Who has visited Buenos Ayres without having heard of the noisy drunken Englishman, Jack Hall, the Caleb Quotem of the town, and who, in appearance and dress, looked as if he had just escaped from Newgate. Poor Jack died in July, 1824, and was carried to the grave in his own cart, which had, for a series of years, borne so many of his countrymen to their last abode, and on that account was called “the English hearse.” Hall was a Jack of all trades, painter, glazier, whitewasher, &c. &c. The Spaniards, when he first arrived amongst them, viewed him as a prodigy.
Irishmen naturalized into American citizens, or what are called “Irish Yankies,” from time to time pass through Buenos Ayres, on their route to different parts: I have known several. It is heart-rending to think, that political events should thus have estranged men from their native country, and made them its bitterest enemies. It is true, they “rail against a rock they cannot pull down.” If an excuse can be found for them, it is that the hopes of their youth have been [blighted], and that oppression has made them aliens to their native land. North Americans remark, that those who abuse Great Britain most in the United States are our own countrymen. I believe it; and in the falsification of their long-told predictions of England’s downfall, there is a wider field opened for their hate, and to brood upon what is to happen to ill-fated England.
As regards some Irishmen whom I have known (or, if it must be so, “Irish Yankies”), I sincerely regret that I cannot embrace them, take them by the hand, and call them countrymen. I have noticed them to be men of warm imaginations; and when listening to any detail of Irish intrepidity in the French war—and where is it that Irish blood has not flowed in torrents for the cause of Great Britain?—their hearts appeared elated, and they knew every Irish officer who had distinguished himself; they spoke of his deeds with rapture, and, for the moment, assumed their natural character of British subjects;—for, say what they will, a man feels little enthusiasm in the glories of any nation but his own. I congratulated one upon the change in his ideas:—he started; “No,” said he, “I regret not the past; I am, and ever will remain, an American citizen.”
There are three North-American mercantile houses—Mr. Ford; Zimmerman and Co.; and Stewart and M’Call. The residents are few, excepting the casual visitors. I find a difficulty in distinguishing them from Englishmen, though a Creole friend of mine pretended to do it, describing the Americans as generally wearing white hats, spectacles, and carrying a stick. This observation I afterwards found tolerably correct. We laugh at their phrases—“I guess,”—“I calculate,”—“I expect,” &c.; and they retort upon our continual use of “You know,” in conversation. It will be well for the two nations, if their future differences consist only in laughing at each other’s peculiarities of speech.
The North Americans carry on a considerable trade in this river, and have brought some valuable cargoes from China and India. Flour, lumber, a few dry goods, soap, &c. are their general import; salt vessels also arrive from the Cape de Verd, which article is at times very profitable. Now and then the domestic manufactures of North America are brought to this market; but the profit of them, if any, must be very small. The immense capital, machinery, and talent of England, must for a long time give her the advantage over every other nation; and as regards North America, I should not suppose it would answer her purpose to divert her population from the health-inspiring pursuits of agriculture to a pernicious manufacture. Their chief commerce is in flour; and owing to one or two bad harvests in this province, the advantages have been great. It has been sold at thirty dollars per barrel; the cost in North America being only seven or eight. During the year 1823, upwards of 70,000 barrels of flour was thus imported into Buenos Ayres. For a country so luxuriant in soil to be dependent upon foreigners for bread, appears strange; but agriculture is yet young in South America.
The North-American trade is mostly carried on in ships with supercargoes: the captains are a superior set of men. But few English ships arrive; they are nearly all brigs, commanded by our roughest seamen: but these brigs often contain valuable cargoes. The Americans manage to run about the world with small cargoes. A number of their vessels come here for the purpose of being sold and broken up; which seems to be a good speculation, if we may judge from the number hauled upon the beach for that purpose: those ships that cut such a dashing figure at first sight, have only “a goodly outside, but are rotten within.”
The circumstance of North America having been the first to acknowledge the independence of this province has not insured to her any particular commercial privileges. In a coffee-house, one evening, I witnessed a serious debate amongst some Creolians; one of them, in the heat of argument, asserted that the acknowledgment by North America was of no more consequence to the state, than if the province of Santa Fé had done so. The acknowledgment by Spain and England is what materially interests them: North America, however, has decidedly paved the way for this.
Although there are a great many North-American mechanics, yet we find very few of them have shops of their own in Buenos Ayres. In the manufacture of boots, shoes, hats, &c. as well as dry goods, they must yield the palm to us. In the stores, a preference is given to English hams, cheeses, &c.; but I have tasted American articles of this description, of good quality. The Americans, aware of the partiality, pass off many of their goods as English; and I have purchased American soap with the British crown impressed upon it.