SANTIAGO
It is not the intention of the writer in these pages to go into
a detailed and minute historical, geographical, and statistical
description of Chile. This will appear in a later work. Therefore
here will be taken up only those statistics, political conditions, and
geography that the reader should digest in following me on my trips.
The Republic of Chile, whose total length of 2660 miles is included
between latitudes 18° and 56° south, averages in width but 150 miles
which is the territory embraced between the summits of the Andes on the
east and the Pacific Ocean on the west. It is divided into twenty-four
provinces and one territory. Each of these provinces is in turn divided
into departments. Each of the provinces has its own governor and each
has its own representation in the national government at Santiago.
Of the twenty-four provinces, fifteen are latitudinal, stretching
the whole width of the country. From north to south these are Tacna,
Tarapacá, Antofagasta, Atacama, Coquimbo, Choapa, Aconcagua, Santiago,
Colchagua, Curico, Talca, Concepcion, Cautin, Valdivia, and Llanquihue.
Four provinces are maritime, Valparaiso, Maule, Arauco, and Chiloé;
their eastern limits are defined by the summits of the Coast Range and
do not extend to the central valley. Chiloé is an archipelago. In the
littoral provinces the climate is cooler than in others whose latitude
is farther south owing to the breezes that blow from the Pacific. Four
provinces are Andean, O'Higgins, Linares, Ñuble, and Bio-Bio. These
extend from the Argentine frontier westward to the central valley but
in no part do they ever reach the coast. There is only one interior
province, Malleco; it is absolutely surrounded by other provinces, and
neither extends to the ocean on the west nor to the mountain peaks on
the east.
[Illustration: Diagram Showing Idea of Central Valley of Chile in
Relationship to the Andes Mountains and the Coast Range, with Course of
Streams]
From Santiago southward 350 miles to the Bio-Bio River there is what
is known as the central valley; here in the cities, villages, and
country between the Andes and the Coast Range live two thirds of the
entire population of the republic. Although this central valley is
but one long valley and traversing it longitudinally from Santiago
to the Bio-Bio there is no marked difference in elevation, yet it is
not the valley of one single river, nor do any rivers run through it
lengthwise as do the San Joaquin and the Sacramento in California. This
valley is formed by the valleys of countless small rivers which cross
it and widening out midway between their sources and their mouths form
one large valley which has an average width of about sixty miles. The
geological theory is that in the pre-glacial period the small rivers
like to-day rushed headlong from the Andes into the ocean. The Coast
Range sprang up, but the rivers worked faster than the mountains grew,
so that their courses were not altered, and the Coast Range instead of
being one continuous range of mountains, even though it is a mountain
chain, became bunches of land islets, separated from one another by
streams.
Of the thirteen largest cities of Chile, only four are found in this
valley, Santiago, the metropolis, Talca, the sixth city in population,
Chillán, the seventh, and Curico, the twelfth. This signifies nothing
for although less than one third of the large towns are situated
here, yet the valley teems with towns that have between 1500 and
4000 inhabitants. The central valley is of remarkable fertility, but
although the soil is highly productive, irrigation is resorted to for
it seldom rains during the summer months. In the winter there is plenty
of rainfall. Owing to the great number of streams, most of which,
however, are unnavigable and all of which rise in the Andes, there
is plenty of water for irrigation. In their course to the ocean they
bring much silt which gives them a muddy color. In contrast to them
are the clear streams of transparent water which feed them. The latter
are mostly from springs in the foothills, and not having to cut their
way for any great distance carry no silt. The products of the central
valley are wine, fruits, cereals, and stock. A Californian whom I met
in Santiago said to me: "This central valley of Chile reminds me of
California, but it is more productive, and in a much more advanced
state of cultivation."
Southern Chile, as that part of the republic south of the Bio-Bio is
termed, is a rolling and mountainous land, originally forested and
still so in some sections. The altitude of perpetual snow is lower
here than farther north, and some of the mountain scenery excels that
of Switzerland. It has an abundance of rainfall not restricted to
seasons so irrigation is unnecessary. The country is largely devoted to
the growing of cereals, especially barley, and to dairy farming. The
climate, never too warm in summer, is in winter that of the Central
States of the Union. No tropical fruits and plants grow there, but
many apples are grown. The farmers are mostly Germans who have lived
there for three generations and have still retained the customs of the
fatherland.
[Illustration: Scenery, Central Valley of Chile]
Of northern Chile, nothing much needs to be said. From La Serena
northward it is one large sterile tract of land, with the exception
of a few river valleys where there is verdure and vegetation, such as
at Tacna, Copiapó, and Vallenar. It is one large desert and ranges of
barren mountains rising to a great height, and on whose lower slopes
on plateaus is found most of the world's nitrate of sodium supply. In
the higher altitudes are borax fields and great mineral deposits of
copper, silver, and gold. The coast is absolutely rainless and water is
unobtainable by wells. It seldom rains even in the interior. The small
rivers formed by the melting of the snow on high mountain peaks lose
themselves in the sands and seldom reach the ocean. Near their upper
reaches water is piped from them to the coast towns, which are at a
great distance. It is thus that Iquique, Tocopilla, and the thriving
port of Antofagasta get their water supply.
[Illustration: Village Scene, Central Chile.]
The area of Chile is 289,829 square miles, about the size of the
States of Texas and Arkansas combined, but the opposite to them in
geographical contour. The population December 31, 1915, was 3,641,477
or 12.57 inhabitants to the square mile.
Each locality in Chile is famous for some special natural production
or manufacture. Bywords denote the superiority of one article over
others of a like species such as: Black pottery from Chillán, reed
baskets from Linares, beer from Valdivia, marble from Valparaiso, cider
and butter from Osorno, figs from Huasco, and frutillas from Puerto
Varas. (Frutilla is the name given to a diminutive and highly flavored
strawberry that grows both wild and in the domestic state.)
Chile has a system of longitudinal railways, nearly completed, which
are of the greatest military value. Nearly two thousand miles from
Puerto Montt in the south to Tacna in the north, with the exception
of a short stretch between Pisagua and Arica, are open to traffic,
and at no place do they touch the sea excepting at Coquimbo and their
terminals. In quick time troops and ammunition can be moved to any
part of the republic. There are many spurs and branch lines that run
to the coast, to the mining centers, and to the numerous inland towns.
Most of the railroads are broad gauge; some are both broad and narrow;
others are narrow, while in the central valley there are a few light
railways, for example the one between Linares and Panimávida, and
the coöperative railway in the Province of Ñuble. There is a heavy
traffic both in freight and in passengers, but sad to relate, most of
the railways owned by the government, which constitute the majority,
are run at a loss. This is caused in a great measure by the large
personnel employed, most of whom are the henchmen of the politicians
in power in Santiago. To overcome the monetary loss, one half of
the regular number of trains have been taken off from the service
schedule so that at the time of this writing one cannot enjoy a ride
from Santiago to Concepcion on an express train or in a Pullman car as
previously. The only express trains are those that run between Santiago
and Valparaiso and vice versa. Even though but one half of the trains
are still in operation, the State lines are still showing a deficit,
and there is talk of leasing them to private corporations. The cars
are mostly of American manufacture although some of the sleeping cars
are English. The locomotives, formerly German, are now for the most
part manufactured in Valparaiso. The narrow gauge lines in the north,
which are in the nitrate regions, all pay for they are of private
ownership and there is no chance of giving unnecessary employment. The
Transandine Railroad, narrow gauge, which formerly had trains running
thrice a week from Los Andes to Mendoza, Argentina, now has through
trains only once a week, and the trip is made in the daytime on account
of dangerous curves.
[Illustration: The Valdivia Breweries Company, Valdivia
Formerly the Anwandter Brewery]
There is but little manufacturing in Chile, most of it being
centralized in Valparaiso. The great drawback is on account of the lack
of iron; some of this mineral has been discovered in the Province of
Coquimbo, and I understand that the property known as La Higuera is on
a paying basis. There is plenty of coal, the mines at Lota being the
largest, but it is of an inferior quality. Outside of Valparaiso, the
only manufactures of importance are those of beer and flour. In this
respect the manufacturing conditions are similar to those of Argentina.
Nearly every small town in the grain belt, the country lying south of
the Bio-Bio, has its flour mills; as the brewing business is in the
hands of a trust, there is but a small opportunity in this field unless
one starts with considerable capital. The beer trust, capitalized at
18,000,000 pesos ($3,070,800) paid in, includes all the large breweries
in Chile excepting two firms, that of Aubel in Osorno which is
flourishing as an independent brewery and that of Keller which has two
breweries, one in Concepcion and the other in Talca. Those belonging
to the trust are the United Breweries Company in Limache-Cousiño, the
Valdivia Breweries Company in Valdivia, the Andres Ebner Brewery in
Santiago, the Calera Brewery in Calera, and the Floto Brewery in La
Serena, the last named being a small one. Scattered through Chile are
a good number of independent breweries all run on a small scale and
catering only to local trade such as Horstmann's Brewery in Santiago, a
brewery in San Felipe, one in Chillán, one in La Union, one in Puerto
Montt, and two in Punta Arenas. Since the Anwandter firm in Valdivia
sold out to the trust their successors brew a much better beer than
previously was brewed there, but I am sorry to say that the product of
one of the trust breweries, that of Calera, is vileness incarnate. Beer
is cheap in Chile, three cents buying a schuper, but it likewise is
apt to go to the head and make the imbiber see double lamp-posts. The
German residents claim that it is mild, yet I have seen many of them
unable to pace a crack in the floor after imbibing a few libations of
it. The saloons in Santiago do a big business but they have to pay a
high rent which cuts into their profits.
Regarding the inhabitants, the Chileno is called the Yankee of South
America. He is not afraid of work, consequently steamship companies
like to employ him, because for less pay he will do more work than
any person of any nationality will do, including North Americans. He
is the only native south of Texas who if hit will come back at his
aggressor. In behavior he is apt to be rough and coarse (this does not
apply to the aristocracy), but rarely is he uncivil. Many Chilenos ape
the tonsorial adornment of a man who died in the year 33 A.D., but I do
not believe their actions jibe with his if what we read in history is
true. The women are beautiful; they have no comparison anywhere else in
the whole world. They have dark complexions, are finely featured, and
are voluptuous. A poor figure is unknown among them. If a man prefers
a different type than the average he can go to southern Chile and have
the choice of a dark red-cheeked Araucanian maiden or a native girl
of German extraction, whose eyes are like the still deep water of a
pool, and whose cheeks have that rosy tinge of a ripening apple. In
the railway eating-house in Rancagua, I met a man from Thomasville,
Georgia, who said that on account of the looks of the Chilean women, he
would lose his religion if he remained much longer in the country. I do
not know what his religion was, but their beauty is enough to affect a
man's head.
One of the Chilean institutions that bears comment is that of the table
waiters in the hotels and restaurants. It needs serious improvement.
The waiters are a white-aproned, moustached, whiskered set who go
after and bring back food on the run. They never walk and vie with
one another to make the most noise and bring their feet down heaviest
after taking orders. The waiter takes your order on the run, slams the
food in front of you on the run, takes your money on the run, accepts
his tip and thanks you on the run. In Europe and in the United States,
these actions would not be tolerated in a first-class café. In Chile,
however, these are the instructions given to the waiters when they seek
employment.
In the larger towns, especially in Santiago and in Valparaiso, there
is a great illegitimacy of births among the lower classes. This is
due to the inconstant actions of the men. For instance a poor laborer
will marry a girl and live with her several years, during which time
she will become the mother of several children. The husband in the
meantime finding that the support of a family leaves him with no
pocket money to indulge in his periodical debauches, all of a sudden,
without saying anything to his wife, deserts her and strikes out for
the country where he obtains employment. He rarely comes back. The
poor wife, left destitute with several offspring, has a hard time
making a living. Other young women, cognizant of the fickle actions of
the men, prefer living with them outside of wedlock, for if the man
deserts her a woman still has a chance of getting married, while if
she was once married, it would be impossible for her to marry again,
because there is no divorce law in Chile. I have known of people in
Chile who desired a divorce being obliged to go to Uruguay to live as
I understand that is the only republic in South America where divorces
are granted. As to morals I imagine Chile is no worse off than any
other country, excepting among the lower element. Speaking of them to a
friend of mine, one of the most prominent men in Valparaiso and a high
official of the Pacific Steam Navigation Company, he said: "Among the
lower class there is but little distinction between the women who are
virtuous and those who are not. The former are always on the _qui vive_
to increase their income providing they do not get caught at it."
Among this stratum the Fiesta of the Angelito (Feast of the Little
Angel) plays an important rôle. They maintain that if a child dies it
becomes a little angel, and many of the poor to whom the expense of
rearing a superfluous child is a burden welcome its decease although
they do much wailing at the funeral. They welcome it for they have a
chance to make some money and also indulge in an alcoholic debauch.
When the child dies the parents invite all their friends to their
home. Great quantities of cheap wine are ordered and consumed. Each
friend gives as much money as he can afford toward the burial expenses
and towards the purchase of the liquid refreshments. A drunken orgy
lasting all night takes place. After it is over and the body is buried,
the parents have money left over. Owing to the high mortality among
infants, on account of neglect, malnutrition, and ever present typhoid
fever, these Fiestas of the Angelito are of frequent occurrence in
every neighborhood.
Chile is the only country in South America which has strict prohibition
laws. There are quite a few localities that are "dry." Saloons are
closed all day Sundays; bars also close early at night. The penalties
for breaking these laws are heavy, yet in no other country in South
America, with the exception of Peru, is there as much drunkenness as
in Chile, and all these other countries have no prohibition laws, and
their towns are wide open.
The reception given at Santiago to the occupants of the private train
from Buenos Aires bearing the special ambassadors and their staff to
the installation of Chile's president was tremendous. As the train
rolled into the great and high vaulted Mapocho station amid the
fanfare and beating of drums, martial music broke out and rent the
air with the national march. Great sturdy, powerfully built blonde
officers, helmeted, in their full dress uniforms, exact replicas of
the German army of a decade ago, grouped themselves on the platform
to greet the guests. Their subordinates stood at attention until the
last of the officers who had boarded the train at Los Andes left
the train. In the background stood symmetrical rows of policemen
parting a human aisle down which we passed to the vigorous blasts
of a band. Thousands of people cried "Hurrah" which was echoed and
reëchoed through the lofty waiting room of the great building. At the
windows and on the street behind the iron grating of the train shed
were squeezed myriads of faces endeavoring to catch a view of the
impressive spectacle. At the curb outside the station doors, to where
the guests had already advanced, stood dignified statesmen in Prince
Alberts awaiting the arrival of the automobiles from the Ministries
of Brazil and of Argentina which were to drive the envoys of those
two respective countries away. Soon several limousines arrived, their
chauffeurs decorated with large rosettes of green and yellow, and blue
and white, the symbolical colors of those two large South American
republics. There was no car whose driver was adorned with red, the
color of Portugal, for that last-named country has no minister to Chile
solely (their representative to Buenos Aires looks after the affairs
of Portuguese in Chile), so little Botelho was obliged to take a
non-decorated automobile which drove him and de Lima to the Hotel Oddo,
to which place Mr. Alexander and myself also went.
The military pageant which continued throughout the ensuing week
was most impressive. The Chilean army, trained by German officers,
and their navy by British officers, are always prepared and on the
alert for any infringements on their national rights. Chile is the
strongest fighting power in South America, and has the best military
organization. Its men are born fighters who have the advantage of
superior training. The whole personnel and equipment of their army can
undoubtedly put in the background any country in the world which has a
population double that of Chile. The Brazilian and Argentine officers
and soldiers taken as a whole show up mighty poorly compared to those
of Chile. Here we have a reproduction of the German army on a small
scale. The uniforms are similar to those that Germany had before the
latter country adapted the gray color. It is interesting to note that
von der Goltz, who reorganized the Turkish army at the time of the
Balkan War, had been once loaned by Germany to Chile to bring its army
to a state of efficiency.
[Illustration: Santa Lucia Hill, Santiago
This is a veritable land mountain. It rises abruptly about 200 feet
from the floor of the Mapocho Valley, the latter being as flat as a
table top. Its area in size of a few city blocks has been transformed
into a park. From the summit the vista is superb.]
The city of Santiago is compactly and massively built within the
small area which constitutes that part of terrain included within
the city limits. The streets are invariably straight, forming square
and rectangular blocks of houses whose average height of two stories
forms an even sky line. Although there are several different styles
of architecture prevailing in the residences, the old Spanish type
predominating, yet there is a great and unmistakable similarity as
to the appearance of the streets. The business section is a direct
contradiction to the residential part in so far that it is modern and
is becoming more so. Here the buildings are three and four stories in
height and a look down either of the streets that are named Ahumada and
Estado leaves an impression of Vienna although it is a concrete instead
of a stone one. In several other parts of the city this similarity
is present for the long fronts of divers beneficial societies and the
towers of churches and convents present a scene very much like that of
the Austrian capital.
The population of Santiago is slightly over four hundred thousand.
The growth of the city as well as of the other towns of the central
valley is imperceptible. It has been this way for ages. There is little
immigration to Chile, and that which does come in, goes either to the
northern or southern provinces of the republic where labor conditions
are better. With the exception of the business section, Santiago is
an extremely reserved, conservative, and quiet old place. It can also
be called serious. After nine o'clock at night, even on the Ahumada,
all is quiet, a pleasant contrast to the din and racket of Buenos
Aires, which murders the darkness, making sleep impossible. There is
but little gayety about the Chilean metropolis; the aristocracy of
the city, which can boast of the purest white blood of any American
capital, form a society into which a foreigner, no matter how prominent
his antecedents are, is seldom admitted. This dignified aristocracy
constitute the brains of the country and control the politics.
Prominent in the affairs of state, finance, and daily doings are the
names Vergara, Edwards, Sanfuentes, Subercaseaux, Sotomayor, Balmaceda,
Montt, Tocornal, and Luco. Their mansions, the pride of Chile, are not
located on show places like the Alameda or in what we would call the
fashionable suburbs, but are situated on those downtown streets which
fringe the business section. Their stateliness seems to exhale an air
of their own. Excepting Buenos Aires no South American city has as fine
a collection of private residences.
[Illustration: General View of Santiago from Santa Lucia Hill]
[Illustration: Alameda, Santiago]
[Illustration: Calle Huerfanos, Santiago
This is one of the principal side streets of the Chilean metropolis. It
crosses the two main streets, Ahumada and Estado, and after these two
is the principal retail street of the city]
The Avenida de las Delicias, called the Alameda, runs east and west,
and divides Santiago into two nearly equal parts. The quarter of the
city lying north of it is the mercantile part, while that south of it
is the residential district. This broad avenue, which inside the city
limits is two miles long, is in some places at least one hundred yards
wide. Its center is a broad unpaved parkway, bordered by ancient trees;
its hard dirt walks constitute the rambla of the inhabitants evenings.
At short intervals are statues, some of them being very fine. Vendors
of cigars, cakes, soft drinks, and magazines have established booths
here, and it is a very common sight to see men freezing ice cream under
the trees. The benches are of concrete and are plastered over; when a
person with a dark suit sits on one of them he generally departs with a
white daub on the seat of his trousers. Along both sides of the parkway
are wide carriage roads, the paving of which is full of holes and ruts,
making driving uncomfortable. On the whole the Alameda falls short of
what can be called beautiful for although it is flanked by some very
handsome residences yet between them are sandwiched many second-class
shops. This avenue is essential for Santiago for it affords a breathing
space for the overpopulated city as the parks are quite a distance
from downtown and the Plaza de Armas is nearly always crowded during
the heat of the day. At the western city limits where the name of
the Alameda changes from that of Avenida de las Delicias to Avenida
Latorre is the large glass-roofed train shed and station of Alameda,
the principal one of Santiago, whence all passengers for southern Chile
depart. Near the eastern city limits the Alameda becomes the Avenida de
la Providencia. It here reaches the muddy Mapocho River, whose southern
bank it skirts, and continuing into the country enters the defile of
its headwaters.
[Illustration: Calle Ejercito Liberador, Santiago
This is one of the main residence streets. The residence on the right
is that of Don Luis Tocornal]
[Illustration: Modern Residence on the Alameda, Santiago]
One of the most curious freaks to be found anywhere is the Cerro de
Santa Lucia which rises abruptly about two hundred feet from the very
center of the plain on which Santiago stands, and is well within the
city limits. This hill has been created into a beautiful park with
every imaginable species of native tree, and has within its confines
grottoes, groups of rocks, lookout towers, and statues, those of
Caupolican and of Valdivia being the best. No stranger to Santiago
should fail to walk to its summit, especially at evening when the sun
casts its rays on the high Andes in the background. There is a small
admission fee to be paid on entering the park at the Cerro de Santa
Lucia, but it is well worth it. On the hill is a restaurant café which
is popular with the public on summer nights, for on its terrace one can
take meals out-of-doors.
I was specially fortunate in being able to see the ceremonies
pertaining to the installation of the new President, Señor Don Juan
Luis Sanfuentes, having obtained an excellent seat through the kindness
of the American Ambassador, Honorable Henry Prather Fletcher. I
acquired a reserved seat in the Capitol in close proximity to the whole
proceedings. There is no inauguration like in Washington. In a lofty
rectangular hall of the Capitol, called the Camara de Diputados, there
are arranged, on both sides of a carpeted open space, seats in order,
which during the sessions of Congress are occupied by deputies. These
seats on December 23, 1915, were occupied by their proper holders.
In seats of honor near the west end of the hall sat the ambassadors,
ministers, and attachés of the foreign powers. At the extreme west end
was a platform with several arm-chairs. On all four sides of this high
room rose balconies, those on the north and south having two tiers
while those on the east and west had one tier. They were packed to
overcrowding with the invited guests of the deputies and statesmen,
many of the occupants of the seats being ladies. At two o'clock sharp
there was a sudden hush to the conversations of those present. The
ranks at the north door stood aside, and through their opening tottered
the aged Ramon Barros Luco in dress suit, the red, white, and blue
tricolor of Chile fastened obliquely on his white stiff bosomed shirt.
The applause was great. Following quickly in his footsteps came several
members of his cabinet; all crossed the carpeted room and seated
themselves on the platform.
[Illustration: Fountain in Santiago
The magnificent residence on the left is that of the Subercaseaux
family]
[Illustration: President Don Juan Luis Sanfuentes of Chile with Cabinet]
The applause started again and amidst yells, cheers, and the stamping
of hundreds of feet there came through the again opened ranks of the
crowd at the north door a large, stout, red-faced man past middle
age with gray hair and moustache of the same color, Don Juan Luis
Sanfuentes, followed by his new cabinet, a mitered archbishop in robes
of purple and red, and several purple-robed bishops. Sanfuentes took
his seat on the platform to the right of Luco. Two short speeches were
made by statesmen; Luco then rose and taking off his tricolor handed
it to Sanfuentes who pinned it on himself and changed seats with the
former President. Thus at this transmission of command which takes the
place of our presidential inauguration, Sanfuentes became President
of Chile; his term does not expire until December 23, 1920. The whole
ceremony lasted less than twenty minutes.
[Illustration: Monument of Don Pedro Montt, Cementerio Jeneral,
Santiago]
From the Capitol the procession went to the cathedral where the
archbishop held mass and delivered his blessing, for Chile is still
allied to the Roman Catholic Church. There was a great street parade
after this ceremony. I viewed it from a balcony on the Ahumada down
which street it marched. It was really very good. Helmeted German
officers galloped back and forth giving orders, while a cordon of
blue-jacketed, white-trousered policemen held the sidewalk mob back
by means of ropes strung lengthwise the whole block. No procession
ever lacks something of the ridiculous. It was in evidence this
day. Scarcely had the presidential victoria passed when a limousine
automobile containing high officials appeared. To its running board
clung a large, middle-aged, drunken monk, his black and white garments
tied together by a cord, flowing in the breeze. This hideous spectacle
had reached a spot underneath the balcony where I was standing, when
a dignified man wearing a silk hat stepped from the crowd and grabbed
the inebriated fool, dragging him from the running board. A good-sized
crowd hissed the monk as with staggering steps he betook himself to the
sidelines.
[Illustration: View Looking West on Compañia Street from Estado at the
Plaza de Armas, Santiago
The large building prominent in this picture is the Portal Fernans.
Its ground floor beneath the arcades is given up to small shops
and vendors' booths. It faces the south side of the Plaza de Armas,
Santiago's most prominent square]
With the exception of two military parades which I had previously seen
in Europe, that which took place at 6 P.M. the next day at the Parque
Cousiño in front of the temporary grandstand and which was reviewed
by the President was the finest that I had ever witnessed. Picture
to yourself a large hard dirt oval parade ground, half a mile long
by nearly as wide; imagine this oval to be bristling with the lances
of cavalry and glittering with the bright light of polished weapons.
Picture in the foreground a small grandstand of lumber draped with the
red, white, and blue Chilean flags; imagine this grandstand filled with
beautiful ladies in gowns of the latest creations, whiskered gentlemen
in silk hats, and army officers in full dress uniform. Behind this
scene imagine a forest of pine and eucalyptus above whose dark green
crests tower high brown, barren, snow-capped mountains. This is the
scene that unfolded itself to the spectator of that memorable military
review.
[Illustration: Cathedral Street, Santiago
This view is looking west from the Plaza de Armas. The edifice with the
twin towers is the cathedral; that in the immediate foreground on the
right is the city hall; the building beyond it with the clock tower is
the post office.]
Long before the President drove up in his victoria, the buzzing of
airships caused one to look up and there at a height of two thousand
feet five of these mechanical birds were disporting themselves. All
hats came off, and there was a great clapping of hands when Sanfuentes
arrived. He drove twice around the parade ground and finally stopped in
front of the grandstand. First came in review before him four companies
of the military school in uniform of light blue coats with white
trousers and white horsehair high hats; next came innumerable infantry
companies each preceded by a brass band which stood to one side as the
columns marched by. The infantry was followed by the artillery which
came by at a gallop, smothering the field in a cloud of dust. This
and the cavalry which followed seemed to be the most admired by the
spectators, judging from the cheers which greeted them.
I wish to state that in the choice of Honorable Henry Prather Fletcher,
who at the time of this writing is United States Ambassador to Mexico,
he having left Chile in 1916, our government should be credited with
having made such an admirable selection. He is as fine a representative
of man as exists in the diplomatic service of any country. When I was
in Chile in 1912, a certain gossiping old woman, the daughter of one of
Chile's former presidents, knocked him to me, and I being a stranger
was fool enough to believe her. At my first meeting with Mr. Fletcher
in December, 1915, I at once saw what caliber of man he is, and have
felt like kicking myself ever since for believing Doña Anna Swinburne
de Jordan. I came to Santiago in 1915 absolutely unknown to Mr.
Fletcher, and he showed me great kindness in procuring for me admission
to the different ceremonies pertinent to the installation of the new
President besides entertaining me at his own residence.
I met two of his secretaries to the embassy, a Mr. Martin, who seemed
to be a fine clean-cut young man, and a fellow named Johnston or
Johnson, I being mixed in his surname because I never took the trouble
to recall it. This Johnston was the worst snob that I ever recollect to
have met. While I was at the embassy in the presence of Mr. Fletcher
he was extremely cordial and agreeable, and even invited me to dine
with him at his club to which he was going to procure me a card. The
next day Mr. Henry Alexander of Philadelphia and I were walking along
Bandera Street near the Capitol when we happened accidentally to meet
Johnston who was approaching us from the direction we were walking in.
He was dressed in a Prince Albert and a high silk hat crowned his tall,
slim figure. We greeted him but he returned our salutations with the
curtest imitation of a nod possible. I met him a dozen times afterwards
by accident, sometimes on the street and sometimes at the Grand Hotel
where he generally dined at noon. All these times he cut me dead as if
he had never seen me before. Later I had the next seat to him on the
Pullman car on a train but he did not deign to recognize my presence,
even though he had been most affable in his treatment of me while I was
a guest of Mr. Fletcher.
Santiago, although it is a pleasant and agreeable place with a most
benign climate, I am sorry to say is none too clean nor are its streets
well kept up. In the Alameda there are big holes in the asphalt, and
the cobblestones on the side streets are uneven and out of place. Many
of the streets are not paved. There are holes in some of the sidewalks
where a pedestrian is apt to sprain his ankle, and there is much refuse
dirt and filth accumulated along the curbs. There are no alleys in the
city so the inhabitants deposit the swill in iron pails. The garbage
man comes along with his wagon every morning and stopping in front of
every house rings a bell to let the inmates know of his presence so
that they can bring out the pails. On the poorer lighted side streets
inhabitants perform the calls of Nature on the sidewalks, in the middle
of the road, and against the sides of the buildings, which besides
being unsanitary causes hideous stenches. There is always a good
complement of typhoid fever in the Chilean and Peruvian towns so while
on my visit at the time of the presidential installation I warned my
servant, O'Brien, to drink mineral water instead of that of the city
supply. The latter evidently interpreted other drinks in the clause for
when I came to settle my bill at the Hotel Oddo, I found that he had
run up a considerable wine bill which necessitated me to dispense with
his services.
The stature of the Santiaguinos is much greater than that of the
inhabitants of Buenos Aires. It is in every respect equal to the North
American standard. The _profanum vulgus_ are apt to be rough, showing
their independence. One observes quite a few red-haired natives, which
denotes that in the course of genealogy one or more of their maternal
ancestors have been chased by Irishmen. The women outnumber the men and
are well formed and comely, many being beautiful. I prefer the looks
of the Chilenas to those of any other women in South America. In 1912
in Santiago there were but few Germans and the number of foreigners
was exceedingly small. In 1916 the city was teeming with Germans and
they outnumbered all the other foreigners put together. In Valparaiso
in 1915 the English and German residents of that port had a street
fight. The tram company was a German syndicate and the natives, angered
by the car fare rates, which they thought were excessive, sided with
the English and rose against the Teutonic element. A riot followed in
which some windows were broken and there was a certain local sentiment
against the Germans which became so strong that it caused an exodus
of a great many of them to Santiago. Also many of the crews of the
interned German merchantmen left their ships and came to Santiago and
other towns of the interior where they have established themselves
in business, many of them having become proprietors of hotels,
restaurants, and beer saloons. They have prospered and have taken out
citizenship papers, preferring to remain in Chile than in their own
country.
[Illustration: Mapocho River near Santiago]
There was a German immigration to Chile in 1848, and another one in
1866. Both of these exoduses were due to the oppression of the military
system in the old country and it is safe to surmise that there will be
another such exodus to Chile at the end of the present war. I have read
statements that one quarter of Chile's population is either German or
of direct German extraction. This seems to be an exaggeration, although
I believe that one fourth of the population has some German blood.
The Grand Hotel, which is on Calle Huerfanos, not far from the main
business section is the only first-class hotel in Santiago. It is owned
by Emil Kehle, an American. He and his sister have the Hotel Royal in
Valparaiso which is the best hotel in that port. This Grand Hotel which
is comfortable has good rooms, and board and is homelike in atmosphere.
I liked it so well that in the spring of 1916, I stopped there two
months. The Willard party, which was the family of our ambassador to
Spain, and Kermit Roosevelt, arrived in Santiago while I was there and
likewise stopped at Mr. Kehle's hostelry.
On my trip to Santiago in 1915, I was not aware that Mr. Kehle had a
hotel in that city, so I went to the Oddo where I had previously stayed
on a former visit. The rooms in the Oddo were good but I am sorry to
say that the cuisine and dining room service was execrable. Unkempt
and unshaven waiters dropped food from the platters onto the floor,
and clumsily running to serve a guest would slip in the spilled soup
and drop plates of unsavory and indescribable edibles to the din of
broken dishes. For seventy years this hotel had been in existence, the
last twenty-five of them under the proprietorship of the French family
of Girard. The bung-eyed but accommodating daughter told me that on
January 3, 1916, this hotel would close its doors for good. "We are
returning to France to live as we have worked long enough," she said.
Yet, however, when I came back to Santiago in March, 1916, they hadn't
returned to France and the Oddo was still running, though minus its
dining room. The other hotels are the Milan, well spoken of, and the
Melossi near the Alameda Station, poorly located as it is too far from
the center of activity.
The restaurants are fair, that named the Club Santiago being good.
The Restaurant Niza is fair. It is owned by a Spaniard who, if the
guest does not understand the local name of the meat on the menu,
will demonstrate on his own fat physiology that part from which the
succulent morsel is taken. There is a good restaurant in the Palacio
Urmaneta. It must be taken under consideration that ladies do not
frequent these places unaccompanied for no other reason solely than
that it is the custom of the country. They generally take their meals
in the hotel dining rooms.
I met a North American university professor in Santiago who was always
kicking because he did not know enough Spanish to order what he wanted
to eat. He was stopping at the Oddo and the food there was so vile that
he could not digest it. He was wishing that there was an American hotel
in the city and this being in 1915, and I not knowing that Mr. Kehle
had the Grand Hotel, knew of no place where I could recommend him to
go. One morning, however, he burst into my room and proffering me a
card told me to read it.
"See what I've got," he cried in glee; "a nice-looking woman handed it
to me on the street."
I took the piece of pasteboard that he so eagerly extended to me. It
was about an inch long and half as wide. The printed inscription on it
read: "Pension Norte Americana" giving street name and number. I turned
to the professor and said: "It reads, North American boarding-house
with the number of the street."
"Just what I thought," he said. "It's the very thing I want. I
certainly would like to be among my fellow countrymen again, and
now that the Oddo is closing its doors, I shall go there at once and
inquire about the terms." He did, and immediately upon admittance was
pounced upon by four ladies of pleasure.
This is an example of one of the means by which brothels are touted in
Santiago.
The Chilean capital is a rat warren; rodents abound everywhere. Most
of the buildings being adobe, these animals have bored holes all
through the walls and have perforated the foundations. I do not believe
that New Orleans in its rattiest days ever had anywhere near such a
large population of the family Muridæ as Santiago at the present time
possesses. Lying in bed nights one is kept awake by the patter of their
little feet as they run across the corrugated iron roofs mingled with
their sharp squeals. Oftentimes looking out of the window at night,
their long tails can be seen silhouetted in the moonlight hanging over
the window-tops.
The death rate of Santiago is high, excessively so in infantile
diseases which cause the largest mortality toll. The rate for all Chile
is 29.4 per thousand inhabitants, while that of Santiago alone is 36.7.
Only one South American city of which any record is kept surpasses it
in this negligible respect, that being Lima, Peru, with a death rate of
51 per thousand inhabitants. Even Guayaquil, notorious for yellow fever
and bubonic plague, has a better record than these two last-mentioned
cities, which have no yellow fever, and Santiago minus bubonic plague.
Typhoid fever is always prevalent in the Chilean capital, but I doubt
if it is as malignant as in North America, on account of its being so
common. This large death rate is mostly among the lower classes who are
ignorant and have no knowledge of sanitation. Longevity is more common
than in any other South American capital with the possible exception of
Rio de Janeiro which is testimony that if a person survives childhood,
a healthy old age is allotted him.
The cemetery named the Cementerio Jeneral is the largest in
Christendom, not in area but in the number of bodies interred. It is
exceeded in size by only one other cemetery in the world, that one
being the Mohammedan cemetery in Scutari in Asia across the Bosporus
from Constantinople. In fineness of its monuments it is only surpassed
by the Campo Santo in Genoa and the Recoleta in Buenos Aires. The
nature of the Santiago cemetery is entirely different from these
last-mentioned two. It is not a rivalry between the grave lot owners
who shall have the most expensive allegorical marble sculpture as in
Genoa, but is a vast conglomeration of brick tombs, some of them being
veritable mausoleums. Here are buried the most famous families of
Chile. The Chilenos make a great deal of ceremony about their dead. A
poor family will stint itself for years to accumulate enough lucre to
erect a proper sepulchre. It will spend $10,000 to build a monument,
while for $1000 it could place in their dwelling a modern sanitary
system, which when installed would do away with the cause that would
lead the person to be buried beneath the monument. This cemetery is
divided by straight walks into square blocks; at the intersection
of each of these walks is a cross or a fountain. Cedars, pines,
eucalyptus, cypresses, boxwood, and other funereal trees abound; there
are also beds of brilliant flowers. The tomb of ex-president Don Pedro
Montt who died in Bremen, August, 1910, is here; it is a tall monolith
with a glazed green and brown tile frieze. There is a morgue near the
left entrance to the cemetery and the stench of the ripe corpses is
decidedly odoriferous.
About ten miles northeast of Santiago on the slopes of the Andes
are the springs of Apoquindo, visited much by the inhabitants of
the capital Sunday afternoons. The trip is worth while making once,
but that is sufficient, for the poor condition of the country roads
together with the dust take away much of the pleasure of the drive.
The best road leads through the city of Providencia, which adjoins
Santiago on the east and which is so much like a continuation of the
capital that it is impossible to tell without looking at a map where
the boundary line between the two cities is. At the Avenida Pedro de
Valdivia, a broad boulevard on which are magnificent villas and the
summer homes of the wealthy Santiaguinos one turns to the right and
keeps straight ahead until the main street of Nuñoa is reached. Nuñoa
is a town of nine thousand inhabitants, a mixture of wealth and poverty
with well shaded streets, poor shops, and adobe buildings.
[Illustration: Street in Nuñoa, Chile]
A few miles beyond Nuñoa is a roadhouse named the Quinta Roma, which
was formerly the mansion of an estanciero but is now the terminus for
joy-riders, many of whom are to be met with returning to the capital
late afternoons in a highly hilarious condition. To the credit of the
Chileno joy-rider, he does not hit up the great speed of his North
American brethren; thus there are but few automobile accidents. The
roadhouse stands in a garden of flowers well back from the thoroughfare
in a nicely kept lawn. Here is a liquid refreshment dispensary where
I have seen gay youths hoist comely maidens upon the bar, and seated
there clink glasses with their standing male affinities whose arms
encircle their waists to the tune of popping corks and the metallic
ring of beer caps as the latter fall to the floor. In the garden behind
the bar is a bamboo thicket planted in the form of room partitions. It
is so dense that no peeker can look through its foliage to observe the
love affairs being enacted in these natural chambers which correspond
to the European "separées" or the so-called "private dining rooms" of
the North American roadhouses.
At Apoquindo there are several soda springs with baths and a swimming
pool all of which are kept in a filthy condition. Like at Cacheuta and
at Cauquenes but few people come to take the baths and none to drink
the water. Most everybody congregates at the bar in the hotel across
the street--the baths are but the name of an excuse.