofs, calledmiradores, from whence one gets an excellent view of the entire city and of the sea. The town is spread over a large territory, and stretches away into thinly populated suburbs, but all parts are rendered accessible by the well-perfected system of tramways which extend over fifty miles within the city and the immediate environs. In the absence of official figures, we should judge that Montevideo had a population of at least two hundred thousand. Every other nationality seems to be represented in its streets and warehouses, except that of Uruguay herself. Those "native and to the manner born" are conspicuous by their absence. Speaking of this rather curious characteristic to a friend who lives here, he replied: "There are probably fifty thousand European and North American residents doing business in this city, forming by far the most active element of the place. They are seen everywhere, to the apparent exclusion of the natives. Indigenous blood and energy could not have made this capital what it is at the present time. It is reaping the advantage of North American enterprise, English and American capital, and German shrewdness. These, combined with the natural advantages of the location and climate, will eventually make Montevideo the Liverpool of South America." Though all this goes without saying, our friend put it so aptly that his words were deemed worthy of recording. We do not hesitate to predict that the next decade will nearly double the number of the population here, as well as the aggregate of its imports and exports. No other city on the southern continent has greater advantages in its geographical position, or as regards salubrity of climate and adaptability to commerce. Were it not for the occasional visits of the howling pamperos, the climate would be nearly perfect, and even these exhibitions of a local nature are, as we have said, accepted with great equanimity by the people on land. There are few stoves, and no fireplaces or chimneys, in Montevideo. Cooking is done with charcoal on braziers out-of-doors, as is the custom in most tropical countries.
The capital of Uruguay contains the usual educational and religious, charitable and scientific, public organizations, with appropriate edifices for the same. It should certainly be considered a reading community, having more daily newspapers than London, and double as many as the city of New York; also supporting a large number of weekly newspapers and monthly magazines. As to books, so far as a casual observer may speak, they are few and far between in family circles. The men read the newspapers, and the women fill up their leisure time with music and gossip. There is a national university in Montevideo, where over six hundred pupils are regularly taught at the present time, and there are forty-eight professors attached to this admirably organized institution. We heard it highly spoken of by those who should be good judges in educational matters. The custom house, with which the stranger always makes an early acquaintance after arriving in port, is a large and costly structure, three stories in height. The opera house is worthy of particular mention, being a spacious building of the Doric order, capable of seating three thousand persons, and when it is filled at night, the interior presents a grand array of elegant costumes and female beauty, the ladies of this city being noted for their personal charms. This is a circumstance not mentioned casually as a mere compliment, but simply as a fact. The opera house covers an entire square, and has two large wings attached to the main building, one of which is devoted to business purposes, and the other contains the National Museum. There is here the nucleus of a most valuable collection, to which constant additions are being made, both by the state and through personal liberality and interest. We are sorry to say in this connection that the bull-fight, as a public exhibition, above all other styles of amusement, is the favorite one with the rank and file of the populace, which is quite sufficiently Spanish to control the matter and insure its permanency. The bull-ring, wherein these brutal and terribly demoralizing exhibitions take place on each Sabbath afternoon during the season, is situated about a league from the city proper.
It must be a country or district under Roman Catholic influence, and with more or less of a Spanish element permeating it, to admit of this style of desecrating the Sabbath, or, indeed, of indulging on any day of the week in an exhibition which is so thoroughly brutal, cowardly, and repulsive. It is a sad reflection upon the community, high and low, to state that the bull-fight is one of its popular entertainments. We have said that this is a cowardly game. The fact is, the bull is doomed from the moment he enters the arena. He has only his horns and his courage to help him in the unequal contest. The professional fighters opposed to him are all fully armed, and protected by sheltering guards, behind which they can retire at will. It is twelve experts pitted against one poor beast. Ingenious, heathenish modes of torture are devised and adopted to wound, to weaken, and to craze the victim. If it was one armed man against the bull, whether mounted or otherwise, it would be a more equal and gallant struggle,—but twelve to one! bah, it is only a cowardly game in which gallant horses and brave bulls are sacrificed by a dozen armed men. Even the matadore, who gives the final and fatal thrust with his sword, and who is looked upon as a sort of hero by the spectators, does not enter the ring to attempt the act until the bull is comparatively harmless, having been worried and wounded until he is exhausted by the struggle and the copious loss of blood, so that he is scarcely able to stand. Though reeling like a drunken man, he staggers bravely towards his fresh and well-armed enemy, showing fight to the last gasp.
Realize the moral effect of such cut-throat exhibitions upon youth! The older, cruel and hardened spectators are only rendered more so, but the young and impressionable are then and there inoculated with a love of brutality and bloodshed, fostered by every fresh exhibition which they witness.
The Exchange is a grand and spacious structure, admirably adapted to its purpose, being one of the finest business edifices in South America, to our mind infinitely superior in all respects to that of Rio, upon which so much money has been expended in meretricious designs. The author counted the names of some forty charitable institutions and associations in a Montevideo directory, eight or ten of which are maintained mostly by public endowment, such as hospitals, asylums for the poor, orphanages, industrial schools, lunatic asylums, and so on. Near the Plaza Ramirez there is a school of arts and trades, which at this writing accommodates a large body of pupils, taught by competent professors and experts. We were told that this institution was of great practical service in the cause of education, its general aim being similar to that of the Massachusetts Institute of Technology. One was hardly prepared to credit Montevideo with so many and well-sustained educational purposes as she was found to be justly entitled to. The reader will observe that we speak qualifiedly of these matters; it is only the outward and most obvious characteristics of a city, so briefly visited, of which one can speak correctly. It would have been gratifying to have remained longer in this capital, to understand more clearly the educational advantages which are offered here. In this department of progress, Montevideo seems in advance of many larger cities.
Squads of soldiers are seen lounging about the town, dressed in a uniform of the Zouave pattern, not very jaunty looking fellows, it must be confessed, but perhaps "as good food for powder as a better." The entire army of Uruguay consists of only five thousand men, of all branches. The president has also a battalion of body-guards, consisting of three or four hundred men, forming a very efficient as well as ornamental organization. This organization consists of men loyal to the administration, and beyond a doubt personally devoted to the president. The rank and file of the army embraces all shades of color, both as to mind and body, and is liable to become disaffected at the outbreak of any popular upheaval, or through the influence of designing men. This body-guard, however, being always on duty, is ready and able to turn the scale by prompt and consistent action, in favor of the established authorities, and thus nip rebellion in the bud. It is only after getting thoroughly under way that revolutionary attempts become formidable. At the inception, the strong arm promptly applied stamps out the life and courage of the mob, and renders sedition futile. "No parleying; fire promptly, and fire to kill; that ends the matter," said Napoleon. Blank cartridges and vacillation stimulate a half-formed purpose into action.
One is forced to admit that beggars are rather numerous in Montevideo,—beggars on horseback and wearing spurs. They coolly stop their small, wiry, half-fed ponies, and with magnificent effrontery beg of any stranger they chance to meet for a centavo, a copper coin worth about two cents of our American money. The incongruity of beggars mounted, while the stranger of whom they solicit alms is a pedestrian, is somewhat obvious. It must be remembered, however, that horses are very cheap in this country, and that nearly every one rides or drives. A good serviceable animal can be bought in any of the South American cities at what we should consider a mere trifle to pay for one. A well-broken young saddle-horse will bring from twenty to twenty-five dollars, but the owner, if one of the dudes about town, will expend five hundred dollars upon a silver-decked saddle, bridle, and trimmings, a Spanish peculiarity which is also observed in the city of Mexico. A pair of well-matched carriage-horses, in good condition, can be had for seventy-five or eighty dollars. Mares are not worked in this country, being solely used for breeding purposes, and have no fixed price; indeed, they are not met with in the cities. It will be seen that for a beggar to set up business here requires some capital, but not much. De Quincey would describe Spanish beggary as having become elevated to one of the fine arts.
There is a class of men in Uruguay called gauchos who devote themselves to breaking the wild horses of the pampas for domestic use. They are more Indian than Spanish, and pass their lives mostly as herdsmen of the vast numbers of animals which live in a semi-wild state upon the plains of South America. These men can hardly be said to train their horses. They only conquer them by a process of cruel discipline which thoroughly subdues the animal. After this the poor creatures are ever on the alert to obey their rider's will, prompted by a pressure of the powerful bit, and a merciless thrust of the long, sharp rowels. The gaucho reminds one of the cowboys of our Western States. He forms a very picturesque figure when seen upon his wiry little mustang, galloping along with his yellow poncho streaming behind him, his head covered by a broad-brimmed soft felt hat, his long, dark hair floating upon the breeze, and his broad, loose trousers fluttering in the wind. A lasso of braided or twisted leather sometimes swings from one hand, while the rider skillfully manages his horse with the other. Altogether the gaucho forms a picture of strong vitality and vivid color. He spends a small fortune upon his equipments, and his heavy spurs are of solid silver. He is not a hard drinker, an occasional glass of country wine satisfies him; but he will gamble all night long until he has lost his last penny to professional sportsmen, who somehow know the way to win by fair means or foul.
Few strangers who visit Montevideo for the first time will be at all prepared to see such a quantity and variety of rich jewelry in the shops. Imported dress goods of the finest quality are also offered for sale in these shops. The Parisian boulevards have no display windows which contain larger or finer diamonds, sapphires, and emeralds; indeed, this country seems to be the home of precious stones and real gems. The silversmiths exhibit goods equally artistic and elegant. The best products of Vienna, Paris, and London, in the fancy-goods line, are fully represented here. Readers who have visited Genoa will recall the fine silver filigree-work which is a specialty of that city, but some of the manufactures of this character made here are quite equal, if they do not excel, that of the Italian capital.
It seemed to be rather a singular and significant fact, that when a couple of pennies will purchase a tumblerful of the national tipple called caña, a raw liquor made from sugar-cane, and quite as strong as brandy, still comparatively few persons are seen under its influence upon the public streets. It is true that on all church festal occasions the common people have a regular carousal, and get very much intoxicated, whereupon they lose one day in repenting and two in recuperation. It is the same all over the world. The lower, uneducated classes, having no intellectual resort, seem imbued with the idea that to get thoroughly tipsy is the acme of pleasure. The inevitable punishment does not enter into the calculation at all, nor does it deter the victim from repeated excesses. It is curious to observe the peculiar effect which intoxicants produce upon people of different nationalities: the Russian gets boozy on vodka, and only becomes more loving to his species; the Mexican drinks pulque by the pint measure, and craves only to be permitted to sleep; the French guzzle brandy and wine until they become equally full of song and gayety; the American Indian is made utterly crazy and reckless by drink; the Irishman finds a fight in every glass of whiskey; and the Englishman who indulges overmuch becomes eloquent on politics and patriotism. In South America the common people who drink to excess are rendered pugnacious and revolutionary. The police arrangements of Montevideo are excellent, and the streets are safe for man or woman at any hour of the day or night, which one is forced to admit is more than can be truthfully said of the majority of large cities in either Europe or North America. There is no sickly sentimentality about crime and criminals here. If a man outrages the law, he has to suffer for it, and there is no pardoning him until he has worked out his entire penalty. It is the certainty of punishment which intimidates professional rascals. Official leniency and pardoning of criminals are a premium on crime.
Between two and three miles from the city there is a public park, which is laid out with excellent taste and skill, forming a popular pleasure resort. There are here many fine native and exotic trees, as well as flowering shrubs and blooming flowers. This spacious park, intersected by a willow-lined stream, is called the Paseo, and is ornamented with statues, fountains, and rockeries. The grounds are also occupied by several small places devoted to amusements, shooting-galleries, billiard saloons, and gambling tables, very similar to the Deer Garden in the environs of Copenhagen. Citizens of Montevideo of the humbler class come hither with their families, bringing food and drink to be disposed of in picnic fashion. Bordering the sweep of the bay, which forms the harbor, are many cottages, the homes of the rich merchants. These villas are surrounded by flower gardens and graceful shrubbery, the endless spring climate making the bloom perennial. The flat roofs of many of the town houses are partially inclosed, so as to form a pleasant resort in the closing hours of the day, where family parties are often seen gathered together. Social life among the residents of the environs is very gay, and so indeed is that of the town residents, whose hospitality is also proverbial. The Hotel Oriental is the favorite hostelry of Montevideo, built of marble and well furnished, though it is hardly equal to the Hotel Victoria, its rival, architecturally speaking.
The drinking water, and all that is used for domestic purposes in the city, is brought by a well-engineered system from the river Santa Lucia, which is tapped for this purpose at a distance of thirty or forty miles from Montevideo.
The Campo Santo of the capital is admirably arranged and particularly well kept, being in several respects like those of Pisa, Genoa, and other Italian cities. It is the most elaborate cemetery in South America, surrounded by high walls so built as to contain five tiers of niches which form the receptacles for the dead. The grounds are nearly as crowded with elaborate tombs and stone monuments as Père la Chaise, at Paris, the funereal cypress rising here and there in stately mournfulness above the marble slabs. The abundance of metallic wreaths and artificial flowers afforded another resemblance to the famous French cemetery. The freshness of many of the floral offerings showed that the memory of the departed was kept green in the hearts of those left behind. The traveler sees many such touching evidences of tenderness all over the world. Much of the marble work seen in these grounds was imported from Milan, and some from both Florence and Rome. The monumental entrance to the grounds, and the elaborate chapel within them, are both in good taste.
Beef, hides, wool, hair, and grain seem to be the principal articles of export. Uruguay contains over half a million of people, and has an area of seventy-one thousand square miles, intersected by several railways, bringing the interior within easy reach of the capital. It is said to be growing more rapidly in proportion to its size and the present number of inhabitants than any other part of South America. The republic is best known to the world by its Indian name, Uruguay, but on many maps it is still designated as the Banda Oriental, that is, the "Eastern Border." It will be remembered that this now independent state was originally a part of the Argentine Republic, which was formerly known by that designation. Though Uruguay is one of the smallest of the independent divisions of the continent, it is yet one of the most important, a fact owing largely to its admirable commercial location. Nearly all of its territory can be reached by navigable rivers, while its Atlantic shore has a dozen good harbors. Sixteen large rivers intersect the republic in various directions, all of which have their several tributaries. Cheap internal transportation is assured by over three hundred miles of railways; also by these rivers. As already intimated, its agricultural interests are largely on the increase, the strongest element of permanency. Originally the pastoral interest prevailed over all other, but agriculture, both here and in the Argentine Republic, has taken precedence. The model farms near Montevideo are unsurpassed for extent, completeness, and the liberal manner in which they are conducted. Some large estates might be named which will compare favorably with anything of the sort which the author has ever seen in any country, where agriculture is followed on intelligent principles. Here the cultivation of the soil is carried on not solely to obtain all which can be wrung from it, in the way of pecuniary profit, butcon amore, and with a due regard to system. As may be supposed, the return is fully commensurate with the intelligence and liberality exercised in the business. Such farming may be and is called fancy farming, but it is a sort which pays most liberally, and which affords those engaged in it the most satisfaction.
To be an honest chronicler, one must not hesitate to look at all phases of progress, successful or otherwise, on the part of each people and country visited and written about. There are always deep-lying influences acting for good or evil, which scarcely present themselves to the thoughtless observer.
One reason for the rapid growth of this republic of Uruguay is because of its gradually casting off the slough of Roman Catholic influence, a species of dry rot quite sufficient to bring about the destruction of any government. The same incubus which was of so long standing in Mexico, where its effect kept the people in ignorance and ferment for centuries, has at last been abolished, and modern progress naturally follows. In Uruguay the Romish Church has lost its prestige, having hastened its own downfall by blindly striving to enforce fifteenth century ideas upon people of the nineteenth. Monks and nuns have been expelled, and parish schools have been closed. Free schools now prevail, and general knowledge is becoming broadcast, which simply means destruction to all popish control. Intelligence is the antidote for bigotry, which explains the bitter opposition of the Roman Catholic priesthood to free schools wherever their faith prevails.
In all of these South American provinces it has been found difficult to throw off the evil inheritance of sloth and anarchy which the Spaniards imposed upon their colonial possessions. The schoolhouse is the true temple of liberty for this people. In the department of Montevideo alone there are to-day over sixty free schools, and in the whole republic nearly four hundred, something for her authorities to point at with a spirit of just pride. This enumeration does not include the private schools, of which there are also a large number in the capital.
We find by published statistics that Uruguay exports of wool, about seven million dollars' worth per annum; of beef, over six million dollars' worth; of hides, four million dollars' worth; and of wheat about the same amount in value as that of the last article named. These staples, however, are only representative articles, to which many more might be added, to show her growing commercial importance and assured prosperity.
Our next stopping-place is the important city of Buenos Ayres, on the opposite bank of the river, about one hundred and fifty miles southwest of Montevideo.
Buenos Ayres.—Extent of the Argentine Republic.—Population.—Narrow Streets.—Large Public Squares.—Basques.—Poor Harbor.—Railway System.—River Navigation.—Tramways.—The Cathedral.—Normal Schools.—Newspapers.—Public Buildings.—Calle Florida.—A Busy City.—Mode of furnishing Milk.—Environs.—Commercial and Political Growth.—The New Capital.
The city of Buenos Ayres—"Good Air"—is well named so far as its natural situation is concerned, but this condition of a pure atmosphere has been seriously affected by unsanitary conditions, naturally arising from the large influx of a very promiscuous population. A considerable percentage are Italians, and so far as personal cleanliness and decency go, they seem to be among the lost arts with them.
This thriving city is the capital of the Argentine Republic, which, next to Brazil, is the largest independent state in South America, containing fourteen provinces, each of which has its own local government, modeled after those of the United States. The average reader will doubtless be surprised, as the author certainly was, to realize that this southern republic exceeds in extent of territory the united kingdoms of Great Britain, together with France, Germany, Austria, Hungary, Italy, Spain, Portugal, Belgium, Holland, and Greece combined, the actual area being something over twelve hundred thousand square miles. The province of Buenos Ayres is just about the size of the State of New York, and contains in round numbers a population of one million. Two hundred years ago, the city of Buenos Ayres had a population of five hundred. Having the statistics at hand, it is perhaps worth while to state that, of the aggregate population of the province, a majority, or fully six hundred thousand, are foreigners, classed as follows: three hundred thousand Italians, one hundred and fifty thousand French, one hundred thousand Spaniards, forty thousand English, and twenty thousand Germans. The number of North American residents is very small, though they control a fair percentage of the exports and imports. Authentic statistics show that they number less than six hundred. Paris is not more crowded with refugees from various countries than is this Argentine capital. Why such a spot was selected on which to establish a commercial city is an unsolved riddle, as it embraces about all the natural inconveniences that could possibly be encountered on the banks of a large river. The perversity of such a selection is the more obvious, because those who made it must have passed by a score of admirable points eminently superior in all respects to the one now occupied.
The first view of Buenos Ayres on approaching it by water is peculiar, the line of sight being only broken by the church towers and a few prominent public buildings; the horizon alone forms the background of the picture. Unlike nearly all of the South American cities, there is no forest or mountain range behind or surrounding the capital. From its environs a continuous plain stretches away for nearly eight hundred miles to the foothills of the Andes. Situated between the 34° and 35° of south latitude, it enjoys a climate similar to that of the south of France, and almost identical with that of New Orleans. The site upon which the city stands is considerably above the level of the river, and though the streets are far too narrow for business purposes in the older portions of the town, they widen to a better size in the newer parts. The roadways are poorly paved, so that it is very uncomfortable to walk or drive over them. Boulevards are laid out to cut the older parts of the city diagonally, as was done in Paris and Genoa, and is now being done in Florence, so as to relieve the present insufficient capacity for the transportation of merchandise. One is apt, however, when remarking upon these particularly narrow and irregular streets in a foreign country, to forget that there are, in the older portions of the capital of Massachusetts, some quite as circumscribed and corkscrew fashioned. If we do not find all the excellences of civilization predominating, and admirable people in the majority here, we should do well to remember that we have also left them in the minority at home.
The huge custom house of Buenos Ayres, with its circular form and high walls facing the river, recalls in general appearance Castle Garden in New York harbor, or the fort on Governor's Island. In its importance as a commercial emporium, this city disputes the first place with only three others in the southern hemisphere, namely, Rio Janeiro, Sydney, and Melbourne, the latter of which has lately added greatly to its harbor facilities by deepening and widening the Yarra-Yarra River.
The dwelling-houses of Buenos Ayres are mostly built of brick, and are of a far more substantial character than those upon the west coast of the continent. They have much more the appearance of North American dwellings than Spanish, except that the windows are strongly guarded with iron bars, and the cool, shady patios present domestic scenes, mingled with flowers and fragrance, strongly local in color. The city is regularly laid out in squares of a hundred and fifty yards each, so when one is told that such or such a place is so many squares away, he knows exactly the distance which is indicated. The Plaza de la Victoria is surrounded by handsome edifices, including the opera house and the cathedral, the façade of the latter very much resembling that of the Madeleine at Paris. This square has a fine equestrian statue of some patriot, and a small column commemorating a national event. The city has a population equaling that of Boston in number, and we do not hesitate to say that it is more noted for its enterprise and general progress than any other of the South American cities. It has been appropriately called the Chicago of the southern continent. The republic, of which it is the principal city, has seven thousand miles of telegraphic wire within its area, a tangible evidence of enterprise which requires no comment. One remarkable line connects this city with that of Valparaiso, on the Pacific side of the continent, and is constructed with iron poles nearly the whole distance, crossing the Andes by means of forty miles of cable laid beneath the perpetual snows!
It may well be supposed that the inhabitants of Buenos Ayres are of a cosmopolitan character, when it is known that the daily newspapers are issued in five different languages. As shown by the statistics already given, a considerable share of the people are Italians, who form much the larger portion of the emigrants now coming hither from Europe, or who have arrived here during the last decade. As additions to the population, they form a more desirable class, in many respects, than those who seek homes further north. After the Italians, the Basques are among the most numerous of the new-comers. There are over fifty thousand of this people settled in the province of Buenos Ayres alone, readily adapting themselves to the country. They are a strongly individualized race, whom no one is liable to mistake for any other. They maintain in a great measure the picturesque style of dress which prevails in their native land, no matter what their vocation may be here. As a rule, the Basques come with their families, bringing some moderate amount of pecuniary means with them, and at once devote themselves to agricultural pursuits. They take especially to the department of the dairy, making butter and cheese of excellent quality, for which they find a ready city market. They have a natural inclination towards cattle tending, and are looked upon by the authorities as among the very best of European emigrants. To promote this immigration to Argentina, a per capita premium has been paid heretofore by the government, who, indeed, are still ready to furnish a free passage for responsible emigrants, both of this and other nationalities. This generous offer has been so shamefully abused by the beggars, lazzaroni, and criminal classes of Naples and Sicily, that a check has necessarily been put upon it, particularly as regards the generally objectionable people of Sicily.
As a shipping port, Montevideo has a decided advantage over this Argentine metropolis. Large steamers are obliged to anchor eight or ten miles, or even more, below the city, on account of the shallowness of the river at this point. A channel has been opened to facilitate the approach of vessels of moderate tonnage, but much yet remains to be done before the experiment will be of any practical advantage. Tugboats land passengers on the quay, who arrive by the large mail steamers. Vessels of not over twenty-five hundred tons can lie at the shore and land their cargoes by means of the limited conveniences of the new dock. One would think that this want of harbor facilities was an insuperable objection and impediment in the growth of a great commercial capital, but Buenos Ayres goes straight onward, progressing in wealth and business, apparently regardless of such disadvantages. The present aggregate of its imports, in round numbers, is one hundred million dollars per annum.
Even to-day, while resting under so serious a financial cloud, with her credit at the lowest ebb, and so many of her lately wealthy merchants in bankruptcy, the city has a certain steady, normal growth, which it would appear that nothing can seriously impair. As we have intimated, the tide of immigration has been checked, though not entirely stopped, by the depressed financial and business condition of the country; still, in one closing month of the last year, October, 1891, over two thousand passengers arrived by steamship in Argentina, seeking new and permanent homes.
When a pampero is blowing, it sometimes forces nearly all of the water out of the harbor, leaving it high and dry, so to speak, though the river is thirty miles in width opposite Buenos Ayres. Passengers, baggage, and freight have in the past often been landed by means of horse carts, hung on high wheels, and driven out into the water to such a depth as would float small boats and lighters. Indeed, this was for many years the common mode of landing freight and passengers at Buenos Ayres. Two long and narrow piers which have been built partially obviate the necessity of employing carts, unless the water becomes very low. It has been said in all seriousness, and we believe it to be true, that the cost of landing a cargo of merchandise at Buenos Ayres has often been as great as the freight by vessel from New York, Liverpool, or Boston.
To construct a suitable harbor here for commercial purposes is a project attended by almost insurmountable difficulties, but the attempt is gradually being made. The water in front of the city is not only shallow, but the bottom is extremely hard, while the increase of depth down the river is so little that it would involve the dredging of soil for a distance of ten miles, together with an indefinite width. It is very doubtful if a channel in such a situation, liable to constant changes, could be effectually established and maintained at any cost. The city does not depend upon its foreign commerce alone for business, having a boundless and productive territory in its rear, of which it will always be the commercial capital. It is already a great railway centre, the republic having over seven thousand miles of iron and steel rails within its borders. Five railways radiate from Buenos Ayres at this writing, and a sixth is projected. One route has been surveyed with the idea of connecting this city direct with Valparaiso, the distance between the two capitals being about nine hundred miles. It is designed to take advantage of the road already completed to Mendoza, from whence the addition would cross the Cordilleras at a height of ten thousand feet, and pass through several tunnels, one of which would be two miles long.