The historical objects here, moreover, are of great interest to one who has followed the fluctuating fortunes of the country. The early uniforms and weapons of the Spaniards, the costumes and long lances of the first struggling national forces, and a host of other exhibits of the kind are assisted by a considerable collection of contemporary local pictures and drawings. Many of the earlier specimens of these are exceedingly crude, but none the less valuable for that, since the battle scenes are depicted with much the same rough vigour that doubtless characterised their actual raging.
In the gallery devoted to Uruguayan painters there is at least one picture that is remarkable for its power and realism, the work of a famous modern artist, representing a scene in the great plague visitation that the capital suffered. It is a little curious that in the rooms where hang the specimens of European art the biblical paintings of some of the old Italian masters should be hung side by side with modern productions of the lightest and most Gallic tendency; but it is quite possible that this may have been done with intention in support of the propaganda against the influence of Church and religion that has now become so marked throughout South America. In any case, the custom is one that does not obtain in Montevideo alone. The taxidermic portion of the museum is exceedingly well contrived, and the entire institution, with its competent staff, under the direction of Professor José Arechavaleta, is worthy of all praise.
With social institutions of all kinds Montevideo is amply provided. The theatres are well constructed, well patronised, and frequently visited by some of the most efficient companies in existence. It is true that, owing to the difference in the size of the two towns, Montevideo usually obtains the tail-end of a visit the most part of which has been spent in Buenos Aires. But such matters of precedence do not in the least affect the merits of the various performances. Both actors and musicians here, moreover, have to deal with an audience that is at least as critical as any that its larger neighbour can provide.
One of the evidences of Montevideo's modernity is to be found in its afternoon-tea establishments. Unfortunately, the name of the principal one of these places has escaped me, so that it must receive its meed of praise in an anonymous fashion. It is certainly one of the daintiest specimens of its kind that can be conceived both as regards decoration and the objects of light sustenance that justify its existence. As a teashop it is a jewel with an appropriate pendant—a tiny coal-black negro boy official at the door, whose gorgeous full-dress porter's uniform renders him a much-admired toy of humanity.
The chief and most imposing of the capital's clubs is the Club Uruguay that looks out upon the Plaza Matriz, the main square. The premises here are spacious and imposing, and the club is quite of the first order. The membership is confined almost entirely to the Uruguayans of the better classes, although it includes a small number of resident foreigners. The English Club is situated on the opposite side of the same square, and is an extremely cosy and well-managed institution that sustains to the full all the traditions of the English clubs abroad.
The English community in the capital is fairly numerous, and is in closer touch with its Uruguayan neighbours than is the case with the majority of such bodies in other South American countries. The enterprise and philanthropy of the colony are evident in many directions. It has long possessed a school and a hospital of its own; but subscriptions have now been raised for the erection of a larger and more modern hospital building, to be situated in pleasant surroundings on the outskirts of the town. A great part of the credit for this, as for many other similar undertakings, is undoubtedly due to Mr. R.J. Kennedy, the British Minister.
The English Colony is represented journalistically by a daily paper, the Montevideo Times, a sheet of comparatively modest dimensions that is very ably edited and conducted. Indeed, the record of Mr. W.H. Denstone, the editor, must be almost unique in the history of journalism all the world over. For a period that, I believe, exceeds twenty years the production, in journalese language, has been "put to bed" beneath his personal supervision, and not a number has appeared the matter of which has not come directly from his hands. As a testimony, not only to industry but to a climate that permits such an unbroken spell of labour, surely the feat is one to be cordially acclaimed in Fleet Street!
The Montevideo hotels, although there is much to be said in their favour, are comparatively modest in size, and somewhat lacking in those most modern attributes that characterise many in other large towns of South America, and even those in the pleasure resorts on the outskirts of the Uruguayan capital itself. The best known is the Lanata, situated in the Plaza Matriz. But I cannot recommend the Lanata with any genuine degree of enthusiasm. The Palacio Florida, a new hotel in the Calle Florida, is, I think, the most confidently to be recommended of any in the capital. The tariff here is strictly moderate, the service good, and the place is blessed with the distinct advantage of a very pleasant lounge on each floor.
In many respects Montevideo, although its scale of expenses is rising rapidly, still remains a place of cheaper existence than Buenos Aires. But not in the matter of its cabs and public vehicles. The hooded victoria of the Argentine capital is frequently replaced here by the landau, and on a provocation that may not have exceeded half a mile the piratical driver will endeavour to extract a dollar—the equivalent of four shillings and twopence—from his victimised passenger. The reason for this ambitious scale of charges no doubt lies in the fact that the Montevidean is very little addicted to driving in cabs, of which vehicles, indeed, the very excellent tramway service of the city renders him more or less independent. Thus, as the solvent person is said to bear the burden of the tailor's bad debts, the economies of those who ride in Montevidean tramcars are visited upon the pockets of those others who patronise the cabs.