FROM MONTEVIDEO TO THE NORTHERN FRONTIER
Leaving Montevideo--General aspects of the Campo--The Rio Negro
as a line of demarcation--Growing exuberance of the
scenery--_Flor morala_--Blue lupin--Camp flowers--A sparsely
populated countryside--Absence of homesteads--A soft
landscape--Humble ranchos--Cattle and horses--Iguanas and
ostriches--Deer--Cardoso--Influence of climate and marriage upon
the colonists--A cheese-making centre--A country of
table-lands--A Campo load--Some characteristics of the way--A
group of riders--Some contrasts--A country of rocks--Stone
walls--Crude homesteads--Kerosene tins as building
material--"Camp" stations--The carpets of blossom--Piedra
Sola--Tambores--Landscape and nomenclature--Increase in the
height of the table-lands--Scenes at a country station--Aspects
of the inhabitants--Some matters of complexion--The train and its
transformation--Influence of the country upon the
carriages--Northern passengers--Metropolitan and local
costume--Some questions of clothes and figure--Relations between
mistresses and maids--Democratic households--A patriarchal
atmosphere--Things as they seem, and as they are--Conversation no
guide to profession.
A journey from south to north through the heart of Uruguay reveals an
infinitely greater variety of landscape and humanity than is suspected
by the dwellers in the better known littoral districts of the land. It
is true that for the purpose the employment of the homely and
convenient railway train is essential. Although it has been my good
fortune to drive for day after day and for league upon league through
lesser areas of the Uruguayan Campo, to cover such a lengthy stretch
as this by means of coach and horses is only possible for him who can
afford the supreme luxury of ignoring time.
The first portion of the journey, moreover, although far from
wearisome in the circumstances, is effected across a landscape almost
every league of which presents the exact replica of its neighbours.
Once clear of the woods, fields, vineyards, orchards, and flowers that
lie so pleasantly to the landward side of Montevideo, the rolling
grass waves of the Campo come to stretch themselves from horizon to
horizon, rising and dipping with a ceaseless regularity of sweep until
it becomes difficult to believe that the entire world itself is not
composed of these smiling folds of land.
It is not until nearly three hundred kilometres have been traversed,
and the train has rumbled over the long bridge that spans the Rio
Negro that the first symptoms of a changing scenery become evident.
The undulations have become less regular, and the hill-tops are
soaring higher into the sky-line. Indeed, the tendency throughout is
towards an exuberance that has been hitherto lacking. Thus not only
the outbreaks of stone that scar the hill-faces at intervals are
bolder in character now, but the wealth of field flowers, too, has
grown in extent and brilliance.
A broad, glowing bank of the purple _flor morala_ lines the railway
track on either hand, pricking across the landscape in twin unbroken
bands of colour. Where the loftier flower ceases, the red, white, and
mauve of the verbena clings closely to the turf. At longer intervals
sprout clumps of blue lupin blossom, while the white mallows,
harebells, and tobacco flowers lurk thickly in between the groves of
thistle, and large yellow marguerites and daisies mingle with a
variegated host of blooms.
The countryside is as sparsely populated as elsewhere. League upon
league of the great rolling sweeps of the land spread their panorama
unflecked by a single homestead. So far as the mere picturesque is
concerned, the result is admirable. The soft, dreamy landscape is at
its very best when unburdened by human habitation. Yet in such cases
the picturesque becomes a luxury won at the expense of the practical.
Undoubtedly from the green background of the pastures should shine out
the white walls of estancia-houses and ranchos. The time is now
probably near enough when such will actually be the case; but in the
meanwhile the land waits in complacent patience, sprouting out its
grassy covering with contemptuous ease.
Yet it must not be imagined that the landscape, however lonely, is
altogether deserted. Now and then may be discerned the clump of trees
that stand out like islands from the sea to shelter the dwellings of
the owners of these great areas of soil. At long intervals, too,
springs up a hedge of tall cactus that flanks the humble rancho, whose
tin roof, as often as not, is held down in its place by means of small
boulders--a feature of architecture that recalls the châlets of
Switzerland, although it is certain enough that the respective
buildings have nothing else in common.
Here and there graze the dumb supporters of the homesteads--herds of
cattle, troops of horses, and flocks of sheep. These districts of the
centre have not yet attained to the standard of breeding that
characterises the lands that fringe the great rivers to the south and
west. Thus, the cattle, although sufficiently fat and sleek, lack the
finish of the more aristocratic Hereford. Shaggy of coat, long of
horn, and exhibiting an utter lack of restraint in the strangely
varied colour scheme of their bodies, they are essentially of the
_criollo_, or native, order.
In the neighbourhood of these licensed occupiers of the pastures are
others whose existence is more precarious. These are hares who race
away at the advent of a train, and iguanas whose long tails stream
behind them as they depart in a flurry. As for the ostriches, they
have obviously come to the conclusion that their life is too short and
their neck too long for any excitement of the kind. They are plainly
bored by the advent of this noisy invention of man, and regard it
languidly from the height of the two long legs that repose in a
supercilious attitude.
On through the undulating Campo, where the rain pools lie like dew
ponds upon an English South Down, and where the banks of the
intermittent streams of the cañadas thread in and out of the green
grass for all the world like the bodies of black snakes. A company of
deer are feeding peacefully in the distance, intermingled with the
bulky members of a herd of cattle with whom the wild creatures have
condescended to associate for the time being.
The train has pulled up at Cardoso now, the centre of a district that
is considerably more populous than the majority. The place was once
the site of a German colony, and indeed the sole reasons why it does
not remain so to this day must be laid at the doors of climate,
surroundings, intermarriage, and the influence of all three. As it is,
chastened by the all-powerful atmosphere of the spot, Teutonic
features, customs, and language have already become modified almost to
the extinction of the original type.
The phenomenon affords only one more of the innumerable instances of
the tremendous power of absorption that is latent in the South
American continent. In contrast to the mutability of all things
intrinsically human, the industry of the community remains the same as
when the first colonists, strangers and foreigners, introduced it to
the spot. Cheese-making is still the staple trade of Cardoso, and the
district is not a little famed for the art.
This particular neighbourhood, however, is to be noted for something
of more enduring importance than cheese. It is here, indeed, that the
soil of the land, after many tentative swellings, each more ambitious
than the last, takes upon itself to change its outline in a determined
and conclusive fashion. The universal, gentle swell of the undulations
has given way to steeper walls of green surmounted by curiously level,
flat surfaces. Thus the face of the Campo is now dotted, so far as the
eye can reach, with a collection of table-lands, each separate and
differing slightly from the rest in the details of its pattern, but
each marvellously distinct and clearly cut. The feature is
characteristic of central northern Uruguay, and is continued well
beyond the frontier into Brazil.
Obeying the sociable instinct that so frequently links the railway
line with the highway in these parts of the world, the main road runs
close alongside the locomotive track. Where it goes the dark, rich
soil gleams moistly in every dip, and each cup in the land holds its
pool, for heavy rains have preceded the brilliant sunshine of the day.
For many leagues the broad surface of the way has been broken by
nothing beyond the inevitable attributes of such thoroughfares--the
occasional pathetic heap that stands for the dead body of a horse or
cow, or the bleaching framework of bones that gleam out sharply after
the vultures' and caranchos' feast. But here at length comes a body of
riders, half a dozen Gauchos, enveloped in ponchos of various
patterns, who are pricking onwards at the easy canter that renders the
conquest of any space whatever a question of mere time.
Thudding over the hill-tops, splashing through the mud-holes below,
the progress of the grim, silent centaurs is as inevitable and
certain as the presence of the knives at their belts or the maté-bowl
slung by the saddles. Then the train has sped ahead, dragging after it
a world of its own as remote from the atmosphere that surrounds the
six diminishing horsemen as is the clank of the engine from the light
jingling of the silvered bridles.
The crop of stone upon the land has become more prolific. The rock has
come to adorn the sides of the table-lands more especially, breaking
out with precision at the spot where each slope of the green eminences
starts out abruptly from the level, after which it continues,
unbroken, to the summit. The material, however, has been made to serve
for purposes of utility, and here and there are corrals and walls of
loosely piled stones, a novel sight to one who is working his way
upwards from the south.
The scarce ranchos, however, continue on much the same pattern that
has characterised them throughout the journey. The crudeness of many
of these is scarcely to be excelled in any part of the world. To
imagine an edifice composed of the lids and sides of kerosene tins,
roofed and finished off at the odd corners by straggling tufts of
reed, is to picture the abode of by no means the most humble settler.
One or two are embellished, it is true, by a rough trellis work from
which the vine-leaves hang thickly, while others are decorated by
nothing beyond a variety of multi-coloured garments that hang out in
the sunshine to dry. Clustered together, the modest homesteads would
appear sordid and mean. As it is, the open solitudes of which each
stands as the human centre lend it a certain dignity that is not in
the least concerned with the pattern of the structure itself.
The train has halted at a couple of small "Camp" stations, and has
puffed onwards again, leaving the respective brick buildings, with
their scatter of outhouses, to sink back into the lethargy that the
passenger train disturbs but for a few minutes every other day. In the
neighbourhood of Achar, the latter of these halts, the surrounding
country has broken out into an exceptional blaze of flower. The purple
of the flor morala stains hillsides entire; the scarlet verbena glows
in spreading patches that from a distance might well be mistaken for
poppy-fields, while all about are other flower carpets of yellow,
blue, and white.
The wealth of blossom continues unbroken as far as Piedra Sola, or
Solitary Stone--a spot aptly named from a curious square block of rock
that reposes upon the top of a mound in so monumental a fashion that
it is difficult to believe that it is the work of Nature rather than
of human beings--and beyond it, adorning a country that grows ever
bolder until Tambores is reached.
All the attributes in these primitive parts savour of Nature and of
its simplicity. The very nomenclature is affected by this influence.
Thus no historical significance is to be looked for in the name of
Tambores--drums. The origin of the word lies in the surrounding
table-lands that have grown loftier and more accentuated here than
their brethren to the south, and whose shape resembles not a little
the instruments of war.
Tambores is a place of comparative importance. It is true that no
architectural beauties are to be looked for at the spot, since the
quaint collection of edifices that are scattered in the neighbourhood
of the station are almost without exception the tin and reed
structures common to the district. Such rare exceptions as exist,
moreover, hold out merely minor claims to aristocracy in the shape of
an entire sheet or two of corrugated iron. Yet these modest precincts
guard a really important cattle and wool centre, and even now many
hundreds of bales are lying in readiness in their wagons, while cattle
stamp impatiently in the trucks that will bear them southwards to
Montevideo.
Passing to and fro by the honeysuckle hedge that flanks the platform
is a motley collection of folk. The majority of the men are in
sad-coloured ponchos, and in _bombachos_ that frequent staining has
imbued with an earthy hue. In addition to the railway officials,
beshawled women, children, dogs, and hens complete the gathering. A
feature that is especially noticeable here is the number of dusky
complexions that have come to assert themselves in the midst of the
fresh-coloured Uruguayan faces. Quite distinct from the swarthiness of
the Indian, the tint here savours undoubtedly of the African. It
becomes, moreover, steadily more marked as the Brazilian frontier is
approached.
Indeed, the evidence of variety is everywhere. Even the conventional
aspect of the train itself and of its passengers has undergone no
little alteration since the start. As it pulled out from Montevideo
the train was undoubtedly a model of its kind that took no little
pride in its well-ordered level line of day coaches, and sleeping and
restaurant cars.
Once well out into the country, however, the democratic influence of
the land has overcome its patrician make-up. A passenger coach or two
has dropped away at one station; some trucks and goods-vans have been
added at another, until its appearance has become as heterogeneous as
that of a Uruguayan volunteer soldier in a revolution. In fact, the
farther from the capital it gets and the nearer to its destination,
the more _négligé_ and doubtless practical does its appearance
become. Like to a man who starts out for a walk on a hot summer's day,
it is metaphorically trudging along bareheaded, with its coat slung
over its shoulder.
In the case of the passengers the same may be said without the apology
of metaphor. It is in the occupants of the first-class coaches that
the transformation is most evident. Many of the men remain in at least
portions of the same clothes of metropolitan cut that served them in
Montevideo. But ponchos have now been brought out and donned to hide
what lies beneath--ponchos of fine texture, these, that stand quite
apart from the meaner drapings of the _peon_, but nevertheless
essentially national and of the land.
As for the women, the few who have remained constant to the train
since the beginning of the journey remain in much the same trim as
when they first entered the carriage. The persistence may be due to
the vanity that is alleged by man to be inherent in woman, or merely
to the laudable desire of giving the country cousin an object-lesson
in costume.
It must be admitted that the garments of these latter tend to comfort
somewhat at the expense of appearances. The loosest of blouses, wraps,
and skirts are wont to make up a figure in which a waist may at times
be suspected, and even occasionally hoped for, but is never seen.
Decidedly the procedure savours of rigid honesty on the part of the
country cousin. For frankly to promise nothing is surely more
admirable than the transient advertisement achieved by the manufacture
of merely temporary space in the position rightfully sought for by
superfluous material.
Many of these country ladies with the honest and unaccentuated figures
are accompanied by their maids, these latter for the most part
negresses. The bond between mistress and maid is very close here.
Indeed, in Northern Uruguay such episodes as a "month's warning," a
demand for an extra "night out," the right to "followers," and all
other similar bones of contention that arise in more populous centres
between employer and employed are unknown.
Here the maid, whether she be negress, mottled, or white, obtains an
assured, if minor, footing in the family circle. Not only her love
affairs but her appetite will call forth the ready sympathy of her
mistress. Seated together, their meals will be shared in common, as
indeed is occurring in the case of sandwiches and wine in the railway
carriage even now. To complete the patriarchial atmosphere, the
railway guard has joined one of the groups in question in order to
assist, purely platonically, at the impromptu meal, and his manner is
equally courteous towards señora and maid.
It is certain that he who travels in the remoter parts must put aside
all preconceived notions of degree and appearances. Close by is seated
a group of young men who are discussing the opera in Montevideo with
critical fervour. After a while the conversation, as is inevitable,
turns upon politics, and the arguments and views are bandied to and
fro with the eloquence common to the race.
But there is original philosophy here, whether sound or otherwise.
Schemes for alleviating the lot of the humble worker follow hard upon
the heels of topics of municipal reform, parliamentary procedure, and
the vexed and intricate question of where the Uruguayan-Argentine
frontier floats in the broad dividing river. The phrases are
wonderfully apt, the proposals astonishingly daring. During a pause in
the political discussion one of the debaters explains his own walk in
life. He is a jeweller's assistant. Another is head waiter in a
Montevidean hotel. These products of the land are undoubtedly
bewildering. Each has been talking like a prime minister.