It is to be wondered at, too, that in remote countries, where so few advantages are attainable in education, knowledge of the world and society, that they should be so well supplied with pretty airs and graces. It can only be attributable to that sublimated coquette Nature herself, who provides those little goods the gods deny.
We had the pleasure of attending a number of tertulias, or evening parties given in the houses of native residents, and witnessing the dances of the country. The tertulia is easy and sociable, without form or ceremony. The bayles are more staid affairs, where ladies are seated in silent rows by themselves—men very hairy and grummy—taking advantage of intervals in dancing to lounge on the piazzas, swallow a few mouthfuls of cigar smoke, (not a bad institution this in warm weather,) and exclaim, dios que calor! (how hot.) At one of these assemblies we first saw a minuet called the samacueca. It was undertaken by a beautiful young married lady, in company with a rather corpulent old gentleman, and danced in a very sprightly, rogueish manner. The prelude and music is similar to that of fandangos, but the movements and motif are far more indelicate, and it is by no means a matter of difficulty to divine the meaning. Although these innocent ballets would no doubt shockingly jar the nerves of a more refined audience, and many a performer might be considered "too fine a dancer for a virtuous woman," yet I am convinced that among these unaffected creoles, naught is seen in the least degree improper, but they are regarded from infancy as the harmless customs and amusements of their country. As an individual I am fond of a notion of cayenne to existence, and only clapped hands, or cried, brava! buena! bonita!
The opera was in full blast—the house large and convenient, with very pretty scenic displays, and quite a brilliant constellation of Italian stars to illumine the proscenium, but on no representation did there appear evidence in the boxes that the manager's purse was filled. We had the honor of being presented to the primo basso, Signor Marti, who conversed pleasantly with a melodramatic voice from apparently very low down in his boots. We listened to his sweet seguadillas with rapture.
We found the climate truly delightful. It was the summer of the southern ocean—pure, pleasant breezes with the sun, and clear, calm, sparkling nights by moon or stars. Little or no rain falls, except in the winter months, and as a consequence where the soil is fine and dry, dust covers everything in impalpable clouds, at the same time affording a desirable atmosphere for that lively individual, the flea!
On the coast of Syria the Arabs hold to the proverb that the Sultan of fleas holds his court in Jaffa, and the Grand Vizier in Cairo; but so far as our experience went in Valparaiso, we could safely give the lie to the adage. As an unobtrusive person myself, I have a constitutional antipathy to the entire race, and invariably use every precaution to avoid their society—all to no purpose. They found me in crowds or solitudes—alighted on me in swarms, like the locusts of Egypt, destroying enjoyment on shore, and I fully resolved never to venture abroad again, of mine own free will, until some enterprising Yankee shall invent a trap for their annihilation.
I remember one mild afternoon sauntering on the almendral, when my attention was drawn to a lithe, young damsel on the sidewalk, who, whilst tripping along with a dainty gait, suddenly gave her foot a backward twist, with a dexterous pinch at the pretty ancle, and again went on like a bird. She had captured a flea! but it was a style of piedermain worthy of the great Adrien; a feat I was prepared to believe nearly equal to mounted Cossacks picking up pins from the ground with their teeth, at full speed—in fact, something really wonderful, and although I was quite confounded, and almost speechless with amazement, yet I followed mechanically in order to see what she could or would accomplish next. Nor could I repress some audible expressions of encouragement; but the fair donçella, unconscious of having performed anything remarkable, gave me a look, as much as to say, in the language of a touching nautical ballad—
"Go away young man—my company forsake."
So not wishing to appear intrusive, I returned pensively to mine inn.
Fashions in ladies' dress are similar to those in Europe or the United States, and even among the lower orders the bonnet is worn; but to my way of thinking, a Spanish girl's forte is in a black satin robe and slippers, a flowing mantilla, fine, smooth jetty tresses, and a waving fan to act as breakflash to sparkling eyes!
Of the men of Chili, or at least those of them whom transient visitors encounter in the usual lounging resorts of vaut-riens,—theatres, cafés, tertulias, plazas, and other purlieus, they cannot be said to compare with their captivating sisters—for a more indolent, hairy, cigar-puffing race of bipeds never existed. In dress they ape the faded fashions of Europe, retaining, however, the native cloak costume of the poncho. It is a capital garment for either the road or the saddle, leaving free play to the arms, and at the same time a protection from dust or rain. It is worn by all classes, and composed of the gaudiest colors, occasionally resembling a remarkably bright pattern of a drawing room carpet, with the head of the wearer thrust through a slit in the centre.