BUENOS AYRES.
_February 21st._—I am unexpectedly in Buenos Ayres, having accompanied
Commodore McKeever in an official visit to General Rosas, the sagacious
but unscrupulous despot of the Argentine Confederation.
The distance from Montevideo is about a hundred miles due west. The
intervening navigation is rendered intricate by sand banks and shoals,
and the general shallowness of the river; and, for the last forty miles,
is impracticable for a frigate. In making the trip, therefore, the broad
pennant of the Congress was transferred to the sloop-of-war St. Louis,
on board which the commodore and his party became, for the passage, the
guests of her commander, Captain Cock. The U.S. Brig Bainbridge, Lieut.
Manning, accompanied the flag.
We left Montevideo on the evening of the 18th inst. The run is usually
made in a night, but the wind being light, the current strong, and the
St. Louis not in sailing trim, we did not reach the outer roadstead here
till the morning of the 20th. The passage was pleasant. Though it is
midsummer, the temperature is cool and bracing, with clear skies and a
brilliant atmosphere, remarkable for the magnificence of its coloring
along the horizon, at sunrise and sunset. There is, too, a full moon at
present; and though the river from mid-channel is often seemingly
shoreless, and its waters of the veritable mud-puddle hue, the scene
from the deck of the St. Louis, both by night and by day, was not
without attractions: especially in the companionship of the Bainbridge.
This is a beautiful little craft; and was as buoyant and graceful on the
waters as a bird in the air, as with greatly reduced sail, to avoid
passing us by her superior speed, she at times fell far behind, and then
again, with newly spread wings, rushed forward closely in our wake.
Various other sail were in sight, at greater or less distances, some
ascending and some descending the river, with no little display of
nautical evolution, in making the best of their way.
Early yesterday morning, Buenos Ayres was in sight, at a distance of ten
or twelve miles; gleaming showily in the sun, from the whiteness of the
general architecture, and the number of its lofty and finely
proportioned domes and church towers. It is situated on a bluff, which
extends along the river a couple of miles, and rises at the highest
point eighty or a hundred feet above its level. At the distance,
however, from which we first saw the city, this formation of the shore
was scarcely perceptible: it seemed to be resting, like Venice, upon the
water, while a tufting of tree-tops, in long stretches on either side,
showed the general flatness of the surrounding country. The river is
here twenty-five miles wide, and its northern shores, equally low as the
southern, are not ordinarily visible. But for the smoothness of the
water, and its muddy hue, we might have thought ourselves still upon the
open sea.
A first surprise is the very great distance from the city—five, six, and
nine miles—at which vessels of moderate tonnage even, are obliged, in
the midst of such an expanse of waters, to come to anchor. A long shoal
stretches out thus far in front of the city, preventing nearer approach,
except by vessels of light draught. When the water is high, such can
cross the shoal, and, at other times, find a channel by a circuitous
route to an inner roadstead, where there is anchorage for vessels of
different draught, respectively, one, two, and three miles from the
landing. In the outer roadstead, for a distance of miles, tall masts
rose above the waters like steeples on a populous plain, while quite a
fleet of small vessels was lying three miles within. The St. Louis came
to, six miles or more from the city; and, after an exchange of salutes
with the flag of Buenos Ayres, and those of France and Sardinia, borne
by ships-of-war of these respective nations near us, we left her in a
procession of small boats.
The formation of the shore in front of the city, and for a considerable
distance above and below it, is a flat tufa rock which extends
irregularly, far out upon the sands. Its surface is fretted and broken,
and, when the water is low, boats cannot approach the landing nearer
than from a quarter to a half mile. At such times the intermediate
distance is made in strongly-constructed, high-wheeled carts, drawn by
two horses, one of which is mounted by a wild-looking postilion. These
carts, like hacks at home, are in attendance in great numbers, for the
transportation of passengers and freight from the boats to the shore;
and often present a scene of strife and rivalry in the water, between
the drivers, similar to those witnessed in the rush of carriages, the
brandishing of whips, and the exercise of lungs at a pier in New York,
on the arrival of a steamer. It seemed now to be high water, and we were
apprehensive that we should miss this novel mode of debarkation, and
thus lose, for the time, a spectacle characteristic of the place. Our
fears were unfounded, however; for soon, a cocked hat of portentous
dimensions, with other insignia of official and military dignity in the
wearer—himself of no ordinary dimensions in height or rotundity—was seen
rising above the water. It was that of Don Pedro Ximenes, the captain of
the port, who had been deputized by his imperious master to receive the
commodore; and was patiently waiting in a cart, far out in the stream,
the approach of the barge. Mr. Graham of Ohio, the American Consul, was
also in attendance. The floor of the clumsy, high-sided vehicle, was
scarcely above the surface of the water, as we rowed ‘handsomely’
alongside its open back, and stepping aboard, were transferred from the
protecting shadow of the broad pennant, to that of Don Pedro’s cocked
hat. In this novel reception-room, the ceremonies of an official
introduction took place; and we were soon plunging and tumbling through
the splashing waters—a wheel on either side rolling, first up and then
down, over the rough tufa bottom—with an artistic lashing of whip and
vociferation by the postilion, till, backed up, according to custom, in
coal-cart style, we were dumped on an inclined plane descending ten or
twelve feet from the Alameda, or public walk in front of the city, to
the water.
A large crowd had gathered to witness the arrival—foreign merchants and
native citizens, soldiers, sailors, porters, peons and boatmen. In the
number, were many in the demi-savage dress of gauchos—the peasants of
the country. This is picturesque and showy; and, with many other things
which met the sight, gave promise of a more novel field for observation
than we had yet lighted on. A glaring red coach, something of the
dimension and style of those employed by hotels in New York, in
conveying guests to and from the steamboats and railroad stations, was
in waiting, by order of the government, and quickly conveyed the
commodore to the Hotel de Provence, in an adjoining street. Rooms had
been secured for us there, and a hospitable welcome was extended to the
party, including Captain Cock, to the mess-table of a private club,
consisting of Mr. Harris of Virginia, American chargé d’affaires to the
Argentine Confederation; Mr. Graham, American Consul, Count Frolich,
Swedish Consul-general; and two or three American gentlemen, connected
here with the principal mercantile houses engaged in the South American
trade.
Every thing in the general aspect of the city is Spanish: with the
addition to the universal whitewash on all that is stone, of an equally
universal display of red on all that is wood or iron. This color of
blood has been for twenty years the prescribed signs of adhesion to the
remarkable man who maintains here an undisputed reign of terror: hence
the red waistcoats, red hatbands, red breast-knots, universally seen—the
red doors, red window-frames, red bases to the houses, red lamp-posts,
red carts, red railings, and red fixtures on every thing.
The place is subject, at all seasons of the year, to occasional high
winds of two or three days’ continuance. Then the tumultuous seas which
roll over the shallow bed of the river cut off all communication between
the shipping and the shore; and the city and its suburbs are filled with
driving dust. Weather of this character set in yesterday, shortly after
we landed, and has kept us housed much of the time since, principally at
the reading rooms of a club, where we were introduced, and where we
found files of the American and European papers, and the latest
magazines.
This evening, notwithstanding the wind, Mr. D—— of New York, one of the
mess at the Provence, took me a drive in his tilbury. Our route was
westward, along the course of the river, in the direction of Palermo de
San Benito, the quinta, or country seat of Rosas. Policy—by such
demonstration of courtly attention to the supreme chief—as well as
pleasure, leads all who drive or ride, to take that direction; and as we
descended from the heights of the town, through the Alameda fronting the
river, to the road along its banks, the whirl of carriages and gigs, and
the prancing and galloping of gay riders on horseback, was quite
metropolitan. The speed of all was very much that of Gilpin—the females
being mounted in the in-door costume of short dresses, bare arms, bare
necks and bare heads: with the exception, in some cases, of the partial
covering of a silk handkerchief on the head, tied under the chin. I saw
none in the hat and habit worn in England and America, though doubtless
in a city where foreign fashions are so extensively introduced, these
have been adopted, to some extent at least, by the higher classes.
On gaining the level of the beach, the road passes over a flat and
marshy common, without any enclosure of fence or hedge on either side.
Here, by the river’s side on the right, was presented, for a mile and
more, a striking spectacle, in hundreds after hundreds—I had almost
said thousands of negro washerwomen, indescribable in their
costumes—scrubbing, beating, slapping, rinsing, and bleaching ten
thousand articles of clothing. It is a natural laundry, to which the
soiled linen of the whole city is brought for cleansing. The soft rock
of the shores is filled with holes, some natural and others
artificial, which, on every flow of the tide, are filled with fresh
water. These are converted into wash-tubs, and, after being used, are
left to be emptied of the suds by the next flood, and to be refilled
with clean water by its ebb. Each washerwoman has her own little
reservoir of this kind, to which she gains the exclusive right, by the
payment of a small fee to the government. The wind was blowing a half
gale, lashing the river into foam, and dashing the spray far on the
shore; while clouds of dust on the land were driven before it, like
drifting snow in a winter’s storm at home. When on our way back the
whole company, spread along the banks for a mile or more, were
preparing to return to the city; and such a Babel, in the varied
intonations and chatter, the laugh and the wrangle, the shout and the
jeer, I scarcely recollect to have heard; while the oddity of the
packages and bundles, the trays and baskets, borne on their heads, the
endless form and color of the rags and tatters they wore—their old
hats and old shoes, presented a scene grotesque beyond description.
Another novel scene was vast numbers of the lofty, cumbrous, reed-sided
and hide-roofed carts of the pampas, arranged in a kind of camp on
either side of the road. They are “the ships of the desert” here, by
which the whole produce of the interior, for hundreds of miles, is
brought to the market, and by which the returns of foreign import are
carried to the remotest districts of the Confederation. They constitute
the only habitations and homes of their owners and their families: bear
with them all the household furniture and worldly goods of these; and,
in addition, often have lashed to their tops or under their axles the
trunk and branches of a tree, for wood with which to prepare, whenever a
halt is made, the indispensable maté, or native tea. Their wheels are
from six to eight feet in diameter, and their covered tops rise fifteen
feet from the ground. They are long and narrow, of most heavy and clumsy
construction, with tongues of rough-hewn timber, each in itself a load
for a beast. They are drawn by oxen, attached by ropes of hide, in any
number of pairs requisite for the draught. As means of transportation,
they correspond well in their massive clumsiness and ponderous weight
with the elephant of India, or the burden-bearing camel of Egypt and
Turkey: and as they move in long lines over pampas of almost unlimited
extent, form a feature not less striking, and not less in harmony with
the surrounding scene, than the caravan in the deserts of Arabia, or the
elephant on the plains of Bengal.
_February 24th._—On Washington’s birthday, the 22d inst., Mr. Harris,
the American chargé d’affaires, gave a banquet to Commodore McKeever,
and others of his fellow countrymen, visitors and residents in the city.
The evening of the same day had been appointed for the reception of the
commodore by “the governor,” as Rosas is here styled. A
government-house, covering the area of half a square, in the centre of
the city, has recently been completed by the chieftain. It encloses
quadrangle after quadrangle of spacious and elegantly furnished
apartments, but is visited only occasionally by him for a few brief
hours, at uncertain times. His chosen, and, indeed, only residence,
properly so called, is the palatial quinta, or country-house of Palermo
de San Benito, situated in the midst of an extensive domain, on the
banks of the Plata, three or four miles west of the city. I most readily
accepted an invitation to be of the party, glad to avail myself of the
opportunity for a sight of the tiger in his den. Pardon the figure, but
I have heard so much of his bloody ferocity in subduing the people to
his abject rule, that no other will so well express my sense of his
nature, and of the mysterious and guarded retirement of his present
life: an unchained monster, in the security of a well-protected lair.
The prospect of the interview revived in fresh force all I had ever
heard and read of his atrocious deeds; and the anticipation of being in
his presence, was not without the superstitious feeling of being exposed
by it to the hazard of the “evil eye.” There was no certainty, however,
notwithstanding the appointment, that an interview with him would take
place. He is so arbitrary and so capricious in his imperious rule, as to
pay little regard to the ordinary civilities of life; and makes not only
his own ministers and people abide his whims and pleasure, but
diplomatic agents and foreign ambassadors also, are often obliged to
dance attendance by the hour in his ante-rooms, without an audience, if
such be his will. In the exercise of this despotic habit, however, one
redeeming, and—socially, if not diplomatically—compensating indulgence
is ever granted to such persons: the presence and smiles, the spirited
conversation and the winning grace and manner of his accomplished
daughter, the Doña Manuelita de Rosas. Of a reception by her we were
sure.
We set off at a sufficiently early hour to allow time for a view of the
grounds of Palermo before nightfall; and followed the same route I had
taken with Mr. D——. At the distance of a mile from the city, after
having crossed the common along the beach, we entered a broad and
straight macadamized avenue, scientifically constructed, and in fine
order. It is enclosed on either side by a neat iron railing, and is
bordered with plantations of willow, and furnished with handsome
lamp-posts and lamps for the night. It is a public road, constructed by
Rosas: commencing at Palermo and to be extended to the city, and is
still in progress. At the end of a mile and a half, a similar, but more
beautiful avenue branches from this, and forms the private entrance to
the domain, leading directly in front of the palace-like domicil of the
Dictator. It is a half mile in length, is lined with orange trees in
addition to the willows; and, besides these, is separated from the
public road which runs parallel with it, by a broad and deep canal of
brick-work. This private road is formed of sea-shell, and is as white
and hard as so much marble. All dust is kept down by the sprinkling of
water; while the sward on either side, clipt with the care of an English
lawn, through the same means is ever in living freshness. The orange
trees are nurtured with great care, and are frequently washed with brush
and soap-suds, leaf by leaf, by persons in charge of them. As we passed,
numerous peons, in the gay and picturesque dress of the country, were
seen engaged in this process on a kind of step ladder, by which access
was had to every part of each tree. Equal care is taken of them in the
winter season, by enclosing each in a temporary house, to guard against
the effect of frost. A nearer approach brought us to a cantonment of
soldiers, consisting of a village of regularly disposed brick huts, of
uniform construction. A park of artillery was near by, and clusters of
soldiers in scarlet _ponchos_ and petticoat-like _chiripas_ were grouped
on every side. These multiplied in number to the very doors of the
villa.
The first impression, as we drove rapidly through this imagery, was
striking and peculiar: the picture, in its still life, was one of high
civilization and princely expenditure not anticipated; but one, strongly
marked in all that gave animation to it, with evidences of a demi-savage
state. But for these—the Indian-like costume, the dark and wild
countenances, and the savage knives seen sticking in the belts of the
soldiers and peons—one might almost have believed himself on the shores
of the Zuyder Zee: so dead is the level of the ground; while the broad
and deep canals of finished workmanship, the artificial lakelets,
aquatic plants and water-fowl, the gay parterres and embanked terraces,
presented imagery answering well to a scene in Holland. Every thing,
too, was in straight lines; roads, canals, plantations, and the villa
itself. This is a parallelogram, having a rectangular pavilion
projecting from each angle. It stands on one corner of two intersecting
avenues, presenting a façade of two hundred and sixty feet front and
rear, by one of two hundred and fifty on either side. It is one story in
height, and the architecture throughout uniform. A wide corridor,
supported by heavy arches, runs around the whole. All the apartments
open by doors and French windows upon this, as well as upon a
quadrangular court within. The roof is flat, and is surrounded by an
iron balustrade, ornamented at regular and short intervals by a kind of
demi-turret, having the effect of a like number of chimneys, a purpose
to which many of them are, in fact, appropriated. The preparations for
the reception, in a guard of honor, to present arms as the commodore
should alight, were not at the principal front, but at the farthest
angle of the most western pavilion, on the garden front. We thus passed
two sides of the structure before being set down. We were then conducted
through a spacious saloon of state, to the corridor or arcade on the
east end of the building, again through the length of this to the
extreme eastern pavilion on the front, past which we had first
driven—thus making the circuit of the entire establishment, before being
ushered into the private drawing-room of Doña Manuelita. We found her
standing here with two female companions in waiting, and were received
with the cordiality and affability of long acquaintance.
This daughter of “the governor” is probably the most remarkable woman in
South America: certainly so, as the impersonation of a government, which
she confessedly is, and the only visible agent of its influence and
power. Rosas himself, in his official position, is a kind of invisible
personage—never, on any occasion, or under any circumstances, making his
appearance publicly. It is said there are thousands of people in Buenos
Ayres who have never seen him. A sight of him may often be caught in his
grounds, superintending a gang of workmen, or perhaps witnessing the
punishment, even to death, of a soldier, or some victim who is
suffering, justly or unjustly, the penalty of the law or of his
displeasure. He may be seen, too, at times, talking and jesting with the
fishermen along the shore of the river on his domain, or driving
Jehu-like, in the dead of the night, from Palermo to the city, or from
the city to Palermo: it being his habit, from motives of policy, to make
his appearance suddenly, at an hour, and under circumstances least to be
expected; but never in public, in his appropriate place as chief
magistrate and head of the people. On all public occasions, and in all
public places, Manuelita alone appears as his representative; and as the
embodiment of his will and the channel of his favor, receives the homage
of sovereignty. While she acts no unimportant part in the negotiations
of diplomacy and in foreign affairs, she is, virtually, the minister
both of the “Interior” and of “Justice” in the government, tempering
with mercy, as far as in her power, every act of oppression, and
diffusing, in name at least, a semblance of benevolence wherever her
influence reaches. Four hours of each morning are appropriated by her,
to the receipt of petitions, the hearing of individual grievances and
applications for redress. For this object, a bureau with a regular set
of secretaries is established, where records are made of all cases
brought before her, for her own decision, or for the intervention of her
influence with her father. As may be rightly inferred from these facts,
she is a woman of talent and judgment, and of infinite tact. Her age is
thirty-five. She is of good height and fine figure, has regular and good
features, black hair and eyes, with a beaming and benignant expression,
and in complexion is a Spanish brunette. Her manners are graceful and
winning, her conversation animated and playful, with a word of
complaisance and a smile of kindness to all who approach, and are around
her. Though a polished and elegant woman, she affects nothing of the
stately dignity and lofty bearing of some of the aristocratic and
high-bred whom I have seen—but has the easy, self-possessed, frank and
cordial air, often met in every-day society. She is said to be
exceedingly popular, and to be sincerely beloved by the people: as well
she may be, if she does, indeed, exert the immense influence for good,
which is reported of, and claimed by her friends for her, in softening,
by acts of clemency and womanly mercy, the iron rule of her father.
Scarlet, or the veritable blood-tint, is the prescribed color of the
government, and the silent, though exacted pledge of allegiance to the
chief in power. Every man and boy under his rule, must don at all times
the scarlet waistcoat, scarlet hatband, and the scarlet breast-ribbon,
stamped with the motto of death to his political opponents. Women and
girls, also, of every rank and all ages, must exhibit the scarlet ribbon
in their hair or head-dress. It was no surprise, therefore, to see the
Doña and her ladies, on a hot evening in midsummer, arrayed in scarlet
silk bareges of large plaid, over under-dresses of white, with the
scarlet ribbon and its savage motto, streaming among the tresses of
their black hair. The predominating hue of the reception room—in the
hangings of the walls, the draperies of the windows, and the carpet, was
of the same color. This apartment is lofty and spacious. A grand piano
and harp were conspicuous among its furniture.
The usual apology was made,—the pressure of important business—for the
delay in the appearance of the governor, with the gracious assurance,
however, that he would give audience to the commodore; and it was
proposed, in the mean time, to take a view of the grounds, before
nightfall. This we did, under the guidance of the sprightly and
accomplished mistress of ceremonies and her ladies. They are very
extensive, in a perfection of order, and in many respects novel and
striking; but are too full of straight lines for beauty and artistic
effect. The whole domain is a dead level—a swamp redeemed by draining
and embankments from the overflowings of the river, and the quagmires of
a marsh. The sums expended in transforming it into a paradise, compared
with every thing around, are beyond all estimate; and make the place, at
least in the outlay of money and labor, the most princely estate in
either North or South America. The predominating growth in trees is the
willow, imparting to the whole a sombre aspect; but the flower-gardens
and shrubberies are brilliant in the display of colors, and sweet in the
variety and richness of their perfume. A paved court extends along the
arcades around the whole building. On the two sides communicating with
the lawns, this court is enclosed by parterres of choice flowers,
elevated three or four feet upon walls, and ornamented at regular
distances by classically modelled urns and vases, also crowned and
festooned with floral beauty. The effect of both is ornamental and
pretty.
A rustic arbor with a dome-shaped top, overrun with clustering roses,
woodbine, and sweetbrier, and encircled with busts in marble on
pedestals, and one or two full-length figures in plaster, was specially
commended to our notice, as the favorite retreat of Doña Manuelita. Not
far from it, on the lawn, is a humble whitewashed cottage—the first
domicil of Rosas on taking possession of the estate. It is scarcely
superior, in its aspect and accommodations, to the rancho of a common
peon: but is retained in its original state as a memento of the past, or
possibly for contrast with the courtly splendor of the present
establishment.
Some years ago, an American brigantine, at anchor in the river, was
driven by a violent storm and flood, high and dry into the woods of
Palermo. Its restoration to the water was impracticable. She was still
stanch and uninjured, both in hull and spars, and Rosas, in place of
permitting her to be broken up for the sale of the material, purchased
the craft with the purpose of converting her, as she stood, into a
pavilion of pleasure. Brought to an even keel, she was substantially
underpinned; and thus firmly moored, and, remodelled between decks into
a dancing saloon and refreshment rooms, is a favorite place for the
entertainment of select parties in summer. It is situated a half mile
from the house, and our walk extended to it.
As we returned to the quinta, the shades of the evening were beginning
to fall. Two of the pavilions mentioned as being attached to the angles
of the main building—those on the garden front—are unenclosed by walls,
each forming an open saloon, furnished with ranges of crimson sofas, on
which beneath the protecting roof, the cool of the evening may be
enjoyed with uninterrupted views on every side. Into the most retired of
these we were now conducted; and, while standing in a group in the
centre, with our faces directed to the lawn and shrubbery, I perceived a
figure stealthily approaching from behind, without the warning even of a
footfall, till a little pliant riding-whip of polished whalebone,
mounted with red coral, was playfully tapped on the bare shoulder of the
Doña. Turning suddenly, as if in surprise, she exclaimed in a tone of
pleasure and affection—“Tatita!” a diminutive of fondness by which she
addresses and speaks of her father; and following her example in a
change of position, we found ourselves in the presence of the far-famed
Ruler. Though the place and circumstances of our presentation were
seemingly thus accidental, both doubtless were of previous arrangement,
to give greater informality to the audience. Rosas is now a thick-set,
portly man of sixty, of medium height, with finely marked and well
chiselled features, and of florid complexion. In youth and middle age he
is said to have been remarkably handsome. The feature which first and
most deeply arrested my attention was a piercing, restless, fiery eye of
grayish blue. Whether from previous prejudice or not, to me its
expression seemed singularly devoid of ingenuousness and
benignity—indeed, to be positively sinister and tiger-like. His dress
was a round-jacket of dark blue, with small military buttons; the
inevitable scarlet waistcoat, ribbon, and motto; and an undress military
cap, with the visor drawn low over his eyebrows. His manner and address
were common-place and familiar, without any mingling of the dignity of
the Spanish Hidalgo in high position.
After an interchange of salutations, and some brief conversation on
indifferent topics, he led the way, with Commodore McKeever by his side,
through the long, intervening arcade to the drawing room in the front
pavilion, in which we had first been received. Here, seated in an angle
of the lofty apartment, with the leading gentlemen of our party on his
right, and his daughter and her ladies on the left, he at once took the
lead in conversation, running loquaciously from subject to subject of
trifling importance, and often interlarding his statements and opinions
with low anecdote and vulgar details, unfit “for ears polite,” much less
for the hearing of women of delicacy and refinement.
So full of conversation was he, and seemingly so anxious to please, that
our stay was prolonged beyond all expectation; and we were disappointed
in the pleasure of an evening with Mr. and Mrs. C——, whose country-seat
lies between Palermo and the city.
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