“Sin flores y sin hermosas
Qué fuera de los mortales?
Bien habeis nacido, rosas,
Sobre el lodo de los males.”
—Arolas.
TRANSLATION.
“Without beauty, without flowers,
What would be this world of ours?
Well, that e’en in misery dire
Find we roses ’mid the mire.”
The truth of the above sentiment we soon realized; from this time a succession of misfortunes, commencing with a violent attack of fever which nearly carried us all to the grave, and ending with the destruction of our property and peaceful homes, followed one another without intermission.
The fever was doubtless induced by our previous exposure on the journey and subsequent dissipations at Calabozo, although the city itself is one of the healthiest spots in the republic. Unfortunately, our physician, who was blessed with a very jealous wife, had been summoned home by his better half on hearing of our approach to the fairy metropolis of the Llanos. However, there were two or three medical gentlemen in the place, and these, with the unremitting kindness and assistance of the ladies, managed to keep us alive until a skilful physician, who had been sent for, arrived from the Valleys of Aragua. The critical condition of our respected Leader and sire particularly gave them serious fears, as the fever in his case had commenced to assume a malignant character. Courier after courier was despatched across the miry plains to hasten the arrival of the doctor, while the generous inhabitants vied with each other in the anxious cares with which they surrounded the sick-bed of their beloved guest. Years have rolled on, and many changes have since taken place, both in the affairs of the nation and in the fortunes of the subject of these remarks; yet, their love for the “Martyr of San Antonio,”[75] far from diminishing, seems to have increased during his protracted exile; for, as late as 1861, after the overthrow of Monagas, a petition addressed to Pres. Tovar asking his recall, and signed by all the inhabitants of Calabozo, has come to hand, protesting in the strongest terms against the impolicy and injustice of leaving him still in exile when the nation most needs his counsel and influence. Justly deprecating the horrors of civil war and the want of unity which have existed in the republic since the downfall of the Monagas party, the petitioners conclude with this feeling outburst of patriotic solicitude for the absence of their favorite champion: “From the far-off shores of the Arauca, to the sources of our own Guárico, our anxious horsemen watch incessantly the far horizon, inquire from the passing breezes of the destinies of the Hero, who has condemned himself to voluntary exile, and then exclaim with a sigh: ‘Were he again to lead us on to battle, Victory would be forthcoming, strengthened by Peace, and blessed by the vanquished.’ ”
CONCLUSION.
Here, courteous reader, end our rough journeys across the Llanos, and our real troubles commence; for having been involved—contrary to my own inclination, it must be owned—in the political strifes so prevalent in Spanish America, I have been compelled to wander ever since, from land to land, like the mysterious Jew of the French novelist, Eugene Sue, with neither settled home nor abiding place of rest. What I saw and learned worth relating during my peregrinations, hither and thither, will make the subject of the Second Series of these sketches, which, if your patience is not exhausted or my repertoire does not give out, I trust to lay before you at no distant day. In the meantime you must excuse any imperfections in the style and composition of this book, considering that I write in a language which is not my own, and which often perplexes even those who have more claims to it than myself, so many are its grammatical irregularities.
FOOTNOTES:
[1] Vide New York “Herald,” of July 17th and Aug. 5th, 1867.