MONTEVIDEO
Population--Attributes of the city--Situation of the Uruguayan
capital--The Cerro--A comparison between the capitals of
Argentina and Uruguay--The atmosphere of Montevideo--A city of
restful activity--Comparatively recent foundation--Its origin an
afterthought--Montevideo in 1727--Homely erections--Progress of
the town--Advance effected within the last thirty years--The
Uruguayan capital at the beginning of the nineteenth
century--Some chronicles of the period--The ubiquity of
meat--Dogs and their food--Some curious account of the prevalence
of rats--The streets of old Montevideo--Their perils and
humours--A comparison between the butchers' bills of the past and
of the present--Some unusual uses for sheep--Methods in which the
skulls and horns of cattle were employed--Modern Montevideo--The
National Museum--An admirable institution--Theatres--Critical
Montevidean audiences--Afternoon tea establishments--The Club
Uruguay--The English Club--British community in the capital--Its
enterprise and philanthropy--The _Montevideo Times_--A feat in
editorship--Hotels--Cabs and public vehicles--The cost of
driving.
It may come as a surprise to many to learn that Montevideo, the
capital of Uruguay, possesses a population of almost four hundred
thousand inhabitants. By no means one of those centres that are
remarkable only for population, it holds almost every conceivable
attribute of a modern city--from boulevards and imposing public
buildings to plazas, statuary, and a remarkably extensive tramway
service.
Montevideo is situated at a peculiarly advantageous point on the
Uruguayan shore. No student of geography, it is true, could point out
the exact limits of so immense a stream as the La Plata. Yet for all
practical purposes the capital of the Republic sits just beside this
very phenomenon. Thus it may be said that the eastern side of the town
faces the ocean, while the southern looks upon the River Plate. To
enter more fully into the geographical details of the spot, the chief
commercial and governmental districts cover a peninsula that juts well
out into the waters, thus forming the eastern extremity of the
semicircular bay of the actual port. Upon the ocean side of the
peninsula the shore recedes abruptly northwards for a short space, and
it is here that lie the pleasant inlets that are not a little famed as
pleasure resorts.
At the riverward extremity of the port bay is a landmark that is
indelibly associated with Montevideo, whether viewed from sea or land.
The famous Cerro is a conical hill, surmounted by a fort that
dominates all the surrounding landscape. But of the Cerro, since for
various reasons it is a place of importance, more later. The capital
itself claims the right to prior notice, and to the rendering of a few
introductory facts.
Since the distance between the chief town of either republic only just
exceeds a hundred miles, a comparison between Montevideo and Buenos
Aires is almost inevitable. Indeed, it has become something of a hobby
on the part of the Oriental who has visited the Argentine city, and
vice versâ. Fortunately, the comparison can be made without the
engendering of bad blood, since to a great extent that which the one
town lacks is possessed by the other. Thus, in the first place
Montevideo, although astonishingly thriving, is without the hastening
crowds and feverish hustle of the city across the waters. Again,
although its sheltered bay is yearly accommodating more and larger
vessels, the Oriental town is innocent of those many miles of docks
teeming throughout with steamers. Yet, on the other hand, it possesses
its rocks and shining sands of pleasure that draw the Argentines
themselves in shoals across the river.
Indeed, the atmosphere of Montevideo is restful, and at the same time
free from the slightest taint of stagnation. Even the more modest
thoroughfares are comparatively broad, while the many new avenues are
spacious and well planned to a degree. Perhaps the keynote to the town
in these respects may be found in the fact that, although the absolute
dominion of the priests has long been a thing of the past, the sound
of the cathedral and church bells is audible above the hum of the
traffic. Even in the ears of the most ardent Protestant the effect is
not without its soothing and tranquillising properties.
It is true that there have been some who, deceived by its peaceful
appearance, have altogether underrated the actual activity of the
city. As a matter of fact, the progress of Montevideo deserves far
wider recognition than it has obtained. The town represents something
of a babe even amongst the roll of comparatively youthful South
American cities. Its foundation, in 1726, indeed, was due to an
afterthought, following an expulsion of Portuguese who had landed at
the solitary spot and fortified it in the course of one of their later
expeditions. Thus Colonia had long afforded a bone of contention
between the two nations, and even Maldonado had provided several
battlefields ere the present capital was colonised or thought of.
In 1727 the panorama of Montevideo could not well have been an
imposing one. At that time the place possessed no more than two
buildings of stone, although it could count forty others of hide. But
the erections of this homely and odorous material that in the
colonial days were made to serve almost every conceivable purpose
could have added very little to the æsthetic properties of the budding
settlement. Once established, however, the city grew apace, and in due
course the natural advantages of its position raised its status to
that of the premier urban centre of the land.
But, although Montevideo flourished and increased for rather more than
a century and a half, its leap into complete modernism has only been
effected within the last thirty years. In this respect it has only
followed the example of the important cities of the neighbouring
republics. Thus, in 1807, when its ninetieth birthday was marked by
the British occupation, the accounts of numerous foreign visitors to
the place testify to its primitive state, although all agree that in
the main the capital was a pleasant spot.
That the streets of the period were badly paved it is not surprising
to hear, since, owing to many obstacles, the art of accurate paving is
one of the very last that has filtered through to South America in
general. On the other hand, it is admitted that the thoroughfares were
well lit. Amongst the more disagreeable peculiarities were some for
which the butcher's trade was responsible.
In a country of oxen the superabundance of meat was made only too
evident. "Oftentimes," says an English chronicler of the period, "when
a particular piece of meat is wanted, the animal is killed, and after
cutting out the desired part, without taking off the skin, the
remainder of the carcass is thrown to the dogs, or left to rot in the
streets." After this the author proceeds to make a startling
statement: "Almost every animal is fed on beef: from this circumstance
pork and poultry bought casually in the market, and which has not been
purposely fattened, are tinctured with a very ancient and beef-like
taste." The first part of this piece of information is undoubtedly
accurate; but to what extent the latter is the result of imagination
or of fact it is perhaps best not to investigate too closely.
According to this theory, some of the plainest of joints must have
contained in themselves the elements of several courses, with a
species of menagerie meal as a consequence!
In any case, it is well known that the effect of this abundant meat
diet upon the prowling dogs of the town was to render them savage and
dangerous to the casual passer-by, who frequently had to defend
himself as best he might from their attacks. The extraordinary
prevalence of rats from similar causes is confirmed by other authors,
Uruguayan as well as English. The brothers Robertson, who are
responsible for such an excellent description of Paraguay at that
period, have some curious experiences to relate concerning this
visitation. Both received much hospitality at the hands of their
Uruguayan friends. "The only drawback," writes one of them, "upon the
delightful way in which I now spent my evenings was the necessity of
returning home through long, narrow streets so infested with voracious
rats as to make it perilous sometimes to face them. There was no
police in the town, excepted that provided by the showers of rain,
which, at intervals, carried off the heaps of filth from the streets.
Around the offal of carrion, vegetables, and stale fruit which in
large masses accumulated there, the rats absolutely mustered in
legions. If I attempted to pass near these formidable banditti, or to
interrupt their meals and orgies, they gnashed their teeth upon me
like so many evening [ravening?] wolves ... sometimes I fought my way
straight home with my stick; at others I was forced to fly down some
cross and narrow path or street, leaving the rats undisturbed masters
of the field."
No doubt had a militant vegetarian of the period found his way to
Montevideo he might have pointed out many object-lessons in favour of
a lesser carnal devotion. On the other hand, it is lamentable that the
cheap value at which carcasses were then held has not continued to
prevail to this day. To the small population of a hundred years ago
meat seemed to grow as easily as grass-blades, and the uses to which
it was wont to be put seem astonishing enough in an era of butchers'
bills and shilling steaks.
Since until comparatively recent years in the River Plate Provinces
mutton has been held unworthy of even a beggar's acceptance, the
carcasses of the sheep suffered the most ignominious end of all.
Amongst the other means they were made to serve, the animals were
driven to the brick-kilns, slaughtered upon the spot, and their bodies
flung into the ovens to feed the fires. As for the cattle, their
skulls and horns were everywhere. Prepared by the foregoing for
revelations of general utility, it is not surprising to read that
houses as well as fence-lines were frequently constructed from such
tragic material.
Such reminiscences of the past, however, have drawn the trail too far
aside from the modern city of Montevideo, where dogs are subject to
police regulations, and the rat is scarce, and meat as dear as
elsewhere. As for the town itself, it has sprung up afresh, and
renewed itself yet once again since the colonial days. Indeed, the
sole buildings of importance that remain from the time of the Spanish
dominion are the cathedral and Government palace.
[Illustration: SOLIS THEATRE AND NATIONAL MUSEUM.]
[Illustration: THE CERRO FORT.
To face p. 156.]
The national museum at Montevideo is both well represented and amply
stocked. It is a place into which the average foreigner enters with
sufficient rarity, which is rather lamentable, since a very varied
local education is to be derived from its contents. Uruguayan art,
natural history, geology, literature, and historical objects all find
a place here. The collection of primitive Indian utensils, and of
_bolas_, the round stones of the slings, is unique. It is said that in
the case of the latter, which have been brought together from all
districts, almost every species of stone that exists in the country is
to be met.
The historical objects here, moreover, are of great interest to one
who has followed the fluctuating fortunes of the country. The early
uniforms and weapons of the Spaniards, the costumes and long lances of
the first struggling national forces, and a host of other exhibits of
the kind are assisted by a considerable collection of contemporary
local pictures and drawings. Many of the earlier specimens of these
are exceedingly crude, but none the less valuable for that, since the
battle scenes are depicted with much the same rough vigour that
doubtless characterised their actual raging.
In the gallery devoted to Uruguayan painters there is at least one
picture that is remarkable for its power and realism, the work of a
famous modern artist, representing a scene in the great plague
visitation that the capital suffered. It is a little curious that in
the rooms where hang the specimens of European art the biblical
paintings of some of the old Italian masters should be hung side by
side with modern productions of the lightest and most Gallic tendency;
but it is quite possible that this may have been done with intention
in support of the propaganda against the influence of Church and
religion that has now become so marked throughout South America. In
any case, the custom is one that does not obtain in Montevideo alone.
The taxidermic portion of the museum is exceedingly well contrived,
and the entire institution, with its competent staff, under the
direction of Professor José Arechavaleta, is worthy of all praise.
With social institutions of all kinds Montevideo is amply provided.
The theatres are well constructed, well patronised, and frequently
visited by some of the most efficient companies in existence. It is
true that, owing to the difference in the size of the two towns,
Montevideo usually obtains the tail-end of a visit the most part of
which has been spent in Buenos Aires. But such matters of precedence
do not in the least affect the merits of the various performances.
Both actors and musicians here, moreover, have to deal with an
audience that is at least as critical as any that its larger neighbour
can provide.
One of the evidences of Montevideo's modernity is to be found in its
afternoon-tea establishments. Unfortunately, the name of the principal
one of these places has escaped me, so that it must receive its meed
of praise in an anonymous fashion. It is certainly one of the
daintiest specimens of its kind that can be conceived both as regards
decoration and the objects of light sustenance that justify its
existence. As a teashop it is a jewel with an appropriate pendant--a
tiny coal-black negro boy official at the door, whose gorgeous
full-dress porter's uniform renders him a much-admired toy of
humanity.
The chief and most imposing of the capital's clubs is the Club Uruguay
that looks out upon the Plaza Matriz, the main square. The premises
here are spacious and imposing, and the club is quite of the first
order. The membership is confined almost entirely to the Uruguayans of
the better classes, although it includes a small number of resident
foreigners. The English Club is situated on the opposite side of the
same square, and is an extremely cosy and well-managed institution
that sustains to the full all the traditions of the English clubs
abroad.
The English community in the capital is fairly numerous, and is in
closer touch with its Uruguayan neighbours than is the case with the
majority of such bodies in other South American countries. The
enterprise and philanthropy of the colony are evident in many
directions. It has long possessed a school and a hospital of its own;
but subscriptions have now been raised for the erection of a larger
and more modern hospital building, to be situated in pleasant
surroundings on the outskirts of the town. A great part of the credit
for this, as for many other similar undertakings, is undoubtedly due
to Mr. R.J. Kennedy, the British Minister.
The English Colony is represented journalistically by a daily paper,
the _Montevideo Times_, a sheet of comparatively modest dimensions
that is very ably edited and conducted. Indeed, the record of Mr. W.H.
Denstone, the editor, must be almost unique in the history of
journalism all the world over. For a period that, I believe, exceeds
twenty years the production, in journalese language, has been "put to
bed" beneath his personal supervision, and not a number has appeared
the matter of which has not come directly from his hands. As a
testimony, not only to industry but to a climate that permits such an
unbroken spell of labour, surely the feat is one to be cordially
acclaimed in Fleet Street!
The Montevideo hotels, although there is much to be said in their
favour, are comparatively modest in size, and somewhat lacking in
those most modern attributes that characterise many in other large
towns of South America, and even those in the pleasure resorts on the
outskirts of the Uruguayan capital itself. The best known is the
Lanata, situated in the Plaza Matriz. But I cannot recommend the
Lanata with any genuine degree of enthusiasm. The Palacio Florida, a
new hotel in the Calle Florida, is, I think, the most confidently to
be recommended of any in the capital. The tariff here is strictly
moderate, the service good, and the place is blessed with the distinct
advantage of a very pleasant lounge on each floor.
In many respects Montevideo, although its scale of expenses is rising
rapidly, still remains a place of cheaper existence than Buenos Aires.
But not in the matter of its cabs and public vehicles. The hooded
victoria of the Argentine capital is frequently replaced here by the
landau, and on a provocation that may not have exceeded half a mile
the piratical driver will endeavour to extract a dollar--the
equivalent of four shillings and twopence--from his victimised
passenger. The reason for this ambitious scale of charges no doubt
lies in the fact that the Montevidean is very little addicted to
driving in cabs, of which vehicles, indeed, the very excellent tramway
service of the city renders him more or less independent. Thus, as the
solvent person is said to bear the burden of the tailor's bad debts,
the economies of those who ride in Montevidean tramcars are visited
upon the pockets of those others who patronise the cabs.