We had been met farther out in the stream by the customs and quarantine officers, but these troubled us little, and were of much less interest to us than our third visitor, the congenial representative of the Belgian Consulate, who brought our letters and some news of interest. To us the most startling news was the story of the bold attempt to assassinate President Barros of Brazil, whose friendly hand we had shaken only a few days previous, apparently surrounded by all possible guards to perfect safety. This case, however, while somewhat startling to a stranger, illustrates one of the recognised methods for changing presidents in the Spanish American republics. The President of Uruguay was summarily disposed of in the same manner only a few months ago, while his successor is probably awaiting his turn with resigned fate. The life of a president hereabout is evidently not one of any special ease, security, or comfort.
The city of Montevideo presents, even from a distance, an air of thrift, wealth, and comfort. El Cerro, a nipple-shaped mount, is the only distinguishing feature of the landscape which marks the sight of the port. It rises in a gentle slope to the height of five hundred feet, about a half mile from the rugged beach on the western side of the bay. Its sides are covered with a thin grass which is now giving place to residences, a result of the recent growth of the city. The top is crowned by a fort, and within this there rises a splendid lighthouse, whose powerful revolving light is visible at sea twenty-five miles from the coast. The main portion of the city stands upon a peninsula of gently rising ground on the east side of the bay. From here the town spreads over a large portion of the mainland and there are several prominent buildings which stand out boldly over the low houses which compose the body of the city. To one coming from Rio Janeiro or other cities in the tropics, the most noticeable feature of this city is the dense volume of smoke arising from its chimnied houses and thrifty factories: the latter are a certain sign of an agreeable climate and dry apartments—comforts foreign to torrid America.
It was, perhaps, eight o’clock in the evening before we had finished reading our letters and were ready for a debarkment. The afternoon was fairly clear, there had been little wind, and the temperature was extremely agreeable; but now the aspect changed with such suddenness as to cause some anxiety for the ship’s safety during the coming night. Huge fantastic rolls of lead-like sheets of clouds drove rapidly over the sky from the west, and painted the whole scene in an inky blackness with such marvellous speed that we were amazed and undecided as to what it meant for some time; but a few zigzags of coloured lightning and a deafening burst of thunder soon explained to us the character of the coming commotion. Thinking that we could reach the shore before the shower commenced, we descended into one of the tugs, which at once headed for one of the many lights standing out boldly in the inky blackness shoreward. But on our way we were pelted and pounded by such a hail storm as had never fallen to my lot. The globules were about the size of a large marble, and fell in such numbers that, though the fall did not continue more than ten minutes, it completely covered the decks. As we reached the shore, and mounted to the pier with our hats battered and our pockets full of icy spheroids, we had to face still another trial characteristic of the Plata, a rain storm. But this rain storm while interesting from a meteorological standpoint did not arouse us to a sense of study. Big drops came quickly in the wake of the hail pellets, and these multiplied with such rapidity that in a few minutes, and before we could find shelter, it seemed as if all the clouds of heaven had united to pour upon us a cold torrent.
Drenched as thoroughly as if we had been overboard, we shortly found our way to the Hotel Oriental, and here the entire upper floor was placed at the disposition of the members of the expedition. After a comfortable night’s rest and a cup of delicious Rio coffee brought to our bedside—a custom which is everywhere in South America a joy—we prepared for a material study of the city and its resources.
San Felipe de Monte Video is the full name of the capital of the Oriental Republic of Uruguay, but it is now generally written Montevideo. It has a population of about 200,000, and of these it is said that not less than 50,000 are foreign residents. The entire Republic has a population not exceeding 800,000, hence one quarter of Uruguayan residences are here closely huddled together near the mouth of the Plata. The blood of the Uruguayans, aside from the complex European admixture, which is now entering their veins, is a curious blend of old Spanish and local Indian. But unlike similar hybrids many of the good qualities of the bold Spaniard, and of the freedom-loving Indian have been preserved. Hence the men have developed into a type of vigorous manhood giving an appearance at once of wild strength and refined intelligence, while the women must be considered as among the most beautiful of the world.
The trade of Montevideo seems far beyond what we would expect from a town of its size. Wool, hides, tallow, dried beef, and, in general, the products of cattle farming are the chief and nearly the only exports. But these are gathered from the interior in such tremendous quantities, and with so little expense, that they form an enviable source of wealth; and since this is also one of the chief exports of the United States, it is evident that Uruguay is to us a formidable commercial rival. The imports are very large, because this is a centre from which much of the country in the Plata basin is supplied. The imports consist principally of cotton, woollen and silk fabrics, hardware, wine, various food products, and, within the past few years, much improved machinery has been bought. The trade is almost entirely with the various states of Europe, of which England claims twenty-five per cent. The means of transportation to the United States is so imperfect, and the efforts of our merchants have been so feeble that Yankee goods are little in evidence here.
From our balcony at the hotel we had a charming view of the city and of the bay which forms the harbour. Twenty-seven steamers of huge tonnage were anchored at various points, mostly far from the shore. A little nearer were a series of cruisers from various nations. Among these was the beautiful little Castine of our White Squadron, and H. M. S. Retribution. Still nearer were a large number of flat-bottom river crafts, which navigate the Parana and Uruguay rivers. The harbour thus presented every evidence of thrift and industry, while the many large warehouses fronting the water were sufficient proof of the great commerce. The city is composed mostly of tile-roofed two-story stone houses, neat in appearance, and comfortable in equipments. The law prohibits the building of private residences more than seventeen metres in height. But there are many public buildings which are raised much higher, and notable among these is the imposing structure which now belongs to the University of Montevideo. It was originally built as a hotel, but was finally bought by the Government as the home of its principal institute of learning. The building occupies a good sized square, is five stories in height, and has a wide open centre with balconies on every floor. The institution has excellent laboratories, libraries, and is in many ways well adapted for modern education. It is thus a proof of the noble and higher aims of our little sister Republic.
Closely connected with the University is the growing fame of a young Italian bacteriologist—Dr. I. Sanarelli. Two years ago Dr. Sanarelli accepted a position on the staff of the Institute of Hygiene, and in addition to his regular work he has devoted much of his time to a careful search for the germ of yellow fever. His efforts seem to have been crowned with success, for he is to-day the most noted man in all South America. I heard the name of Dr. Sanarelli on every tongue from the Amazon to the Plata, and I expected to pay him a formal professional visit, but this was obviated by a more natural meeting. We were taking dinner at the one fashionable restaurant of the town when the famous doctor came in, and he was promptly ushered to our table.
The story of the discovery of the germ of a disease which has destroyed thousands, perhaps millions, of human lives, is a matter of considerable interest and certainly vastly more important than that of a king who has conquered nations. And if this discovery is supplemented by a remedy which will cure or prevent the disease, it will surely be one of the greatest blessings which the world has ever known. Both of these attainments seem to be within the grasp of Dr. Sanarelli. During the early part of the present year (1897) he discovered the little organism which is the cause of the yellow pest. The news has spread over the entire world, but with the usual conservative attitude of the medical profession the brilliant discovery has been but slowly recognised; even at present there are many doubters who will not accept the newly discovered organism as the sole cause of yellow fever until confirmatory observations establish the fact more definitely. The Montevideo doctors, however, one and all, accept the discovery as final and look with confidence to Dr. Sanarelli for the practical outcome of the curative plan of treatment upon which he is now experimenting.
To cure yellow fever with its cause in hand, it is proposed to make a fluid similar to the anti-diphtheritic serums, which are either destructive or inhibitory to the germs in question. Such a serum has been made and it has been tried upon beasts and men with what Dr. Sanarelli considers marked success. The Brazilian government, in whose domain there is always a nursery of the disease, has recognised the great possibilities of this work, and will shortly set up an experimental laboratory for the manufacture of the serum. For a positive judgment as to the success or failure of the serum plan of treatment we must wait for a long trial, perhaps several years; but the glory and the credit of being the first to see in this dangerous little speck of life, hitherto invisible, an enemy which has caused the death of uncounted thousands of vigorous human lives, already belongs beyond a question to Dr. Sanarelli.