The Bull-Fight
We arrived at the amphitheater a little before four o’clock and found
everything cheerful and lively as befitted the occasion. Men and boys
came in rapidly, took their seats, lighted cigarets and began to call
out and joke with one another in a manner characteristic of the Spanish
bull-fight audience.
The arena was a square space located against the side wall of a brick
house and enclosed on the other three sides by board fences about six
feet high. Opposite the brick wall and commanding a good view of it, a
platform had been built for the common multitude. On another side of
the square was a similar platform containing boxes for the _alcalde_
(mayor) and aristocratic few, including ladies. On the fourth side
a skeleton fence had been constructed apparently for the benefit of
children who could see but could not pay; in our thrifty country the
wall would have been built so as to prevent the children seeing through
it. The doctor and I occupied chairs among the common multitude and had
the best location, for it commanded a view of the boxes and of the two
doors of the bull pen beneath. On each of the four sides of the arena,
and about eighteen inches from the fence or wall, was built a strong
wooden screen wide enough to conceal four men standing side by side.
Thus wherever the fighters might be they were always near a place of
safety.
[Illustration: Plaza de Toros.
Feliz Año Nuevo.
GRAN CORRIDA PARA EL DOMINGO, ENERO 1º DE 1905.
Con permiso de la autoridad y si el tiempo lo permite se lidiarán, en el
PATIO DEL CLUB INTERNACIONAL,
cinco bravos toros de la afainada ganadería
“La Jagua” de propiedad del señor Francisco A. Mata, de los cuales serán
DOS DE MUERTE POR EL ESPADA “CHALECO”
La corrida será presidida por el señor Alcalde del Distrito.
GREAT BULL FIGHT
NEW YEARS DAY
The famous Spanish Bull fighter and Matador “CHALECO” will kill two
Bull on Sunday at 4 p. m.
Entrance to Bull Ring below the “International Club.”
Reserved. Seats for sale on Saturday at the Walk-Over Shoe Store
[American Bazaar].
CUADRILLA.
Director y Primer Espada--Sebastián Rivera (a) Chaleco.
Sobresaliente de Espada con obligaciones de
Banderillera, Pedro Ramierez (a) Rajalala.
BANDERILLEROS.
JOSE JIMENEZ (a) Cara-Ancha.--PEDRO RAMIREZ (a) Hojalata.
RAFAEL LOPEZ (a) Mestizo.--ISMAEL MENDOZA (a) El Pollo.
NOMBRE DE LOS TOROS:
_1º EL FANTASMA DE LA ESQUINA._
_2º EL ANARQUISTA._
_3º EL NOVILERO._
_4º EL BISTURI._
_5º EL RELAMPAGO._
PRECIOS DE ENTRADAS
Palco con 4 entradas $ 10,00. Sillas de preferencia $ 2,00.
Gradas ,, 1,50. Entrada general ,, 80.
Las entradas se venderán desde el Sábado hasta el Domingo á las 12 m.
en el lujoso y afamado Almacéa “Bazar Americano” y de las 12 hasta las
4 p. m. en la Boletaría de la Plaza.
NOTA--La Banda de música tocará las piezas más escogidas de su
repertorio moderno. La corrida empezará á las 4 p. m. No se admitirá
dinero en las puertas ni arrojar al redon del objetos que impidan la
lidia.
LA EMPRESA.
SIR DE TORRE E MITOS PANAMA.]
The _alcalde_ appeared promptly at four o’clock, and the National band
played the National hymn. While the music was playing and the audience
cheering, a gate opened and the gaudily dressed _matador_ with his
five butterfly _banderilleros_ ran in and bowed before the _alcalde_.
They wore short scarlet cloaks, skintight, emerald knee-breeches and
whitish stockings. The _alcalde_, who was dressed like a real man, was
master of ceremonies to give the sign to begin, to give the sign to
kill, and to give the sign to stop. The _matador_, or killer, threw
his show cloak up to the box of the _alcalde_ and the _banderilleros_,
or dart-stickers, threw their show cloaks up over the railing at other
places to be cared for by admiring spectators, for they used old cloaks
to fight with. There were no _picadores_ or mounted lancers.
The music ceased, the _alcalde_ nodded, the bugle-call sounded,
the _matador_ pirouetted and smiled, and the green and glittering
_banderilleros_ lined up beside the doors of the bull pen. One of the
doors was thrown open and the audience waited in suspense. Suddenly out
ran a well-formed animal into the light and looked around and blinked
in astonishment. His name was “_El Fantasma de la Esquina_” (The
Phantom of the Corner).
The five _banderilleros_ began to flutter about in front of him and
flaunt red cloaks at him. This he apparently resented, but did not seem
to know which cloak to hook at. Finally he charged at one, and then at
another, but paid no attention to the grass-colored _banderilleros_.
Before long one of the latter stepped up and gracefully stuck two
ornamental barbed darts into his shoulders. This made the audience
cheer and caused “_Fantasma de la Esquina_” to run about and jump
and kick like a calf until the darts fell off. He was then pursued
and teased again. But his moral nature was superior to that of his
pursuers, for when they spanked him on one side he jumped around and
presented the other. He only tried to defend himself against the
cloaks, the only things whose evil intentions he seemed to suspect.
“_No sirve_,” cried the crowd. (No good.)
And so thought the _alcalde_. The bull was unworthy of death. He didn’t
know a red cloak from a green _banderillero_.
“To his pen, to his pen,” they cried. The _alcalde_ nodded, and the
amiable bull was driven back, and was a phantasm of the past.
Another bugle-call and another well-fed bull, “_El Anarquista_,”
ventured out. As he emerged from the door a couple of the barbed
darts with gay ribbons on them were stuck into his shoulders. Like
the “_Fantasma_” he bounded and kicked and stuck up and crooked his
tail until the darts fell off, at which he seemed greatly pleased, and
quieted down for a rest. However, the red cloaks kept bothering him, so
he made a short charge at one of them and then ran to one side out of
their way. But the cloaks got after him like mosquitoes, so he charged
another one and then trotted about aimlessly, as if reasoning that to
keep running was the best way to keep from being stung. A couple of
darts were again hooked into his shoulders, making him show his capers
again until they were shaken off. “_El Anarquista_” was also sentenced
to live and was shooed back to his pen. There was nothing in his name.
The third bull, “_El Novillero_,” the Greenhorn of the Arena, received
a dart in his shoulders as he came out, and bounded to the center
of the arena as if looking for trouble. He kicked at the sky and
snorted at the ground and charged vigorously at the red cloaks, and
sent _banderilleros_ scurrying behind the screens and one of them
over the back fence. He also charged one of the screens, producing an
exhilarating, reverberating sound as his horns struck it, and winning
the applause of the populace. This full charge upon the screen was by
far the most exciting thing that had happened.
After receiving some more darts in his shoulders he charged again and
ran straight after one of the _banderilleros_ who, however, outran him
and thus reached the screen and was safe. This is the first time any
of the bulls had really gone after a man. He was the first one whose
intelligence was anything like a match for that of his antagonists. But
even this bull did not want to hurt any one. His attitude was, “Let me
alone or I’ll hook you. Keep your distance or I’ll chase you.”
To me this fellow seemed, taking him for all in all, brave enough to
die for the benefit of Panamaniac sport, but the _alcalde_ thought
not and the _banderilleros_ tried to drive him back. But he would not
go. He was afraid to turn his short tail toward them long enough to go
through the door for fear they would stick a pin into him. So, after
many futile efforts to drive him they let all of the other bulls into
the arena, “_El Fantasma_,” “_El Anarquista_,” “_El Bisturi_” (Lancet)
and “_El Relampago_” (Lightning). “_El Novillero_,” the cautious, got
into the midst of them and they were all driven back into the pen as a
herd. It was perfectly disenchanting.
Another bugle call for another bull. After some hesitation “_El
Bisturi_” ran out and received two darts, but he jumped and kicked
cow-fashion until he finally also shook them off. Either hides were
tough that day or barbs were dull, for not a dart had remained
sticking. Then the routine teasing began. He shook his horns at the
cloaks and charged them once or twice; then ran away and was kept
running all over the arena, frightened and confused at the number of
cloaks waving at him from all sides. “_El Bisturi_” was the greatest
runner of them all.
“_No sirve, no sirve_,” shouted the gods. “_Dé nos nuestra plata_.”
(Give us our money.)
The _alcalde_ smiled, gave the usual signal and “_El Bisturi_” was
driven back to his fodder.
A fifth bugle-call and out came “_El Relampago_” (The Lightning). He
kicked at the clouds, shook off the darts, charged the cloaks, then
stopped and shook his horns at them, and after having had his little
sport, stood still and wondered what it was all about anyway. They
teased him, but he lost interest in the game, although by means of head
shakes, bluffs and short charges he chased two men behind the screens.
One of the _banderilleros_ wished to show off and tried to practice a
trick of the trade. When the bull made a short charge at his cloak the
trickster jerked up the cloak and whirled around so as to present his
unprotected back to the horns of the bull. He should have waited until
the bull had completed his charge at the cloak and he would have been
safe, but he chose the time badly and “_El Relampago_ ran into him.
But, the cloak having disappeared, the bull raised his head and merely
hit the fellow inadvertently on the shoulders with his nose, instead
of the other place with his horns, and thus raised a laugh instead
of lifting the man. “_El Relampago_” was a humorist and a bluffer;
but there was no sting to his satire. He was apparently more afraid
of injuring what he considered to be one of his masters, than the
_banderillero_ was of being hurt by him. He might, instead of stopping
like a horse caught by the bridle, have lowered his powerful head again
and given the fellow a boost to a warmer place than Panama.
“_No sirve. Otro, otro_,” cried the crowd. (No good. Another, another.)
But “_El Relampago_” was the last of the supply of gladiatorial beef,
so the _alcalde_ signaled to have it killed.
“_Es un asesinado. No lo asesinar._” (It’s an assassination. Do not
assassinate him), yelled the crowd. They wanted blood, but they wanted
fighting blood, not slaughter-house gore.
But the smiling _matador_ stood before the box of the _alcalde_ with
both hands raised to receive the official nod. The _alcalde_ nodded,
partly from drowsiness, whereupon the _matador_ turned and danced off
quickly, like a martinette, toward the door and received his sword.
The sword was a beautiful one, long and slender, and so bright
that it was only visible in the restless hand of the bull-fighter
by its flashing. He ran nimbly toward his victim, flourishing the
weapon gracefully and ostentatiously, and began confusing the tired,
ill-conditioned and unsuspecting bull by swinging a cloak before his
eyes. The bull did not move, except slightly with his head as he was
being hypnotized. Suddenly there was a flash, and the man stabbed the
animal who had been so anxious not to injure him. The deed was done so
quickly that Doctor Echeverría, whose sympathies were probably slowing
down his mental action, did not see it done.
The bull stood still for a moment, then turned and ran to the center of
the arena and, as it happened, faced the _alcalde_ who had ordered his
death, and was thus doing his best. He stopped still, lowered his head,
began to breathe heavily and lolled out his tongue. He showed great
distress and was evidently bleeding internally. He stood that way for a
few moments, then walked to the corner near his pen and slowly lay down
with his head drooping until his nose nearly touched the ground. He
evidently did not understand how this trouble and suffering had come
to him.
The _matador_ in the meantime strutted proudly in front of the seats
with hands up, smiling and bowing for compliments that were not
showered upon him.
Two negro menials went behind the dying bull to put on the finishing
touches. The bull lifted up his head and turned it toward them, but
not with his former half-defiant, half-playful expression. It was an
expression of half alarm and half entreaty, and said as plainly, and
much more forcibly, than words could have done, “Why did you hurt me?
Don’t come at me again. I’m sick. I did nothing to any of you.” And he
lowered his head again, and laid it down on the ground, resigned to
die, caring no longer what they did.
“_Asesinado_,” cried the crowd. (Assassinated.)
“_Asesinado_,” re-echoed in every breast.
“_Dé nos nuestra plata, Señor Alcalde, dé nos nuestra plata._” (Give us
our money.)
One of the menials got behind the prostrate bull’s head and began
sticking a narrow dagger into the back of his neck, trying to find
and sever the spinal cord. After three or four stabs the object was
accomplished, for the bull’s body relaxed with sudden paralysis.
Thereupon the negro cut the paralyzed animal’s throat wide open, and
blood poured out as from a street hydrant. His limbs twitched a little
and he relaxed in death--and no one seemed to enjoy it. It was much
less satisfactory than a packing-house exhibition.
Then they brought in two little mules in traces, hooked a rope around
the dead animal’s horns and tried to drag him out. The mules started
and dragged him to the center of the arena, with his nose digging deep
into the dirt so as to impede their progress. At the center the mules
stopped and gave up the task, upon which two negroes got in front and
pulled at their heads, while another negro whipped them vigorously from
behind. They started up, took a few more steps forward and gave it up
again.
“Whip the front mules,” cried one of the gods, referring to the negroes
who were pulling the mules--and the gods laughed.
Finally, by pulling and pushing, the negroes succeeded in getting the
dead bull out, one taking hold of the tail and bending it over its back
to pull with.
Only one bull had been killed and our desire for gore was supposed to
be incomplete. Our expectations were not realized. As no horses were
to be gored we did not get much for our money, and had a right to see
another bull killed as per program. In Spain a man rides a blindfolded
horse in front of the bull and prods him in the forehead, until he
disembowels the horse. So another animal was admitted, undoubtedly one
of the first ones who had fought. He looked like “_El Anarquista_” and
acted like him, for he could not be made to show fight--he had learned
that there was nothing in it for him except a title that was not worth
dying for. Hence he was ignominiously driven back, like a tame bossie
cow.
Then they let in one whose bloody shoulders bore evidence of the
previous encounter with darts and _banderilleros_. He charged a little,
but only in self-defense. This was the third of those who had been
introduced, “_El Novillero_,” the Greenhorn of the Arena, the only one
who had shown any spirit. But that was out of him now and he was as
unwilling to do any harm to his masters as the others had been.
The _alcalde_ made a signal to stop the farce and the show collapsed.
Some got up to go and some sat still; but no one paid any attention to
the bull, who stood where he had been left and contemplated the moving
crowd with wonder and uncertainty. However, he seemed quite contented
to be a spectator.
The doctor and I sat silently in our seats, not being sufficiently
excited either to say or do anything, when unexpectedly the most
interesting part of the entertainment commenced. A boy nine or ten
years old crept over the low fence and sneaked toward the screen in
front of the brick wall near which the bull stood, and ran behind it.
Then he stepped forth, held out his hand and when the bull looked at
him jumped back. Immediately two other boys who were on the fence
climbed down and sneaked behind the screen, and also tried to tease the
bull, who now placed himself on the defensive. More boys jumped down
into the arena and began to leap about near the screens and whistle
and halloa at the astonished “_Novillero_.” As there were now too many
little fellows in the enclosure to find room behind the screens, I
began to fear for their safety. The noise and antics, however, of so
many little devils seemed to confuse the dumb gladiator, and he merely
remained on the defensive, making feints at those who ventured near him.
Bye and bye a boy about fifteen years of age procured one of the red
cloaks, ran up to the bull and shook it in his face, while he himself
stood at one side of it. The bull, who was not afraid of cloaks, made a
sort of short bluff charge at it and as he passed the boy almost grazed
him, for he was so near the brick wall that there was hardly space for
sidestepping. The boy repeated the maneuver and so did the bull, who
was becoming trained to the cloak charging exhibition and acquitted
himself like a trained dog. This greatly amused the spectators who knew
what a simple matter it was to let a bull charge at a cloak with closed
eyes, for they always close their eyes just before striking the object
of attack. This closing of the eyes is what gives the _banderilleros_
the opportunity of performing apparently perilous antics right in the
path of a bull, who also completes his charge when he strikes the
cloak, particularly if he considers himself merely on the defensive, as
most of them do.
There were now about forty little boys in the arena, and when the boy
with the cloak got tired the whole crowd of children rushed toward the
animal, who backed up against the wall and stood at bay with head down.
Now for some broken bones, I thought.
Little by little the crowd grew bolder and came quite close to him.
Giving plenty of warning, he made a short, slow charge at them and
sent them scattering and hooting and yelling in all directions. A cow
would have hooked them. After a couple of similar bluffs he started
on a trot after them, stopped in the middle of the arena, then went
back to the wall and again assumed a restful defensive attitude. He
was a good bull to have about children. Evidently he did not wish to
injure any one, and I think that but for the recollection of the severe
treatment he had received from the _banderilleros_ previously, he would
have entered into the spirit of the game with the boys and would have
enjoyed it. And yet this animal had been brought in to be pricked with
barbed darts, teased with red cloaks, stabbed with a sword, to have his
spine transfixed and his throat cut--rough treatment for an animal who
refused to harm the children. We left the children playing with him.
Doctor Echeverría had not discussed the bull farce at the time, nor did
he do so on the way back to the hotel, but while we were at dinner he
suddenly said in his gentle, deliberate way:
“Do you know, doctor, there are some things we see in our lives that
we can never forget, things that mark off periods in our lives? I feel
that this bull-fight is one of those things.”
“You are right,” I said, trying to cheer him. “It was neither a
_bull_-fight nor a bully _fight_, it was merely a fight between bulls
and bullies.”
In the evening the regular Sunday open-air concert was given in the
Parque de la Catedrál, in front of Hotel Centrál. We did not go out and
promenade, for with the morning excursion to the sabanas to tire us,
the funeral to depress us, the bull-fight to haunt us, and our failure
to win at the lottery to shame us, we were content to retire early and
listen to the music and mosquitoes through the bars.
I lay listening to the well-played music, sometimes loud and martial as
for soldiers marching to battle, at other times rhythmic and sensuous
as for dancing, or soft and sentimental as for love-making, until I
fell asleep to dream. I dreamed of a place where there was no killing
for sport, no premature dying from disease, no gambling with lottery
tickets, no scale of unearned wages, no rivalry for luxury and no
system of imposition upon the weak by the crafty. Such a world there
is, but it is in the region of the spirit or in the land of dreams, not
in Panama nor in Pan-America.
PART II
THE PAN-AMERICAN MEDICAL CONGRESS
PART II
CHAPTER I
The Opening of the Congress
Preparations for the Congress--Secretary Calvo--President Icaza’s
Hospitality--Arrival of the Western Contingent--Doctors and
Drink--Reception by Doctor Amador, President of Panama--The Palacio
de Gobierno--Former Presidents and Governors--Mrs. Amador--The
President--Revolutions and Their Origin--Opening Exercises of the
Congress--Eastern Contingent Absent--The $25,000 Barrel--Speeches by
Mr. Wallace, Mr. Robinson, Doctor Gorgas, and Music by the Band--The
Panama Railway--Poetry and Prophecy by Punch.
On Monday, January 2nd, the preparations for the Pan-American Medical
Congress began in earnest. Dr. José E. Calvo, the secretary, with
a smile that never came off, worked like a little Hercules for the
congress that _almost_ never came off. Upon his shoulders rested the
responsibility of making preparations for the scientific program, and
although he was the whole thing, so to speak, he was not even hustling
and impatient in his demeanor. His affability was so great and his
manners so quiet that he really seemed meek, as all high officials
should. High officials so often forget that they are servants.
The president of the congress, Dr. Julio Icaza, had no time to smile.
In preparing for the social part of the program he did a prodigious
amount of work that will never be appreciated by those who went to be
entertained, and found it so easy. Early in the afternoon he arrived
from Colón with our Western contingent. He and Señor Obarrio, the
treasurer of the Republic of Panama, who had $25,000 to devote to
the entertainment of the Medical Congress, had gone to receive as
befitted the profession of Panama to receive, and the profession of the
republic that had done so much for Panama to be received. The treasurer
expressed the visitors through from Colón to Panama free of charge and
I am sure that President Icaza gave them the South American pledge
of hospitality; for, from first to last, he omitted no essential and
neglected no individual. In the evening he invited Doctor Echeverría
and me into the barroom and maintained the elevated dignity of his
office, his congress and his country by toasting the United States over
a bottle of champagne.
Champagne is the only appropriate drink for an international toast. It
meets the requirements of courtly etiquette and social aristocracy. It
has the favor and patronage of kings and connoisseurs, and is adopted
and bruited by the nobility abroad and the capitalists at home. It
is the royal nectar, the sparkling sip, the golden prod of pampered
palates, the coveted badge of aping mediocrity, the ostentatious smack
of upstart opulence. Therefore, let those who can afford aristocratic
dissipation and affect the distinction of highborn headaches drink it
and feel proud and pampered. But those who are less ambitious can find
choicer bouquets in cheaper wines.
Among the fêted and dead-headed travelers I recognized Dr. N. Senn,
Sr., Dr. Lucy Waite, Dr. and Mrs. D. R. Brower, and Drs. Jacob Frank,
H. P. Newman, A. B. Hale and C. G. Wheeler, all of Chicago; Dr. Chas.
W. Hughes of St. Louis; Dr. and Mrs. George W. Crile of Cleveland; Dr.
Morrow of San Francisco; Dr. and Mrs. Palmer of Janesville, Wis.; Dr.
and Mrs. Edgar P. Cooke of Mendota, Ill.; and Dr. and Mrs. Wilcox of
Michigan City, Ind.
Things immediately became lively about the hotel corridor and barroom.
A new world greeted the pilgrims from the wild West and frigid North,
and they were pleased with it. Extremes and opposites met, and there
was ebullition.
Colonel Gorgas, Captain Carter, Major La Garde and other U. S. officers
and officials called at the hotel during the evening, and also spent
considerable time during the days that followed in lounging around
trying to make us feel at home and adding much to the goodfellowship
of our visit. But none of these gentlemen drank promiscuous toasts. In
fact, I soon learned that the American officers on duty, as well as
the Panama physicians, drank but little if any liquor, thus proving
the rule that “In Panama one should do as the Panamanians do,” by
constituting exceptions. Since hard drinking and hard working are
both considered to be injurious habits in the tropics, I wondered at
the popularity of the barroom, and concluded that the hard drinkers
compromised with their conscience by observing the tropical rules of
health concerning hard working. The abstemiousness of the doctors was
perhaps on the other hand due to the fact that they indulged in hard
work. This abstemiousness was greatly to their credit, since from
their irregular and strenuous modes of life, doctors, both in and out
of the tropics, are apt to become addicted to the use of sedatives
and stimulants. I have noticed with regret that in the United States
the red nose and mottled cheek is occasionally seen among elderly
physicians, indicating that many resorts had been had to the fancied
comfort, the second-hand cheer and spurious stimulation of alcoholics.
Statistics assert that three fourths of the French morphine users are
physicians. A knowledge of the effects of evil does not always act as a
preventive.
At 2 P. M. Tuesday we registered as members of the congress and at 4
P. M. attended a reception tendered us by Doctor Amador, president of
the Republic of Panama, at the _Palacio de Gobierno_, the Panama White
House, which is painted blue. The second or upper floor was occupied
by him as a residence, and the lower floor by the treasury department
of the state on one side and the soldier-police on the other. The
palace was a rectangular, two-story corner one covering about fifty
by seventy-five feet, built solidly against the adjoining buildings.
The entrance led into a tiled _patio_ or court of about twenty-five
by thirty feet, at the rear end of which a broad stairway led up to
the balcony. The balcony extended all around the court, and served as
an outdoor hall or passageway to the rooms. There was no inner hall,
but the rooms were connected by doors so that one could pass from
one to the other, the same as is usually the case in palaces and art
galleries. In fact, the building served both as palace and art gallery,
for around the wall of the rectangular reception-room, hung high up
near the ceiling in oval frames, were bust portraits in oil of all of
the presidents and governors of Panama from about the year 1855 down to
date, with their names and the dates of their terms of office printed
under them. There were pictures of twenty-five presidents and thirteen
governors, if my memory does not deceive me. The first president served
about three months, the second one about thirteen, and the others
from a few months to two years--only two or three of them longer than
that. How they found so many great men in so small a country, willing
to give up so short a time from their private business, and risk the
lives of their friends in a tit-for-tat with the previous government
is a matter of no small wonder. Some of them were patriots and some
were politicians, or revolutionists. Revolution is the Spanish for
election. In Spanish America the president holds office until the next
revolution. If the revolution is unsuccessful he is elected for another
term. The governors, of course, ruled longer than the presidents for
they were appointed and supported by the Colombian government, which,
in turn, was for a long time supported largely by Panama and de
Lesseps. President Amador had previously served a term as governor, and
probably would not have been selected as president had he not been a
good governor. He was a survival of the fittest.
President and Mrs. Amador received us in a very gracious and informal
manner, and as there were but few present each of us had an opportunity
of conversing freely with them. All conversed with Mrs. Amador, but
only two of us understood or made ourselves understood, for she did
not understand and speak English as her husband did. However, she was
lively and interesting for all that, and was such a good listener that
she kept her guests talking English in their very best style, most
of them supposing that they were making a favorable impression. She
was a handsome woman of medium height and figure, and much younger
and more vigorous looking than her husband, who began to practice
medicine about fifty years ago and therefore must have been much older
than he appeared. He was tall, slim and serious looking. He seemed
delicate because slim and quiet, but I believe the slender and delicate
looking men work and last better in the tropics than those who carry
superfluous flesh which, notwithstanding the pride taken in it by its
possessors, is a sign of physical deterioration. He had a dignified and
what might be called a matter-of-fact bearing, with nothing suggestive
of Spanish or French formality. His appearance was that of a cultured
American of quiet temperament who was content to pass unnoticed in a
crowd. He was cordial although undemonstrative in his treatment of
us, and was anxious to do everything in his power to please us and,
in fact, did everything he could except get up a revolution for our
entertainment. This he utterly refused to do, although it could have
been very easily managed--anybody could have started a revolution. But
he was obstinate.
The _modus operandi_ of a revolution was about as follows: Whenever a
popular man in one of the outlying districts got tired of work he would
throw down the ploughshare and say to his numerous friends, “Come,
boys, let’s go and tell the president what to do next. If he doesn’t
want to do it next, why _we’ll_ do it. If those little blue-coats in
the _patio_ don’t tumble over to our side, we’ll knock them over, and
run the government on business and patriotic principles, and put the
idle money of the treasury in circulation.”
This was the spirit of revolutions in Panama, this democratic spirit
that gave any one who had friends the opportunity at any time to
serve them by becoming their president. Every man had a right to
be the president except the man who was. Instead of countenancing
this spirit by starting new revolutions for Uncle Sam to quell, the
president-doctor offered us the champagne of good-fellowship and the
cigaret of peace. This is Uncle Sam’s kind of revolution. It is the
new brand. The old kind is going out. U.S. is no longer a colonel or a
judge; he is a peacemaker.
With U.S. out of the way, however, the Panamanians are great fighters.
They are not a bit afraid of killing one another, and the man who is
afraid of death and bombs had better not run counter to them when
they are out for political sport. But if we (U. S.) carry out our
peculiar ideas in Panama and establish permanent peace there, what
will become of the warriors and the warlike nation? Will they, and it,
not become extinct through change of environment? Will not peace kill
more in the end than war? When Panama has become U.S.-ified will not
the Panamanians become ossified and inert, and those of U. S. who take
their places debilitate and degenerate from digging in canal dirt? Are
there not blights as well as blessings of peace? Can the Anglo-Saxons
permanently conquer the tropics? Not until they grow _black_ in the
face.
In the evening the opening exercises of the congress were held in the
theater. We put on our swallowtails and chapeau-claques and sauntered
around the corner to the gaily decorated and illuminated theater
building to which the band lured us, and where the dignitaries of
the republic and Canal Zone awaited us. And they gave us a welcome
commensurate with their dignity and the importance of the aims of the
congress. Nothing was lacking but numbers to render the event one of
historical grandeur. However, if the _Congresistas_ were not numerous,
a large audience rendered the defect unnoticeable.
The Eastern contingent was still on the ocean and was missing it all.
But they were good sailors and didn’t mind it. They were cracking jokes
and breaking bottles over their misfortune, and expecting to get in on
the last day, just in time for a “home run.” Easterners are rich. They
have plenty of opportunities at home to wear swallowtails and listen to
music and drink champagne. But we poor Westerners were having the time
of our lives. We and a few Central Americans were having it all. We and
the $25,000 barrel were there. Twenty-five of us were to be entertained
for four days with it; $250 a day each. Panama, the poorest of
republics, is the most hospitable of nations. Her liberality is without
precedent. I thought of the Persian proverb, “It does not thunder until
the lightning has struck.” The lightning had struck. We were waiting
for the thunder.
On the stage were President Amador, President Icaza, Secretary Calvo,
Chief Engineer Wallace, Mr. Robinson, Colonel Gorgas, Major La Garde,
Captain Carter and the members of the congress.
President Amador opened the congress by welcoming us in the name of the
Republic of Panama.
The Panama band of thirty pieces then played the National air.
Mr. Wallace gave a résumé of the work accomplished on the canal. So
far it had been necessarily preparatory and consisted mainly of an
examination and study of the French work and plans, the clearing away
of debris, repair of the old machinery, an examination of the ground,
calculation of difficulties, estimation of the working capacity of
new machinery, and the determination of the cost and time required to
build a canal at sea level, and one with locks. The excavation of the
100,000,000 cubic feet of dirt and stone at the Culebra cut, and its
transportation ten miles away where floods could not bring it back,
was the dominant feature of the work. It would take nearly three times
as long to accomplish this as to construct the other portions of the
canal. Mr. Wallace thought that with the improved machinery of to-day
the construction of a sea-level canal was feasible. However, a canal
with locks could be constructed in a much shorter time and could be
deepened while being used, and the sea-level canal could be left as
a problem for the next century. This last suggestion about the next
century, however, was not made by Mr. Wallace. It is my bright idea.
When the speaker sat down the Panama band again filled the building
with stirring strains of music, resting our minds and preparing us
for the appreciation of the other addresses. As at the opening of the
third Pan-American Medical Congress at Havana three years before,
music constituted a liberal part of the program and relieved it of the
monotony of continuous speech-making.
Then Mr. Robinson, who had lived in Panama forty years, and during
quite a large part of that time had witnessed about a revolution a
year, spoke of the primitive conditions before the railroad was built.
It was built under great difficulties and with scarcely any money. It
was opened Jan. 31, 1855, and had earned $4,000,000 a year, a pretty
good percentage on scarcely anything. Its opening constituted the
greatest revolution the country had ever experienced.
Apropos of this railroad, Ex-Senator Bill Nye is reported in the
_Chicago Daily News_ of April 20, 1905, to have said, “That Panama
railway is a cinch. They have one train, which they run over and back
daily, and a few cars, the daily operating expense footing up to $39,
and one day’s income that I was down there, for freight and passengers,
was $9,000. It beats any railroad on the globe for profit, according
to its equipment and trackage.” The inference is that about $9,000
was earned daily with a daily outlay of about $39 and an original
investment of almost nothing. If the word Panama means good fishing,
this story is appropriately told about Panama. Nevertheless the
railroad stock must be good, and Uncle Sam owns the stock.
Mr. Robinson stated that the canal had been first planned by an
American, but had proved a failure before it was begun. It was then
planned by the French and had proved a failure after it was begun. The
first American attempt showed how not to begin it, the French attempt
showed how not to do it, and it was now for the Americans to show how
not to fail.
Mons. de Lesseps was an honest man, but was not a practical engineer.
He was getting old at the time he undertook the work, and was in the
hands of his friends. His friends, however, couldn’t do the work, so
they did him; they wouldn’t work anyway, so they worked him every way.
But the world still thinks well of him. He was too good for the world
about him.
That the so-called Yankee is the man to build the canal is proved by
a poem printed over fifty years ago in the _London Punch_ (1851), of
which the following is a quotation:
O’er Panama there was a scheme
Long talked of to pursue a
Short route--which many thought a dream
By Lake Nicaragúa.
John Bull discussed the plan on foot,
With slow irresolution,
While Yankee Doodle went and put
It into execution.
Mr. Robinson claimed that although yellow fever had always existed in
Panama it had not been epidemic for over fifty years, and the band
played long and loud.
Colonel Gorgas then spoke of the sanitary problems, the most important
of which was the killing of a female mosquito. Her death was necessary
for the success of the undertaking. This mosquito, whose official name
is Stegomyia Fasciata, a second Agrippina, was suspected of infecting
people with yellow fever twenty years ago by Dr. Carlos J. Finley.
Now she is considered to be the sole cause. It will be difficult to
dislodge her from the twenty odd villages with 12,000 inhabitants
scattered over a strip of territory nearly fifty miles long by ten
wide. But by means of drainage of most of the surface water, the
covering of the rest with oil and screens, the protection of the houses
and beds by window screens and mosquito bars and the isolation of all
new cases, she will not only be drouthed out, but will not be able to
get at any diseased or disused individuals to obtain fresh supplies of
the poison.
The sanitary work had hardly been begun, yet already the conditions
were very much better than they had ever been before. Uncle Sam is
accomplishing great things in the world through his reforms, not only
in politics but also in hygiene. It is the only way to conquer the
tropics.
Secretary Calvo made a few graceful remarks extending the hospitality
of the city to the members. He announced that the United States,
Mexico, Guatemala, Honduras, Costa Rica, San Domingo, Cuba and Peru had
sent delegates.
President Amador then arose as a sign that the exercises were over,
and we returned to the hotel to become better acquainted with each
other. Afterward we went up to our mosquito bars, enthusiastic over the
morrow’s program of scientific work as well as the thunder that was to
come, and keep on coming.
CHAPTER II
Breakfast and Dinner on the Same Day
Lively Coffee--Eleven O’clock Breakfast on the Prairies--Appetizers
Wasted--Music by the Band--The National Hymn and Its Composer--Laying
up for a Rainy Season--The Banquet at Hotel Centrál--Menu
Translated--Musical Program--Speeches by Experts; One out of Place and
One out of Sight--Mixing Wines--Nightcaps at the Club--Too much Dining.
On Wednesday we awoke fully fledged members of the $25,000 Pan-American
Medical Congress, wondering if from a scientific and assimilative point
of view we should be able to accomplish all that the occasion called
for.
It was lively at coffee. Several doctresses and doctors’ wives were
present and they, as well as some of the doctors who had always been
accustomed to eating in the morning, had to be instructed in the art
of early fasting; and the poor waiters had to be protected from them.
After finding out that nothing but unsweetened oranges, water rolls
and bitter coffee with milk were allowed, one lady wanted water in
her coffee, another wanted cream, another could not take milk in any
form, another wanted tea, jelly, etc., etc. To be served bitter coffee
without cream, and to be offered nothing to eat but cold dry water
rolls and orange juice, was already enough to condemn the hotel and
the country. The ladies wished they were home where they could have ham
and eggs and fried potatoes, corn muffins and watered coffee weakened
with cream. The practice of every-day patriotism should begin with
breakfast.
“Well! I can’t talk all morning in congress on an empty stomach,” said
one of the lady doctors.
“This is terrible,” sighed a doctor’s wife. “I have to eat to maintain
my health and strength.”
“How can you, when you haven’t any health and strength?” said her
husband.
“When I eat I believe in having something to chew on,” said a stomach
specialist.
“It is terrible to have to fast when you want your breakfast,” sighed
the doctor’s wife.
“It’s foolish to want your breakfast when you have to fast,” said her
husband. “When you are in Rome, do----”
“If I could only speak Spanish like a man, I’d stir things up here,”
said she.
“If I could only talk like a woman, so would I; but I’m only a man,”
said he.
Upon this one of the doctors stood up and said that he had quite
enjoyed his milk-coffee, water rolls and tongue sandwiches. The ladies
looked about the room in search of the sandwiches while the men
smiled and left the table, declaring that they also had enjoyed them,
particularly the sandwiches.
At eight o’clock cabs drove up and took us to the _sabanas_ over the
same route that I had gone on New Year’s day. But it was not a holiday
and the natives were not exhibiting themselves, and the drive was not
very interesting. We stopped at the Country Club grounds, which were
not as attractive as those of Señor Arango’s place that I had visited,
but were much larger and had a roomy two-story frame house with a
veranda all around it wide enough to serve us as a dining-room. The
club superintended the preparations, although the Washington Hotel of
Colón had a contract for the provisions. Hence the provisions were
plentiful and the service unexceptionable.
The day was pleasant and cool for Panama, and quite endurable in the
early morning. We wandered about the grounds for a while examining
the tropical trees and telling each other all about them. Then we
took photographs of ourselves under trees and talked and watched the
preparations for the breakfast on the veranda. Some one asked me to go
up and look at the house. I did so but only got as far as the veranda,
for I noticed a corner room opening on it that was crowded with fellow
_congresistas_; and after I had succeeded in crowding in saw what
would have made Milwaukee and Louisville glad at heart if they had
been there. But neither of them were there in the flesh. There was
beer, whiskey and White Rock water enough to overcome the drouth of a
German regiment or the American army. It seemed a pity that some one
from Milwaukee was not there to help us out, for there was a heaping
hogshead full of Blue Label beer in quart bottles, and not a bottle was
opened that day; there were two hundred bottles of White Rock water,
and only fifty were opened; there were a dozen quart bottles of whiskey
and only ten were drunk.
[Illustration: CLUB HOUSE ON THE SABANAS Table Being Set for Our
Banquet Breakfast]
Santos Jorge’s band of thirty vigorous music-makers was there to
give tone and tune to the occasion and did its best to rouse up and
intoxicate us with martial and patriotic pieces played at frequent
intervals. Mr. Santos Jorge, who was the leader of the band and the
almost constant companion of the medical congressmen, was the most
prominent musician in the republic. He had been in Panama thirteen
years and was the director of the Panama Conservatory of Music. He
had been a student of the Madrid Conservatory and took a prize when
he graduated. The _Himno Istmeno_, or Panama National Hymn, is one of
his compositions and seemed to compare favorably with the national
airs of other countries. His band was made up of whites, negroes and
half-breeds, who were all well trained and played well, although a
trifle too staccato and fortissimo for our anti-emotional Anglo-Saxon
temperament.
As the slight effect of the early coffee and rolls upon our premature
emptiness had worn off by ten o’clock, and there were no more trees or
houses on the place to explain and explore, and no new subjects for
conversation, we hovered around the veranda listening to music and
drinking White Rock for an appetite. After having our official picture
taken for the benefit of medical history, we sat down to breakfast.
The tables were spread for a hundred and there were only about
forty of us, including Panamanians; but as our emptiness grew our
courage developed, and each of us laid up enough for a rainy day.
The difference between this breakfast, sent by the Washington Hotel
from Colón, and the cold bread and bitter coffee breakfast eaten and
execrated at the Hotel Centrál a few hours before, was freely expressed
in feminine English, which was loud in praise of Washington and in
condemnation of _Gran Centrál_.
We returned to Panama at two o’clock, and occupied our time from three
to six with the reading and discussion of monographs on surgery and
gynecology, to the great satisfaction and entertainment of the readers
and talkers.
At half past seven o’clock we gathered in the large parlor of Hotel
Centrál and waited impatiently for the signal to descend to the
banquet. We had eaten enough at eleven o’clock to nourish us for two
or more days, and were now to eat enough for four or more days, since
the menu was twice as elaborate. But we remembered that many stomachs
are ruined by dieting, and resolved not to be ruined in that way. I
give a translation with this menu for the benefit of those who have no
dictionary, and no objection.
MENU.
HORS D’ŒUVRES.
Olives. Jambon. Canapés de Caviar.
POTAGE.
Consommé Sevigné.
POISSON.
Corbina à la Trouville.
ENTRÉES.
Vol au Vent Richelieu. Filét Piqué à la Parisienne.
PIÈCE FROIDE.
Aspic de Foie--Gras Bellevue.
LEGUMES.
Asperges--Sauce Mousseline.
RÔTI.
Lindonneau à la Broche. Salade de Saison.
DESSERT.
Glacé Marie Louise. Petits Fours. Pièce Montée
VINS.
Xeres. Chateau La Tour Blanche. Chablis. Margaux.
Corton. Pommard.
CHAMPAGNES.
G. H. Mumm. Moet et Chandon.
TRANSLATION OF MENU.
EXTRA WORK.
Olives. Goodleg. Sofas of Caviar.
POTTAGE.
Accomplished Sevigné.
POISON.
Crow à la Trouville.
ENTRIES.
Fly-away Richelieu. Quilted Thread à la Paris-woman.
COLD PIECE.
Asp Liver--Fleshy Fineview.
LEGGINS.
Saucy Aspersions Of Muslin.
ROT.
London Water à la Spit--Salad of the Seasons.
DISSERTATION.
Frosted Marie Louise. Small Furnaces. Mounted Play.
WINES.
Xerxes. Catwater of White Tower. Cat Bliss.
Magpies. Courting. Pomade.
SHAM PAINS.
G. H. Mummy. Mouth and Chindown.
[Illustration: THE CONGRESS WAITING FOR LUNCH]
After seeing the bill of fare thus exposed in plain English the reader
will realize what an abomination such banquets are, and why the French
language is used to express and extenuate them.
The musical program was well selected and well executed, and deserved
to be recorded. The musicians played with great spirit and helped the
blood to the brain and the word to the tongue much better than the
eight brands of wine and fourteen varieties of food.
PROGRAMA.
QUE EJECUTARÁ LA BANDA REPUBLICANA.
Himno Istmeno, S. Jorge A.
Vals--“Red, White and Blue.” “On American Airs,” Tovani.
Sinfonia--“Naiade,” C. Carlini.
“Ramona” Two-Step, Johnson.
Mazurka--“Feliz Año,” Jean Oliver.
Vals--“Amoureuse,” Berger.
Scena e Duetto nell’ Opera Rigoletto, Verdi.
Two-Step--“Yankee Girl,” Lampe.
Vals--“Les Patineurs,” Waldteufel.
Selections from “The Prince of Pilsen,” Luders.
“American Guard” Quickstep, Brooks.
“Quartetto di Concerto,” Perolini.
El Director,
SANTOS JORGE A.
President Amador and the high functionaries of state were there to
encourage us in our efforts to do justice to what was spread before
us, and Mrs. Amador and other first ladies of the land were there to
inspire the speakers.
Speeches were made by President Icaza, U. S. Minister Barrett, the
Panamanian Treasurer, the Minister of War, Doctor Brower, Doctor Senn,
and others whose names I did not learn, each in his own language and
each one creditable to the speaker and to his country. In order to give
a semblance of spontaneity to the speeches, each speaker had a number
given him, and when a speaker had spoken and the band had played,
the one with the next number would stand up unannounced and speak as
if inspired by the preceding speaker and by the occasion. This would
have worked charmingly had not the crowd called upon an extra speaker
early in the evening. Doctor Brower, whose medieval ancestors had
been subject to Spanish rule, and who inherited the temperament of a
Spaniard and the physique of two Spaniards, did not understand Spanish.
He, therefore, did not know that an extra man without a number had
spoken. So he mistook his count and arose a number ahead of his turn,
and ahead of the speaker whom he was to have followed, and whose speech
was supposed to inspire his. But the doctor was equal to the occasion
and spoke with as much eloquence as if his speech was in place, and as
if people knew who he was and what he said. His speech elicited much
applause, particularly from the highest ladies of the land and others
who did not understand English. It was one of the best speeches of the
evening, only it was out of place.
But _the_ speech of the evening was that of Minister Barrett, who, I
suppose, never was, and never will be, a minister of the gospel; he
is in politics. His speech was full of wit, satire and good-natured
banter, delivered in a full-chested baritone voice, and made one think
that to hear a good after-dinner speech was worth a bad attack of
matutinal indigestion.
The serving at table was quite rapid and satisfactory except that some
of the many different kinds of wine looked alike, and tasted quite
unlike, and the waiters mixed them up as they went around filling
partially emptied glasses. The result was disastrous to the nerves
of such connoisseurs as we all were. But in consequence of rapid
serving and short speeches, the entertainment was over in time for the
guests to go over to the clubs in their cocktail coats, and have more
refreshments and a few straight nightcaps to settle the blended wines,
and thus oblige no one to get into one of those hotel beds until his
mind at least was properly made up.
Just what kind of water the Panamanians offered the Panamericans, and
just what the Panamericans accepted from the Panamanians, I can not say
from observation, but I know that the Panamanians offered generously
and that the Panamericans were kindly disposed to do their duty. “New
occasions teach new duties,” as Lowell said. Feasts are better than
fevers and postprandials preferable to postmortems, was the concensus
of the congress.
Having two more banquets to contend with during the following
twenty-four hours, as well as a short scientific session to keep awake
at, I sneaked off to bed when others went to the clubs, remembering
the proverb that “He who eats and runs away may live to eat some other
day,” and hoped they were as happy as they thought they were.
During these two days they dined and dinned us without intermission.
Eating and drinking to the strains of stirring music occupied most
of our time and attention outside of the scientific meetings, and it
became necessary to give more thought to the filling of our stomachs at
table than to the unloading of our minds upon the congress. Indeed, it
was difficult to enjoy the scientific meetings when the energies were
so heavily taxed with gastric and gustatory functions. If we had not
had so many good times we should have enjoyed the meeting more.
CHAPTER III
Panama Bay and Paramount Barrett
An Excursion to the Island of Toboga--Panama from the Sea--A
Picturesque Village--A Delightful Stroll to the Sanatorium--A Banquet
Aboard--We Return Refreshed and Invigorated--A Dinner with Minister
Barrett--His Travels and Experiences--He Wheedles One Empress and
Amuses Another, Beats Admiral Dewey, Refuses a Harem, Shocks a
Female Boarding-school, Suppresses a Revolution, Discourses upon
Elephants and Has a Joke Played upon Him--At the Ball--Mr. and Mrs.
Wallace--Twenty-five Thousand Dollars for Grave Digging.
An excursion and banquet on the bay and a visit to Toboga Island twelve
miles out had been planned for us, and we assembled Thursday morning at
eight o’clock at the railway station. A short ride by rail took us to
the large pier at the _Boca_ or mouth of the canal from which a channel
has been dredged through the shallow water out to the Island of Perico.
We started from the _Boca_ because the pier at the city of Panama stood
on dry land at low tide, and the boats were lying about on their sides
much of the time.
President Amador and Mrs. Amador were present, having embraced this
opportunity to make the excursion with us and visit their country
residence on the Island of Toboga where they were to remain a few days.
Colonel Gorgas and Captain Carter and their families, as well as
several other Canal Zone and Panamanian government officials, were also
among the passengers.
Two boats had been engaged and two banquets prepared, but as half of
the congress was still on the Atlantic Ocean, there was no use in
reserving a boat and a banquet for it on the Pacific, so we discharged
one boat and took all of the provisions with us on the other, thus
guarding against a banqueters’ famine.
As we steamed along the shore our old Spanish-looking town of Panama
was on our left and the tropical islands on our right. The city, which
occupied a rugged projection of land, was a picturesque sight in the
intense morning sunlight. The white gleaming walls, dark roofs and
deep shadows formed a lively contrast, and were beautifully framed by
the blue of the sea below and sky above, and the green of the foliage
around them. When opposite the city the boat turned stern toward Panama
and passed outward between the islands, some of which were quite large
and some very small. The small ones looked like mountain-tops and
ridges projecting out of the water, and probably formed parts of a
submerged ridge. The sea was smooth and the sea breeze felt refreshing
and cool to us in our duck pants and pongee coats, and the two hours of
riding to Toboga passed quickly and comfortably. The word _comfortably_
expresses a great deal in the tropics, and means more than the words
fun and enjoyment. There is a suggestion of good luck and thankfulness
in it.
At Toboga a cluster of tiny red-tiled houses stretched along the shore
between the blue sea in front and the higher, densely foliaged land
behind, constituting a little fishing village of wondrous beauty as
viewed from the boat. Arriving off shore we sent the President and Mrs.
Amador to the beach in a row boat, for there was no disfigurement of
nature by piers or breakwaters.
Tempted by the beauty and novelty of the foliage, several of us hired
one of the row boats that hovered about the steamer, and were soon on
dry land. As a fresh cooling sea breeze was blowing we had a pleasant
walk of about a quarter of a mile to the sanatorium, a two-story,
wooden, rectangular building which was built on posts over the water’s
edge and girded by the conventional wide veranda. It is said to have
cost about $200,000, and was built for convalescent and debilitated
employees of the French Canal Company. In Chicago it could have been
built, I should say, for about $2,000, but would have been a ruin
long ago. There were good baths and a fine spring near by. With the
island-bound bay and cool sea breeze on one side and the luxuriant
tropical forest on the other, it was an ideal place for invalids and
poets, but a very idle place for well people. It was a place for
lounging, dreaming, bathing, smoking, and romantic gazing at the
beautiful sky and earth. But active outdoor sports were incompatible
with the climate, and the social and business activities that were
needful to relieve the monotonous splendor of nature were lacking.
[Illustration: TABOGA ISLAND]
We sauntered back to the landing-place picking ripe mangoes and
accepting large pineapples from the natives, who would take no pay
because we were guests of the president. Altogether the novelty of
the little stroll on this most beautiful of tropical islands produced
a feeling of enthusiasm and admiration for nature such as we used to
experience as boys when we visited new scenes with new eyes. It seemed
like something new under the sun.
On our way back to Panama we sat down to a banquet breakfast of
the same character as on the _sabanas_ the day before and which,
with the sea air, the stroll on the island, and the starvation
“coffee-breakfast” in the early morning to perform the function of
appetizers, we ate with as much if not more relish.
In the evening Dr. Lucy Waite, Doctor Senn and myself dined with the
Pan-American peacemaker, John Barrett, and his secretary in their
interesting bachelor apartments near Plaza Centrál. Innumerable
pictures and mementoes gathered by Mr. Barrett during his travels
and while he was representing the United States at the courts of the
mighty, gave the place the interest of a museum of art. We felt that
we were fortunate in having him devote an evening to us, for he was
one of the busiest men in Panama. But I have learned in my dealings
with North Americans that the busiest men nearly always have more time
for extra work than those who have not enough to do. A successful,
busy man seldom does as others do, and Mr. Barrett did not do as the
Panamanians did. The words siesta, gossip and barroom were meaningless
to him. He paid no attention to the rule that one should neither drink
hard nor work hard in the tropics. His motto was: “Work everywhere,
drink nowhere.” He was such a hustler that grass did not grow under his
feet nor hair on his head. He had traveled extensively in the Orient.
He had visited the five great viceroys of China and had sat upon the
dais with the Empress Dowager and had talked her out of 700,000 taels.
He arrived at Manila only ten days after Admiral Dewey, and outstayed
him. He became personally acquainted with Aguinaldo and thus was more
successful than Dewey. The Sultan of Sulu offered him a harem, but he
was busy, and had to refuse. While U. S. minister to Siam he accepted,
however, an invitation to address the graduating class of the Young
Ladies’ Seminary of Bangkok, and told them that they were charming
young ladies, but soon would be old cows with their tongues hanging
out. He had mistranslated his well-prepared English manuscript and had
mispronounced what he did not mistranslate. He was excused on account
of his youth and beauty, and because he came from a new country where
refined speech and Oriental etiquette were not cultivated. He had also
been minister to Argentina, but he did not mention the breaches he had
made there. Possibly there was not time enough.
When General Huertas moved on Panama City with an army of 300 men and
began to dictate to President Amador, Mr. Barrett advised the president
to disband the hostile army. The president, to whom this method of
warfare was a novelty, humored the young minister and told them to
disband. But they refused. He offered them sixty days’ extra pay, half
down and half a week after they had disbanded, but they demanded all
of the money before disbanding. They might serve without pay but they
would not _stop_ serving without pay. Mr. Barrett advised the president
not to heed this demand and made an eloquent speech that brought them
to terms. He told them that Uncle Sam was back of President Amador. The
soldiers were not accustomed to this kind of warfare and disbanded.
After the army had disbanded, their guns were stored in the American
warehouse at Ancón and the defense of the city and maintenance of order
entrusted to the police, who performed after that the double duty of
soldiers and policemen. And now, with no army except one of words, the
words of Uncle Sam, Doctor Amador is secure in his position, and at
last, “The path of glory leads to the gray,” as the poet Grave wrote.
Mr. Barrett’s delicate private supper was such a relief after the
gorgeous banquets that we had been working at, that we did not
really require any attention from him. His servant was entertaining
and relieving us to our entire satisfaction. But the worry and
responsibilities of public office in an unsettled and up-building
foster-republic, and the fatigue of constant activity, did not prevent
him giving himself up to our unrestrained enjoyment.
He gave us much information about Siam, where he was known as “I am, I
am, the great white minister at Siam.” He said that the Sultan of Siam
was very intelligent and progressive, that he had many wives but had
decreed that his son and successor should have but one, and thus had
shown that he possessed the courage of his convictions. Mr. Barrett
told us that he had seen Siamese babies smoking cigars six inches long,
and described a case in point. He said that elephants were not weaned
until they were three years old, were not grown up until they were
twenty, and that their working days were from thirty-three to sixty-six
years. He said that elephants were afraid of mice, and gave an instance
in which a mouse stampeded the royal herd, and it took six weeks to get
them back in line again. He told us that the white elephant was pink,
that the white was all in the white of his eye.
He and the other foreign diplomats dined once a week at the Emperor’s
table. Barrett’s regular seat was beside the Empress-in-chief, and
it fell to him to entertain her. In due time ordinary subjects of
conversation had been worn threadbare, and the Empress helped him
out by appointing a subject at each dinner for conversation at the
next, which enabled him to look up his vocabulary and his ideas. On
one occasion she asked him to give her some ideas on ladies’ hats.
He studied hats in the cyclopedia and dictionary during the few
stray moments of quiet and leisure he could find, and came to the
dinner feeling competent to address the Empress in her own language
on a feminine subject. But while he was discoursing eloquently about
hats, and mingling Oriental compliments with incidental wisdom, she
suddenly burst out laughing and kept on laughing until she burst some
stays. The Emperor then became intensely curious to learn how the
White Minister had done it. When finally the lady had gotten through
laughing she told him what Mr. Barrett had said, viz.: “Your Majesty
wears the most beautiful busts of any empress or queen in the Orient.
Their originality of shape and harmony of coloring have charmed many
an artist.” Mr. Barrett laughed also, thinking that he had pleased the
Empress, but later learned that he had used the word bust in place of
hat. However, he had not failed to amuse the Empress, which was quite a
distinction.
Apropos of hats, we asked him why he had not married. He said that he
preferred to be happy. His political duties already called upon him
to do many things that he knew nothing about, but had not yet exacted
that. He preferred to be a bachelor, and, as Doctor Waite expressed
it, he shone better as a solitaire. He had read somewhere that wives
talk in their sleep. He could endure any kind of babel or babble for
eighteen hours a day, but not for twenty-four.
He had a little joke played upon him at his dinner that was not
premeditated. The waiter was a quick and active man, as I suppose
everybody about Mr. Barrett must be, and served us rapidly and well.
But he got behind in his work and was hurried in serving the dessert,
and had allowed the water glasses to become empty. He rushed out after
water and in his haste grabbed a couple of bottles of white wine
instead of White Rock water, and filled our tumblers with it. Mr.
Barrett was busy talking and did notice the error. We were thirsty,
and as the wine was very mild and of excellent quality we gladly drank
it like water. I merely remarked that it was the best water I had
tasted in Panama. We were soon through eating, and just before arising
Mr. Barrett somewhat hastily took a large draught out of his tumbler.
He swallowed and cleared his throat and looked at us. But as we said
nothing, he said nothing, and he probably does not know to-day that we
drank his best wine like plain water.
After giving us another hour of instructive and amusing conversation
while sitting on the little Spanish balcony outside of the windows,
he accompanied us to the ball. Here were assembled the beauty and
talent of Panama. Preparations had been made for a grand dance and an
elaborate supper at many small square, and a few tête-à-tête tables. We
met nearly everybody we had met before and many that we had not, both
Panamanians and North Americans. The naval officers of the Battleship
Boston also added éclat to the occasion.
I had pleasant chats with our Chicago friends, Mr. and Mrs. Wallace.
They lived in a house owned by the U. S. government not far from Plaza
Centrál in the crowded part of the city. But Mr. Wallace had contrived
to get out of the crowd to a certain extent by going upwards. He
had built a sort of roof garden or open-air story on the top of the
house, and had made other improvements that rendered it in comfort,
although not in kind, as nearly equal to our North American homes as
is consistent with the climate. He was enthusiastic about his canal
work and apparently happy, and expecting to keep right on, although a
few months’ residence in Panama is a great disillusioner. Mrs. Wallace
seemed cheerful and contented in her new surroundings and apparently
enjoyed great popularity in society. Whether she would have been able
to stand the climate for ten or twelve years without injury to her
health, and whether he could have retained sufficient vigor during
such a long sweltering period to prosecute the work, must have been
a question of some concern to him. It certainly would have shortened
the natural course of his life somewhat and was not worth while unless
there was something in it for him besides money. Wealth is not his who
gets it, but his who enjoys it. He who gives a part and risks all of
his life, and sacrifices all of his comfort and enjoyment of life, and
does the work, deserves credit and appreciation.
At the time of the reorganization of the Canal Commission the
newspapers of the country were talking wildly about a hundred thousand
dollar man with power and authority to build the canal and build it
quickly. They spoke of finding him, but left Mr. Wallace practically
out of consideration. I do not doubt but this gave Mr. Wallace an
attack of dyspepsia and that he took a gloomy view of things and saw
himself at the end of four or five years with his health shattered by
struggles with climatic and Congressional influences and hindrances,
and discarded by a forgetful and impatient country. The country had
already begun to go back on his contract, and the understanding with
him, and I suppose he felt that he had the same right. If it was a
question of salary only, why earn it in Panama where red heat and
yellow fever were suggestive of future rewards and quick realization?
Twenty-five or thirty thousand dollars is a small sum for digging one’s
own grave and then not being allowed to occupy it. “To thine own self
be true; and ...”
CHAPTER IV
Congress Redivivus
Visit to the Culebra Cut--Culebra Ridge--Trying to Learn of Time
of Departure of Boats--Yellow Fever Causes Stampede--The Eastern
Contingent Arrives and Visits President Amador--All Is Lively
Again--Last Business Meeting that Was not the Last--The Great Eastern
Report--Another Meeting Voted--Wishing Well of Panama.
On Friday morning the _congresistas_ were taken to the Culebra cut to
learn how a little mountain could be gnawed in two, and show how a
big breakfast could be swallowed. As I had heard all there was to be
said about the cut and had gone through it slowly and comfortably on
an express train, I did not care to hurry through it on foot under a
hot sun; for after all there was more to be imagined than seen. As far
as the banquet was concerned there was more to be seen than could be
eaten, and my stomach needed rest, not exercise. But the others had had
more experience and practice in eating than in fasting or dieting, and
naturally preferred doing what they could do best.
But I can not pass this part of my narrative without indulging in a
digression--not to my stomach, but to the great Culebra[2] Mountain
Ridge, Nature’s pre-historic sea serpent, which had successfully stood
the test of earthquakes and volcanic action, and had held the impatient
oceans apart ever since it arose out of the open sea and divided them.
It was there when Columbus discovered the continent, when Cortez
fought, Pizarro crossed and Morgan plundered. It witnessed the moving
of all the gold that glutted Spain. It laughed at the engineering
schemes of explorers. It snored at the pickaxes and shovels of France.
It balked the tricks of trusts, the greed of commerce and the changes
of time. It is left for U. S. to conquer it. Let U. S. watch and pay.
Let U. S. smite the rock and start the water. Let U. S., the only
Americans, live up to our pretensions. The eyes of the world are upon
U. S. and the great Culebra, the dreaming dragon of Panama snores and
sings, “_Lass mich schlafen_.” Let U. S. be wiser than the serpent. Let
U. S. return with interest the gold that was carried away by Spain, and
our children shall conquer the great Culebra.
[2] Culebra is the Spanish for serpent.
I executed a little Chinese shopping after “coffee,” and did
considerable scouting, trying to learn something about the departure of
boats from Colón for New Orleans, but accomplished nothing definite. I
had written three days before to W. Andrews & Co., the agents at Colón,
and had just received an indefinite answer referring me to the Panama
_Estrella and Herald_, in which the arrivals would be announced. This
was quite unsatisfactory, for the time of departure was never known
until after the boats had arrived. And as they always departed as soon
as they had unloaded, and the consignments to Colón were frequently
small, I might not have time to get there after the notice had gone
through the delays of being printed at Panama nearly a hundred miles
from the port.
I ate my eleven o’clock breakfast in the usual way, and afterward took
my siesta in the usual way, and attended the three o’clock scientific
meeting in the usual way, feeling much more fit for mental exertion
than if I had breakfasted and bibbed in the Culebra cut. Papers
on General Medicine were read and our ignorance of life and death
scientifically expounded.
Yellow fever rumors and mosquito stories had been circulating since the
evening before and the ladies were becoming panicky and were clamoring
to return to Colón to be ready to catch the first ship for home.
Five fever patients and two suspects had been discovered and taken
to the hospital. Hence Doctor and Mrs. Brower, Doctor Waite, Doctor
Senn, Doctor and Mrs. Crile, Doctor Newman, Doctor Frank and several
others did not hesitate to take the afternoon train for Colón. I had
no fear of yellow fever and malaria since mosquitoes had corners on
these markets and had not bitten me, or at least had not succeeded in
penetrating through my skin. Panama mosquitoes are small and have short
stingers. Hence I concluded that it was safe to wait until the next
day, in order to see and say goodbye to the fashionable Easterners
when they “passed first base on their home run.”
About the time our afternoon session, which was the last of the
scientific ones, adjourned, the Eastern delegates arrived under the
guidance of the faithful and long-suffering President Icaza, who had
been at Colón waiting for them since the evening before. Those of us
who had remained accompanied the newly arrived delegates to President
Amador’s second complimentary reception, given in order that none of
the members might be slighted. Champagne was again passed around and
constituted the only refreshment connected with the congress that the
Easterners arrived in time to enjoy. And that probably did not come out
of the $25,000 barrel. The Westerners had done their duty.
At the hotel all was lively again, for the new arrivals more than
replaced those who had departed, both in numbers and animation. The
closing business meeting, scheduled for 8 P. M., was called to order
at nine in an immense scantily furnished corner room on the second
floor over the barroom. It was called the parlor. Ladies and guests
were present, and the majority of the men were in evening dress. The
army medical officers were dressed in white duck suits trimmed with
heavy white braid on the front edges of the jackets, on the shoulders,
cuffs and outer seams of the trouser legs. This white, fancy dress
suit constituted a tropical uniform of appropriate beauty and purity,
and was worn on full-dress occasions by government officials. A formal
speech was made by a delegate of each country represented, and finally
the Eastern contingent asked the privilege of making a report. The
favor was courteously granted.
Doctor MacDonald, of Greater New York, arose and began his report. But
the forgotten National band was in attendance below in the _patio_ and,
thinking it their turn, started playing, “There’ll Be a Hot Time in the
Old Town To-night,” so that although the doctor’s lips moved vigorously
and there was intelligence in his facial expression, no voice could be
heard. The secretary’s smile vanished for a moment as he rushed out on
the veranda of the _patio_ and waved the well-meaning musical patriots,
who had stuck to the congress closer than friends, to silence. When
order was restored and smiles smoothed out, the speaker began again.
“Mr. President! Members of the Fourth Pan-American Medical Congress!
Physicians of Panama! Conquerors and possessors of this beautiful waist
of our glorious continent, of which the United States is the bosom and
Brazil the bustle!
“On behalf of those who, like Achilles, have been beaten about by
unpropitious winds; on behalf of those who were unfortunate enough
to embark in an ancient ship called the Athos, built by Greeks and
navigated by dagoes, and renamed by us the Pathos, I wish to give
greetings, and submit our report to the North American members, the
Middle American members, and the South American member.
“Our classic ship had chosen December 12, 1904, at 11 A. M. to sail
from Baltimore, and promised to arrive at Colón the next year in time
for us to be here to breakfast with you at 11 A. M. But the ship left
one day late. It was bound for a Spanish country where to-morrow is
always in time, and where to-morrow never arrives. And the jealous
dagoes, not to be outdone by rivals or arrivals on the old Spanish
main, added another to-morrow, and another, knowing that they had only
doctors to deal with.
“And we, like good Samaritans and average physicians, allowed them to
do as they pleased, viz., to start late and put us in a special ship
that has not been seaworthy since the birth of Christ, and is good only
for doctors who are supposed to delight in resuscitating one another
when shipwrecked. And when we awoke on the day we were to arrive for
breakfast we, to our surprise, discovered that we were three days from
our destination. We consulted, we agreed, but we found no remedy. We
had no firearms about our persons, and only firewater at our disposal.
We had lances and poisons and corkscrews with us, but could only kill
time. And so we allowed the dagoes to live to bring us here.
“This, ladies and gentlemen, is our excuse which must, on account of
the importance of our mission, go on our records as a matter of history
and hysteria, for we had members of both sexes among us.
“But we are here, and desire to thank you for waiting for us, for
delaying President Amador’s reception until this afternoon, and the
opening exercises until this evening. We are glad to come in time to
assist you in honoring and emptying the $25,000 barrel.[3]
[3] The following newspaper clipping deserves to be preserved as a part
of the subsequent history of this remarkable boat:
FACE DANGERS OF OCEAN.
VACATION PARTY IN PERIL.
STEAMER ATHOS ARRIVES OFF SCOTLAND LIGHT-SHIP WITH A TALE OF WOE AND A
LOT OF SICK AND HUNGRY PASSENGERS.
“NEW YORK, Aug. 22.--The steamer Athos, seventeen days late, with
eight passengers, a cargo of rotten bananas and the bones of
half-eaten sharks on board, arrived off Scotland light-ship late last
night.
“July 30 the Donald Steamship Company’s steamer Athos left Port
Antonio, Jamaica, for New York, a six day’s voyage, with provisions in
plenty for this short period. Three hours out of port an eccentric rod
on the engine broke, and from that hour until last Sunday, proceeding
sometimes only an hour a day under her own steam, the Athos drifted
at the mercy of storms, in constant danger of famine, once without
drinking water, and receiving supplies from time to time from passing
vessels, until the disabled steamer gave up Aug. 20 and signaled the
Altai for a tow. This steamer brought the Athos to New York.
“The trouble was in the engine all the time. From July 30 to Aug. 7
one to two breaks daily were recorded. The log chronicles the fact
that the daily delay was only thirty minutes long Aug. 5. Two days
later the catching of the sharks is recorded. Chinamen on board
attempted to eat the sharks, but the meat made them ill and the fish
were thrown into the sea. During the next two days boats were lowered
from the Athos in search of food fish.
“BANANAS TAINT WATER.”
“Aug. 8 the disabled steamer sighted the steamship Adirondack and
signaled ‘All well on board,’ but Aug. 10 the last tank of water was
opened and was found to be tainted with the juice of rotting bananas.
Some dolphin were caught two days later, and Aug. 13 the incipient
famine was relieved by the steamer Montevideo, which supplied
provisions.
“Between Aug. 10 and 17 the engine’s shaft was useless, and not only
was the steamer forced to drift about while repairs were under way,
but for two days of this period a great storm and high seas broke over
the helpless steamship. The log meanwhile indicates that more dolphin
were caught. Aug. 18 the coupling flange broke and the Athos abandoned
the attempt to make New York under her own steam, after twenty days
of repeated accidents. It was decided to accept the first offer of a
tow. This did not come for two days, during which a second famine was
averted by the steamer Vera, which came alongside the Athos, supplying
food and drink.
“Worse even than the danger of famine and of thirst, the passengers
say, was the odor of the decaying banana cargo.
“At Scotland light-ship last night the tow line broke as a last
chapter in her long series of accidents, and the Athos could not
repair the broken line in the dark, but anchored for the night, while
the Altai brought her passengers to quarantine. To-day tugs were sent
out to bring the Athos into port.”
One of the _congresistas_ arose to a point of order and informed the
ancient orator of the Athos that we were celebrating the closing
session, that the meetings had been held, the contributions discussed
and the contents of the barrel dissipated.
MacDonald of Athos looked enquiringly at Icaza of Panama who,
understanding neither English nor Athos when spoken so fluently, smiled
politely and said nothing, while the band taking advantage of a moment
of silence, played enthusiastically and loudly.
“Mr. President,” he began again, when the band had done its duty, “I
am glad there is a _congresista_ left to tell the tale. I understand
that the previous deliberations of the congress have been carried on
by a minority (since the majority were in the Athos, now the Pathos,
holding majority meetings) and are therefore void. If they are not
void, I move that they be voided, and that the congress begin over
again.”
The secretary ventured to say that such was an impossibility since
there was nothing left of the $25,000 barrel but a barrel of beer, a
hundred bottles of White Rock, a can of evaporated cream, and half a
bottle of Mountain Dew.
“Then I withdraw my motion,” said the speaker, “and move that all
of the meetings held on the Athos, and afterward on the Pathos, be
reported in full to the secretary, and be constituted a part of the
transactions of the Fourth Pan-American Medical Congress.
The South American delegate arose and spoke against the motion as being
irregular and unparliamentary, and would establish a bad precedent. He
wished to place the vote of the entire continent of South America on
record against it.
Doctor MacDonald replied, saying that he spoke for North America. He
was from Greater New York, in which lived one out of every twenty-one
persons of the United States; the others lived out of town. Therefore,
in behalf of those he represented, he felt it his duty to insist upon
the motion. It would enable the Athosnians or Pathosnians (whichever
name might in the future prevail) to hold another closing scientific
session mañana for the presentation of the Pathos proceedings, and to
leave immediately afterward so as to reach Havana on the last day of
the meeting of the Pan-American Public Health Association--and be able
to do the same thing there. MacDonald was a born leader, and conducted
himself more like a man accustomed to dictate terms at the head of a
nation rather than at the head of a bed.
The president listened with rapt attention and, not understanding the
New York dialect, smiled politely in approval. Thereupon the secretary
put the motion and the Pathosnians, being in the majority, carried it.
The secretary explained the situation to the president, who smiled and
nodded, but whether ’twas with pleasure, displeasure or in sarcasm,
no one knew. A motion to adjourn to meet at 8 A. M. the next morning
prevailed. The band then played Mendelssohn’s “Wedding March” and the
meeting broke up brilliantly.
What transpired at the business meeting the next morning at 8 A. M., I
do not know, for I took the train for Colón at seven, fearing to delay
any longer lest in the meantime a ship might arrive and set sail with
my Chicago friends.
I was treated well by the Panamanians right up to the end, and will
always retain a kind feeling for them and their gentlemanly doctors. I
hope that Panama will apply for statehood in the United States in the
near future. We like the Panamanians, and wish to take them into our
family and share with them our prosperity, our affections and their
afflictions. Colombians are apt to distrust us and believe that we have
captured Panama, but they are mistaken. Panama has captured us and our
money, and we forgive them.
CHAPTER V
To See Ourselves as Others See Us
Comparisons--Our Countrymen Refined in Feeling but often Inconsiderate
in Conduct--Instances of the Latter Quality--Thoughtlessness and
Indifference in Public--Gourmands--Three Varieties--The Young
or Simple Gourmand--The Acquired or Temperamental Gourmand--The
Specialized or Calculating Gourmand--Dangers of Gourmandizing--Evading
the Results.
To be or not to be polite, that is the question.
Whether ’tis nobler in the mind to suffer
The slings and arrows of outrageous manners,
As the courteous Spaniard does before U. S.,
Or to take up arms against a sea of courtesy
And, by opposing, end it?--To smile--to--bow
No more;--and by such conduct end
The inconvenience and the thousand amenities
Politeness calls for--etc.
During the ride back to Colón on Saturday morning, instead of admiring
the scenery I fell into a sort of saturnine revery appropriate to
the winding up of a medico-social congress in a country in which
hospitality and its time-honored formalities had not yet suffered
deterioration. I had associated during my first week in Panama with
Spanish Americans and cabmen, and during the second week with my own
countrymen and, being in the proper mood, could not help making
comparisons. The Spanish Americans and cabmen had been polite and
courteous, while the manners of some of the no less worthy North
Americans had been as unpolished as their boots.
We have plenty of money as compared with these poor Panamanians, and we
know it; everybody knows it. We enjoy spending it freely entertaining
and “treating” friends and acquaintances, or in doing them favors, yet
we are apt to be exacting and businesslike in our casual relations with
strangers whose interests conflict with ours or who do not awaken our
sympathies. We generally know what ordinary politeness demands of us,
and practise it upon special occasions when we are on our behavior,
but we are too _natural_ to cultivate politeness for its own sake.
Society manners have for us a savor of insincerity, and we so often
neglect to assume its conventional forms that we finally forget to
do so and become impolite by habit. In crowds we push ahead, fail to
give others their rights and commit all sorts of petty improprieties.
In registering at a hotel or buying a ticket or choosing a seat in a
public place, we are apt to take advantage of those who politely take
their turn, unless we are reminded that we must not trespass, when we
may feel ashamed and subside. In Paris one is knocked down or put out
for such behavior. Hence, Parisians are polite.
At Hotel Centrál a copy of the daily newspaper was placed in the office
for reference in looking up announcements and news items, and was
kept carefully folded at one end of the counter, against an elevated
case, to show that it was not a stray paper. When the members of the
congress arrived it soon disappeared. A Westerner, who probably wished
to save his nickel and did not think of anything else, came out of the
dining-room after breakfast, saw it, took it up, carried it to the
front door, seated himself and read it for twenty minutes. He then put
it under him and sat on it. He might at least have returned the paper
for which he had not paid to its place. He would still have saved his
nickel. Probably he _knew_ better than he _did_, but had acquired the
habit of not stopping to think, and anyway didn’t care Adam.
Another instance of thoughtless conduct was that of a very prominent,
distinguished-looking physician whom I found sitting at my table one
evening when I came to dinner. He was waiting to be served, and sat
there with both elbows on the table, gazing dreamily at the ceiling
and nibbling at a crust of bread which he held in both hands. He was
probably tired--too tired, or perhaps too indifferent, to remember his
table manners. Besides there was no one else at the table, and those
about him at the other tables were all strangers; and what did he care
for them, so his elbows were rested and his hunger relieved.
American travelers will gladly pay a good price for a good meal or a
good room, yet will often sneak out of feeing the waiter or porter,
when they know it is the custom to give small fees. It may be wrong to
fee waiters, but the Bible says there is a time for everything.