Brazil and La Plata: The personal record of a cruise

by C. S. Stewart

CHAPTER XVII.

Montevideo.

May 30th.—Scarcely any duty in naval service can be more destitute of interest, than such as the Congress is performing off Montevideo at the present time. To the close investment of the city by land, a practical blockade is added, from a decree of Rosas, by which every vessel touching here on her way up the Plata is denied entry at Buenos Ayres. The consequence is—there being little demand for imports and nothing to export at Montevideo—that no vessel in the trade of the Plata comes into the port except from necessity, and the arrivals are limited, for the most part, to a man-of-war, occasionally, and the regular mail-steamer from England, by the way of Rio de Janeiro, once each month. My chaplaincy on board, and the additional service of worship each Sabbath on shore, furnish the only variation in my duty; and an occasional row or sail to the city for a walk or the visit of an hour, in a limited circle of acquaintance, my only recreation. For opportunities of visiting the shore I am indebted chiefly to the kindness of Commodore McKeever: Captain McIntosh, so frequently the companion of my walks at Rio, here scarcely ever leaves the ship.

The recent arrival in which we were most interested was that of the U. S. storeship Southampton. It brought Dr. C—— to the Congress as fleet surgeon, in place of Dr. W——, who returned home invalided, shortly after our arrival on the station. This loss to the medical corps of the ship and to our mess was regretted. In the substitute furnished, we are greatly favored. As a physician and surgeon Dr. C—— is worthy of all confidence; and as a gentleman and Christian, carries with him predominating influence. The value of such an accession to a naval mess-table and to the associations of the gun-room of a man-of-war, can scarcely be over-estimated.

Another circumstance connected with the Southampton, in which we felt great interest, proved less happy in the issue. The Congress, through a mistake not discovered till she was at sea, left the United States without a suitable library for the use of the crew. As soon as this was known, I took measures to have one sent after us. This was shipped by the Southampton and arrived safely here; but from an oversight of the officer in charge, was carried again to sea by her, on proceeding to her destination in the Pacific. The disappointment to the crew is great, and only to be remedied by patiently waiting for the return of a fresh order to the United States.

My visits on shore are most unvarying in their character. Sometimes I take a solitary stroll through the less public streets of the city; but never without feelings of commiseration for the depressed and suffering condition of the poorer classes. The pale and haggard faces of the females, seen at the doors and windows, tell one story of privation and want—of listless despondency and gloom. The extent and degree of destitution, from the long suspension of all business, is fearful, among those even who have been accustomed to independence, if not to affluence and luxury. Among such, the poorest scraps that fall from the tables of the more fortunate are most thankfully received; and any kind of employment is eagerly sought. Females of the first respectability are glad to be employed in making up linen in a most finished style, at a half dollar a shirt, and at six and eight cents a collar. The demoralization among all classes, in consequence of the pressure of want, is very great, I am told, and of a character fatal to the purity and self-respect of individuals and whole families.

The only semblance of general cheerfulness observable, is in the daily evening promenade to witness the relief of guard. This takes place at the inner lines without the walls, every evening at sunset. During the previous hour, in fine weather, hundreds of the better classes of the citizens both foreigners and natives, in a greater or less display of dress, may be seen issuing through the ancient gateway of the northern wall, for the walk of a mile through the broad and straight street, leading from it to a battery where the relief of guard takes place, and to listen to the music of the bands with which this is accompanied.

I have mentioned the presence here of fifteen hundred or two thousand French troops with their officers. They are quartered in barracks, a part within and a part without the walls of the old city; and may be seen in groups and small parties in the streets at almost all times of the day and evening. Well dressed and well fed, young and athletic, fresh and healthful in look, and cheerful and animated in movement and manner, they constitute quite a redeeming feature in the aspect of the city. They have a parade-ground just without the walls, and are regularly and severely drilled, but take no part in the military duty of the place, and perform no patrol. This devolves exclusively upon the Montevidean soldiery. These, amounting to three thousand, consist chiefly of a foreign legion, composed of emigrants—Italians from the vicinity of Genoa, and from Piedmont, and Basques from the frontiers of Spain and France; and of a negro regiment under the command of native officers. The negroes, till the commencement of the war were slaves; but were then liberated by a decree of the government, without compensation to their masters, on condition of entering the army for the continuance of the war, with a right to a bounty of land on the restoration of peace.

The foreign legion form the municipal or national guard. They consist of artisans, porters, laborers and boatmen, who, in successive companies are on duty as a patrol one day in three, and engaged in their various callings the rest of the time. The negroes are regular soldiers. They are said to be brave and faithful, and have proved themselves most reliable on post and in battle. The dress of the foreigners is that of their every-day labor—the jacket and trowsers and Pelasgic cap of the Basques; but the negro regiment are in uniform—the dress of the gauchos, or Indio-Spaniards, of the country. This is striking and picturesque, though Indian-like and savage in its general effect: at best barbarism, ‘picked out,’—as carriage painters say—with civilization. It is composed of a red flannel shirt, beneath a poncho of red of the same material, lined with green; a green cheripa, or swaddling blanket for the loins and lower limbs; drawers of white cotton terminating in wide pantalets ornamented with insertings of lace work, and a deep fringe falling over the ankles and bare feet: the covering of the head being a conical cap of green cloth, without visor, laced with yellow cord. It is seen to the best effect at Buenos Ayres, where there is in the soldiers more of the Indian and less of African blood; and where, exhibited on horseback, the long black hair and streaming ponchos of the riders are in keeping with the flowing manes and tails of the horses, as they scamper with the fleetness of the wind along the beach and over the plain.

The free hospitality of two or three houses, both English and American, in addition to the Consulate, is extended to us; and usually, after the relief of guard, we join the family of one or another of these for tea. It is pleasant in a strange land thus to be received informally in a home circle, and to be made welcome, in this, the winter of the year, to the elegant comforts of carpeted floors and curtained windows—of the glowing grate of the fireside, and the hissing urn of the tea-table, and for the hour to share in the social enjoyments of conversation and music. The chief drawback to the pleasure, is the remembrance forced upon us by such scenes, of our distant homes, and the vision in fancy of what we there lose. This was particularly the case in the visits of the last evening. I made an early call at Mr. L——’s, and, on entering the drawing-room, found Madame L—— at the piano. After giving the accustomed kind welcome, she was prevailed upon to continue at the instrument. Though the mother of a fine family of carefully educated and intelligent children—gathered at the time in various amusements round a centre-table of the saloon—she has not thrown aside her music, but is still in good practice. Her touch and execution are very much in the style of Mademoiselle R——, and in some fine passages from Verdi and other masters, brilliantly given, carried me at once to Riverside.