Part 10

A work published in London, by Mr. Ackerman, in the Spanish language, with plates, called _Variedades et Mensagero de Londres_, has numerous purchasers here. It is published quarterly, and reflects great credit on its author. This publication will afford to the South Americans an excellent idea of Great Britain and Europe generally;[28] it contains selections from our best authors.

[28] Many of the Buenos Ayreans, of the second and third grade, have most confused notions of London. They think that all England is in London; and in speaking of the arrival of a vessel from Liverpool, Falmouth, or any other port, they add Liverpool in London, Falmouth in London; and when speaking of English passengers arriving, no matter from what part, they are all from London. Seeing so many Englishmen in their country, gentry of the above description have the most exalted notions of themselves, and of the superiority of Buenos Ayres over the rest of the world. We must not blame their self-importance; for we have a tolerable share of it ourselves, else the world has terribly belied us.

The NEWSPAPERS published in Buenos Ayres are, the _Argus_, _Teatro del Opinion_, _Republicano_, and _State Register_. There was, likewise, a Sunday paper, called the _Centinella_, which has been discontinued--for what reason I know not, for it was managed with ability. The freedom of the press may be said to exist in a degree here; to the same extent as in England, would be dangerous at present.

The _Mercantile Gazette_, edited by Mr. Hallet, a North-American gentleman, is very useful; it has every sort of commercial information. A newspaper of the same description, the _Diario_, carried on by a Portuguese, failed for want of requisite attention.

A number of ephemeral productions appear from time to time, "to fret and strut their hour upon the stage, and then are heard no more."

In the almanack of 1824, there is a selection of English puns and Joe Miller's jests, to amuse the Buenos Ayreans, and give them a specimen of English low wit.

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The PRINTING-OFFICES are spacious, and furnished with every requisite, from London. An English printer, Mr. Cook, is employed in one of the offices, and report states his professional talents to be of the first order.

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RELIGION.--Previous to the late treaty with Great Britain, no other place of public worship was allowed in Buenos Ayres, except those of the Romish church; and it was only after much discussion, that the article allowing religious toleration was obtained.

The Catholic faith has been denominated a religion of the fancy; the Protestant, one of the mind. A book I have lately read, Blunt's _Italy_, ingeniously endeavours to prove that most of the Catholic ceremonies are remnants of Paganism; and the author illustrates his arguments by comparing the Roman with the Popish festivals. The great similarity would certainly incline one to give credence to the assertion. The reformed church, however, has its incongruities likewise. In Buenos Ayres I have not witnessed any thing like the superstition that reigns in Belgium; bigots there are, but not more than in some of our sects at home. The rising generation of Buenos Ayres have gone from one extreme to another, and are quite Voltairians: at the theatre, during a portrait exhibition of different public characters, that of Voltaire ran away with all the applause.

In January, 1824, an archbishop, named Don Juan Muzi, arrived from Rome with a large suite, in a Sardinian brig, which hoisted the Papal flag in addition to her own, and fired a salute. Some time ago, such an event would have put the whole town in commotion; as it was, few attended to see him land, and his reception by the government was any thing but cordial: he shortly after departed for Chili. During his abode, he lodged at Faunch's Hotel, and there gave his benedictions to the crowds that visited him, who were mostly females, attracted, I thought, more from curiosity than from any other motive. The manifest of the archbishop's effects raised a smile:--there were beads, crosses, and every trifling appendage of the church. The archbishop himself, from his venerable aspect and mild manners, engaged the esteem of all; but the Papal power is on the wane here now, whatever it might have been in other times. The Catholic church, however, under the care of a liberal priesthood, and shorn of its superstitions, will insure the respect of all countries.

A church, in Catholic countries, ever possesses something to strike the eye, though there may not be service going on. There are generally to be seen numbers of poor old women, before their saint, counting their beads, the low murmurings of their prayers alone breathing the silence of the place: many times have I advanced with cautious steps, fearing to interrupt their devotions. The absence of a congregation gives one, likewise, an opportunity of a closer inspection of the glittering altars, virgins, saints, and Madonas. No fear exists that sacrilegious hands would dare purloin any thing from the sacred walls; alas! in England, our thieves would not be so scrupulous.

The churches, on a Sunday, or feast day, are worthy a stranger's attention; and he must be cold indeed, that can view such an assemblage of beauty unmoved: the dress, the veil, and prostrate persons; indeed, we might picture other Lauras besides Petrarch's: it is almost enough to make one turn renegade, forsake the religion of our fathers, and rush into the bosom of a church so enchanting.

Public worship takes place at various hours: one mass, as early as six in the morning, and the sweet girls and their mothers are seen hurrying to church at that early hour.

Families going to mass are attended by slaves and servants carrying the carpeting upon which they kneel. Of books they have few enough; and would, I dare say, stare to see our London footmen, in gorgeous liveries, looking like Austrian field-marshals, walking behind their mistresses, with a load of books, to church, and the host of carriages that attend a fashionable chapel.

Upon entering or leaving a church, many of the congregation are content to receive the holy water at second hand; that is to say, one who is near the vessel which contains it will dip his fingers in, and furnish to three or four other persons drops of the sacred element, to make the sign of the cross. The ladies often condescend to mark with this water the foreheads of their female slaves and attendants.

At "oration time," in the dusk of evening, a small bell tingles from the churches, when, it is presumed, every true Catholic whispers a prayer. In Buenos Ayres, I am afraid, this is not always the case.

Some of the music sung in the masses is very pretty: friars and boys are the vocalists, selected from the best voices. Friar Juan, at the Cathedral, has a fine bass voice. The Portuguese hymn they sing with science; but, as I had heard this hymn at the Portuguese Ambassador's Chapel in London, in which several of the first-rates of the Opera took parts, the effect here was diminished: they select, too, from profane music, and I applaud them for it, following the remark attributed to our Rev. Rowland Hill, on the introduction of "Rule Britannia," and "Hearts of Oak," into his chapel--"It is really a great shame the devil should have all the pretty tunes to himself." If music be the "food of love," it is equally so of religion, insensibly leading the mind to an enthusiasm, and that softness, that compensates for "a dull age of pain." I wish they would reform the dismal hum-drum music of our English churches. I do not wish the lively dance; but something a little less gloomy than the present mode. My English friends will be shocked to hear that in a Buenos Ayres church they have played and sung to the charming air that opens our petit opera of _Paul and Virginia_, "See from ocean rising." At Monte Video, I heard the Tyrolean war song, or our "Merrily O," upon the organ, in a church. Music and religion have, and will, raise these people to war and desperation; other causes must combine to have the same effect upon Englishmen.

Persons of both sexes go to confession very young--even at the early age of ten years. At church confessions, the priest is seated in the box, to which there is an iron-grating on one side, and through this he hears the confession of the parties upon their knees outside. I have seen several women confess;--somehow or other the sex have more devotion than us men. Doubtless, it is a relief to the overcharged heart to unbosom itself, and receive the consolations of religion; and I can fancy the happiness experienced from the gentle expostulations of an amiable priest, who, in censuring the errors, bids the sinner not despair of mercy. We, of Protestant creed, appeal to God alone, disdaining earthly interference. This system of divulging our inmost thoughts has, at all times, been an argument with the opponents of the Romish church, who instance, that the peace of families or nations are at the mercy of a mortal man; and if breaches of confidence are rare, still some villain might betray his trust, and ruin his unsuspecting victims. To the honour of the Catholic priesthood, such probabilities are very remote. I am afraid that I should make a sad father confessor: loveliness upon the bended knee before me would destroy all my philosophy; I should at once accord them absolution, remission, and every thing else; and, forgetful of my oaths and sacred calling, turn suppliant at the feet of those who came to me as their pastor and guide.

Females are at times seen in the streets habited as nuns, in flannel vestments, crosses, beads, &c. the effect of a vow made during sickness or penance. The sins of some of these young creatures cannot have been very flagrant: I should have pardoned them for the pleasure of receiving their confessions again. There is likewise a house in which females pass weeks in penitence and prayer.

It is observed of the Spanish female, that she will give herself up to all the voluptuousness of pleasure, haste to the church, and, prostrating herself before her favourite saint, return to sin again. I will not venture to be so severe a censurer as to hazard an opinion upon this: but, as my eye wandered over the countenances of many a fair creature of Buenos Ayres, kneeling in graceful beauty before the inanimate saint, I fancied all and more than books had ever told me; for, "with faces that seemed as if they had just looked in Paradise, and caught its early beauty," I fancied that many of earthly mould shared in those contemplations so seemingly devoted to heaven.

Small figures of the Virgin Mary, in glass cases, are kept in the apartments of various homes. In apothecaries' shops I have particularly noticed them, to bespeak a blessing, doubtless, upon their physic. In the mansions of the poorer class they are more frequently seen; the costly saint and miserable dirty furniture of the rooms contrasted. A full-length figure of a saint, in a wire cage, with lamps on each side, is in the street of Le Cuyo, placed in accordance with a vow made in a period of danger; but, in general, there are less externals of the church in the public streets and roads than might be expected.

On passing a church, it was a constant custom to take off the hat; but few do it now. The beggars about these holy edifices clamour for charity, for the love of God and St. Rosario, or any other apostle favourite. These beggars are great thieves; I have lost several articles by their professional visits to my lodgings. They do not shoulder crutches and wooden legs, either to fight or run, as their London brethren, upon the approach of the police. One of my friends told me of an old woman, in Buenos Ayres, that spits upon every person she supposes to be an Englishman. Not having had the fortune to receive this lady's favours, I cannot vouch for the truth of the story.

The priesthood are not so illiberal as report makes them out; they are painted to us as having a fixed hatred to Protestants, conceiving them to be the authors of all the obloquy the Catholics have endured from time to time. It must be recollected, that we have our errors on the score of prejudice likewise.

The friars of Buenos Ayres have amongst their body men of considerable learning; and, whatever hostility exists towards the system, they, as individuals, do not generally share in it. There may be one or two black sheep in the flock; and scandal takes care to blazen forth their deeds, particularly all that relates to their amours, but the common frailty of our nature should teach us to be merciful judges where love is concerned. The people have much respect for them; and, from what I have heard, they deserve it. Formerly, it is related, that on any offender being flogged in the public streets, the appearance of a priest calling for mercy would stop the infliction. If this was the case in England, our unflogged thieves would be bound to pray for them.

Four years since, two Englishmen having quarrelled, one of them ran into Le Merced church for protection from his opponent, who followed, and beat him under the very robes of the priest; a guard was called, and the offender taken into custody. Having an excellent character, he was liberated from prison on bail; and the affair ended in an expensive law suit. Some years back, he would have been severely punished for his inconsiderate conduct.

Some of the friars are handsome men: I have remarked one of them a counterpart of Young the actor. Their dress, shaven crown, and dark hair, added much to their appearance: the ugly attire they now wear, is a sad drawback. In my casual rencontres with them, I ever found them polite and attentive, effacing that diffidence which a stranger feels in venturing upon their hallowed precincts. The inquisition has never been established in Buenos Ayres; but I have often been cruel enough to fancy, that such and such a priest had a countenance like an inquisitor.

The suppression of the monasteries, in 1822, caused a great deal of discussion. There were those of the well-inclined who were not without apprehensions, and seemed disposed to let the presumed evil continue, rather than risk a change. The government must have felt their own strength, when they determined to reform so influential a portion of the church, having to encounter the prejudices and fanaticism of those grown grey in the old order of things, who regarded meddling with the church as little short of heresy. The friars were, in a manner, domesticated with the first families of Buenos Ayres, and ever received as welcome guests. They must (at least, some of them) have felt great reluctance to quit the convents, in which they had expected to remain for life, and regret at parting with the attire of their order. Discontent was engendered, at times, almost amounting to threats, which found vent in a conspiracy, ending in the banishment of Taglé, its author; and another more serious one, of the 19th March, 1823. The result of these abortive attempts served to confirm the power and influence of the existing government. The majority of the people, I should conceive, thought an alteration necessary in the clergy: many of that majority had visited Europe, and became divested of the narrow policy the Spaniards had taught them.

Elderly ladies, of all countries, are allowed to be more pious than the rest of society. The friars in Buenos Ayres found them staunch advocates of their cause.

To counteract the strong feeling that existed for the friars, the press of the day had recourse to ridicule, as well as to argument: a publication called the "_Llobera_," teemed with paragraphs and anecdotes, often so indecent that it injured the cause it proposed to serve. This print was soon laid aside. In the mean time, the suppression gradually went on; and all that now remains of the monasteries of Buenos Ayres are the Franciscans. The buildings will soon perhaps be converted to other uses. The ejected friars, throwing off their habit, assumed a clerical half-dress, very similar to that of our clergymen; and the Dominicans, Mercedites, &c. are now met in the streets, as simple citizens, no longer wearing the livery of the founders of those orders. Three years ago, groupes of friars were continually about the church doors, in coffee-houses, and the streets, segar smoking, apparently under no church restrictions: when a reform was agitated, they were more strict, and the convent gates were closed at a certain hour. The Franciscans, who yet keep together, are rarely to be seen abroad, except the messengers, or lay brothers, who are, in dress and figure, no bad copy of their prototype, in _The Duenna_.

If the original rules of monastic institutions were put in full force, few claimants would be found for the honour of entering them. A suitable provision has been made for those who have left their convents; the government appropriating the lands attached for the benefit of the state. Time appears, in some measure, to have healed the wounds of the discontented, though there are some who pretend the flame is smothered, and not burnt out; "Give it vent," they say, "and 'twill blaze again."

There are two convents for NUNS, St. Juan and St. Catalina, each containing about thirty. The regulations of St. Juan's are very rigid: they wear clothing of the coarsest nature, and the beds, and every other accommodation, are of the same description. No one is permitted to see them, except their nearest relations, and that very rarely. Heavens! how ardent must be that devotion, that can voluntarily embrace such a life! A female, on her first entrance, may leave at the end of a year; but, after that time, she is professed, and must conform to the rules. Very few, I believe, take advantage of this option. Such is the force of religious enthusiasm, that they gladly bid farewell to the world, wishing no father, mother, lover, friend, but their God and Saviour.

At St. Catalina's they are not so strict, being allowed indulgences unknown to the self-immolated of St. Juan.

I have never seen any of the fair inhabitants of these convents; but when the nuns of Buenos Ayres have formed the subject of conversation, I have eagerly listened, expecting to hear something of disappointed love, or confidence betrayed. Alas it was in vain: the ladies of St. Juan and Catalina are nuns from the dull routine of religion, with one exception only, if my information is true; and advantage was not taken to quiz my avidity for nunnery news. The tale runs, that St. Juan's convent does contain, a victim of "despised love." Her lover, an officer, of course--for what men in trade ever think of love?--joined the army in Peru, and married another. At the age of seventeen, the fair, betrayed girl fearlessly took the veil, chiding her weeping mother for her cruelty, nay, sinfulness, at shewing such affliction for what constituted her daughter's only happiness. An account of the ceremony was given me;--but who shall take the field in description, after the glowing details we have read in romances? and especially at second-hand.

The majority of the nuns in these two convents are aged, having received very few additions, lately, of the youthful class. Has man, false man, become more constant, no longer striving to break the heart of the doting fair one or, are the ladies less sensitive, preferring, at all hazards, this bustling world to the cloister's gloom, exclaiming with Sheridan's _Clara_,

"Adieu, thou dreary pile, where never dies "The sullen echo of repentant sighs!"

In the most minute affairs of the Romish church, there is a formula, which, having antiquity for its basis, imposes upon the mind of its followers; and, as regards a conventual life, the first dawn of such a wish, even before the parties quit their parents' house, amounts to a ceremony. In the year 1822, my curiosity was gratified by an exhibition of this sort. I was invited to a house, in which a lady, about to become a nun, was receiving the last farewells of her friends. It was evening; and it was with difficulty that I gained admittance from the crowd outside. The lady was seated in the _sala_; arrayed in her best attire; her head and neck decorated with jewellery; such is the fashion, this being a contrast to the dress she was about to assume. Music was heard; and it seemed more like a party met for gaiety, than one in which the afterpiece was to be so serious--the taking from the world a fellow-creature. The lady--I was going to write, victim--was all smiles; no regrets were apparent in her bosom; she received the adieus of her friends with calm composure. A friar, attached perhaps to the convent, was in the room: in taking her final leave, she was escorted by him and her relatives. With a firm step, bowing to all around, she quitted the room. In passing our party (consisting of several Englishmen), I thought she eyed us particularly; we bowed to her; and the door closed upon us. That same night, I am informed, she was conducted to the gloomy walls of St. Juan, and has since taken the veil. The lady appeared about nineteen or twenty years of age; she was not handsome, but the occasion rendered her very interesting.

The first RELIGIOUS PROCESSION I had ever seen, was that of St. Rosario, in Buenos Ayres; and it is not possible I can forget the impression it made upon me. Those details which, when a school-boy, I dwelt upon with such delight, were now, in my manhood, brought full before my eyes, losing nothing of their interest; on the contrary, I found that imagination does not always come up to the reality. The churches of France and Belgium I had visited with far different emotions: Spain, and Spanish connexions, thought I, contain all that can fix the attention of the Protestant inquirer, who wishes to see the Catholic church the same in the nineteenth as in the fourteenth century. Spain clings to it; with its many imperfections, as a fond lover to an idolized mistress; else they would not have suffered foreigners to overrun their soil. What would the heroes of Roncevalles and Pavia have said to those events?

The figure of St. Rosario, full-robed, was carried by soldiers, on a stage. The Virgin, on another stage, followed, flanked by numbers of the faithful carrying large lighted candles; these were chiefly old men, and boys. The host, and attendant priests wafting incense towards this sacred emblem, formed a conspicuous part; with groups of friars chaunting their prayers, in which they are joined by the crowd. A huge cross, apparently of silver, and borne by friars, precedes the whole. A small band of violinists attend, and accompany the singing: they reminded me of our itinerant musicians, that serenade us of an evening in London. The military band has a better effect. A halt is made, at intervals, at the corners of streets, or opposite temporary altars, which the devotion of the pious has raised in front of their houses: they consist of tables, covered with white linen, with small images of Jesus, the Virgin, crosses, &c. &c. and a mirror, garnished with flowers and other decorations. Soldiers march in front and rear. They, as well as every one else near the procession, are uncovered; and when the ceremonies of the host are going on, all must kneel. The houses display silks, tapestry, and other finery, arranged in front, in the streets through which the cavalcade passes; and the balconies are filled with spectators. The saints and his dumb attendants (the images), are finally deposited at their head-quarters, the church. A great quantity of females are always to be seen at those exhibitions, fervently ejaculating their "Ave-Marias."