and is a place of beauty. The entrance is tasteful, and much more
elaborate and expensive than any cemetery entrance in the United States.
The chapel down the walk in front of the entrance, with its ornamental
dome and marble floors and ornaments, is worth seeing. The ground is
occupied with private or family vaults much more elaborate and expensive
than those one sees in North America. There are individual tombs in
North American cemeteries far more elegant than any in Uruguay; but,
taken as a whole, this city of the dead is of a higher order. The
streets are too narrow, and the surface is nearly all utilized. It is
common to have glass doors back of the iron gates, so one can look into
the little rooms above the vaults. The walls of these are covered with
pictures and curious wire and bead work ornaments. There are crucifixes
and candles everywhere. In one tomb is to be seen a picture of Mary
seated on an island or floating raft, pulling souls out of the flames of
purgatory. The poor things are stretching up their hands pleading for
help, and Mary is watching the prayers on earth and choosing
accordingly. Back of these tombs, and forming a high wall twenty or
twenty-five feet high, is a long series of vaults one above another,
each with an opening large enough to receive a casket shoved in endwise.
These vaults are either owned, or rented for a term of years, or as long
as the friends pay the rent. In case of default, the remains are taken
out and dropped into deep pits, and the vaults rented to the next comer.
The standing army of Uruguay consists of five thousand men, mostly
concentrated at the capital. Their uniform, with the exception of that
of the President’s bodyguard--a battalion of three or four hundred men,
dressed in a novel and striking costume of leopard-skins--is of the
zouave pattern. There are connected with the army several fine bands,
which on alternate evenings give concerts in the plazas. These concerts
are attended by all classes of people, and furnish good opportunities
for flirtation.
Everybody rides; no one thinks of walking. Each family has its carriage,
saddle, and other horses, and even the beggars go about the streets on
horseback. It is a common thing for a person to be stopped on the street
by a horseman and asked for a centavo, which is worth two and a half
cents of our money. These incidents are somewhat alarming at first, and
suggest highway robbery; but the appeal is made in such a humble,
pitiful tone that the feeling of alarm soon vanishes. “For the love of
Jesus, señor, give a poor sick man a centavo. I’ve had no bread or
coffee to-day;” and receiving the pittance, the beggar will gallop off
like a cow-boy to the nearest drinking-place.
The national drink is called _caña_, and is made of the fermented juice
of the sugar-cane. It contains about ninety per cent. of alcohol, and is
sold at two cents a goblet; so that a spree in Uruguay is within the
reach of the poorest man. But there is very little intemperance in
comparison with that in our own country. On ordinary days drunken men
are seldom seen on the streets, but on the evening of a religious
feast-day the common people usually engage in a glorious carousal.
The policemen in Montevideo are detailed from the army, and carry sabres
instead of clubs, which they use with telling effect upon offenders who
resist arrest. A few years ago there was no safety for people who were
out late at night either in the city or country; robberies and murders
were of frequent occurrence, and yet the prisons were empty. But
President Santos rules with an iron hand, and after a few highwaymen and
murderers were hanged, there was a noticeable change in the condition of
affairs, and now a woman or a child is as safe upon the streets or
highways of the country as in their own homes.
One of the curious customs of Uruguay is the method of making butter.
The dairy-man pours the milk, warm from the cow, into an inflated pig or
goat skin, hitches it to his saddle by a long lasso, and gallops five or
six miles into town with the milk-sack pounding along on the road behind
him. When he reaches the city his churning is over, the butter is made,
and he peddles it from door to door, dipping out with a long wooden
spoon the quantity desired by each family. Though all sorts of modern
agricultural machinery are used on the farms of Uruguay, the natives
cannot be induced to adopt the wooden churn. Some of the foreigners use
it, but the butter is said to be not so good as that made in the curious
primitive fashion. Fresh milk is sold by driving cows from door to door
along the principal streets, and milking them into the jars of the
customers.
During the last year religious and political circles have been in a
state of the greatest agitation, owing to the resistance of the priests
to the arbitrary policy of the Government. For several years the Church
has seen itself stripped of its ancient prerogatives, and its occupation
and income gradually restricted by the enactment of laws conferring upon
the civil magistrates duties which were formerly within the jurisdiction
of the priests alone. Under the constitution, the established religion
of the country is the Roman Catholic, and the archbishop was formerly a
greater man than the President, being the final authority in matters
political as well as spiritual.
The Romish Church, like the Spanish kings, ruled very unwisely in the
South American dominions, and instead of keeping pace with the progress
of the people, endeavored to enforce fifteenth century dogmas and
practices in the nineteenth. The result is the same everywhere. The
Liberal element, representing the progressive and educated, have denied
the authority of the Church, and defied its mandates. The Liberals have
been growing stronger and the Church growing weaker each year, until the
former are in power everywhere except in Ecuador, and have given the
priests repeated and bitter doses of their own medicine. Santos, the
President of Uruguay, cares no more for the curse of Rome than for the
bleating of the sheep upon his estancia, and has been arbitrary and
merciless, carrying on a war in which the Clerical party has been driven
to the wall, the parish schools closed, the monks and nuns expelled, and
the pulpits silenced. The first step was to take the education of the
children out of the hands of the Church by establishing free schools and
a compulsory education law, under which the parish schools were not
recognized in the national system of education. The money which formerly
had been given to the Church is devoted to the school fund. Then the
registration of births and deaths was taken from the parish clergy and
placed in the hands of the civil officials. Formerly the legitimacy of a
child could not be established without a certificate from the priest in
whose parish it was born; and the cemeteries were closed to heretics.
The next thing was the passage of the civil marriage law, similar to
that of France, which required every couple to be married by a
magistrate, in order that the legitimacy of their offspring might be
established. This was a serious blow at the revenues of the Church, as
its income from marriage fees was very large. It formerly cost
twenty-five dollars to get married, and very few of the peons, or
laboring classes, could afford the luxury. Now it costs but one dollar.
The Church submitted to all assaults upon it until the marriage law was
passed, and then it openly defied the civil authorities, and threatened
to excommunicate all members who obeyed the statute.
President Santos is not a man to quietly endure defiance of his
authority. He ordered the police to arrest and imprison every priest who
preached such doctrine. Three or four arrests were made, when the
archbishop addressed a letter to the President declaring that the Church
could not and would not recognize marriages formed without its
benediction, and that the police authorities had no right to determine
what subjects should be discussed in the pulpit. The President took no
notice of the protest, further than to direct the police to carry out
their previous orders. The Papal Nuncio, legate from the Holy See,
interfered and entered his remonstrance, whereupon he was given
forty-eight hours to leave the country. The archbishop then instructed
the priests not to preach any sermons whatever, but to confine their
spiritual offices to the celebration of the mass. Then a law was passed
abolishing all houses of religious seclusion, and forbidding secret
religious orders within the territory of Uruguay. The excuse for this
was that the monasteries were the hot-beds of political conspiracy,
which was probably true. An edict was issued expelling all monks and
nuns from Uruguay, and many of them at once left the monasteries, some
taking refuge in private families, others going into hospitals and
almshouses, but more left the country.
On the first of August, 1885, all the convents, except one, were
closed. This one had for its Mother Superior a sister of President Santa
Maria, of Chili. She was a woman of pluck, and determined to defy the
law. When the first of August arrived, the inspectors of police went to
her place, called “The House of the Good Shepherd,” and being denied
admittance, burst in the doors. The Mother Superior was found alone, and
when asked what had become of the Sisters, refused to answer the
question. A search was made, and forty-five terror-stricken women were
discovered concealed in the loft of the chapel and under the altar. They
cried pitifully, and falling before the cross of Christ, begged for His
protection; but the police dragged them out and gave them orders to
leave the country at once. Some of them took refuge in private houses,
and the Mother Superior, who, it was supposed, would be imprisoned,
found an asylum in the house of an Irish Roman Catholic named Jackson,
who raised the English flag over his roof. They soon after disappeared,
however, and quietly left the country.
This ended the supremacy of the Roman Catholic Church in Uruguay. The
next movement of Santos towards its extermination will undoubtedly be
the confiscation of its property; but as yet no steps have been taken in
that direction. Except among the women, there is very little sympathy
for the priests. Men are seldom seen in a church except on notable
feast-days, but the women go to mass every morning, and perform the
duties of their religion with ardent devotion. Protestantism is making
considerable progress in Uruguay under the direction of the Rev. Thomas
Wood, formerly of Indiana, who has been superintendent of Methodist
missions in the River Plate valley for many years. There are in
Montevideo two Protestant churches, and several schools for ordinary as
well as religious instruction. One of the churches is under the care of
the Established Church of England, and is the fashionable place of
worship for foreigners. No mission work is done by it, but it has a
Sabbath-school, and there is regular preaching on Sundays. The success
of Mr. Wood’s labors is very marked, particularly among the natives. He
receives encouragement, but no financial aid, from the Government. His
work is supported by the Missionary Board of the Methodist Church of New
York, and all he asks of the Government is its non-interference. This it
agrees to, and gives him full protection besides. Mr. Wood is an active,
energetic, and enthusiastic man, and the Methodists could not have
placed their work under a better superintendent.
Standing on the Plaza Constitution, one sees towering up, one hundred
and thirty-three feet above, the great cathedral, a large, plain, and
somewhat imposing structure. It was dedicated eighty-two years ago, but
time and the fortunes of war have dealt kindly with it. On entering this
building, at first the visitor wonders at its tawdriness; next he feels
its coldness, and then he is impressed by the dominating importance
given to the Virgin Mother, and the inferior position assigned to the
Son. This is so in all the Catholic churches of South America. Over the
great altars always may be seen some huge and coarse representation of
Mary. She is dressed after the modern style, in some rich material and
an abundance of lace. The stiff wax form and awkward wax hands would
make a sad appearance in a collection of wax-figures like the moral show
of Artemus Ward. The form of the Saviour is pushed away off to one side
in some obscure alcove. The supremacy of Mary in these papal lands is
wrought into all the life of the people. She has every sort of name.
Every conceivable relation in the Virgin’s life is named, and that name
bestowed upon men and women alike. There is “Maria Remedia”--that is,
Mary of Remedies; “Maria Dolores,” Mary of Griefs; “Maria Angustos,”
Mary of Anguish; “Maria Concepcion,” Mary of the Conception; “Maria
Mercedes,” Mary of Mercy; “Maria Anunciacion,” Mary of Annunciation;
“Maria Presentacion,” Mary of the Presentation; “Maria Carmen,” Mary of
Blood; “Maria Purificacion,” Mary of Purification; “Maria Trinidad,”
Mary of the Trinity; “Maria Asuncion,” Mary taken from earth; “Maria
Transitu,” Mary going into heaven--and so on indefinitely. In the
Montevideo cathedral, and in many others, stands a statue of a black
saint--St. Baltazar--among many classes of people, one of the important
saints of the catalogue.
Montevideo, with a population of one hundred and twenty-five thousand,
has twenty-three daily papers--more, in proportion to its population,
than any other city in the world; three times as many as London, and
nearly twice as many as New York. Buenos Ayres has twenty-one daily
papers for a population of four hundred thousand. Other cities in South
America are equally blessed; but in those of the republics of Ecuador,
Bolivia, and Paraguay no daily papers are issued. The South American
papers are not published so much for the dissemination of news as for
the propagation of ideas. They give about six columns of editorial to
one of intelligence, and publish all sorts of communications on
political subjects, furnish a story in each issue, and often run
histories and biographies as serials. One frequently takes up a daily
paper and finds in it everything but the news, so that last week’s issue
is just as good reading as yesterday’s.
The principal reason and necessity for having so many newspapers is that
every public man requires an organ in order to get his views before the
people. The editors are ordinarily politicians or publicists, who devote
their entire time to the discussion of political questions, and expect
the party or faction to which they belong to furnish them with the means
of living while they are so employed. Each of the papers has a director,
who holds the relation of editor-in-chief, and a sub-editor, who is a
man-of-all-work, edits copy, looks after the news, reads proof, and
stays around the place to see that the printers are kept busy. There is
never a staff of editors or reporters as in the United States, and
seldom more than two men in an office. The director usually has some
other occupation. He may be a lawyer, or a judge, or a member of
Congress, and he expects his political sympathizers to assist him in
furnishing editorials.
At the capital of each of the republics in Central and South America
there are usually one or more publications supported by the Government
for the promulgation of decrees, decisions of the courts, laws of
Congress, and official reports; and usually the paper which sustains the
Administration that happens to be in power expects and receives
financial assistance, or a “subvention,” as it is called, from the
Government. This comes in the form of sinecures to the editors, who
receive generous salaries from the public treasury for their political
and professional services. Every president or cabinet minister, every
political leader, every governor of a province, every _jefe politico_
(mayor of a city), and often a collector of customs, has his organ, and,
if he is not the editor himself, sees that whoever acts in that capacity
is paid by the tax-payers.
Except in Montevideo, Buenos Ayres, Santiago, Valparaiso, Rio de
Janeiro, and other of the larger and more enterprising cities, there are
no regular hours of publication; but papers are issued at any time, from
eight o’clock in the morning until ten at night, whenever they happen to
be ready to go to press. It seems odd to have yesterday’s paper
delivered to you in the afternoon of to-day, but it often occurs. As
soon as enough matter to fill the forms is in type, the edition goes to
press. In the cities mentioned and some others there is a good deal of
journalistic enterprise and ability; news is gathered by the
editors--there is no reporter in all Spanish America. Telegraphic
despatches are received and published, including cablegrams from Europe
furnished by the Havas News Agency; news correspondence regarding
current events comes from the interior towns and cities; meetings are
reported, fights and frolics are written up in graphic style, and even
interviews have been introduced to a limited extent. The newspapers of
Valparaiso and Buenos Ayres are the most enterprising and ably
conducted, _El Comercio_, of the former city, and _La Nacion_, of the
latter, ranking well beside the provincial papers of Europe.
The editors of papers in the tropics are seldom called upon to report
fires, as they are of rare occurrence. The houses are practically
fire-proof, being built of adobe, and roofed with tiles. No stoves are
used, and as there are no chimneys such a thing as a defective flue is
unknown. All the cooking is done upon an arrangement like a
blacksmith’s forge, and charcoal is the only fuel used. The delight of
the South American editor is a street fight, and although an account of
it may not appear for several days after the occurrence, the writer
gives his whole soul to its description. It is always recorded in the
most elaborate and flamboyant manner. The following is a literal
translation of the opening of one of these articles:
“A personal encounter of the most transcendent and painful interest
occurred day before yesterday in the street of the Twenty-fifth of May,
near the palatial residence of the most excellent and illustrious Señor
Don Comana, member of the Chamber of Deputies, and was witnessed by a
grand concourse of people, whose excitement and demonstrations it is
impossible to adequately describe.”
A dog-fight or any other event of interest would be treated in the same
manner. Everything is “transcendent,” everything is “surpassing.” The
grandiloquent style of writing, which appears everywhere, is not
confined to newspapers, nor to orations, but you find it in the most
unsuspected places. For example, in a bath-room at a hotel I once found
an _aviso_ which, literally translated, read as follows:
“In consequence of the grand concourse of distinguished guests who
entreat a bath in the morning, and with the profound consideration for
the convenience of all, it is humbly and respectfully requested by the
management that the gentlemen will be so courteous and urbane as to
occupy the shortest possible time for their ablutions, and that they
will be so condescending as to pull out the plug while they are resuming
their garments.”
Papers often quote from one another. They select their news as
ship-builders select their timber--when it is old and tough. Compositors
are not paid by the thousand ems, as in the United States, but receive
weekly wages, which are seldom more than eight or ten dollars. Six or
seven compositors are a sufficient force for the largest office, as the
type used is seldom smaller than brevier, and more often long primer.
The printers are mostly natives, although a few Germans are to be found.
There are no typographical unions or trade organizations in South
America. The laborers and mechanics are called peons, and are in a state
of bondage, although not so recognized by law. In the larger cities the
papers are delivered by carriers, and sold by newsboys on the streets;
but in the smaller towns they are sent to the _correo_, or post-office,
to be called for, like other mail, by the subscribers. The price of
subscription is inordinately large, being seldom less than twelve
dollars per year, and often double that amount; and single copies cost
ten cents in native money, which will average about seven and a half
cents in American gold. The paper which has the largest circulation in
South America is _La Nacion_, of Buenos Ayres, which is said to
circulate thirty thousand copies; but twelve or fifteen hundred copies
is considered a fair circulation for the ordinary daily.
Most of the offices are very cheaply fitted up. A dress of type lasts
many years, and stereotyping is almost unknown. The presses used are the
old-fashioned elbow-joint kind, such as were in vogue in the United
States forty years ago. In Chili and the Argentine Republic there are
some cylinder presses run by steam; but the people generally through the
continent are very far behind the times in the typographic art. Modern
equipments might be introduced very easily, but the printers down there
know nothing about them, and when a perfecting press that cuts and folds
is described to them, they are apt to accept the story as a North
American exaggeration.
The advertising patronage is very good nearly everywhere, particularly
that of the Government organs; but small rates are paid, and the rural
system of “trading out” is practised to a considerable extent. The same
patent medicine “ads.” that are familiar to the readers of the
newspapers in the United States appear in the South American journals,
and are eagerly scanned by homesick travellers, although they look very
odd in Spanish, and usually can only be recognized by trademarks and
other well-known signs. Most of the advertising in South America is
done through the newspapers. Very few posters or dodgers or almanacs are
used, and the patent medicine fiend has not used his brush so
extensively upon the fences and dead walls as in the United States. Not
long ago the manufacturers of a popular specific sent their agent in
Peru a box of handsomely illuminated advertising cards. The custom
officers seized them, and the druggist to whom they were consigned was
obliged to pay a heavy penalty for trying to smuggle in works of art.
The South American editor is not allowed the same liberty to criticise
public men that is enjoyed by his contemporary in the United States. He
speaks with moderation during political excitement, and uses great
precaution in his comments upon public affairs. Last winter the
Secretary of the Treasury of one of the Spanish-American republics
absconded with every dollar in the vaults at the expiration of his term
of office. The Administration organs contained no allusion to the event,
while the Opposition paper announced it in this innocent language: “The
Treasury on Saturday last was the scene of a violent raid on the part of
Minister Pena, of the Treasury Department. He entered the cashier’s
office late in the afternoon, and demanded all the money that was in the
vaults. In spite of the protest of the cashier, he carried away what is
said to have amounted to nine thousand dollars. It was the last act of
the retiring Minister of Finance. The motives that prompted the
procedure are unknown, and the disposition of the money has not been
explained.”
In some of the republics there is a censor of the press, to whom a copy
of each edition is submitted before it is published. This causes some
inconvenience and delay at times, for if the censor happens to be out of
town, or at a dinner-party, or otherwise engaged, the issue is withheld
until his august signature and rubric are placed upon each page of the
copy submitted to him. This copy is filed away for the protection of the
editor, in case any article creates trouble. In 1885 the editor of _El
Campeon_, of Lima, Peru, published an attack upon the Congress of that
republic, which was very mild compared with articles that are frequently
directed at our law-makers; but it was considered a sufficient reason
for his imprisonment for six months, and the confiscation of his
machinery, type, etc., which were sold for the benefit of the
Government.
The most popular names for the newspapers in South America are _La
Revista_ (The Review), _La Nacion_ (The Nation), _La Republica_ (The
Republic), _La Tribuna_ (The Tribune), _La Libertad_ (The Liberty), _La
Voce_ (The Voice), _La Union_ (The Union), _El Tempo_ (The Times), _El
Diario_ (The Diary), _El Eco_ (The Echo), _El Correo_ (The Post), _El
Puebla_ (The People), _La Verdad_ (The Truth). There is a habit of
naming streets and parks and towns in honor of great events, and this
sometimes includes newspapers. For example, there is a daily in
Montevideo called _The Twenty-fifth of May_, which corresponds to our
Fourth of July--the Independence-day of that republic. There are only
three dailies printed in the English language in all Central and South
America. Two of them are published in Buenos Ayres--_The Herald_ and
_The Standard_--the other at Panama--_The Star and Herald_. There is a
weekly printed in English at Valparaiso, and there was formerly one at
Callao, Peru, but it was suspended during the war and its publication
has not been resumed.