MONTEVIDEO.
_January 30th, 1851._—Our passage “down,” as the phrase is, was devoid
of incident. We arrived on the night of the 20th inst., and are at
anchor in the outer roadstead. In October, I described the general
aspect of the mount, the city, and the surrounding country from this;
and reminded you of the existence of a civil war, and the close siege of
the city, for eight years past, by Oribe, a citizen of Montevideo, and
formerly President of the Republic of which it is the capital. The right
to this office, though once resigned and abandoned by him, he still
claims; and to enforce it, invaded the State with an army of Argentines,
furnished by Rosas, Governor of Buenos Ayres, and minister of foreign
affairs for the Argentine States. With this he would have gained
possession of the town long ago, had it not been for the armed
intervention, in 1845, of England and France; and the continued
guardianship of the place by the latter, with a squadron, in the
roadstead, and a body of fifteen hundred or two thousand troops on
shore.
The principal European powers, rejecting the pretensions of Oribe,
acknowledge the constituted authorities of the inside, or city party
only, as the government of the Republic. The policy of the United States
being a strict neutrality, Commodore McKeever pays a like respect to
both; and, under an escort furnished by Oribe, has paid an official
visit to him at his camp outside of the lines, as well as one to the
President within, at the government house in the city.
When here in October, an armistice had existed for some time, in
connection with the negotiations then pending between the belligerent
parties and Admiral Le Predour, commander-in-chief of the French force.
We had not heard of its termination: but a movement of the troops on
shore at daylight, the morning after our arrival, attracted the notice
of those on board on watch, and led to the supposition that an
engagement was about to take place. A messenger from my ever mindful
friend R——, the officer of the deck at the time, summoned me to witness
it; and for an hour, with other officers of the ship, I gazed through a
glass upon what seemed a spirited conflict, between the outside and
inside forces. We learned afterwards, however, that it was only a sham
battle between different parties of the French troops, and the
Montevidean soldiery, composed of a foreign legion of Basques and
Italians, and a native regiment of negroes. So far as the effect upon
the eye, and, under our misapprehension, upon the heart was concerned,
there was, in the manœuvres of the battle field—the rapid charge, the
roar of cannon, the sharp rattle of musketry, and the flying through the
air and the bursting of shells—much of the reality of an actual
engagement.
Poor Montevideo, for nearly a half century past, has been singularly
ill-fated, even for a South American city. The greater part of that
period, it has been the victim of calamitous wars, either foreign or
civil. In 1807, while yet a colonial dependency of Spain, it was
besieged, bombarded, and carried by storm by the English, under Sir
Samuel Achmuty. After the inglorious defeat of Gen. Whithead at Buenos
Ayres in 1808, and the consequent expulsion of the British from the
Plata, as a colonial city faithful to the crown of Spain it was besieged
from 1810 to 1814, and eventually made to capitulate to the troops of
the then revolted and republican province of Buenos Ayres. Shortly
afterwards, the republican forces being withdrawn, it fell into the
hands of the bandit Artigas, a native chieftain, so lawless and
marauding in his rule at home, and in his depredations on the adjoining
frontiers of Brazil, as to give just cause for invasion by the
Portuguese of that kingdom, who gained possession of the city in 1817.
This occupation of the place led to a warfare of more than ten years,
between the royalists of Brazil, and the republicans of Buenos Ayres,
the chief disasters of which centred in Montevideo; till, in 1829,
through the intervention of England, a peace was effected, by the
withdrawal, by both parties, of all claim to the territory in
dispute—known then by the name of the Banda Oriental—on condition that
it should constitute an independent Republic, to be called Uruguay,
after the great river which forms the western boundary between it and
the Argentine States.
From that period till the year 1842, the territory enjoyed peace. Under
a constitutional government, with a president, ministry, judiciary, and
legislature of two houses, both city and country had great prosperity.
The population of the city increased rapidly from fifteen to fifty
thousand, and that of the state to two hundred and fifty thousand. The
exports in a few years amounted to six millions of dollars, and the
imports to five millions. Fortunes were readily accumulated; fine
buildings in great numbers were erected within the city; and beautiful
country houses, with tasteful and luxurious surroundings, spread over
the environs without. Poverty and want were unknown, and the evil days
seemed entirely past. But the civil war, into which the republic was
plunged by Oribe, soon produced a sad change. The invading Argentines
speedily devastated the entire country, and by the wanton destruction of
vast herds of horses and cattle—the chief sources of its wealth and
commerce in hides, jerked beef, and tallow—and the plunder of their
estancias or farms, paralyzed the enterprise of the inhabitants, and
forced them to emigrate; while the close siege of the town, intercepting
all supplies for support and all means of commerce, at once sapped the
sources of its prosperity, and drove the citizens by tens of thousands
elsewhere for maintenance and life. The result upon the wealth and
population of the port may be readily imagined. I do not recollect ever
before to have been so deeply impressed with the desolateness of any
place as on first landing here, and on taking a stroll through its
streets, and the limited suburbs within the lines of defence. The mole,
once alive with busy commerce, was as deserted and silent as a
churchyard; and excepting at Pompeii, I never wandered through streets
which seemed to be more truly those of a city of the dead.
This impression, however, I afterwards discovered to be in some degree
deceptive, owing, partly, to the hour of the day; that for the universal
siesta. Scarcely an individual was to be seen anywhere. With screened
windows and closed doors, the inhabitants, young and old, rich and poor,
were yielding themselves to the insinuating influences of the dolce far
niente, or to the more oblivious indulgences of sound sleep. It is now
midsummer here; the day was hot, for this latitude, and every thing in a
state of Spanish repose customary in such weather, after an early
dinner. The dilapidation and decay on every side, the manifest poverty,
and the seemingly utter desertion of dwelling after dwelling, through
whole streets, were so saddening and oppressive, that, for the time, I
felt that I would never wish to visit the shore again. As to the suburbs
without the walls, excavated Pompeii itself is scarcely more a region of
ruin and desolation.
An hour at the American consulate afterwards—where our party received
the most frank and hospitable welcome from Mr. and Mrs. Hamilton and
family; an application there within fifteen minutes, for my official
services from a stranger in the marriage ceremony—showing that bad as
the state of things in Montevideo is, the voice of the bride and of the
bridegroom is still to be heard in her streets—with other assurances of
a better state in general than I had been led to infer, changed in some
degree the current of my sympathies. Still, however deceptive the first
impressions on landing may have been, there is too much reality in the
wretchedness to which hundreds and thousands of the inhabitants are
reduced, to allow them to be at once dispelled.
The city is finely situated upon a peninsula of granite, which, in its
form, has been compared, not inaptly, to the shape of a tortoise’s back:
an area a half mile square descending gradually on three sides, from a
central height of a hundred feet or more, to the level of the
surrounding water. This, though only a river, is seemingly a sea; for, a
hundred miles in width, it presents a horizon on the south as boundless
as the ocean. Like most towns of Spanish origin, the streets are
rectangular, with an open square or plaza in the centre, on which stand
the principal church and the cabildo, or town hall and prison. It is
well built. Many of the private residences are spacious, and the
principal public buildings, the cathedral, and an unfinished hospital,
are rather imposing in their architecture. From long disuse the streets
are in many places tufted with grass, and in others, the pavements are
so torn up and broken as to be impassable with wheels.
One redeeming fact, in regard to the general want of interest in the
place, has very unexpectedly presented itself to me personally, in an
invitation from the standing committee of the British Episcopal Church,
to officiate for them in public worship on the Sabbath. This I have
already done, and shall continue to do whenever the Congress shall be in
the Plata. The English government, with commendable interest for the
spiritual good of its subjects abroad, makes a liberal provision, under
certain conditions, for the maintenance of the ministry and its
ordinances where they may be. Its chief embassies in foreign lands are
furnished with regular chaplains; and, wherever British subjects abroad
contribute to a fund for the ministrations of the Gospel among them, the
same amount, to a specified limit—four hundred pounds is the maximum, I
believe—is allowed by act of parliament for the same object.
Eight or ten years ago, Samuel Lafone, Esq., a principal English
merchant here, and a chief capitalist and landed proprietor in the
Uruguay, secured from the authorities the privilege of erecting a chapel
for Protestant worship. The site of an elevated circular bastion,
overlooking the rocky shores of the river, on the south side of the
town, was chosen for the purpose, and purchased by him. Upon this, at a
cost of forty-five or fifty thousand dollars, he erected a fine edifice
in Grecian architecture. It is of brick, stuccoed, and painted in
imitation of Portland stone, and is ornamented in the front by a well
proportioned pediment, supported by four lofty Doric columns, and
altogether is one of the most conspicuous architectural ornaments of the
city. The interior is spacious and lofty, the wood-work—the pews,
chancel-railing, the reading desk, pulpit, and organ-loft—being of solid
mahogany, and is capable of accommodating an audience of several
hundreds. When completed, Mr. Lafone made an unconditional gift of it to
the British community resident here. These joined by the few Americans
engaged in commerce, raised a fund sufficient, with the governmental
gratuity, for the comfortable support of a rector. The Rev. Mr.
Armstrong officiated for several years in that capacity, and till ill
health obliged him and his family, not long since, to seek a different
climate. The Rev. Mr. Lenhart of the Methodist Church, my predecessor as
chaplain of the American squadron on this station, was invited by the
standing committee to occupy the pulpit thus left vacant: and now, with
equal ecclesiastic liberality, on the part of the committee and church,
I am invested with a like temporary rectorship.
It is customary to have but one service on the Sabbath. This takes place
at one o’clock, the earliest hour practicable for me to be on shore,
after the discharge of my official duties on board the Congress.
The interruptions to commerce, and the disasters attending the long
siege, have reduced the Protestant residents of Montevideo comparatively
to a mere handful, and the usual audience composed of English, Scotch
and American worshippers, male and female, numbers only from sixty to
eighty persons. Still it is a privilege to minister in holy things, even
to so small an assemblage, with ‘none to hurt or make afraid’ amidst a
people once wholly given to superstition and bigotry, and to witness a
depth of interest and solemnity of devotion characteristic of spiritual
Christianity. I have already been called to officiate at two marriages,
and have twice administered the ordinance of baptism. Thus, though a
Presbyterian of the ‘straightest sect,’ I feel it not only a privilege
and happiness, but a duty, under the circumstances, to follow the
prescribed ritual of the English prayer-book in worship, and—in surplice
and bands—to pray statedly, not only “for all in authority,” but
specifically, for “the most gracious Lady the Queen Victoria, His Royal
Highness Prince Albert, Albert, Prince of Wales, and all the royal
family.”
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