Life in Uruguay is perhaps best described by the German word gemüthlich, an untranslatable adjective that savours in its birthplace just a little of light beer, easy-chairs, cigar smoke, steaming coffee, and an atmosphere of camaraderie. After which it is necessary to come to an abrupt halt in this task of translation, since the danger of dragging in a foreign word becomes evident when it is necessary to introduce another in order to explain it. In any case, this good-fellowship of the Uruguayan is of a far lighter order than the Teutonic, and is only remotely concerned with the material matters of life. Like the majority of the races of Iberian descent, the Oriental is essentially sober in his tastes, and frequently of an ascetic temperament. Such traits are inborn and natural, and by no means the result of a campaign of schooling and self-repression. He has not, for instance, found it necessary to undergo an outward treatment of badges and blue ribbons nor to devote himself to a special era of self-protection from the like of which the chastened Anglo-Saxon is only just emerging.
For generations the Spanish Main has afforded a lucrative field to the writers of pure sensationalism—if the word be allowed. Their choice has undoubtedly been a wise one, and a judicious compound of fair creoles, satanic dons, swashbuckling pirates, and heroes of the tenderest age has proved an almost inexhaustible gold-mine of really lurid fiction. Yet it cannot be said that this fervid literature has led to a complete understanding of the South American character by the British youth. As to the popular and stirring villainies, I will not attempt to deny that in the past deeds have been enacted that were as terrible as those which have shuddered in print between gaudy paper covers. There were many beyond, infinitely worse, and altogether unthinkable. But the perpetrators of these were seldom enough of the stereotyped temperament as portrayed by the blood-and-thunder authors. Alas for the double-dyed deceit that lurked between the terrific drunken orgies! The real chief organisers of such colossal outrages as have obtained went about their business with a directness that was worthy of a better cause, and reddened the pages of history with a strictly methodical and painstaking industry. Moreover, they were as sober as an infant of eight at a Band of Hope festival.
But all this has very little to do with the present-day dwellers in Uruguay, and their habits and customs. The atmosphere of the country is essentially one of civility. If you would learn the temperament of a nation, mark the behaviour of its humbler public functionaries! In fact, one of the first steps that a student of national character should take is merely to ask a policeman the first question that enters the mind. In order to apply the severest test the query should be a crassly foolish one. In France may be expected vivacious expostulation, in Germany an explosion of imperative military sounds, in Holland a placid non-comprehension, in Portugal a pathetic eagerness to satisfy at all costs—I have tried all these, and more beyond than would stand inclusion here without the risk of wearying. The Uruguayan policeman, in his uniform of British pattern, is essentially courteous, while the manners of the tram conductors, railway guards, and those other genii of transit in whose hands the fate of the traveller lies are equally to be commended.
THE PRINCIPAL PLAZA: MONTEVIDEO.
THE HARBOUR: MONTEVIDEO.
To face p. 130.