LXXX.
Steamer Quito, April 29, 1852.
The old Spanish custom of bull fights is still kept up with all its vigor in Lima, and the long looked-for combat came off after the church ceremonies of Passion Week had ended. Having, as a traveller, witnessed this barbarous sport in Spain, where it is countenanced by the nobility and the dignitaries of the government, I was induced to attend it here chiefly to observe the ladies in their saya mantas—a garment which entirely prevents recognition, as it leaves one eye only exposed. The sayas are falling into disuse, and not seen so often as formerly in the public streets, except on festive occasions. Any lady may be addressed, but under no circumstances can the veil be removed by force, without calling down the vengeance of bystanders. An immense building of circular form stands near the Alameda; it is a public promenade, with palcos or boxes for parties and families, and seats in the form of an amphitheatre, capable of containing some seven thousand persons. The authorities of the city occupy a prominent place, as well as the military officers and judges. A programme is sold, containing the names of the twelve bulls to be killed, and describing the characteristics of the prominent matadores, two of whom, father and son, have recently arrived from Spain.
The trumpet sounds; mounted horsemen come forth and clear the ring; others appear with lances in hand; and then appear six flag-men with red and yellow scarfs, round jackets, and short clothes of silk and velvet, embroidered with gold and silver lace, shining knee-buckles, and silk stockings. The sliding gate is opened, and in rushes the tortured bull, with his eyes glaring, and makes for the horse, but is diverted by the blazing colors of the scarfs. Sometimes a mantle is thrown over the shoulders; the animal pursues it, when the wearer dashes it aside and dodges the infuriated beast, escaping behind a side partition fence, while he takes after another, and barbed arrows with feather or paper plumes are planted in his neck, causing him to roar and paw the dust, and make another attempt at his adversary, in which he sometimes upsets horse and rider, goring the former, to the delight of the multitude, whose cries and waving handkerchiefs attest their pleasure. After the ineffectual efforts and hair-breadth escapes of the actors, the matador, while attracting the bull with his red flag, with one thrust of his long sword gives him a mortal stab, which passes through the neck and heart, and appears between the fore-legs. The enthusiasm is then at its height. The trumpet sounds, the gates are thrown open, two pairs of heavy mules appear, bedecked with feathers, and mounted by two riders. The head of the defunct is raised upon a pair of small wheels, and attached by the horns to the traces; the band strikes up, the dead carcase is removed under the full gallop; the gates are closed, and a new victim soon appears. I felt it a relief to escape and stroll along the beautiful Alameda, upon the river bank. The ride to the baths of Churilla, a few leagues from Lima, is over a heavy, sandy road, dusty, dreary, and of no interest.
The Indian village situated on the bay is much resorted to during the summer months. The bath-houses are of cane or reed, and form a sort of labyrinth, with a few flat stones in each for seats; they are occupied by both sexes, but are rather exposed. Gambling seems to be the order of the day, or rather night, as all classes, male and female, enter into the sport, it being the ruling passion of the Peruvians as well as the Chilians. Among the passengers in the diligence or public conveyance was a grey-headed, thin-visaged, lank old man, whose whole dress, including his poncho, would not have sold for twenty dollars; yet this confirmed old gambler had amassed two hundred thousand dollars in play, and notwithstanding that he was lame with one foot in the grave, his passion, which was the object of his visit, must still be gratified. Many persons have private residences for the enjoyment of the sea breeze and bathing, but they are of a primitive character. Ludicrous dances in grotesque costumes are performed by the negroes, which help to pass their evenings.
Lima is considered the gayest city on the South Pacific coast, and enjoys a mild, equal climate, being uninfluenced by the near approach of the mountains, and of a much more agreeable temperature than the same latitude on the opposite side in Brazil. The houses, which are two stories, have balconies of latticed work, which gives the ladies an opportunity of seeing all passers in the streets. The ladies are less celebrated for constancy than for sprightliness, grace, and beauty, and are a far superior race to the men, who are much inferior to the Chilians. The use, or rather abuse of the saya manta was formerly a means of intrigue even in the presence of husbands and brothers, as exchanges of robes were easily effected. The adoption of European costume is fast reducing the use of this garment.
To a stranger the alarm created by a shock of an earthquake upon the natives appear ridiculous, as they rush out of their houses into the open square, and if the shock is in the night, of course in undress; all who experience these shocks, however, are soon overcome by the same kind of terror. The earthquake of the last century swept Callao and its entire population into the sea. We had a considerable shock a few days since, while I was in a heavy stone and brick building, used in part for a museum, and where some interesting specimens of antiquity of the times of the Incas are found, as also mummies from the Indian mounds, and the portraits of the former viceroys of Peru. I was examining these objects attentively, when I found myself suddenly alone, with the balance of the party making for the inner court or square, crying out “un temblor!” The dust was flying about me, and I followed hurriedly; I observed that the sky was remarkably bright, that there was a perfect stillness of the elements, and that the air was filled with birds in confusion; however, it soon passed, and without damage.
The steamer from which I write is new; she is just out from England, this being her first trip. We are fortunate in having fresh supplies and attentive servants, with few passengers, and every comfort. We have just met the Santiago, and exchanged civilities, and received English papers from Panama. I learn from her captain, who has just recovered from the pest, that all my fellow passengers from Valparaiso, who touched at Callao and Lima, with one exception, were attacked, and among the number a family of seven persons. I find I have great reason to be thankful in having escaped.
We shall make the distance of eighteen hundred miles in seven and a half days, passing nearly one day at Paita, which has a fine harbor, and was formerly resorted to by whalers for supplies; they now go to Tumbes, seven leagues above, where water is to be had, with which water Paita is supplied, not a blade of grass or a drop of the liquid element being produced at the latter place, the few plants there in boxes being looked upon with much pleasure. It is far superior to many other small towns along the coast. There are some comfortable houses built of cane, and covered with flags, which earthquakes cannot shake down easily, and several long and narrow streets which afford shade. An extraordinary event had just occurred, it having rained for a part of a day, for the first time in seven years. The natives are mostly Indians; a quiet, docile, and well-looking people. The residents seem satisfied with their position and climate; they say that they are deprived of vegetation and water, but that they can get supplies from along the coast; that they are not infested with venomous reptiles and noxious fleas, the accompaniment of rank verdure, and that the people die of old age, citing instances of ninety and one hundred years longevity. I had made a passage with the son of the English Consul, whose father had been there for nineteen years, and enjoys the climate. I breakfasted and lunched with him, with some other guests from the ship, and certainly there was no want of the good things of life, even in such a desert place. The reputed wife of General Bolivar resides here; she was with him in many of his campaigns, while Liberator of South America. A friend took me to her house, and I found a stout, fat, but well featured elderly lady, in her hammock, which I learn she rarely leaves, unless for her bed. She had her two poodle dogs nestling beside her; she received us kindly, and conversed intelligently and in a diplomatic manner upon matters of politics. She is a great friend of General Flores, whose expedition is now approaching Guayaquil with fourteen hundred men, and with the prospect of overthrowing President Urbini, of Ecuador, who, she says, was educated by General Flores while former President, to whom he proved an ungrateful wretch. I found there the daughter of Flores with her husband and aide de-camp, awaiting news from the seat of war. This lady, who once lived in Lima in almost regal style, now subsists upon the charities of her numerous friends. As I had once visited the tomb of Bolivar in Caraccas, and received the hospitalities of a cousin bearing his name, in his rancho, near Porto Cabello, the old lady seemed interested in me, and insisted on my joining her in smoking a choice Havana, an occupation which she appeared to enjoy.
To-morrow we shall arrive at Panama, which place I had not expected or hoped to see again, and I can scarcely realize the fact that since my last visit I have made the circuit of the globe, and since my departure from home have passed almost the entire length of North and South America on both sides. After fourteen winters’ travel in southern latitudes, and several years’ absence at intervals from home, I find that my table of distances amounts to six hundred thousand miles, from the snowy regions of Canada, Norway, and Finland in the north, to the barren shores of Patagonia in the south—having traversed by sea and land, at different periods, almost all the practicable portions of the earth, in making the circuit of the world. Although what has passed appears not unlike a dream, my ambition for the present is satisfied, and I have reason to thank a kind Providence, whose protecting hand has carried me through almost all the perils of life, and has been the means of preserving a constitution endangered by the severity of northern winter-climates. I shall proceed via the isthmus to Havana, and thence to New Orleans, on my way home, where I hope to arrive in the early part of June.
1853.
LXXXI.
Paris, Jan. 31, 1853.
Since I left the Pacific coasts of Chili and Peru last spring, I have hesitated about afflicting you with correspondence, and thinking and hoping that my voyages around the world were complete. Time and circumstances, however, have since carried me to Cuba (by the way, it is my eighth visit), and I have traversed the waters of the Gulf of Mexico to the city of New Orleans; steamed up the mighty Mississippi and Ohio rivers for the sixth time; besides visiting Canada and Niagara. Notwithstanding the thousand incidents constantly occurring, I held my peace. Having left my native village in the latter part of November, in pursuit of a more genial climate, I find myself once again on European soil, and in the capital of the French empire. So many important events have transpired since I left home that you will pardon me for once more taking up my pen, and breaking silence. Our steamer took the southern passage in crossing the Atlantic; the early part of our voyage upon the edge of the gulf-stream was delightful, until at length a famous combat arose among the great opposing elements. For five successive days we had a continuation of the most violent gales, more properly speaking hurricanes, such as our officers had never experienced, and it was with difficulty that I could recall reminiscences of equally grand and awful scenes. The good ship Hermann, although obliged to manœuvre, or lie to, as the sailors term it, for thirty-six hours, at last got the mastery over Neptune: and when we arrived in England, we found that the steamer Washington had been disabled, and obliged to return. The same gales had carried destruction along the entire coast. The then approaching holiday season of Christmas was anxiously looked for, in England, particularly by the poor, for charities are more freely exercised at that time, and the English markets and butchers’ stalls are beautiful to gaze upon. But instances are rarely if ever known, as in our favored land, of the working classes trudging home under the weight of turkeys, geese, or chickens for a Sunday or Christmas dinner. How little do we know of the miseries of the laboring population abroad, and how slightly do we appreciate, as a people, the eminent advantages which we enjoy in our own favored land!
The universal practice of giving étrennes, or presents, on New Year’s day, among the Parisians, has led to the granting of privileges to boutiques, or temporary wooden shops, along both sidewalks of the Boulevards, for one week before, and one week after the first of January; they form a continuous bazaar for more than a mile, composed of all the indescribable knick-knacks and fancy articles that the ingenious brain of a Frenchman can contrive to gratify youthful taste or fancy, dolls and cheap jewelry figuring largely. This exhibition, with the flood of humanity to the extent of some hundreds of thousands, military, foreign, and domestic, in every variety of costume of holiday attire, added to the gay equipages and liveried servants, struck me as one of the great sights of the capital.
The season thus far has been remarkably mild; we have had much rain, but no winter, and fears are entertained for the future crops should the mild weather continue. In the Jardin des Plantes, some trees indicate the putting forth of new leaves.
This being the gay season, and Paris full of strangers from all parts, opportunity is not wanting for the gratification of the most fastidious. One would judge, from the announcement of balls, concerts, and theatres (of which latter I think there are thirty-two, of all sizes), that they could not be sustained; but on the contrary they are fully attended. The work of Madame Beecher Stowe has caused a perfect furore in Paris. Authors and editors run a steeple-chase in their hasty translations, which pour from the press with exaggerated engravings to gratify the tastes of the eager purchasers. Two large rival theatres, the Ambigu Comique and the Theatre de la Gaité, conceived at the same moment the idea of dramatizing Uncle Tom. The Ambigu won the race by a few days with immense success, but the Gaité followed close after; and now may be seen the affiches everywhere, and large transparencies in front of the theatres, emblazoned in great letters, “La Case de l’Oncle Tom.” My curiosity as an American, besides my familiarity with the institution of slavery as it exists at the south, induced me to visit the Ambigu, where I found the piece well mounted, with superb decorations, but full of exaggeration. The cries of the blood-hounds in pursuit of fugitive slaves; the brutal conduct of the masters; the tender scenes of separation; the discharge of fire-arms; the sale of negroes in New Orleans, all helped to bring the ladies’ handkerchiefs into frequent use; their tears, however, were readily dispersed by some ludicrous scene not in the novel. At the Gaité the scenes are entirely changed, the state of Kentucky being the theatre of action. The sale of Uncle Tom, the flight of George and his wife, Eliza with her infant child, the crossing of the Ohio upon the ice, the arrival in Canada, the land of promise, amidst the most beautiful tropical vegetation, were greatly exaggerated; but worse than all, and shocking to the moral sense, Uncle Tom, who was a perfect black, was represented as the father of Eliza, a beautiful quadroon. One of the Parisian editors lately remarked that he was not at a loss to decide which condition was the most deplorable, that of the well-fed and well-clad negro in bondage, free from care, or that of the thousands of poor creatures in Paris, who shiver in the garret of a six-story tenement, after a hard day’s service for one franc, or twenty cents, to sustain their starving families.
The Parisians are emphatically a theatre-going people, and they have juvenile theatres expressly for nurses and parents with their children; of course the latter imbibe the passion early, and Sunday being their gala day, all places of amusement are naturally crowded. It would appear that all Paris is dancing at present; the imperial court dances, the ministers of war and of state dance, and the senate is preparing to dance, all of which is gratifying to the fancy dealers of the capital. The great event of the season took place yesterday, Sunday. It was the marriage of the Emperor at the cathedral of Notre Dame. The civil marriage was performed at the Palace of the Tuileries, the evening previous, by the minister of state, in presence of the family of Napoleon. After the ceremony was concluded the Countess Montijo was reconducted to her private residence in the Champs Elysées. Yesterday presented one of the most gorgeous pageants that Paris has ever witnessed. It would occupy too much time and space to attempt a description, and it would be useless to repeat what may be found in the public journals. The distance passed by the cortège from the Tuileries to Notre Dame, more than a mile, gave the Emperor, as he proclaimed in his speech to the Senate, an opportunity of presenting as he desired, to the army, and the French people, the bride of his choice, and if one could judge from the vast multitude which thronged the streets, the quays and bridges of the Seine, the windows, balconies, and every point which could be occupied, not only Paris, but the whole country was represented. The brilliant cortège left the palace at twelve M., preceded by detachments of mounted lancers, cuirassiers, guards, and divers others, followed by the imperial family and ladies of honor, in glittering state carriages with liveried coachmen and footmen, drawn by four and six horses with beautiful caparisoned harness, and a long train of foreign ambassadors, representatives and members of the Senate; then appeared the magnificent equipage of the Emperor, surmounted by an imperial crown, with sides of plate glass, drawn by eight white steeds, with plumes and gold-gilt trappings, containing himself and beautiful bride, responding gracefully to the salutations of the multitude. The same carriage was used but once before, at the nuptial ceremonies of Napoleon I. with the Empress Josephine, so much beloved by the French people. A double hedge of bayonets on each side of the line of march, composed of the regular troops of the national guard of Paris, prevented encroachment. The interior of Notre Dame was festooned with great taste and much splendor, while the exterior was enveloped in floating banners. The archbishop having performed the imposing marriage ceremonies, the cortège returned by another route, giving the masses the opportunity of seeing their imperial majesties.
The vast interior of the Place du Carrousel was one living mass of humanity, awaiting the return and appearance of the happy pair upon the balcony of the Tuileries; at length they appeared and bowed to the multitude to close the scene. While men and boys were crying the sale of effigies and medals of the Emperor and Empress, amid the anxiety and excitement of a French population, I could not forget witnessing a review of the troops by Louis Philippe, on the same ground, and his then enthusiastic reception. Time makes great changes, and what may be the fate of those in power to-day! The French are fond of pageants, and always ready for a change. As long as commerce flourishes, and the condition of the laboring classes is tolerable, things go on smoothly; but amongst the thinking and reading portions of the community, who are deprived of the liberty of speech, and the press, there must be a deep hatred of the present dynasty.
Louis Napoleon has certainly had an eventful career. An exile, a prisoner at Ham, he returned to France after the fall of Louis Philippe, under the provisionary government, and was a member of the National Assembly when I visited that noisy assemblage in the autumn of 1848. On my departure for Italy in 1847, all was quiet under the royal rule of Louis Philippe; on my return, the trees of liberty were planted throughout Paris, the public buildings proclaimed in large capitals, “Liberté, Egalité, Fraternité”; the press was free and untrammelled, also liberty of thought and speech, as was seen placarded upon the bulletins. Things have changed. Liberty is crushed; her name, with those of her sisters, is scrupulously effaced from the public monuments. The constitution was declared, and there was an extensive display of two hundred thousand troops, and gorgeous decorations and fireworks upon the Place de la Concorde. I hoped that the government would become consolidated in a true republic, but I had my misgivings. The next news brought the election of Napoleon as President for four years; afterwards his power was extended for ten years; next came his famous coup d’état; then followed the proclamation of the Empire, and yesterday his marriage. The telegraph has proclaimed the joyous event to all France, and now all that is required is the confirmation by the Pope, which may probably take place next spring.
Within a week the Carnival commences. I am preparing to leave for the south of France, and Spain.