FROM RIO DE JANEIRO TO MONTEVIDEO
MONTEVIDEO, November 13, 1897.
The _Belgica_ left Rio October 30, 1897. She steamed out of the
harbour amid an uproar of salutations and accompanied by many of the
friends of the expedition to the entrance of the bay. Here the little
party of well-wishers gathered around Count Van den Steen and offered
us a final _bon voyage_--a scene and a sentiment which followed us
far into the polar night. The sun was hanging low over the blue outline
of the Organ Mountains, and the darkness of the rapidly approaching
tropical night was already on the lowlands, which are here exposed
to receive the warm humidity of the Atlantic. The wind was steadily
increasing from the east, bringing in a heavy sea and premonitions of
an uncomfortable night. The two battered forts which guard the entrance
were soon passed, and we laid our course south-westwardly along the
Brazilian coast, with a fair wind and a favourable current. Darkness,
torrid blackness, settled down over us with a rapidity which I had not
before noted. The wind increased and the sea rose higher and higher,
bringing with it Neptune to salute the too hilarious victims of the
expedition at Rio.
[Illustration: Rio Harbour from Mt. Corcovado.]
[Illustration: Rio de Janeiro.]
The next morning no land was in sight, but the weather was delightfully
clear with a fair breeze and an easy sea, a happy condition which
followed us several days. We have now passed the tropic of Capricorn,
are out of the torrid zone, and well on our path across the south
temperate zone toward the bottom of the globe. The air is more
stimulating, the winds fresh and bracing, more in accord with our polar
longings, and altogether we begin to feel our natural vigours and
ambitions which the burning heat farther north had withered.
From Madeira to Rio it had been found impossible to sleep in the
bunks because of the stifling heat. Hammocks were accordingly swung
amidships, in which some sleep was possible for the occupants of the
cabins, while those of the forecastle stored themselves on the deck
in almost any position offering a breeze and a protection from being
washed overboard. These restful open air positions offer a splendid
opportunity during the sleepless hours to study and admire the beauty
and strangeness of the southern sky. From the time when we crossed the
equator to our present position we have been intensely interested in
the new constellations which have glided over the southern horizon,
while in the north we have been watching, with some regret, the sinking
and disappearance of the stars and groups with which we have been
familiar from the time of our infancy. This vanishing of the Pole
Star, and the many old friends in the heavens brings to us a vivid
impression of the vast distance which we have traversed from our native
lands. The new firmament has many charms, but it takes time to admire
its complex splendour. The grouping of the large stars, the scattered
nebulæ rivalling in lustre the Milky Way, and the unfilled spaces,
remarkable for their extreme darkness, give the southern heavens a
peculiar aspect. With this dome of tropical blue relieved by the new
heavenly bodies above, and with a breakneck pitching and tossing at
every plunge of the vessel, one is more apt to fall into an admiration
of Nature than into a profound sleep. But this easy life on deck
has also its drawbacks at times when one’s calm, dreamy philosophy
is suddenly and rudely interrupted. Jack runs across the deck and
presently stumbles in a heap over some sleeper when a series of grunts
and something worse fills the night air with another spirit.
On November fourth, for a short time, the low shore-line of the
Island of Santo Catherina was dimly visible under a blue mist in the
west. At about this time we also saw the first Cape pigeons, stormy
petrels, and albatrosses, and a few days later when there was no land
in view an off-shore wind brought us some forms of land life. Among
these were butterflies, moths, various birds with beautiful plumage,
and some troublesome flies. We met only one voyager on this lonely
course, a Brazilian coaster. She was built after a model of the last
century, but, having every rag set which could draw, she came through
the rolling blue waters with a grace and picturesqueness that would do
justice to a modern yacht. We enjoyed the sight immensely as she came
towards us, ploughing through hills of foam, her blunt prow buried in
white spray, her huge square stern rising and falling nimbly out of one
trough into another. It was as if one of the explorers who had gone
before us, a Drake or an Anson, who were at once pirates and explorers,
had suddenly dropped in our path to examine the men and the methods of
less ambitious followers.
On the evening of the seventh we were fascinated by a strikingly
beautiful sunset--the first worthy of note since the _Belgica_
left Antwerp and certainly the most remarkable which I had observed
since leaving New York. The phenomena was most charming in colour when
the sun was about to sink behind the blue outline of Uruguay on our
western horizon. The sea was branded by streams and bands and spots
of fire which, with the easy undulation of the surface, gave it the
appearance of active flames. The sun itself was descending behind a
faint purple zone of mist. Its disc seemed out of all proportion to
its usual size and there was something sublimely beautiful in the
loneliness of its descent. All the sky above it, and far to the south
and north was a vivid crimson in zigzag streamers, while over our heads
the dome was an exquisite tint of green, which melted in the east into
a dark purple blue. Shortly after the heavenly glow of the sunset
had vanished, the sky began to assume quite another aspect. A gloomy
range of cumulus clouds rose in the north-west, and in a few hours had
advanced so far as to project nearly over our heads. The scene was
made particularly strange by the even steely colour of the rest of the
sky. It was ruled with a line, here and there ragged, but for the most
part singularly homogeneous from the confines of the north-eastern mass
of horizon. All the central portion of this vast surface of cloud was
of a deep leaden hue, while its edges were marked by rapidly changing
lines of carbon and luminous grey. By a deception of the eye the entire
mass appeared convex, and it looked as wild as any phenomena of Nature
I ever saw. At frequent intervals a sharp shower of arrowy lightning
whizzed along its lowest fringe, illuminating the decks and the sea
with a weird blue light. The lightning had the remarkable peculiarity
of not being accompanied by thunder, nor was it followed by rain.
Yesterday at noon the high ridge of mountains in the eastern part
of the province of Rio Grande do Sul were feebly discernible under
the western horizon. This is the most southern province, the most
industrious, and certainly the most promising part of Brazil. It is
composed almost entirely of Germans, upon whom the unfair yoke of the
Rio Janeiro government fits badly. They are at present engaged in a
revolution for freedom and independence. To-day we have the low sandy
dunes of the coast of Uruguay on our port side, and through the night
we made little progress against the increasing southerly wind which
followed the peculiar sky effects. At 6 o’clock on the morning of the
eighth, we were off Castillo Island. Here the wind increased with such
fury that we began to look about for a harbour.
In a few hours we were off Cape Polonio, but a farther progress into
the mouth of the River Plata against the wind was impossible. The bark
was turned landward for a little cove at the neck of Cape Polonio which
seemed somewhat sheltered by the off-lying seal rocks. To reach this
anchorage, however, the bark made difficult work of it. She rose and
tumbled over the ugly land swells like a waggon over a rocky road. Her
feeble engines were pressed to their greatest force, which heated the
spaces above the fireplace to such an extent as to ignite the woodwork,
and thus to the anxiety of the storm was added the excitement of a fire.
The fire was soon extinguished, and at noon we dropped anchor in a
little harbour where the main force of the wind did not reach us, but
the sea continued to rise and fall with a sickening suddenness. Here we
rode out the storm, which continued until about noon of the next day.
The falling of the temperature, caused by the decreasing latitude and
especially by this storm, is daily more noticeable. Already the cold
south temperate winds have compelled us to abandon the restful open air
berths in the hammocks and driven us into the stuffy state-rooms, where
every precaution has been taken to prevent the escape of heat in the
icy south. During the afternoon and night, while the ship was bowing to
the wind and violently pulling at her chains, we examined the character
of our surroundings. From our position the land presented about as
barren and lifeless an aspect as any region I ever saw.
On closer inspection we became interested in the mere bleakness, and
little by little we found a fascination in the lifeless sterility with
which we were first impressed. The torrents of wind moved the sand-like
snow, and even deposited it in huge drifts, giving the whole surface
a wavy, undulating appearance. In the interior a few ranges of low
hills were discernible; but their surfaces were such that the shape
could not be easily separated from the vast wavy plain along the coast.
Cape Castillo is easily distinguished from the other sandy points by
a white round sand hill, one hundred and eighty-four feet high, to
which the land gradually rises from the Cape southward. This is Mount
Buena Vista, and its peculiar mammary form, with its well defined
white nipple and rounded sides marked by dots of cactus plants,--these
peculiarities, with the isolated position, give the eminence an
impressiveness and a picturesqueness quite in accord with its important
geographical position.
Mount Buena Vista marks the entrance from the north into one of the
largest and, for the future, one of the most important rivers of the
world, the Rio de la Plata. The river was discovered in 1515 by Juan
Diaz de Solis, and seems to have been named by Sebastian Cabot in
1520. The name (meaning “river of silver”) was not given it because of
its fancied resemblance to silver-plate, for in reality its surface
is always ruffled, and its colour and consistency would be better
described by the “river of mud;” but the great amount of actual silver
ore which was taken from the Indians along this river, and the fact
that it was used as a highway for the transport of the metal to the
coast, are responsible for the poetic name of this ever dirty stream.
Though the waters are not sparkling, and the banks are not such as to
call for an enthusiastic description, yet the Plata occupies a position
unequaled among the rivers of the world. It drains the largest part of
South America south of the Amazon basin, and with its many tributaries
reaches from the mountains of eastern Brazil to the Andes, covering
therefore almost the entire width of the continent from the Atlantic
to the Pacific. While its basin is thus widely spread, the name Rio
de la Plata is limited to the stream from the junction of the rivers
Parana and Uruguay, to the Atlantic. It is one hundred and fifty miles
in length, and about one hundred and twenty miles wide at its outer
spread. From here it rapidly narrows, so that at Montevideo it is but
fifty miles wide, while at Buenos Aires it is only twenty, and at the
junction of its principle head waters, but four miles. Its peculiar
water is generally noticeable far out in the Atlantic by the change in
colour: from the bright blue of the subtropical seas to a dull green,
and on closer approach to a dark brown.
One of the most remarkable facts in the history of American discovery
is the slowness with which the world has learned of the true natural
resources of this region. The early Spaniards came here to obtain
from the Indians, either by fair means or otherwise, such valuables
as they possessed. Silver and gold were thus secured, and this led to
the more important discoveries of the sources of these metals, which
we now know are so widely spread over the continent. Little by little
the Spaniards settled among the Indians; and then came a time when
the English descended upon the Spaniards and relieved them of their
treasures. One of the first of these British pirates was Sir Francis
Drake, knighted and otherwise honoured by Queen Elizabeth for his
heartless cruelty to, and valuable thefts from, the Spanish pioneers.
Drake’s narrator, while writing pious words with one hand and stealing
Spanish silver with the other, had not much time to make sharp
observations, but his notes are interesting. “Passing thus,” says the
Reverend Mr. Fletcher, “in beholding the excellent works of the Eternal
God upon the seas as if we had been in a garden of pleasure, April 5,
1578, we fell in with the coast of Brazil, in 30° 30′ towards the Pole
Antarctic where the land is low near the sea, but much higher within
the country, having in depth not above twelve fathoms three leagues off
from the shore; and being deceived by the inhabitants (Indians), we
saw great and huge fires made by them in sandy places. After this, we
kept our course sometimes to the seaward, sometimes to the shore, but
always southward as near as we could till April 14th, in the morning,
at which we passed Cape St. Mary which lies in 35′ near the mouth of
the River Plata running within it, about six or seven leagues along the
main, we came to anchor in a bay under another Cape which our General
afterwards called Cape Joy. (The present site of Montevideo.) The
country here about is of a temperate and most sweet air, very fair
and pleasant to behold, and, besides the exceeding fruitfulness of the
soil, it is stored with plenty and mighty deer.” A few months later the
good Reverend wrote thus: “We lighted on a Spaniard who lay asleep, and
had lying by him thirteen bars of silver, weighing in all about 4,000
Spanish ducats. We freed him of his change which, otherwise, might have
kept him working.”
Since this time the Spaniards have slowly spread and mingled and
intermarried with the Indians, and the various resulting states have
secured the independence of the Castilian yoke and are now very
rapidly advancing. But for the first two centuries progress was very
insignificant. Buenos Aires, the New York of South America, is here
spreading on the banks of the silver river. Montevideo and other
cities are growing with a vigour similar to that of Yankee towns, and
if excellence of climate, fertility of soil, and limitless natural
resources count for anything, the gathering basin of the Rio de la
Plata will certainly soon become the United States of South America.
We went ashore on November 9th, and were met by a weather-worn group
of men in various quaint costumes. Their faces and their apparel
did not suggest the pleasureable moments and the warm reception
which fell to our lot later. But we soon found hearts as warm and
minds as appreciative as any that could be discovered under silks
and broad-cloth. Cape Polonio is a port of anchorage, about two
miles southward of Mt. Buena Vista. On it is a lighthouse of gray
masonry, one hundred and thirtyseven feet in height, with three
white horizontal bands. The actual height of this tower is not great,
but being placed in a region where the sky is constantly loaded with
clouds, and over a land with little irregularity of surface, the white
peak seems constantly to pierce the dark skies. Scattered about on this
neck of land are a few huts made of the remains of wreckage, galvanised
iron, or grass, according to the luck and wealth of the various
occupants. To the most palatial of these we were first escorted.
This was the home of the proprietor of the only industry of the
place,--a sealing station. We had at first some difficulty in making
ourselves understood. There was no one among us speaking Spanish, but
after a brief effort we found that a little French was understood
and that English was possible with an old seaman. At the lighthouse
an Italian speaking French fluently came to our rescue. We had no
special object in making a debarkment here, but since the storm
drove us into shelter the staff of scientific collectors determined
to examine the nearest ground. The zoölogist, with his assistant,
searched the shore for shells and marine life; the geologist went to
examine the sand-dunes, while the surgeon remained to administer to
the wants of the natives, from whom some prized ethnographic specimens
were obtained. The earlier Indian tribes, which once roamed over this
region, like those of the coastal regions farther north, have entirely
vanished. There are no trees nor is agriculture in the immediate
vicinity possible. A few cactus plants are the only green spots which
cheer up the dull white sands. But a short distance inland there is
excellent grazing, and here are found some of the most magnificent
cattle farms of the world.
After our collecting tour we assembled at the home of the chief sealer.
Here the customary native hospitality was extended to us with open
arms. The women prepared _maté_, the South American tea, while
the men brought out their most precious varieties of alcohol and
cigarettes. The good people of the entire encampment, about fifty in
number, then assembled to do us honour. Among these there were a few
_gauchos_, the South American prototypes of our own cowboys, and
two or three travellers en route to Montevideo from Rio Grande do Sul;
all the others were engaged in the various departments of sealing. They
had taken many seals the year before, and 16,000 during the previous
season, all of these from the rocks which surround the cape. The
seals are of a common variety, yielding oil and leather but no fur.
As we departed we were loaded with presents and treated and toasted
again with _maté_ and brandy, ingredients as necessary to South
American hospitality as whisky and cigars to the success of an old time
political meeting in the United States.
At four o’clock on the morning of the tenth, we tipped our anchor and
drew out of the little harbour, steaming into the Plata, close to its
northern bank. Throughout the day we had the low sandy beds of Uruguay
on our port bow. On these there was an occasional group of cactus, but
they seemed from a distance like projecting rocks and, aside from the
relief which they afforded, there was nothing to break the monotony. It
was one long, nearly level bank of lifeless sand. In the back ground
an occasional row of blue hills marked the position of a warm and more
promising country.
On the morning of the eleventh the scene had noticeably changed. We
had passed Cape Maldonado during the night and were heading for Flores
Island in a direct course for Montevideo beyond. The land no longer
presented the sterile sand-driven beach, but gray wind-rasped hills,
separated by patches of forest and fronted by prominent highlands which
stood out boldly against a clearing sky. The temperature rose quickly
as we advanced into the river. We passed Flores Island at two o’clock,
and dropped anchor in the horseshoe bend which forms the imperfect
harbour of Montevideo.
We had been met farther out in the stream by the customs and quarantine
officers, but these troubled us little, and were of much less interest
to us than our third visitor, the congenial representative of the
Belgian Consulate, who brought our letters and some news of interest.
To us the most startling news was the story of the bold attempt to
assassinate President Barros of Brazil, whose friendly hand we had
shaken only a few days previous, apparently surrounded by all possible
guards to perfect safety. This case, however, while somewhat startling
to a stranger, illustrates one of the recognised methods for changing
presidents in the Spanish American republics. The President of Uruguay
was summarily disposed of in the same manner only a few months ago,
while his successor is probably awaiting his turn with resigned fate.
The life of a president hereabout is evidently not one of any special
ease, security, or comfort.
The city of Montevideo presents, even from a distance, an air of
thrift, wealth, and comfort. El Cerro, a nipple-shaped mount, is
the only distinguishing feature of the landscape which marks the
sight of the port. It rises in a gentle slope to the height of five
hundred feet, about a half mile from the rugged beach on the western
side of the bay. Its sides are covered with a thin grass which is
now giving place to residences, a result of the recent growth of the
city. The top is crowned by a fort, and within this there rises a
splendid lighthouse, whose powerful revolving light is visible at sea
twenty-five miles from the coast. The main portion of the city stands
upon a peninsula of gently rising ground on the east side of the bay.
From here the town spreads over a large portion of the mainland and
there are several prominent buildings which stand out boldly over the
low houses which compose the body of the city. To one coming from Rio
Janeiro or other cities in the tropics, the most noticeable feature of
this city is the dense volume of smoke arising from its chimnied houses
and thrifty factories: the latter are a certain sign of an agreeable
climate and dry apartments--comforts foreign to torrid America.
It was, perhaps, eight o’clock in the evening before we had finished
reading our letters and were ready for a debarkment. The afternoon was
fairly clear, there had been little wind, and the temperature was
extremely agreeable; but now the aspect changed with such suddenness as
to cause some anxiety for the ship’s safety during the coming night.
Huge fantastic rolls of lead-like sheets of clouds drove rapidly over
the sky from the west, and painted the whole scene in an inky blackness
with such marvellous speed that we were amazed and undecided as to
what it meant for some time; but a few zigzags of coloured lightning
and a deafening burst of thunder soon explained to us the character of
the coming commotion. Thinking that we could reach the shore before
the shower commenced, we descended into one of the tugs, which at once
headed for one of the many lights standing out boldly in the inky
blackness shoreward. But on our way we were pelted and pounded by such
a hail storm as had never fallen to my lot. The globules were about
the size of a large marble, and fell in such numbers that, though the
fall did not continue more than ten minutes, it completely covered the
decks. As we reached the shore, and mounted to the pier with our hats
battered and our pockets full of icy spheroids, we had to face still
another trial characteristic of the Plata, a rain storm. But this rain
storm while interesting from a meteorological standpoint did not arouse
us to a sense of study. Big drops came quickly in the wake of the hail
pellets, and these multiplied with such rapidity that in a few minutes,
and before we could find shelter, it seemed as if all the clouds of
heaven had united to pour upon us a cold torrent.
Drenched as thoroughly as if we had been overboard, we shortly found
our way to the Hotel Oriental, and here the entire upper floor was
placed at the disposition of the members of the expedition. After a
comfortable night’s rest and a cup of delicious Rio coffee brought to
our bedside--a custom which is everywhere in South America a joy--we
prepared for a material study of the city and its resources.
San Felipe de Monte Video is the full name of the capital of the
Oriental Republic of Uruguay, but it is now generally written
Montevideo. It has a population of about 200,000, and of these it
is said that not less than 50,000 are foreign residents. The entire
Republic has a population not exceeding 800,000, hence one quarter of
Uruguayan residences are here closely huddled together near the mouth
of the Plata. The blood of the Uruguayans, aside from the complex
European admixture, which is now entering their veins, is a curious
blend of old Spanish and local Indian. But unlike similar hybrids many
of the good qualities of the bold Spaniard, and of the freedom-loving
Indian have been preserved. Hence the men have developed into a type
of vigorous manhood giving an appearance at once of wild strength and
refined intelligence, while the women must be considered as among the
most beautiful of the world.
The trade of Montevideo seems far beyond what we would expect from a
town of its size. Wool, hides, tallow, dried beef, and, in general, the
products of cattle farming are the chief and nearly the only exports.
But these are gathered from the interior in such tremendous quantities,
and with so little expense, that they form an enviable source of
wealth; and since this is also one of the chief exports of the United
States, it is evident that Uruguay is to us a formidable commercial
rival. The imports are very large, because this is a centre from which
much of the country in the Plata basin is supplied. The imports consist
principally of cotton, woollen and silk fabrics, hardware, wine,
various food products, and, within the past few years, much improved
machinery has been bought. The trade is almost entirely with the
various states of Europe, of which England claims twenty-five per cent.
The means of transportation to the United States is so imperfect, and
the efforts of our merchants have been so feeble that Yankee goods are
little in evidence here.
From our balcony at the hotel we had a charming view of the city and of
the bay which forms the harbour. Twenty-seven steamers of huge tonnage
were anchored at various points, mostly far from the shore. A little
nearer were a series of cruisers from various nations. Among these was
the beautiful little _Castine_ of our White Squadron, and _H.
M. S. Retribution_. Still nearer were a large number of flat-bottom
river crafts, which navigate the Parana and Uruguay rivers. The harbour
thus presented every evidence of thrift and industry, while the many
large warehouses fronting the water were sufficient proof of the great
commerce. The city is composed mostly of tile-roofed two-story stone
houses, neat in appearance, and comfortable in equipments. The law
prohibits the building of private residences more than seventeen metres
in height. But there are many public buildings which are raised much
higher, and notable among these is the imposing structure which now
belongs to the University of Montevideo. It was originally built as
a hotel, but was finally bought by the Government as the home of its
principal institute of learning. The building occupies a good sized
square, is five stories in height, and has a wide open centre with
balconies on every floor. The institution has excellent laboratories,
libraries, and is in many ways well adapted for modern education. It is
thus a proof of the noble and higher aims of our little sister Republic.
Closely connected with the University is the growing fame of a young
Italian bacteriologist--Dr. I. Sanarelli. Two years ago Dr. Sanarelli
accepted a position on the staff of the Institute of Hygiene, and in
addition to his regular work he has devoted much of his time to a
careful search for the germ of yellow fever. His efforts seem to have
been crowned with success, for he is to-day the most noted man in
all South America. I heard the name of Dr. Sanarelli on every tongue
from the Amazon to the Plata, and I expected to pay him a formal
professional visit, but this was obviated by a more natural meeting. We
were taking dinner at the one fashionable restaurant of the town when
the famous doctor came in, and he was promptly ushered to our table.
The story of the discovery of the germ of a disease which has
destroyed thousands, perhaps millions, of human lives, is a matter of
considerable interest and certainly vastly more important than that of
a king who has conquered nations. And if this discovery is supplemented
by a remedy which will cure or prevent the disease, it will surely be
one of the greatest blessings which the world has ever known. Both of
these attainments seem to be within the grasp of Dr. Sanarelli. During
the early part of the present year (1897) he discovered the little
organism which is the cause of the yellow pest. The news has spread
over the entire world, but with the usual conservative attitude of
the medical profession the brilliant discovery has been but slowly
recognised; even at present there are many doubters who will not accept
the newly discovered organism as the sole cause of yellow fever until
confirmatory observations establish the fact more definitely. The
Montevideo doctors, however, one and all, accept the discovery as final
and look with confidence to Dr. Sanarelli for the practical outcome of
the curative plan of treatment upon which he is now experimenting.
To cure yellow fever with its cause in hand, it is proposed to make
a fluid similar to the anti-diphtheritic serums, which are either
destructive or inhibitory to the germs in question. Such a serum has
been made and it has been tried upon beasts and men with what Dr.
Sanarelli considers marked success. The Brazilian government, in
whose domain there is always a nursery of the disease, has recognised
the great possibilities of this work, and will shortly set up an
experimental laboratory for the manufacture of the serum. For a
positive judgment as to the success or failure of the serum plan of
treatment we must wait for a long trial, perhaps several years; but the
glory and the credit of being the first to see in this dangerous little
speck of life, hitherto invisible, an enemy which has caused the death
of uncounted thousands of vigorous human lives, already belongs beyond
a question to Dr. Sanarelli.
Our time at Montevideo was spent in collecting articles of equipment,
provisions, and general supplies, for the use of the expedition in
the icy antarctic. For this purpose the city affords many advantages,
since nearly all foreign goods can be obtained at very moderate prices,
and the local production of fresh provisions are both limitless and
cheap. Under the guidance of our thoughtful Belgian friends, we were
offered every facility to enjoy the warm hospitality of the place,
and to accomplish quickly the objects of our visit. And although we
were anchored here less than three days, we were able to complete our
mission, and see a few of the local characteristics. The stores are
everywhere well stocked with domestic and foreign goods, and if the
buyer is able to speak English or French he will have little difficulty
in being understood. The streets are wide, regular, and well paved with
granite blocks. Tram-ways afford ample but slow transit. Carriages
are numerous, and can be obtained at a very moderate cost. Somewhat
irregularly scattered throughout the city are small parks with neat
arrangements of tropical and semi-tropical plants. The greatest
attention, however, seems to be given not to flowery decorations, but
to the systematic adjustment of wide promenades.
It does not take a party of young bachelors, such as the “personnel” of
the _Belgica_, very long to discover the side of life with which
these promenades are always closely related. Indeed, we soon found out,
without assistance, the reason for their great width in proportion
to the size of the park--a cause which was to us a never-ceasing
pleasure. For we all arrived independently at the conclusion that this
feature of the city must be due to the remarkable number and variety of
strikingly beautiful women in Montevideo, and their desire to display
their qualities to male admirers. So far as my limited experience goes,
there is no street or promenade in the world which can offer so large
a number of charming young women, in a given group and in a given
time, as these palmy promenades of Montevideo. We found it difficult
to assign a tangible reason for this attractiveness. It was not in the
dress, for the costume was that of nearly all the civilised world. It
was not in the form, in the colour of the hair, in the carriage, or in
any noticeable art of manner; for all of these characteristics were
comparable to those of the refined women of New York, Paris, or London.
But in addition to perfection in all these matters there was about them
an indescribable something, which made every woman on sight appear to
be able to speak her own ideas and the meditations of her admirers in
the tongues of the observer, be he French, English, German, Spanish,
or what not. Perhaps we were too much absorbed to have discriminating
powers; but for this we should be pardoned, for it was about the last
glance we had of women, beautiful or otherwise, during four hundred
long, wintry days.
[Illustration: Part of Montevideo.]
The most prominent citizen of the United States in Uruguay is a modest
Bostonian of whom we hear little at home, but who is well-known
throughout South America. It is Mr. Thomas W. Howard, who has enjoyed
the unparalleled distinction of being a consular representative of the
United States for nearly thirty years. The force of character, the
executive ability and faithfulness to the home Government, necessary
to retain such a position through all the political upheavals, must
be evident to every one. The fact is, that Mr. Howard has performed
his duties so faithfully, and is such a favourite at once among his
countrymen and the Uruguayans, that a change has been found to be
undesirable by both the Democratic and Republican parties. Mr. Howard’s
residence is one of the bits of local architecture which is much
discussed and admired. It is situated in the most fashionable part of
the town, on the border of a small but luxuriant park. Its external
appearance is not extraordinary in either size or loveliness, appearing
simply as a substantial structure of bright sandstone with two stories,
but the interior displays wealth and artistic taste. Here expensively
polished marbles, rare antique furniture, and tasteful decorations are
everywhere in evidence. It is the home of a cultivated and refined man
of the world, amid the boundless South American luxuries.
It is impossible for me to give in this limited space the various
phases of interesting life in this merry Paris of South America, so
I will close with a few general impressions: First, Montevideo is a
city of uncounted natural wealth, for prosperity is stamped on the
blocks of every street, on the modest but comfortable homes, on the
stores, the hotels, the clubs, and the churches. Second, it is a city
of charming women, against whom I could bring but one indictment,
that of disbelieving in their natural charms to such an extent as
to lead them into a lavish use of artificial colouring and powder.
Third, the enjoyment of life is here one of the prominent arts of
daily occupation. Merry faces are always in evidence, and the light,
airy laughter of both sexes bursts with the ease of soap bubbles. Deep
meditation, curbing, or melancholy cares, and profound inspirations are
usually out of sight. Among Uruguayans life is indeed a happy, leaping,
bubbling stream.