PALERMO—FORMERLY THE RESIDENCE OF ROSAS.
A good level road has been carried from the city to Palermo, at considerable expense, the approach being ‘through an avenue of willows,’ made to look as park-like as possible. About the house, or palace, as it might have been called in the days of its glory, are numerous out-buildings and barracks for cavalry, of which Rosas always kept a strong body-guard, as might naturally have been expected from his antecedents, he having principally risen to power in the first instance among his fellow guachos by the superior daring and dexterity of his horsemanship; added, of course, to his extreme adroitness in turning to his own account the dissentions of his rivals in the race for power. Passing the house, down another long avenue towards the river, you are surprised at seeing a large vessel, evidently fitted up for some special purpose. It appears she was driven ashore there in some heavy gale; and Rosas had her converted into a pleasure house, where balls and parties were held—another toy or plaything suited to the character of the man. Nature being found rather stubborn in yielding to the wishes of the owner of Palermo, immense sums were expended in planting orange trees, ever-greens, and exotics, of one kind or another, which were brushed and combed daily, and coaxed into a sickly existence; but it would not do. Nothing but willows flourish, or will continue to flourish, over the dilapidated abode from which issued many a bloody decree of this Borgia of the Pampas.
I have no wish to say anything unnecessarily harsh of Rosas: on the contrary, knowing, as I do, what was the state of parties in this portion of South America, I am quite willing to admit the extreme exigency of his position in the first instance, as one who must put down, with an iron, and even a remorseless, hand, that universal anarchy and violence in the midst of which he attained the eminence of being the most daring and sanguinary member of a community of semi-civilized brigands. But what should silence, or rather should have silenced, for they are all mute enough now, his well-paid eulogists and defenders, is the continuance of mean and miserable cruelties, long after the faintest pretext for their perpetration on political grounds had passed away. I will not shock the reader by a revival of stories at which one’s blood runs cold. He is gone; fled as ignominiously as he had lived detestably; and, notwithstanding his gangs of gorged assassin friends, who would profit by his return, he has left none behind who bless his memory. If any proof were wanted, this would be conclusive, as to the purely selfish career of the man; for even a comity of crime evokes no benison on the head of the expelled despot, who never thought of anything but the aggrandisement of himself and family, at the expense of the national treasury. The revulsion of popular feeling towards him is only what might have been anticipated, though hardly, perhaps, to the extent that has actually taken place, considering the length of time he ruled, and the immense number of personal retainers one would have thought he might have contrived to attach to him. Some of these remained faithful after his fall, to the length of employing a portion of the ample funds left behind him to endeavour to promote his recall.
There has been an end of this for some time, and, consequently, a cessation of the intrigues arising from it. Urquiza, his sometime successor in the dictatorship, and the present President of the Argentine Confederation, (though long since repudiated by the principal state of the confederacy, Buenos Ayres, itself), extended to Rosas the almost unheard-of generosity of sparing his so-called private property—property which he wrung from the state, and which, on his departure, was employed by his myrmidons to effect the expulsion of Urquiza, and bring about the restoration of the elder tyrant. The former object it undoubtedly greatly helped to accomplish; in the latter it entirely failed; for, though Urquiza certainly entered upon unwise courses, was too precipitate and sweeping in his changes, and mistook violence for vigour, in many instances, as was not unnatural in a soldier fresh from another country, for the province of which he was president, Entre Rios, may be called so, still, from all I could learn among dispassionate critics, it would seem that he and the citizens, friends of order, would soon have become reconciled to each other, and there would have been a mutual softening of acerbities, were it not for the emissaries of Rosas being enabled, by the means just mentioned, to foment those antagonist feelings which eventually led to the siege and blockade, by Urquiza, of the very place he had so lately freed from the presence of the despot. Whatever may have been the faults of Urquiza, and they certainly find no apologist in me, his brief tenure of supreme power was sufficiently long to prove that he was altogether a man of superior stamp to Rosas, whose selfishness lacked even the ambition to make his tyranny respectable, in the sense that the most narrow-minded of oppressors have endeavoured to do elsewhere. Francia, whilst isolating Paraguay from all the world, contrived to make the Paraguayans proud of their country, and to cause others to believe that that pride was not altogether unfounded. Not so with Rosas: short-sighted as Francia, he had not a particle of the lofty feeling which influenced that gloomy bigot; for, while endeavouring to render Buenos Ayres powerful, it was all for himself individually; and he cared not to give the Buenos Ayreans an interest in saying that the tyrant who ground them was otherwise than simply hateful, and that what he achieved for them in the eyes of foreigners was purely contemptible. Saying nothing of the total absence, under his regime, of any commercial convenience, as already pointed out, not a single thing was done during his sway that had for its object real internal improvement. No newspapers were allowed to appear, except those under his sanction, in the same way as the one St. Petersburgh journal under the Czar’s surveillance. Not a single literary, historical, descriptive, or local work was allowed to be published or sold in Buenos Ayres, and barely a common-place almanack could be procured; so that to the present day you cannot find such a thing in the city as the slightest evidence that the mind of the whole population was otherwise than embruted to the level of helots, which indeed was virtually the case all the time his blighting influence was in the ascendant. The answer to any inquiry at the shops for works of information about either the city or provinces, during that period, is invariably the same, ‘Rosas did not permit their publication!’ The consequence is, you are obliged to grope your way along, and glean what you can from those you meet.
The rationale of this argument is altogether incomprehensible; for how are we to understand what could be his motive for such conduct at home, when we know that he was particularly assiduous, by means of the French, English, and even German press, and through every instrument of publicity he could influence, whether on stock exchanges, in diplomatic circles, or in fashionable coteries, to disseminate through Europe the belief that his capital was the abode of luxurious and intellectual enjoyment of every kind, its inhabitants delighted with his paternal sway, and that any interference on behalf of the unfortunate Uruguayans or others of his victims, external or domestic, was to be deprecated as the most irremediable of calamities, not merely to Buenos Ayres itself, but the whole of South America? That he succeeded in propagating this belief in some of the best informed quarters of Europe, particularly in England, is but too well known; and it is not a little curious that almost simultaneously with his arrival here, there appeared in certain organs, influenced by him, loud praises of a Hamburgh publication devoted to the exposition of the wisdom of his commercial policy, and ridiculing the notion of the affluents of the Plata ever being opened to European trade. But he and his system have passed away, and the memory of them is fast departing too in the coming of that better time which is believed to be at hand. His brother arrived in Europe in January last, despairing of any restoration of the family fortunes whatever; so I take leave of a topic that has become as obsolete as it would have been disagreeable to pursue it; and shall make no apology for the omission in these pages of anecdotic scandals,[88] for which readers at one time looked, as a matter of course, in every book professing to treat of the terrible Dictator, and eke of his famous daughter, the Donna Manueleta, who has been married (to a South American) since her father’s arrival in England, and now lives, I believe, in the neighbourhood of Southampton. Unwilling to dwell on the political complications in the Plate, and, at the same time, fearing it would be a contradiction of the desire expressed in the preface, to render this volume as informing as possible, especially to readers who may draw from it for the first time their knowledge of South American matters, I append, in a note, from the excellent geographical work of Mr. Charles Knight, now (1854) in course of publication[89] by Messrs. Bradbury and Evans, a brief, but comprehensive and dispassionate statement of recent incidents in the Argentine Confederation, and have added a few particulars, which, together, will, it is hoped, bring the narrative of occurrences necessary to be known down to the period of going to press, without the occupation of much space, or tediously encumbering the text with minutiæ of proper names, dates, and places, for these are really of little value to the general reader save for purposes of reference.
The view of the port of Buenos Ayres (if it can be called a port) from the flats of the houses is picturesque, vessels lying at anchor as far as the eye can reach. On the left, towards Palermo, is some high ground, with numerous pretty-looking villa residences; on the right, is the old fort, afterwards the custom-house, warehouses, and depôts of various kinds; further on, what is called the Boca, or Mouth, a small river, where large numbers of minor craft discharge and load in safety; but, at times, it is difficult even for them to get out, owing to an accumulation of sand at the river’s mouth which Rosas might have kept open, but made a really effectual effort to close it. Looking seaward, swarms of carts are visible going to and from lighters or small vessels at anchor in the inner road, the only means by which shipping can be discharged or loaded, the merchandise exposed of course to damage from being wet, as the horses are often up to their chests, and the cart itself even higher, in the water, through which it has to be dragged for a mile and upwards. The wonder is how any trade whatever can be carried on under such disadvantages. Another singular feature in the vicinage of the landing place is to see the shore covered with garments of cotton and linen undergoing every stage of the ablutionary process, the Buenos Ayrean naiads of the oceanic wash-tub converting the Atlantic to a purpose undreamed of by the Mesdames Partington of the elder world. As far as the eye can reach the detergent sisterhood may be seen of an afternoon, like the laundry-maid in the fable, ‘spreading out their clothes;’ and their gesticulations, and the chattering they keep up, especially if there is a squall blowing, and one can hear their shrill treble piping fitfully above the blast at intervals, recalls a recollection of the Witches’ Dance as played by Paganini, if you ever happen to have heard that weird fantasia on one string; or, if not, perhaps you will be inclined to account for what must have been the sensation of Columbus and his companions, on nearing the shores of the new world, when, according to Rogers,
The sound of harpy wings they heard
And shrieks, not of men, were mingling in the blast.