CHAPTER XXVII.THE LEGISLATIVE PALACE—A COMPLIMENT TO THE CAPITOL AT WASHINGTON—PLAZA DE GUZMAN BLANCO—THE UNIVERSITY—SAN FELIPE—REMINISCENCES OF HUMBOLDT—A STRANGE DISEASE—PROJECTS IN VENEZUELA—EARTHQUAKE AT CUA—THE LEGISLATURE—LEAVE FOR LA GUAIRA.
THE LEGISLATIVE PALACE—A COMPLIMENT TO THE CAPITOL AT WASHINGTON—PLAZA DE GUZMAN BLANCO—THE UNIVERSITY—SAN FELIPE—REMINISCENCES OF HUMBOLDT—A STRANGE DISEASE—PROJECTS IN VENEZUELA—EARTHQUAKE AT CUA—THE LEGISLATURE—LEAVE FOR LA GUAIRA.
From the Plaza Bolivar you pass at once into the square where stands the Legislative Palace. This edifice of Doric architecture is graceful and imposing, but does not impress one with the idea of the necessary solidity in so earthquaky a country. A handsome court with a large fountain (fine as regards its material, but feeble in its water-jets) divides it into two parts, one of which is surmounted by a huge dome—another compliment to the city of Washington—that will probably fall at the first severe shock. The most solid portions of the building are the iron pillars of the corridors which came from England.
The history of the building of this edifice is singular. The original site was occupied by the Convent of La Concepcion. One morning the convent was missing; it had been swept away during the night by the order of the President, and already hundreds of workmen were busily engaged erecting a new structure. Such were the activity and enthusiasm displayed in this work,that within ninety days the Chambers destined for the Legislature were ready for occupation. Whenever one of the numerous arches was finished, the event was celebrated with music and fireworks, and when the last sound of the hammer was heard, previous to its occupation, the occasion was made one of general rejoicing. A pretty little garden plaza runs down one of the sides of the Palace, and in the centre is another equestrian statue of heroic proportions, which has been raised in honour of Guzman Blanco, “the illustrious American and Regenerator of Venezuela,” who built the palace and the aqueduct. I do not think his successor, General Alcántara, the present President, has built anything, but, if he would introduce ice into the Paris of South America, a niche might be found for him in the Temple of Fame.
On the opposite side of the little garden, and running parallel with the Palace, stands the University and the Museum, both of which have a modern rococo façade in semi-gothic style, that contrasts strangely with the arched cloisters and great stone patios in the interior of the ancient building. The exterior decoration is perhaps too suggestive of the educational system that is carried on inside. Yet in spite of teaching a somewhat superficial character, public instruction received a great impetus during the Presidency of Guzman Blanco, and the great increase in the number of schools and scholars promises favourably for the progress of this Republic, whose chief city has earned from some writers the cognomen of the “American Athens.” It must be admitted that the Museum is not a credit to the city; its eminent director—Dr. Ernst—has laboured long and arduously in its cause, and has hitherto vainlyimplored the Government to support the institution. Promises are made, but only to be broken, projects are inaugurated, but never carried out; and at present there can be no better example of a “whited sepulchre” than the Museum of Carácas.
With the exception of the cathedral, none of the numerous churches offer much interest to a visitor. That of San Felipe Neri is a fine edifice, and its exterior presents a curious appearance on account of the numerous cupolas which adorn it. Already four generations have contributed largely towards its completion, and it is still unfinished.
One day when wandering near the Pantheon I passed through an ancient doorway, and found myself in a little wilderness, in which stood ruined walls and rooms open to the sky. Trees thrust themselves through the broken pavement, moss and grasses grew on the fissured stones, vines twisted themselves about the empty window spaces, and lizards and butterflies were the only living creatures to be seen. It resembled many other of the fragments that alone recall the terrible earthquake of 1812, but it possessed a special interest, for it was once the home of Humboldt when he visited Carácas in 1800. Another relic of Humboldt is to be seen in the market-place, where, on a brick pillar, stands a sun-dial which he is said to have erected, although the inscribed date (1803) hardly corresponds with the time of his visit. The market differed in no particular from the usual Spanish American market. The geography of arrangement was just the same; stalls with imported goods, calicoes, cloths, hardware, &c.; then cordage, baskets, and native manufactures; then fruit and vegetables, poultry in eel-pot cages, and turkeystied by the leg. Last of all, the meat-market. Here and there were some small parrots, cardinals, and mocking-birds, but not a specimen of the lovely “siete colores,”[113]a bird I was very anxious to obtain. On the Orinoco I was told I should be able to obtain them at Carácas, here they said I should only find them on the Orinoco. There was very little beauty and a great amount of ugliness amongst the market women; a few pensive Indians, with their mahogany babes slung across their backs, carrying off the palm in both instances. The most curious sight, and at the same time the most repulsive, was that of a negro who was literally covered with large round knobs from head to foot. I was told the name of the terrible disease, but have forgotten it.
To gain an idea of the celebrated Caraqueñan beauty, neither the market, nor even the Plaza Bolivar on band nights, must be visited. On Sundays it is the rude fashion for the youth of Carácas to congregate round the door of the favourite church, near the University, and there to feast their eyes on the lovely figures that have been attending mass. That it is worth their while to do so is evident from the never-failing throng of admirers. The prevailing type of beauty has very distinct characteristics. The expression of the face is spirituelle, and, in colour, white as alabaster, but tinged with a healthy glow. The eyes are dark and lustrous as the hair, and the teeth perfect. But occasionally one sees types similar to the “rubias” or “morenas” of Mexico; the former with gold or auburn hair and soft eyes of the deepest blue, and the latter with delicate olive complexion, black, poeticeyes, and brown-black hair. These beauties are by no means numerous, and beauty tinted by nature is rare, but altogether I do not think anyone could deny that the women of Carácas are worthy of their reputation.
The environs of the town are neither picturesque nor interesting; the roads are unshaded and dusty, that to Sabana Grande—a favourite drive—particularly so. On the way there, and just within the city limits, may be seen another of Venezuela’s failures. This time it is a railway, which was intended to connect Carácas with Petaré. The station is there, and a short distance of grass-covered rails, but they, together with a broken engine and a mouldy carriage, alone represent the projected means of communication. Harbour improvements, railroads, gas and ice companies, and all advances in civilization seem to fail in Venezuela; nothing succeeds except revolutions and statues. And yet the lemon—which those in authority call country—is squeezed to the last drop!
Near the station is a plantation—La Guiana—whose owner must have been disgusted with the repeated failures of the city, as over his gateway is inscribed the legend,[114]“Dost thou love liberty? then live in the country.” Beyond Petaré is the curious Cave of Encantado, which contains bats, stalactites, quaint rock formations, and the usual accessories of a well-appointed cavern. In the valley of the Tuy are some pretty villages, and as it was there that the severest shocks of the late earthquake had been felt, it was of more interest than usual. In the neighbourhood of Cúa, and for some miles before reaching that town by theCharayave road, the signs of desolation were especially apparent. Houses in ruins, fallen church towers, tottering walls, and deep chasms in the earth, all betokened the excessive violence of the earthquake.
For days previous to the great catastrophe of the 12th of April, the inhabitants of Cúa had suffered from the intense heat. The air was heavy with a yellow vapour, and chairs and pieces of furniture felt as if they had been exposed to the sun. Slight shocks were continually felt, and repeated detonations like distant musketry shots were heard. On the 12th the church bells were agitated by a movement, a low, rumbling sound, as of thunder, brought the frightened people from their houses, then all was quiet again. Sand of a leaden colour burst up from the streets and patios. Hours of complete calm ensued, and it was anticipated that the worst was over. At 8.40 p.m. Cúa was a pretty, flourishing town; at 8.41 it, was a cemetery. From east to west ran the earthquake wave, and this was instantly followed by perpendicular oscillations which left no house standing. There was no time for escape, and beneath the ruins four hundred people were buried. Very few who were indoors at the moment of the shock were saved. The wife of one of the principal merchants was standing near her doorway, when suddenly she saw the walls open, and she was buried beneath thedébris; she was not crushed, however, as a great quantity of tobacco and piles of skins prevented the mass from touching her. With her freed hand she saved herself from suffocation, and all through that terrible night she heard the groans of her husband who was buried near her. He died, but she was dug out alive.
Three days later a soldier, who was passing a ruin, heard a small voice call out “I am hungry.” Search was made, and in an aperture formed by three large stones was found a child, the only one saved out of a large household. A singular circumstance occurred in one of the houses whose owner had for many years been accustomed to prepare and decorate the sacred image of the Tomb, which was carried in procession during Holy Week. This casket was in one of the largest rooms, when two of the walls fell outwards leaving the ceiling poised in equilibrium by a single beam. In this position it remained until the image was removed in safety, and shortly afterwards another shock dislodged it.
At daybreak, when the disinterment of those who had been overwhelmed commenced, the most heartrending scenes were witnessed. Mothers sought children only to find disfigured corpses; husbands discovered their dead wives pressing their babies in their arms. In many cases features could not be recognised, for fire had completed the work commenced by the falling habitations. Some lives were taken away in sleep, others when employed in various occupations. Here a hammock formed a shroud, and there an open book lay by the side of its reader. For days after the destruction of the town, shocks of earthquakes were felt and subterraneous rumblings heard, but at length these died out, and a troubled peace rested with the survivors of unhappy Cúa.
Perhaps I visited Carácas at an unfortunate time, but it certainly seemed to me to be the most stupid town I had ever seen. There was very little to see, and no amusements of any kind, unless a weekly lotteryand the continual firing of rockets can be classed as such. Of the latter, the people were never tired, and day and night they were thus commemorating some civil or religious event. The perpetual hissing and explosions reminded me of the conversation once held by Ferdinand, King of Spain, and a Mexican courtier, when the news had arrived of a successful revolution.
“What do you suppose the Mexicans will be doing now?” said the King.
“Letting off rockets, your Majesty.”
“Well—I wonder what they are doing now in Mexico?” said the King in the afternoon.
“Letting off rockets, your Majesty.”
“What will your countrymen be doing at this time?” said the King in the evening.
“Letting off rockets, your Majesty.”
Day after day I attended the demure and uninteresting debates of the Legislature, and once witnessed the official presentation of the new American Minister to the President. This ceremony, which took place in the handsome state-room of the palace, was brilliantly attended by the élite of Carácas, and was simply but imposingly conducted. The Minister was an agreeable, well-read gentleman but, unfortunately, neither he nor any of his family understood a single word of Spanish, and of all towns Carácas is the least entertaining for a foreigner who does not speak the language. I think that, after arriving, they never ceased to regret that they had left their home in the valley of the Mississippi. To a very dry manner the Minister added great quaintness and humour of expression, and his society made a very pleasant change in the dulness of the hotel life.He was fond of exaggerating his natural American intonation and quaint pronunciation, and when with grave and rather pompous air he slowly uttered his long carefully worded sentences, the effect was irresistibly comic. “My young English friend,” he said one day to me, in the course of conversation, “we look upon your best men as Americans; John Bright, Cobden, Dickens and Gladstone: they air Americans. Our recent visitor, the Emperor of Brazil, ought to be an American, he had quite an outfit of intelligence, and, Sir, if Dom Pedro would come over to the States and settle, mind—I say and settle, we would make a senator of him.”
On another occasion he said, “Sir, you air a traveller, if you’ve been to Florida you air a traveller; out of a thousand people you may meet not five have visited Florida; and even in the great American nation, which stretches from the Atlantic to the Pacific and from 49° north to the confines of Mexico, though ten may have been to Paris hardly one will have seen Florida. Sir, you air a traveller.”
My only regret in leaving Carácas was bidding good-bye to my kind-hearted friend. It had been my intention to proceed overland to Valencia and Puerto Cabello from Carácas for the purpose of seeing the beautiful lake and some of the most fertile parts of Venezuela. As the steamers which touch at the different ports only remain a few hours, and are liable to arrive twenty-fours before or after their appointed time, it is necessary for passengers to anticipate them. Not wishing to remain on the coast longer than I could avoid, I had timed my departure from Carácas so as to catch the French Mail at Puerto Cabello, allowing myselffour days for the journey. Inland travel is very limited, the charge for carriages or mules is most exorbitant. After much trouble I at last hired some animals at a price which ought to have bought them and the guide. However, as they did not appear at the appointed time, I suppose their owner repented his bargain, and as it would have been too late to seek others, I was obliged to return to La Guaira.