The hope was expressed, that when he should reach Montevideo—where it was taken for granted he would make a public entry—he would visit the Congress; but, before the word Montevideo was well uttered, he hastily interrupted the sentence by exclaiming, “Montevideo!—No—no, I shall not go to Montevideo!” He, it seems, studiously avoids every appearance of courting popularity, and of making a display of himself unnecessarily; averring that the only object for which he comes into the country, is to free the Montevideans from the thraldom of the tyranny by which they have so long suffered. Having accomplished this, he says he has nothing further to ask or desire, except that they may be prosperous and happy, united and free. The early career of Urquiza as a partisan of Rosas, and as the victor over the Montevideans themselves, in the beginning of the invasion by the Argentines, is said to have been as bloodthirsty and cruel as that of any of his compeers, in the civil contentions of the States of the Plata. But great apparent humanity, as well as consummate policy, has thus far marked all his present measures and movements. In the beginning of his march against Oribe, he proclaimed the anxiety he felt to prevent all effusion of blood; that he came as a friend, not as a foe; that his mission was one of peace and of patriotism in a common cause. The consequence of this annunciation in advance, was a general gathering to his standard in his progress, and the desertion to him, at every opportunity, of whole detachments of the troops sent to oppose him. On expressing the surprise which we felt at being told by him, that the thousands of soldiers immediately around, and constituting his only guard, were exclusively those who, but a few days before, had laid down their arms to him, and, who till then were commissioned to cut his throat—he said—“We are all brothers now—one people and one blood: it only remains for us to free our common country from a common tyrant,” referring of course to Rosas. The nearest detachment of the troops brought with him from Entre-Rios was quite two miles distant.
At the end of a half hour, we took leave, greatly interested in all we had seen and heard during the interview. As a rigid moralist, I am bound perhaps to qualify, in a degree, my admiration of this chieftain, from the knowledge I have gained of some of the particulars of his private history. An inquiry made by one of our party, led the General to say, that though he had no wife living he had a large family; and that the mother of some of his children, having recently died, he regarded himself as a widower. The truth is, he has never been married. It is by no means unusual for persons here to live long together without the marriage-tie, and often with entire fidelity to each other. It is to a relation of this kind he referred, and in which he had a numerous family born to him; but he admits the claims of paternity in a large number besides; and so justly, it is said, that the title of the novel, “A child of thirty-six fathers,” may with a slight transposition, be applied with literal truthfulness to him, as “The father of thirty-six children”—the exact number, I am told, of his acknowledged offspring. So much for this chieftain for the present; we shall doubtless hear much of him, and perhaps meet him again, before taking a final leave of the Plata.
Oribe has been permitted, since the capitulation, to retire on parole to his country-seat, situated on the shore of the bay, in the neighborhood of his former encampment. Lieut. T—— and I, as neutrals in the partisan conflicts of the country, felt some disposition to call upon him in his reverse of fortune; but the antipathies of Mr. Z——, arising from a knowledge of his history and character, and the long endurance of evil by the Montevideans at his hands, would not permit him to join us in a visit of the kind. As condolence under capitulation and overthrow would have been more difficult to present acceptably, than the felicitations we had just addressed to the fortunate rival, we did well, perhaps, to content ourselves with the view in the distance of the white walls of his dwelling, in the midst of extensive plantations of poplar and willow. If all that is said of his past acts of cruelty be true, he well merits the reverse he has suffered, and the contempt into which he has fallen.
The ride, on our return, was constantly enlivened as before, by passers by, both on foot and on horseback, forming a great variety of groupings, and an endless diversity of costume. One common mode of transporting burdens was of a most primitive kind: a hide spread on the ground, and attached to the saddle or person of the horseman by a long leathern rope. Whatever was to be carried was piled upon and made fast to this simple sledge, and thus dragged along.
At the end of a couple of miles from the head-quarters at Pantanoso, we turned inland for a short distance from the direct road, to inspect the fort of the “Cerrito” or little hill, so recently evacuated by Oribe. The rise of ground to it is very gentle on every side, and the central point of elevation two hundred and fifty or three hundred feet only, above the level of the bay. The little fort cresting the apex is abandoned, except by a single keeper. It is old and dilapidated; and defective in its original construction, in the leading principles of modern engineering. It appeared incapable of standing a salute by its own guns, much less the fire of artillery in an attack. The view from the parapets is extensive in all directions; and, in the freshness and verdure of the spring, peculiarly beautiful. It embraces a fine inland view, the Mount, the bay and shipping; the massive walls and towers of Montevideo; and the new town of Restoracion. At the base of the hill on the east, lay, in a quadrangular village, the little huts of mud, thatched with grass, which have for years been the quarters of the besieging soldiery. They must have been wretched enough in appearance at any time; but are doubly so, in their present state of desertion and half demolition.
The ride of a mile from this cantonment brought us to Restoracion. This, till the capitulation, was quite a thriving place, having attracted, by its port of entry at the Buçeo, the little produce the country, in its devastated condition, could furnish for exportation. But its vocation is now gone. The port is already closed by decree of the government, and the decline of Restoracion will be even more rapid than its rise. All business will necessarily flow into its old channels in the city; and the new town, at best, be only an impoverished suburb of the old.
It is well laid out: its streets very wide, regular, and well built. Its chief architectural feature is a very fine structure: a spacious quadrangle, enclosing double courts, and ornamented by a lofty tower. It is called “the college;” and was designed by Oribe for an institution of learning, but appears thus far to have been used only as a town hall, for the accommodation of the municipal officers and the police.
This brings me to the comical part of our excursion. Having dismounted for the observation of the place on foot, the inspection of the building just mentioned, and of a new church of some merit in its architecture, we again took horse to meet an appointment for dinner in Montevideo, three miles distant. We had scarcely reached the centre of the town, however, before my horse came suddenly to a dead stand. He had travelled beautifully all the morning, without the slightest evidence of a stubborn or vicious disposition, or any bad habit. It was in vain, however, that I now urged him forward. All the effect of doing so was to cause him to turn abruptly to the one side or the other, or completely around; and, when I resorted to the whip and spur, neither of which had before been required, he dashed upon the sidewalk to the right or to the left, and rushed headforemost into the shop-doors and windows, putting men, women, and children to flight in every direction. Of the crowd of boys soon gathered near, I heard some, by way of commiseration, exclaim, “What a wicked horse!” others less courteous, and with knowing looks as to the merits of the case, “What a poor rider!” till Lt. T——, a Virginia cavalier, insisted on an exchange of animals. This we made, but without securing a better issue. The horse he had ridden behaved in the same manner, or when started, persisted in dashing round the first corner come to, and in rushing into the first enclosure or stable-yard open to him. I kept him going, however, from point to point, as best I could—first down one street and then up another; around this corner and around that—with my friends in full gallop behind, till all three were brought to a stand by getting between two walls, which formed a kind of cul de sac. By this time we had fairly roused the whole place, without gaining the advance of a rod towards Montevideo, and Mr. Z—— proposed that I should make the further trial of his horse. The excitement of the chase after me, the hurraing of the boys, the shrieks of the women, and the general tumult, had fired the spirit of this fine animal, and the moment I had gained the saddle, headed in the direction we wished to go, he started at full speed through the principal street, while—
“The dogs did bark, the children screamed,
Up flew the windows all;