ASUNCION.
Being in England in 1900 for change and rest, I was introduced to an
eccentric old gentleman of miserly tendencies, but possessed of
$5,000,000. Hearing of my wanderings in South America, he told me that
he owned a tract of land thirteen miles square in Paraguay, and would
like to know something of its value. The outcome of this visit was that
I was commissioned by him to go to that country and explore his
possession, so I proceeded once more to my old field of labor. Arriving
at the mouth of the River Plate, after five weeks of sea-tossing, I
was, with the rest, looking forward to our arrival in Buenos Ayres,
when a steam tug came puffing alongside, and we were informed that as
the ship had touched at the infected port of Bahia, all passengers must
be fumigated, and that we must submit to three weeks' quarantine on
Flores Island. The Port doctor has sent a whole ship-load to the island
for so trifling a cause as that a sailor had a broken collar-bone, so
we knew that for us there was nothing but submission. Disembarking from
the ocean steamer on to lighters, we gave a last look at the coveted
land, "so near and yet so far," and were towed away to three small
islands in the centre of the river, about fifty miles distant. One
island is set apart as a burial ground, one is for infected patients,
and the other, at which we were landed, is for suspects. On that desert
island, with no other land in sight than the sister isles, we were
given time to chew the cud of bitter reflection. They gave us little
else to chew! The food served up to us consisted of strings of dried
beef, called _charqui_, which was brought from the mainland in dirty
canvas bags. This was often supplemented by boiled seaweed. Being
accustomed to self-preservation, I was able to augment this diet with
fish caught while sitting on the barren rocks of our sea-girt prison.
Prison it certainly was, for sentries, armed with Remingtons, herded us
like sheep.
The three weeks' detention came to an end, as everything earthly does,
and then an open barge, towed by a steam-launch, conveyed us to
Montevideo. Quite a fresh breeze was blowing, and during our eleven
hours' journey we were repeatedly drenched with spray. Delicate ladies
lay down in the bottom of the boat in the throes of seasickness, and
were literally washed to and fro, and saturated, as they said, to the
heart. We landed, however, and I took passage up to Asuncion in the
"Olympo."
The "Olympo" is a palatial steamer, fitted up like the best Atlantic
liners with every luxury and convenience. On the ship there were
perhaps one hundred cabin passengers, and in the steerage were six
hundred Russian emigrants bound for Corrientes, three days' sail north.
Two of these women were very sick, so the chief steward, to whom I was
known, hurried me to them, and I was thankful to be able to help the
poor females.
The majestic river is broad, and in some parts so thickly studded with
islands that it appears more like a chain of lakes than a flowing
stream. As we proceeded up the river the weather grew warmer, and the
native clothing of sheepskins the Russians had used was cast aside. The
men, rough and bearded, soon had only their under garments on, and the
women wore simply that three-quarter length loose garment well known to
all females, yet they sweltered in the unaccustomed heat.
At midnight of the third day we landed them at Corrientes, and the
women, in their white (?) garments, with their babies and ikons, and
bundles--and husbands--trod on terra firma for the first time in seven
weeks.
After about twelve days' sail we came to Bella Vista, at which point
the river is eighteen miles wide. Sixteen days after leaving the mouth
of the river, we sighted the red-tiled roofs of the houses at Asuncion,
the capital of Paraguay, built on the bank of the river, which is there
only a mile wide, but thirty feet deep. The river boats land their
passengers at a rickety wooden wharf, and Indians carry the baggage on
their heads into the dingy customs house. After this has been inspected
by the cigarette-smoking officials, the dark-skinned porters are
clamorously eager to again bend themselves under the burden and take
your trunks to an hotel, where you follow, walking over the exceedingly
rough cobbled streets. There is not a cab for hire in the whole city.
The two or three hotels are fifth-rate, but charge only about thirty
cents a day.
Asuncion is a city of some 30,000 inhabitants Owing to its isolated
position, a thousand miles from the sea-coast, it is perhaps the most
backward of all the South American capitals. Although under Spanish
rule for three hundred years, the natives still retain the old Indian
language and the Guarani idiom is spoken by all.
The city is lit up at night with small lamps burning oil, and these
lights shed fitful gleams here and there. The oil burned bears the
high-sounding trade-mark, "Light of the World," and that is the only
"light of the world" the native knows of. The lamps are of so little
use that females never dream of going out at night without carrying
with them a little tin farol, with a tallow dip burning inside.
I have said the street lamps give little light. I must make exception
of one week of the year, when there is great improvement. That week
they are carefully cleaned and trimmed, for it is given up as a feast
to the Virgin, and the lights are to shed radiance on gaudy little
images of that august lady which are inside of each lamp. The Pal, or
father priest, sees that these images are properly honored by the
people. He is here as elsewhere, the moving spirit.
San Bias is the patron saint of the country, It is said he won for the
Paraguayans a great victory in an early war. St. Cristobel receives
much homage also because he helped the Virgin Mary to carry the infant
Jesus across a river on the way to Egypt.
Asuncion was for many years the recluse headquarters of the Jesuits, so
of all enslaved Spanish-Americans probably the Guaranis are the worst.
During Lent they will inflict stripes on their bodies, or almost starve
themselves to death; and their abject humility to the Paî is sad to
witness. On special church celebrations large processions will walk the
streets, headed by the priests, chanting in Latin. The people sometimes
fall over one another in their eager endeavors to kiss the priest's
garments, They prostrate themselves, count their beads, confess their
sins, and seek the coveted blessing of this demi-god, "who shuts the
kingdom of heaven, and keeps the key in his own pocket."
A noticeable feature of the place is that all the inhabitants go
barefooted. Ladies (?) will pass you with their stiffly-starched white
dresses, and raven-black hair neatly done up with colored ribbons, but
with feet innocent of shoes. Soldiers and policemen tramp the streets,
but neither are provided with footwear, and their clothes are often in
tatters. The Jesuits taught the Indians to _make_ shoes, but they alone
_wore_ them, exporting the surplus. Shoes are not for common people,
and when one of them dares to cover his feet he is considered
presumptuous. Hats they never wear, but they have the beautiful custom
of weaving flowers in their hair. When flowers are not worn the head is
covered by a white sheet called the _tupoî_, and in some cases this
garment is richly embroidered. These females are devoted Romanists, as
will be seen from the following description of a feast held to St. John:
"Doña Juana's first care was to decorate with uncommon splendor a large
image of St. John, which, in a costly crystal box, she preserved as the
chief ornament of her principal drawing-room. He was painted anew and
re-gilded. He had a black velvet robe purchased for him, and trimmed
with deep gold lace. Hovering over him was a cherub. Every friend of
Doña Juana had lent some part of her jewellery for the decoration of
the holy man. Rings sparkled on his fingers; collars hung around his
neck; a tiara graced his venerable brow. The lacings of his sandals
were studded with pearls; a precious girdle bound his slender waist,
and six large wax candles were lighted up at the shrine. There,
embosomed in fragrant evergreens--the orange, the lime, the
acacia--stood the favorite saint, destined to receive the first homage
of every guest that should arrive. These all solemnly took off their
hats to the image."
Such religious mummery as this is painful to witness, and to see the
saint borne round in procession, with men carrying candles, and
white-clad girls with large birds' wings fastened to their shoulders,
dispels the idea of its being Christianity at all.
The people are gentle and mild-spoken. White-robed women lead strings
of donkeys along the streets, bearing huge panniers full of vegetables,
among which frequently play the women's babies. The panniers are about
a yard deep, and may often be seen full to the brim with live fowls
pinioned by the legs. Other women go around with large wicker trays on
their heads, selling _chipá_, the native bread, made from Indian corn,
or _mandioca_ root, the staple food of the country. Wheat is not grown
in Paraguay, and any flour used is imported. These daughters of Eve
often wear nothing more than a robe-de-chambre, and invariably smoke
cigars six or eight inches long. Their figure is erect and stately, and
the laughing eyes full of mischief and merriment; but they fade into
old age at forty. Until then they seem proud as children of their brass
jewellery and red coral beads. The Paraguayans are the happiest race of
people I have met; care seems undreamed of by them.
In the post-office of the capital I have sometimes been unable to
procure stamps, and "_Dypore_" (We have none) has been the civil answer
of the clerk. When they _had_ stamps they were not provided with
mucilage, but a brush and pot of paste were handed the buyer. If you
ask for a one cent stamp the clerk will cut a two cent stamp and give
you a half. They have, however, stamps the tenth part of a cent in
value, and a bank note in circulation whose face value is less than a
cent. There are only four numerals in the Guarani language: 1, _petei_;
2,_moncoi_; 3,_bohapy_; 4,_irundú_. It is not possible to express five
or six. No wonder, therefore, that when I bought five 40-cent stamps, I
found the clerk was unable to count the sum, and I had to come to the
rescue and tell him it was $2.00. At least eighty per cent. of the
people are unable to read. When they do, it is of course in Spanish, A
young man to whom I gave the Gospel of John carefully looked at it, and
then, turning to me, said: "Is this a history of that wonderful lawyer
we have been hearing about?" To those interested in the dissemination
of Scriptures, let me state that no single Gospel has as yet been
translated into Guarani.
A tentative edition of the "Sermon on the Mount" has recently been
issued by the British and Foreign Bible Society, a copy of which I had
the honor to be the first to present to the head executive.
Gentle simplicity is the chief characteristic of the people. If the
traveller relates the most ordinary events that pass in the outside
world, they will join in the exclamation of surprise-"_Bá-eh-picó!
Bá-eh-picó!_"
Information that tends to their lowering is not always accepted thus,
however, for a colonel in the army, when told that Asuncion could be
put into a large city graveyard, hastily got up from the dinner table
and went away in wounded pride and incredulity. The one who is supposed
to "know a little" likes to keep his position, and the Spanish proverb
is exemplified: _"En tierra de los ciegos, el tuerto es rey"_ (In the
blind country the one-eyed are kings). The native is most guileless and
ignorant, as can well be understood when his language is an unwritten
one.
Paraguay is essentially a land of fruit, 200 oranges may be bought for
the equivalent of six cents. Small mountains of oranges may always be
seen piled up on the banks ready to be shipped down the river. Women
are employed to load the vessels with this fruit, which they carry in
baskets on their heads. Everything is carried on their heads, even to a
glass bottle. My laundress, Cuñacarai [Footnote: The Guarani idiom can
boast of but few words, and Mr., Mrs. and Miss are simply rendered
"carai" (man), "cuna-carai" (woman) and "cunatai" (young woman); "mita
cuna" is girl, "mita cuimbai" is boy, and "mita mishi"--baby.] Jesus,
although an old woman, could bear almost incredible weights on her hard
skull.
As the climate is hot, a favorite occupation for men and women is to
sit half-submerged in the river, smoking vigorously "The Paraguayans
are an amphibious race, neither wholly seamen nor wholly landsmen, but
partaking of both." All sleep in cotton hammocks,--beds are almost
unknown. The hammocks are slung on the verandah of the house in the
hotter season and all sleep outside, taking off their garments with
real _sang froid_. In the cooler season the visitor is invited to hang
his hammock along with the rest inside the house, and in the early
morning naked little children bring máté to each one. If the family is
wealthy this will be served in a heavy silver cup and _bombilla_, or
sucking tube, of the same metal. After this drink and a bite of
_chipá_, a strangely shaped, thin-necked bottle, made of sun-baked
clay, is brought, and from it water is poured on the hands. The towels
are spotlessly white and of the finest texture. They are hand-made, and
are so delicately woven and embroidered that I found it difficult to
accustom myself to use them. The beautifully fine lace called _nandutî_
(literally spider's web) is also here made by the Indian women, who
have long been civilized. Some of the handkerchiefs they make are worth
$50 each in the fashionable cities of America and Europe. A month's
work may easily be expended on such a dainty fabric.
The women seem exceptionally fond of pets. Monkeys and birds are common
in a house, and the housewife will show you her parrot and say, "In
this bird dwells the spirit of my departed mother." An enemy, somehow,
has always turned into an alligator--a reptile much loathed by them.
In even the poorest houses there is a shrine and a "Saint." These
deities can answer all prayers if they choose to. Sometimes, however,
they are not "in the humor," and at one house the saint had refused, so
he was laid flat on the floor, face downwards. The woman swore that
until he answered her petition she would not lift him up again. He laid
thus all night; whether longer or not I do not know.
Having heard much concerning the _moralité_ of the people, I asked the
maid at a respectable private house where I was staying: "Have you a
father?" "No, sir," she answered, "we Paraguayans are not accustomed to
have a father." Children of five or six, when asked about that parent,
will often answer, "Father died in the war." The war ended thirty-nine
years ago, but they have been taught to say this by the mother.
As in Argentina the first word the stranger learns is _mañana_
(to-morrow), so here the first is _dy-qui_ (I don't know). Whatever
question you ask the Guarani, he will almost invariably answer,
"_Dy-qui_." Ask him his age, he answers "_Dy-qui_" To your question:
"Are you twenty or one hundred and twenty?" he will reply "_Dy-qui_."
Through the long rule of the Jesuits the natives stopped thinking; they
had it all done for them. "At the same time that they enslaved them,
they tortured them into the profession of the religion they had
imported; and as they had seen that in the old land the love of this
world and the deceitfulness of riches were ever in the way of
conversion to the true faith, they piously relieved the Indians of
these snares of the soul, even going so far in the discharge of this
painful duty as to relieve them of life at the same time, if necessary
to get their possessions into their own hands," [Footnote: Robertson's
"Letters on Paraguay."]
"The stories of their hardness, and perfidy, and immorality beggar
description. The children of the priests have become so numerous that
the shame is no longer considered." [Footnote: Service.]
As the Mahometans have their Mecca, so the Paraguayans have Caacupé;
and the image of the Virgin in that village is the great wonder-worker.
Prayers are directed to her that she will raise the sick, etc., and
promises are made her if she will do this. One morning I had business
with a storekeeper, and went to his office. "Is the caraî in?" I asked.
"No," I was answered, "he has gone to Caacupé to pay a promise." That
promise was to burn so many candles before the Virgin, and further
adorn her bejewelled robes. She had, as he believed, healed him of a
sickness.
The village of Caacupé is about forty miles from Asuncion. "The Bishop
of Paraguay formally inaugurated the worship of the Virgin of Caacupé,
sending forth an episcopal letter accrediting the practice, and
promising indulgences to the pilgrims who should visit the shrine. Thus
the worship became legal and orthodox. Multitudes of people visit her,
carrying offerings of valuable jewels. There are several
_well-authenticated_ cases of persons, whose offerings were of inferior
quality, being overtaken with some terrible calamity." [Footnote:
Washburn's "History of Paraguay."]
Funds must be secured somehow, for the present Bishop's sons, to whom I
was introduced as among the aristocrats of the capital, certainly need
a large income from the lavish manner I noticed them "treat" all and
sundry in the hotel. "It is admitted by all, that in South America the
church is decadent and corrupt. The immorality of the priests is taken
for granted. Priests' sons and daughters, of course not born in
wedlock, abound everywhere, and no stigma attaches to them or to their
fathers and mothers." [Footnote: "The Continent of Opportunity." Dr.
Clark.] Hon. S. H. Blake, in the _Neglected Continent_, writes: "I was
especially struck by the statement of a Roman Catholic--a Consular
agent with a large amount of information as to the land and its
inhabitants. He stopped me in speaking of the priests by saying, 'I
know all that. You cannot exaggerate their immorality. Everybody knows
it--but the Latin race is a degenerate race. Nothing can be done with
it. The Roman Church has had four centuries of trial and has made a
failure of it.'"
When a person is dying, the Paî is hurriedly sent for. To this call he
will readily respond. A procession will be formed, and, preceded by a
boy ringing a bell, the _Host_, or, to use an everyday expression,
_God_, will be carried from the church down the street to the sick one.
All passers-by must kneel as this goes along, and the police will
arrest you if you do not at least take off your hat. "Liberty of
conscience is a most diabolical thing, to be stamped out at any cost,"
is the maxim of Rome, and the Guarani has learned his lesson well. "In
Inquisition Square men were burned for daring to think, therefore men
stopped thinking when death was the penalty."
Wakes for the dead are always held, and in the case of a child the
little one lies in state adorned with gilded wings and tinselled
finery. All in the neighborhood are invited to the dance which takes
place that evening around the corpse. At a funeral the Paî walks first,
followed by a crowd of men, women and children bearing candles, some of
which are four and five feet long. The dead are carried through the
streets in a very shallow coffin, and the head is much elevated. An old
woman generally walks by the side, bearing the coffin lid on her head.
The dead are always buried respectfully, for an old law reads: "No
person shall ride in the dead cart except the corpse that is carried,
and, therefore, nobody shall get up and ride behind. It is against
Christian piety to bury people with irreverent actions, or drag them in
hides, or throw them into the grave without consideration, or in a
position contrary to the practice of the Church."
All Saints Day is a special time for releasing departed ones out of
purgatory. Hundreds of people visit the cemeteries then, and pay the
waiting priests so much a prayer, If that "liberator of souls" sings
the prayer the price is doubled, but it is considered doubly
efficacious.
A good feature of Romanism in Paraguay is that the people have been
taught something of Christ, but there seems to be an utter want of
reverence toward His person, for one may see a red flag on the public
streets announcing that there are the "Auction Rooms of the child God."
In his "Letters on Paraguay," Robertson relates the following graphic
account of the celebration of His death: "I found great preparations
making at the cathedral for the sermon of 'the agony on the cross.' A
wooden figure of our Saviour crucified was affixed against the wall,
opposite the pulpit; a large bier was placed in the centre of the
cathedral, and the great altar at the eastern extremity was hung with
black; while around were disposed lighted candles and other insignia of
a great funeral. When the sermon commenced, the cathedral was crowded
to suffocation, a great proportion of the audience being females. The
discourse was interrupted alternately by the low moans and sobbings of
the congregation. These became more audible as the preacher warmed with
his discourse, which was partly addressed to his auditory and partly to
the figure before him; and when at length he exclaimed, 'Behold!
Behold! He gives up the ghost!' the head of the figure was slowly
depressed by a spring towards the breast, and one simultaneous
shriek--loud, piercing, almost appalling--was uttered by the whole
congregation. The women now all struggled for a superiority in giving
unbounded vent to apparently the most distracting grief. Some raved
like maniacs, others beat their breasts and tore their hair.
Exclamations, cries, sobs and shrieks mingled, and united in forming
one mighty tide of clamor, uproar, noise and confusion. In the midst of
the raging tempest could be heard, ever and anon, the stentorian voice
of the preacher, reproaching in terms of indignation and wrath the
apathy of his hearers! 'Can you, oh, insensate crowd!' he would cry,
'Can you sit in silence?'--but here his voice was drowned in an
overwhelming cry of loudest woe, from every part of the church; and for
five minutes all further effort to make himself heard was unavailing.
This singular scene continued for nearly half an hour; then, by
degrees, the vehement grief of the congregation abated, and when I left
the cathedral it had subsided once more into low sobs and silent tears.
"I now took my way, with many others, to the Church of San Francisco,
where, in an open space in front of the church, I found that the duty
of the day had advanced to the funeral service, which was about being
celebrated. There a scaffolding was erected, and the crucifixion
exactly represented by wooden figures, not only of our Lord, but of the
two thieves. A pulpit was erected in front of the scaffold; and the
whole square was covered by the devout inhabitants of the city. The
same kind of scene was being enacted here as at the cathedral, with the
difference, however, of the circumstantial funeral in place of the
death. The orator's discourse when I arrived was only here and there
interrupted by a suppressed moan, or a struggling sigh, to be heard in
the crowd. But when he commenced giving directions for the taking down
of the body from the cross, the impatience of grief began to manifest
itself on all sides, 'Mount up,' he cried, 'ye holy ministers, mount
up, and prepare for the sad duty which ye have to perform!' Here six or
eight persons, covered from head to foot with ample black cloaks,
ascended the scaffold. Now the groans of the people became more
audible; and when at length directions were given to strike out the
first nail, the cathedral scene of confusion, which I have just
described, began, and all the rest of the preacher's oratory was dumb
show. The body was at length deposited in the coffin, and the groaning
and shrieking of the assembled multitude ceased. A solemn funeral
ceremony took place: every respectable person received a great wax
taper to carry in the procession: the coffin after being carried all
round was deposited in the church: the people dispersed; and the great
day of Passion Week was brought to a close."