CHAPTER XVIII

_On the Road to Paraguay_

Paraguay is most easily reached by river. The long overland journeys from either Brazil or Bolivia are both of a nature to deter tourists, and the voyage up either the Uruguay or the Parana rivers is preferable to the long dusty train journey from Buenos Ayres to Corrientes. The steamship service of the Mihanovich line which plies upon the River Plate, as well as along the Argentine coast, is one of the best in South America. The vessels are large and adequately fitted for the tropical regions through which they pass. Leaving Buenos Ayres in the early morning, the River Uruguay is reached in about four hours. Great masses of green foliage float down the swiftly running stream, and low-lying islands clad with rich vegetation are passed. Strings of cattle boats or barges laden with their living freight and towed by strong steam tugs appear upon the scene, whilst the white sails of craft of all sizes, and many shapes, flutter over the broad, smooth waters. The river, which is both wide and deep, is the highway to a great many of the most prosperous

districts in the republics of Uruguay and Argentina. The towns upon either side of the river are small, and removed from one another by great distances. Small villages and insignificant collections of huts peep out from the luxuriant foliage, and glimpses of the life of the inhabitants are caught from time to time. Agricultural pursuits occupy the attention of the people, the raising and tending of cattle and live stock being by far the most important industry. Frey Bentos and Colon are both well-known ports upon this river, at which the steamer comes to anchor. At the numerous stopping places small tenders, row boats, and canoes come alongside, and put on or take off passengers and their baggage, small freight, and mails, very little time being occupied by the operations. Paysandu, famous for its ox tongues, is a small town opposite to Colon, and a railway connects it to the central Uruguay system, thus bringing it into direct communication with Montevideo. Colon is entirely occupied by the factories of the celebrated Liebig’s Extract of Meat Co., and the small villages that have sprung up around it amidst pastoral surroundings are inhabited by the factory workers. Concordia and Salto are the end of the journey as far as the Uruguay River is concerned, the further passage being closed to navigation by falls and rapids. These two towns are typical specimens of Spanish colonial settlements, and present very much the same appearance to-day as they did a century ago. Sleepy would describe them at ordinary times, but at midday the passenger landing from the steamer finds them veritable cities of the dead, for the streets are deserted, and even hotel-keepers are difficult to awaken. Concordia has wide streets but low houses, with roofs either flat or sloping away from the front to the back, so that a straight, unbroken sky-line is presented to the eye. The Plaza or principal square of the town possesses a church with two towers, which, although of comparatively recent date, has, owing to the unfinished brickwork, the aspect of an ancient building. The towers, covered with small green slates, are typical of the church architecture that prevails over nearly the whole of South America. Inside, the church has a plain barrel roof supported by engaged fluted columns of the Corinthian order, the floor is tiled, and highly coloured statues and images adorn the walls; much of the great altar is painted to imitate marble, and a profusion of gilding testifies to the native love of the gaudy. Seen at night its effect is rich enough, when the garishness of the decorations is softened by the mellow candlelight. During the services in honour of the Virgin crowds of women and girls are seated in the front seats of the nave, and notices are placed upon the pillars and in other conspicuous places, intimating that men and boys are forbidden to trespass on the part reserved for the women, while, to enforce a due observance of the order, policemen, in white helmets and brown holland clothes, are in attendance, and the crowds of amorous youths are restrained with some little difficulty from gaining a point of vantage from which to observe the fair. Processions of little girls clad in white pass through the building singing “Ave Marias”; a black-robed priest beating time and marshalling the regiment. Bouquets of flowers are thrown upon the altar steps by the children as they pass--a pretty ceremony enthusiastically observed. The service over, the congregation slowly disperse into the Plaza, and the straw-hatted beaux form up in

line to gaze upon the fair beauties of the community. Ladies, young and middle-aged, attended by their duennas, linger under the lights of the lamps, conscious of and not ill pleased with the attentions of the human moths fluttering around them. There is no doubt that the ladies of the country towns and cities of Argentina enjoy a greater freedom than do their sisters in Buenos Ayres. In Concordia they play tennis and other outdoor games, and there is a growing disposition on the part of the “society” señoritas to become acquainted with the English tongue.

The buildings in the Plaza are more modern in style than the cathedral or church, and have ornamental fronts generally painted white. Green “pariso” trees shade the square, and in the centre stands the equestrian statue of San Martin. Replicas of this statue are placed in every town of any importance in the Argentine, the only variations being the pedestals, which have local peculiarities of design, workmanship, and material. The statue is rather a poor affair, stiff and conventional in pose and action, but it serves its turn to commemorate the great general and hero of the republic. The inscription on the front records the names of the famous battles of

SAN LORENZO ... MAIPU ... CHACABUCO

and a dedication to the army of the Andes, who gloried in that they could say, “In twenty-four hours we have made the campaign, crossing the highest Cordilleras in the world, disposing of tyrants and liberating Chili.” The whole square, which is typical of many others in Argentina, is made up or bounded by houses for the most part of one story, with blinds to keep the fierce rays of the sun from penetrating windows and doors. A few cabs covered with cracked leather hoods and harnessed to scraggy horses are lined up round the pavements of the square. A bandstand railed in with a stucco imitation of rustic woodwork has its appropriate place in the general make-up of the Plaza. During the months from November to March inclusive the siesta hours are from half-past eleven till two, and during these hours the city sleeps. Banks, business houses, shops, and factories all obey the call. The shade temperature during the summer months is high, and although 114° is rarely registered, 100° to 104° are very common. In the winter from March to October the business hours are longer, and midday rest is limited to one hour and a half, from twelve to one-thirty.

Concordia is an important centre for wool and cattle. Sheep do well in the province of Entre Rios, in spite of the heat, and the cattle, although not perhaps so pleasing to the eye as the improved breeds that flourish farther south, are hardy and useful animals. Grapes are cultivated and extensive vineyards surround the town. The wines made in the bodegas of Entre Rios and Mendoza are sent down to Buenos Ayres, where ingenious dealers and merchants are expert in the art of blending them with the imported brands from Europe, so that they can pass them on to the public as the real “Simon Pure.” The roads round the town are badly made, so sandy and yielding that driving is hard work for the horses. The lanes through the vineyards are very pleasant, shaded by the “pariso” and lime trees, and perfumed by the scent of oranges and lemons. The ground is gently undulating, in marked contrast to the low, flat plains farther south and north, and from many vantage points extensive views are obtained of the surrounding country. The town of Salto, on the other side of the river, in the Republic of Uruguay, lies white like a Moorish city, the shipping at the wharves by the river side lending animation to the scene. In the suburbs of these towns are many shacks and huts built of mud or old tin cans, a common method all through the country. The dwelling-houses in the town are of the common Spanish type, and one gets accustomed to the pleasant little pictures of family life seen through open doorways. The patio is the living-room of these houses, and the flowers, vines, and creepers make cheerful wall decorations. The rooms leading off are dingy and ill-ventilated, for the shuttered windows are often kept closed for days. They are cool and free from the plague of flies, but, unless for sleeping in, they are depressing and gloomy. During the hot evenings the inhabitants take their chairs and stools out into the streets, and little groups of relatives and friends block the narrow pavements. All the windows to the houses are barred either with iron or wooden rails, giving a gloomy expression to the house fronts.

Although a small tramway drawn by horses has lately been installed in the town, the automobile has hardly got farther than the showrooms. The drivers of these cars have little horns or trumpets, upon which they perform with gusto, very much in the same way as do the pedlars in Rio upon their primitive instruments. Horses are ridden by all classes, for horseflesh is cheap, and during the making of a call, or shopping, the animals are hobbled by the fore legs and left in the streets, sometimes for hours together. There is no theatre in the town, but a travelling circus sometimes puts in an appearance, and receives the active patronage of the rank and fashion, as well as of the masses. Some of these shows are well equipped, carrying with them their own electric light plant, and, in case this should break down or give out during a performance, an extra plant for the illuminating of the tent by acetylene gas is in readiness. The performance is of the well-known circus type--elephants and trained horses, clowns and acrobats occupy the ring in turns, and cinema pictures wind up the evening’s performance. For a provincial town in South America, Concordia has many things to recommend it--a club with fine premises, a show ground for the annual cattle display, and, for those who desire further diversion, there is the café with its cinema, where, to the accompaniment of music, wine, and tobacco smoke, the evenings may be passed. From Concordia the steamer returns to Buenos Ayres, as the higher river is unnavigable. Trains from the town convey passengers to Posadas, on the Alto Parana, or to Corrientes, on the Paraguay River. The journey across country is hot, dusty, and uncomfortable, and after the river travel very undesirable. The natives who board the train at the various stations through the province are yellow-skinned Indians, with little or no Spanish blood in them. They are dull and sleepy-looking, with dirty habits and forbidding expressions. The landscape is flat and uninteresting for the greater part of the journey, pools of water and marshy swamps being the principal breaks in the monotony of the plains, and the estancias which dot the surface at long intervals make the only landmarks. Herds of cattle, horses, sheep, and ostriches graze upon the plains; a few goats are also found in certain districts, half-wild animals that start away in wild stampedes at the approach of trains. Huts of mud and thatch are grouped around the camp stations, and a few lonely and poverty-stricken-looking shacks, the residences of shepherds and cowboys, appear at intervals in the dreary landscape. Many of the “peons” or native working-classes bear striking resemblances to Chinamen, and the absence of the negro type throughout this province is

note-worthy. Mounted police, with great sun helmets and white drill clothes, are in evidence at the railway stations, and, although uniformed and bearing swords and revolvers, they seldom wear socks or boots, but content themselves with the simple alpagatos or straw shoes which are common throughout the country. The poncho is very popular with most of the inhabitants of the plains, a really serviceable and sensible form of covering.

At Mercedes a few sun-bleached coaches betray the existence of some important town in the vicinity, although it is not visible from the railway station. Trains laden with hot, uncomfortable cattle and sheep are drawn up in sidings to permit the passenger trains to pass. Carts drawn by oxen and horses lumber along the dusty roads. Much of the country in the north of Corrientes is swampy, and an abundance of bird life clusters around the margin of the shallow lakes. Storks wade through the pools, plover, snipe, pigeon, and rooks hover in the air, and palm trees grow here and there in little clumps, giving a tropical touch to a landscape which but for them has no special feature, save that of monotony. When violent storms of wind, rain, and lightning visit these camps--and their terrific force is indescribable--the whole horizon from east to west is lit up by flashes of blinding intensity, following one another in such rapid succession that they merge together and form long periods of illumination, varied at intervals by streaks of forked lightning which stab the earth with destructive force. Deaths from lightning are not uncommon in this quarter of the continent, the continual roll of loud thunder is deafening, like the near report of a battery of heavy ordnance--the rain descends in torrents, an awe-inspiring deluge, which converts great tracts of the low-lying land into shallow lakes.

Corrientes, the capital of the State, could hardly be described as a fine city or town. It is undergoing some improvements, which will render it a little less destructive to carriage springs and trying to weak ankles. The streets until recently were frightful, one mass of rugged boulders that would baffle the ingenuity of the sure-footed mule to negotiate. The authorities are at work, endeavouring to make the roads and streets passable, but during the operations, which have been started all over the town simultaneously, confusion reigns. The town lies on the western bank of the Parana River, a little below the point where it meets the

Paraguay; and during the summer months heat, dullness, and sand are its principal attractions. Almost every other house bears a brass plate signifying that a lawyer or doctor resides within, surely an unpropitious omen for the peace and happiness of the inhabitants. Very few shops of any importance enliven the dismal solitude of the streets, and the business houses and warehouses have unpretentious exteriors, and even before and after the siesta hours from eleven to two they are anything but animated. There is a considerable trade passing through the port, however, which makes the river front the liveliest portion of the town. In the Plaza there is the prescribed statue of San Martin, the cathedral, bandstand, and ornamental garden. One ancient building takes up almost the entire side of the square. It is weather-stained, faded, and worn, its dilapidated front bears evidence of antiquity, and tradition says that it is contemporaneous with the foundation of the city. The general decay which has spread over most of the neighbouring buildings is more apparent on this ancient residence of the Governor of the State. Its strongly barred windows suggest a prison rather than a palace, but in days gone by Governors were not the most popular persons in the Spanish colonies, and they needed a strong protection from the disaffected. The Government buildings in the Plaza are in the modern French Renaissance style, their high mansard roofs and delicate plaster ornamentations incongruously placed amidst the heavier and less fanciful styles of the early colonial architecture. The cathedral, which is of the usual type, is lit by the modern electric light, although the priests who administer to the religious needs, and light up the spiritual darkness of the population, still array themselves in the rough brown robes of their order. At one corner of the Plaza stands a large house of one story, with a richly ornamented front in the classical style; through its open door a glimpse is caught of a beautiful patio filled with palms, vines, and plants. These patios are the only bright spots in the city, and even the most forbidding and dirty-looking habitations are rich in the possession of these cheery, verdant bowers. Some of the “posadas” or inns are picturesque enough to look at, particularly if they are regarded from the point of view of a lover of ruins, but as hostelries they do not offer much attraction, for their tottering walls threaten to engulf the inmates, particularly when a good storm is raging. Under the verandahs groups of women sit gossiping and smoking big cigars, which they puff with real enjoyment. A strange medley of animals lies around--dogs, cats, monkeys, pigs, and the curious carpincha, whilst through the turned wooden bars that screen the windows handsome young faces framed with brightly covered scarves peep out at the few passers-by.

When leaving Corrientes by the steamer it is wise to engage the services of one of the peons who are attached to the landing-stage. These watermen, who are always to be found upon the wharf, keep their attention riveted upon the river, and as the hour at which the steamers arrive is rather uncertain, the advantages of having a watchman who will give timely warning to intending voyagers is apparent. At any hour of the twenty-four the vessel may arrive, and as it remains only a few minutes alongside the quay, it is well for passengers to be at hand.

The journey up the river from Corrientes to Asuncion has plenty of incident to enliven it, particularly when one of the periodical revolutions of the little republic of Paraguay is in progress, for then the uncertainty of finding villages still inhabited, the prospect of encountering tramp steamers converted into “battleships,” and small troops of armed men parading the river banks only adds to the fascination the romantic country already possesses. Ascending and descending the river one meets with travellers of many nationalities, army officers from the republics of Brazil, Argentina, and Uruguay, merchants and traders, commercial travellers, tourists, and sportsmen. The increasing numbers who journey up these rivers testify to the growing interest that the vast territories in the heart of South America have created, for the Parana is the only practical highway to the State of Matto Grosso, the high central tableland of the continent. Corumba is the busy little shipping port for a vast territory with which it does a thriving trade, and from it travellers to the State capital of Cuyaba embark upon the smaller steamers which navigate the São Lourenco. This branch of the Paraguay is perhaps one of the most characteristically tropical in South America, the vegetation on its banks growing with a profuse abundance. The State of Matto Grosso is an almost unexplored territory, and although containing a wealth of minerals, hardwoods, and rubber, only a fraction has been gathered and exported. When the half-million square miles that constitute the area of this State are contrasted with the total exports, to the value of about the same number of pounds sterling, the possibilities of enormous developments are apparent. The name of the State, “Matto Grosso” (dense forest), gives some indication of the character of the country, and it is not surprising that rubber should be one of its most important products. Gold is found in many of the rivers and hills, and alluvial workings have been carried on ever since the Jesuits, three hundred years ago, discovered them to be profitable. After heavy showers of rain it is said that gold is washed down the streets of the capital. Diamonds, copper, silver, and lead have also been found, and each year sees more enterprises developing some of the immeasurable resources. In the rainy season, when the rivers break through and overflow their normal banks, it is possible for a canoe or small boat to voyage from the Amazon to the mouth of the River Plate, and many projects have been put forward to permanently connect the two rivers by canals. The old maps of the continent show that a waterway was known to the earliest explorers. Captain Sharp’s map, published in the seventeenth century, indicates a great waterway connecting the Amazon with the River Plate, and on it the territory of Brazil and Uruguay are shown as a huge island quite separate from the rest of the continent, and although the map is rough and primitive, the fact that a river route between the points mentioned existed, is insisted upon with a decision indicative of definite knowledge. Railways are now in course of construction which will connect Corumba with São Paulo, and Cuyaba with Goyaz and the federal capital of Brazil, and then the journey from the seaports of Brazil to the farthest

outposts of the republic will be accomplished in about three or four days, instead of twelve or more, as at present. A few travellers, either to gain experience or from necessity, have made the fatiguing journey from Corumba to La Paz, in Bolivia, and vice versa. From all the accounts they give, it is not one which has many attractions to compensate for the many discomforts and even hardships that are certain to be encountered. From Corumba the traveller proceeds on muleback across a dry, desolate plain, with no shelter and little water for eighteen days, and encounters only a few Indians, friendly enough inclined, but possessed of nothing to offer in the way of hospitality to strangers. Arrived at Sucre, a halt can be made, and a short rest taken before proceeding to La Paz through Cochabamba and Oruro. The whole journey on muleback occupies about forty days, and can be recommended to robust and hardy persons who, tired of luxury and the easy comforts of civilised life, are anxious for a change.

To return to the river. The heat during the summer months is intense, the thermometer usually registering about 90° in the shade. The river continues wide and winding as it passes the Grand Chaco on the one side and the wooded plains on the other. The banks in places are straight as an even wall, and from the steamer look like embankments of masonry. The continual wash from the traffic that plies upon the river has its effect, however, shown by the gaps formed by slides and erosions. Endless swamps stretch for miles during the rainy season, and the many trees are only saved from complete submersion by the twisted cables of lianas which hold them firmly together. Flocks of small aquatic birds amidst the network of creepers and branches are silently alert, fishing for a meal. In many places fantastic and exaggerated tree trunks grow from the water’s edge, and grassy plains, barely rising above the river’s surface, extend for miles. Close by the shores alligators bask, with their ugly snouts just above the water, disappearing immediately they are disturbed by the wash from the passing steamers or the approach of small boats and canoes. On both sides of the river, cattle, horses, and ostriches graze in wild freedom upon the meadowland. Mud huts appear at intervals, and natives in dirty white, ragged garments loll under the shade of thatched verandahs. Many of the huts, constructed with the sides and ends of old kerosene tins and bits of packing cases, add a variety to the architectural styles

of these primitive habitations. Canoes with blunt prows and rounded sterns ply from shore to shore, and surround the steamers that come to anchor at a “port.” They carry odd cargoes, curious passengers and their belongings, bundles of many colours, old iron bedsteads and chairs, pots and pans, and household goods and chattels; domestic pets, monkeys, parrots, and dogs, all form part of their mixed freight. Trestle beds are the inseparable impedimenta of the German, Italian, and Spanish labourers, who move about from place to place with the characteristic restlessness of born travellers. These beds serve a double purpose, and are used as holdalls for all their owners’ baggage by day, and as their couches by night, when the fore deck of the steamer is transformed into an open-air dormitory. At Formosa, an important though small town on the Argentine side of the river, a large crowd assembles to witness the arrival and departure of the steamer. Cabs and wagonettes convey the passengers to and from the town, which lies at a little distance from the river bank, and the habitual quietude of the port is disturbed for a few hours or so.

During a voyage I made up the river a revolution was in progress, and the town of Villetta was in the hands of the insurgents; an armed steamer lay off the town, its decks swarming with men in khaki uniforms. There were Englishmen and other Europeans on board, members of the great army of soldiers of fortune who always contrive to get mixed up with South American revolutions. On the decks of the innocent-looking tramp steamer which had been re-named the _Constituccion_, quick-firing and other small armaments glistened in the sunlight, whilst a wireless installation and searchlights testified to the resourcefulness of the insurgents. All along the Paraguayan banks of the river we encountered little bands of the rebels and many deserted villages. Passengers were landed upon the banks near the latter, and surrounded by their belongings were left quite contented, if not happy, with no one to welcome or receive them. In some of the villages a few women and children were left in charge, the men and youths having fled across the river to the Argentine. The women would come down to the water’s edge and exchange news with our passengers in half-amused, half-frightened tones, and many of the aspects of the revolution had an irresistibly comic side to them. Farther up the river more primitive methods of life and commerce prevail, and half-amphibious dwellings lie on the borders of the great “esteros” or marsh lands that stretch away from the river. In the rainy season these lands become vast lakes, the thick, stiff, clayey soil forming an impervious bottom. In the dry season the water evaporates, and leaves behind a grey, dusty soil of great gaping cracks, and a strong, wiry grass and stunted shrubs growing in many patches. The dreary malarious wastes extend far beyond the limits of the river’s bank, and on these placid, stagnant areas the mosquito finds a congenial breeding ground. On these swamps numerous aquatic plants grow, and the camalote and many varieties of white and blue lilies, whilst the _Victoria regia_ spreads out its broad, green leaves and snowy flowers. On the higher lands farther to the north the landscape becomes bolder and more picturesque. Vast woods, dense and almost impenetrable, abound, and harbour a wealth of animal life. Beautifully marked jaguars, tiger cats, and ocelots make their lairs in the dark recesses of these gloomy forests, monkeys chatter amongst the trees, whilst snakes and lizards glide and dart through the confused matted undergrowth. The carpincha, the largest of existent rodents, wallows in the muddy margins of the swamps; a droll-looking animal, rapid though clumsy in its movements, possessing a ludicrous truncated face that would provoke a smile from an anchorite. The whole country is a sportsman’s paradise, for it harbours a plentiful variety of large and fierce quadrupeds, and teems with feathered game. The stately heron and gaunt stork haunt the river banks, as do innumerable water birds, ducks and geese of many native varieties. Pheasants, partridge, snipe, and pigeon fly over land and water, great flocks of parrots, with harsh, strident cries, break the silence of the evening calm. At sunset, when the dying hues of the sun incarnadine the expansive waters, the prevailing tone of greyness comes as a welcome relief, after the blinding glare of the daytime, when from a myriad diamond points the reflected light dances upon the rippling waters. The western sky is diffused with a golden or ruddy glow, and forms a mellow background to the rich, mysterious greens of the tree-clad banks. Cormorants, kingfishers, and storks sail above the surface of the water in search of prey, and when the brief period of twilight ceases the starry swarms of the heavens shine from the blue vault overhead with an amazing brilliance. The long-drawn reflections of the night-lights of the sky in the river form streaks of opal light, which move ever forward with the ship’s advance like dancing will-o’-the-wisps, the rare beauty of the tropical night is deeply impressive, and, in the silence, ideas of space are magnified by many reflections, nature becomes more mysterious, the passing hour more trivial, and man and all his efforts shrink into insignificance.