It would be difficult to find a more interesting place in Santiago than the old market, which will soon be abandoned. Around it will be seen the huge, two-wheeled market carts in which the produce has been brought. Many of these marketers have been on the road for two or three days, bringing in the products of their fertile fields for the people in the city. The meek-eyed oxen stand or recline while chewing their cud, no doubt enjoying to the full the brief respite from their work. The produce displayed in the market is good. The fruits of Chile are simply delicious in flavour, and they are large in size. The pears and peaches of California are not better than those grown here below the equator, and yet they have been grown with very little care in their cultivation.
One must bargain with or pay an exorbitant price to these market men and women. If it is only a melon, or a dozen juicy pears, twice as much will be asked as is expected. If you shake your head when a price is given, the man or woman in charge of the stall will immediately ask, “What will you give?” On the outside of the market building dozens of women will be seen seated on the ground with a little pile of tomatoes, radishes, potatoes or melons heaped up in front of them. The housewife or servant will pass around among them making purchases and gradually filling up the basket which she carries, or hires some boy to bear for her.
A MARKET SCENE, SANTIAGO.
The poorer Chileans are a hard working people—the most industrious of the South Americans. A walk through the sections of the city occupied by them shows much grinding poverty. Across the Mapocho penury stretches on all sides. The dwellings are low, with floors oftentimes below the street level, and the interiors show unsanitary conditions and an entire lack of the comforts of life, let alone the decencies. The improvement of such surroundings should command immediate attention from the authorities. The wages paid this class are not very large, so that they are compelled to live in comparative poverty. They drink a great deal on Sundays and holidays. Monday is a bad day to get anything done, for the peons must have a few hours to recover from the previous day’s celebration. It is a sort of a “dias non,” a day that is not. Holidays are greatly desired, and it takes five of them to properly celebrate the “diaz y ocho de Setiembre,” the 18th of September, the anniversary of Chilean independence. Fiestas are held in every park and plaza, and all the banks and business houses close. Everybody, young and old, engages in the festivities with zeal and enthusiasm. The poor people save up their money for weeks and months in order to celebrate this occasion in the only way that seems appropriate to them—that is, by carousing. Saturday is beggars’ day, and every mendicant in the city is out with open palm. On other days only the licensed beggars appear. Some beggars even come out on horseback, for horses are remarkably cheap in Chile.
Another good view may be had of the poorer classes on the occasion of a church celebration, such as the festival of Corpus Christi. Both church and state take a part in this fiesta. The troops appear in their finest uniforms. The infantry are gorgeous in their blue and yellow, with helmets surmounted with white plumes. The cavalry wear blue plumes and the bands are adorned with red plumes. The religious procession consists of the Procession of the Cross, which is composed of various societies, the Dominicans, Franciscans, Augustinians and other orders. The parochial clergy follow with the Archbishop in the lead. During the procession hundreds of women and children, and some men, kneel in the streets. Some men doff their hats, while others look on in seemingly idle curiosity without any special attitude of reverence.
The wealthier people take life easy. The real life is only for this class. After breakfast, which is served from eleven to twelve o’clock, comes the siesta. This meal is frequently an elaborate and formal function if guests are present, and is more like a dinner. On the door of many business houses one will see the sign “cerrado de las 12 a 1½ horas,” which means that they are closed between these hours. Business calls are usually made between two and four. At six o’clock every person who owns or can hire a carriage goes out to Cousiño Park. Everyone dresses in his best, the men wearing silk hats and frock suits, and the women having on fashionable gowns and large hats. In the park the carriages parade up and down the principal drives and the occupants nod to their acquaintances. It is quite the correct thing for men to make audible remarks about the personal appearance of ladies, if they are complimentary. After about half an hour of this parade they adjourn as by mutual consent to the Alameda, which is twice as wide as Pennsylvania Avenue in Washington, and the parade continues up one side of the imposing avenue and down the other for another half hour. There are all kinds of vehicles—drays, victorias, landaus, four-in-hands and automobiles. The driving is superintended by mounted policemen, and the scene is quite imposing, though rather stilted in the eyes of an American. The parade then breaks up and all drive home to partake of the dinner, which is the principal meal of the day. The politeness of the Chileno is excessive. He will always give the lady the inner side of the street, and would cheerfully step off the sidewalk in order to render this courtesy. The man always extends the first greeting also to a lady of his acquaintance.
Club life is greatly enjoyed in Santiago, for the resident of that city is very much of a night-hawk. The Club de la Union is the best club in the country. It was my privilege to be entertained there a number of times. The real life does not begin until rather late, and there is always a representative crowd of men to be found there after ten o’clock, and gambling is sure to be indulged in in some form. While the men are at the club the women stay at home, or attend the theatre.
When Italian opera is not being given, one-act comedies are the favourite plays. Going to the theatre, however, usually means looking in for a zarzuela or two during the evening. Three or four of these one-act pieces, or zarzuelas, are usually put on in an evening, and the house is cleared after each performance. Those who dine late usually drop in for the second turn, which begins about half-past nine; or one can catch the last one, which does not begin until about eleven o’clock. Some of these zarzuelas are one-act musical plays, abridged from popular operas, but most of them are melodrama or grotesque comedy. The audiences are very alert and are quick to respond to appeals from the stage.
“Oh, Mamacita, let us go around the plaza once more, for the band has not yet quit playing,” plead the little girls and young ladies of Santiago. On Tuesday, Thursday and Sunday evenings a band plays in the Plaza de Armas, which is the centre of life and business in the Chilean capital. Then occurs the paseo, or promenade, so common in Spanish towns. It usually begins before the light has yet faded from the highest peaks of the Andes, and while the newsboys are still calling out “Las Ultimas Noticias.” The girls and young ladies, the boys and young men, all come here on these evenings. The former are always accompanied by their mothers, as the social customs are very strict and the girls do not enjoy as much freedom as their cousins have in North America. The mothers sit on the benches, while the younger women and girls walk around the plaza in pairs and groups. The young men, among whom are many officers in German uniforms and with clanking swords, walk around in the opposite direction, and pass audible comments on the girls who pass. Their remarks are irritating to an Anglo-Saxon who understands the Castilian lisp, but the girls only laugh or smile, for they are quite accustomed to it. The same attentions bestowed on young ladies on the average American street would result in an interference by a man in blue uniform, and possibly a gentle use of the “big stick.” The young men exchange a few words with those with whom they are acquainted, but not for long, for mamma keeps her vigilant eyes on them. The girls, even little tots, are finished coquettes, and they aim to attract attention. This is one of the few opportunities afforded to the young people to see each other. If a young man observes a girl by whom he is attracted he will begin inquiries as to who she is, and perhaps even his folks will aid him in his effort to make the acquaintance of his inamorata.