The real Argentine: Notes and Impressions of a Year in the Argentine and Uruguay

by J. A. Hammerton

One thing that struck me not only in the literature of the country and in the manifestations of its political thinkers, but in all the evidences of its daily life, was how slightly indeed has the tremendous modern development of the Argentine affected Uruguay. Just as the great current of emigration passes its shores and does no more than dash a little spray, in the form of a few stray emigrants, into Uruguay, so the progress of the Argentine has affected hardly at all the life of Uruguay. It is a distinct and highly individualised entity. Though essentially Spanish in character, and originally part of the vice-royalty of Spain, Uruguay had to secure its independence, not from the motherland, but from Brazil, of which it was a province up to August 25, 1825. There is much talk among Argentine statesmen of the chauvinist variety, of annexing it to the greater republic, but geographically it is not meant to be Argentine territory, the River Plate on the south and the Uruguay on the west being natural boundaries, while the Brazilian frontier is artificial. Less likely is it ever again to pass under the control of Brazil, and it really serves a useful political purpose as something of a buffer state between the two great republics of the Southern continent.

The most notable Argentine influence to be detected in Montevideo is the passion for highly polished boots! I have often been amused to notice workmen on their way from their tasks carefully dusting their boots with their handkerchiefs to keep themselves “in the movement.” Like all little countries, it is intensely proud of itself, tenacious of its independence, and conscious of a certain superiority to both of its great neighbours in the higher standard of intellectualism which it has developed. Talk of Argentine annexation to an Uruguayan, and you will speedily see that warrior spirit of which we have already heard a good deal.

In the preceding chapter, certain distinctions between the social life of the two republics have been mentioned, but not the prevalence of the old Andalusian custom of love-making. This is one of the features of Montevidean life that give a quaint touch to the street scenes, as every evening the lovers may be observed standing on the pavement outside the barred windows, talking to the girls within. This, I fancy, is similar to the Mexican custom known as “playing bear,” and very strange it looks to the wanderer from other shores. If a young man falls in love with a Montevidean damsel, he must find some means of being introduced to her father and gaining permission to pay court to his daughter, for which purpose two nights of the week will be set apart, when he is at liberty to visit her in the presence of her family, and this, mark you, takes place before the lovers will have exchanged a spoken word. The sweetheart is not supposed to meet the young lady at any other time except on those appointed evenings, not even in the street is he expected to stop and talk to her, and he can only take her to the theatre duly chaperoned by a sister or other relative. The courtship, too, is only permitted on the distinct understanding that the young man intends to propose marriage to the young lady, anything approaching the casual American courtships being rigorously ruled out. Then comes the ceremony known as el cambio de argollas, or change of rings, to which, much as we should invite a large wedding party, all the friends of the sweethearts are bidden; presents are given, and the engaged couple present each other with a ring. When the marriage time draws near, the lover must himself make all arrangements for the house, endeavouring to interpret as best he can the taste of his future wife, who takes no part in these preliminaries, until another ceremonial occasion, known as la visita de vistas, when, accompanied by some friends and her future husband, she goes to see the home he has prepared for her. These customs, chiefly of Spanish origin, are more observed in Uruguay than on the other side of the River Plate, and help, among many others, to emphasise the differences that exist between the two peoples.

It is well-known, of course, that Uruguayan credit in Europe has not stood as high of recent years as the splendid possibilities of the country ought to warrant, due to the fact that a great deal of the money borrowed in the past for public improvements has found its way into the wrong pockets, and also in some degree to the high-handed action of President Batlle in regard to the affair of the Rambla Sud. In 1913, the treasury had fallen so low that it was not able to pay all the Civil Servants their salaries, but a new loan has just been floated at the time these lines are being written, which will enable the Government to pay its way for some time to come, and it is to be hoped that the spirit of international friendship and co-operation which has worked to such splendid issues in the Argentine, and is really part of the Colorado policy in Uruguay, may so develop that this highly favoured little country shall turn its attention in a more businesslike and earnest way to the development of its great natural resources.

One of the curses of Uruguay is the prevalence of consumption, to combat which an admirably managed association is in existence, and a great annual collection is made on el Dia de los Tuberculosos, September 1st. The extraordinary energy with which this movement has been taken up, the immense sums of money realised by the collections throughout the Republic, and the admirable way in which the whole thing is organised by the Uruguayan Anti-consumption League, were proofs to me of the genuine spirit of public service that does exist in the country, and evidences of what that spirit may yet achieve.

CHAPTER XXII
FROM THE RIVER PLATE TO THE ANDES

Early in April we made another journey to Buenos Ayres, and thence to Ensenada, the port of La Plata, where, in the company of friends, I had to bid good-bye to my wife, with whom the changeful climate had dealt none too kindly. Just a year before, we had set out to revel in the sunshine of the golden South, and now one of us, after a year of many changing weathers, was gladly setting sail for the grey North, resolved never again to say one word against its climate, while the other would no less willingly have bid good-bye to the River Plate, but that matters of importance held him to South America and the promise of many new scenes and far journeyings for well-nigh another year.

It was with a curious sense of loneliness that I found myself back in Montevideo, not at our old quarters in the Calle Sarandí, but comfortably accommodated in the Hotel Oriental, for some three weeks more, ere I too had to take leave of the River Plate. Those few weeks in that hotel, which is situated hard by the quay and is the favourite house of call for all English and American voyagers making a flying visit to the port, went past much quicker than I had hoped. I found it greatly improved since my earlier visits, so that it had assumed almost an English aspect in the matter of appointments, while the cuisine was excellent. The brother and sister who conduct it showed a very gracious spirit of service to their guests, and I noticed that in view of the increasing popularity of their establishment with English-speaking visitors, the lady was beginning to study their language, of which at that time she knew only a few words, though she spoke French fluently in addition to her native tongue.

Many nights of billiard matches at the English Club linger in my memory of these concluding weeks, and particularly I recall the happy smiling face of one of the members there, who went about radiating joy because he had just managed to arrange for leave of absence in October. His wife—like so many of the wives of the exiles—had been forced to return home a year or so before that time, and the seven months that now separated him from wife and home seemed so short by anticipation, in comparison with the lonely months he had put behind him, that you might have thought he was setting sail next day. I fear there are many sad hearts among the British on the River Plate, and many lives being poorly lived, for one encounters scores of husbands left lonely in these towns because their wives have found the life so little to their taste, or the climate, with its sudden changes from hot to cold, too much for their physical resistance. Can anything be more unsatisfactory than thus to wear away the best years of one’s life? Several Britishers with whom I became acquainted, whose duties kept them on the River Plate, had lived there alone, with only triennial visits to their wives and families in England, for periods ranging from ten to fifteen years. Some of these gentlemen had made, or were making, considerable fortunes, but I must confess I envied none the wealth which they were securing at so great a sacrifice of domestic happiness.