CHAPTER IV

THE CITY OF SAINT JAMES

“We will call this city Santiago (Saint James), for he has guided us thus far,” said Pedro de Valdivia, as he staked out the level ground surrounding a lofty rock into square blocks, one of which was given to each of his followers.

Few cities in the world have as fine a location as this City of Saint James. It lies in the centre of a magnificent amphitheatre, about forty miles long and perhaps eighteen miles wide, which is enclosed by a mighty wall of mountains on all sides save one, half of which are covered with perpetual snows. The Mapocho River, which flows through the city through an artificial channel, escapes from the valley through the opening on the south, which leads into the great central valley that forms the real heart of the republic. The great amphitheatre in which Santiago is situated is divided into large _haciendas_, on which are erected magnificent mansions that resemble the ancient baronial homes of England. In these the owners live and rule almost like lords of old.

Santiago was founded as the first town in Chile. Valdivia erected a stronghold on the rock, which he named Santa Lucia, and then set to work to build the city at its base, which he had named after the patron saint of Spain. The squares were laid out with the lines running east and west, north and south. Each of his followers to whom was given a square for a garden, was required to construct a house for his own use. Thus it will be seen that Santiago is not a new city, nor has its growth been of the mushroom variety. Founded in the sixteenth century, it preserves in wood and stone, to a great extent, the spirit of old Spain transplanted to the New World. The Spanish cavalier stalked in complete mail through the streets of Santiago before the _Mayflower_ landed the pilgrims on the shores of Massachusetts. The priests were chanting the solemn service of the church here long before the English landed at Jamestown. Dust had gathered on the volumes in the municipal library of this city centuries preceding the building of the first little red school-house in the United States. Before New York was even thought of, the drama of life was being enacted daily in this beautiful valley after Castilian models.

But let us take a look at this ancient capital. At one side of the city is El Cerro de Santa Lucia, a mass of volcanic rock almost as high as the Washington Monument. It has a base of several acres, but gradually narrows as it rises precipitously above all the buildings, until it ends in the jagged piece of rock which crowns the summit. After the fortress was removed it became the burial place of Jews, Protestants, infidels and all who were forbidden burial in consecrated ground. When these bones were finally removed they were dumped in a corner of one of the Catholic cemeteries, and the church authorities erected a monument with the inscription “exiles from both heaven and earth.” This freak of nature, which geologists say was dropped by some wandering iceberg, has been made into a delightful place, partly by private subscription and partly at public expense. The summit is reached by several winding roads and walks that are enclosed by walls in a most picturesque manner. In the crevices of the rocks flowers, bushes and curious plants are growing. Eucalyptus trees rise up, and gigantic ferns reach out so that the hill seems a veritable garden in the air. At intervals are kiosks for music or refreshments, and half way up is a theatre where vaudeville entertainments are occasionally given for the entertainment of the people. Terraces, fountains, winding walks and steps cut out of the rock add to the beauties and comforts of Santa Lucia. On the summit is a little chapel where the remains of Mr. Benjamine Vicuña Mackenna, who planned this scheme and gave large sums towards its completion, lies buried. On the way up one passes one wonderful rock formation after another, delightful grottoes and cozy nooks, until at last all Santiago is spread out before you like a panorama.

Below is a vast expanse of flat roofs, out of which here and there rise trees and a wealth of green. These are in the patios, or inside courts, of the larger houses. Here and there rise the towers of the numerous churches with which Santiago is provided. The many streets cross each other in checkerboard fashion, thus dividing the city into square blocks. At one side can be distinguished the Alameda de las Delicias, with its double rows of great poplar trees, which furnish an arbour of dense shade from one end of the city to the other, a distance of three miles, and which leads out to the parks known as Quinta Normal and Cousiño. This avenue, which was formerly the principal road leading into the city, has been laid out as a broad highway more than three hundred feet in width, with a promenade in the centre and a wide driveway on either side. Fronting this Alameda are many very fine residences—the finest in the city. Some of the houses are very large, containing fifty rooms or more, and the furnishings are elaborate. The ceilings are very high, which gives ample opportunity for decorative effect. One striking feature is the absence of chimneys, for the Chileans are averse to artificial heat. In the winter time it is nothing unusual for a guest to be received by the host and his family wearing furs and heavy wraps. A few of the newer houses have installed heating plants. With these homes the best and most attractive part is usually hidden from the street. There are several stands along the Alameda at which military bands discourse music frequently. The promenade is broken by many statues of Chile’s heroes, and others commemorating events important in Chilean history; and at every few feet throughout its length are stone seats on which the people rest.

One of the finest private residences in South America is that belonging to the Cousiño family, which was erected by the late Señora Isadora Cousiño. It was designed by a famous French architect and will compare favourably with those of New York. It is built of brick, stuccoed in the usual manner to resemble stone, and is imposing. Its interior decorations are elaborate, but rather the style one would expect in a public building than in a private home. They are all French scenes, as the work was done by French artists. It is still one of the show places, although the señora has been dead for many years, and her descendants have more modest taste. She was a remarkable woman, and her chief concern seemed to be to expend her enormous income. Her extravagance was frequently the gossip of Europe as well as her native land. Herself the richest woman in Chile before marriage, she married the richest man, and all his wealth was willed to her at his death. She had millions of dollars in herds, mines, railroads, steamships, real estate, etc. Another magnificent château at Lota was built by her, and the _estancia_ of Macul, an hour’s ride from Santiago, was almost a principality in itself. The land stretched from the environs of the city to the distant Cordilleras with their mantle of snow.

Señora Cousiño did one good thing for Santiago; she presented to the city beautiful Cousiño Park. It is a large park of several hundred acres, which is the popular playground of the masses. It has cheap cafés, merry-go-rounds and other amusements, and is the nearest approach to a Coney Island that the capital affords. There are a number of stands for dancing where, on a Sunday especially, one may see the Chilean national dance, La Cueca, which is a sort of refined can-can. The couples pair off with handkerchiefs in their hands, and dance face to face, while the musicians sit on benches near-by and thrum guitars, pick mandolins, or play other instruments. Each dancer waves his handkerchief in the air with graceful gestures, and sways around in attitudes which are supposed to show grace and suppleness. A race track has also been constructed in the centre of the park, called the “Club Hippico,” where races are held almost every Sunday afternoon and frequently on holidays. This is the most popular amusement in Chile. Another park, the Quinta Normal, has been provided for the people, and in it is quite an extensive zoological garden. Among the many “strange” and “fierce” animals kept in cages are several species of dogs and cats, which seem very much out of place in such surroundings. A very interesting museum also occupies a pretty site near the entrance. A botanical garden and experiment station is also maintained here, and an exposition building in which agricultural fairs are held each year.

There are a number of very fine public buildings in Santiago. Perhaps the finest is the Palace of Congress, which is a large building of modern classical construction covering an entire square—not differing much from many public buildings that one will find in the United States. I attended a session of the Senate and the proceedings seemed very strange. The members talked at random without even addressing the chair or rising from their seats. In fact the proceedings were the most informal of any legislative body I ever attended. Not infrequently, however, the sessions are very stormy, and the reputation of the Spaniard for excitability is well maintained. The National Library is almost opposite this building, but is not an imposing building, although it contains an interesting and valuable collection of books. La Moneda is the name given to the residence of the President, and it also contains the offices of many of the government departments. It is a large three-story building with quite imposing surroundings. The President is generally attended by a military guard during his drives around the city. Other buildings are the Palace of Justice, in which the highest courts sit, the Army Building, and the Intendency, or City Hall.

At one place in Santiago a beautiful marble monument has been erected on the site of a church that was burned in 1863. Church festivals have always played an important part in the social life of the capital. At the time of the Christmas festivities of that year a gorgeous _fête_ was in progress in the Jesuits’ church, which was known as the Feast of the Virgins. The interior was festooned and decorated everywhere with light gauze, wreaths of paper flowers and other inflammable material. Candles had been attached to these flimsy decorations. The church was crowded with women while high mass was being celebrated by the bishop. Suddenly the hangings caught fire, the burning candles fell among the crowd of worshippers and everyone rushed for the doors. As usual, the doors opened inward, and the crowds, jammed against them, made it impossible for them to be opened. It is claimed that almost three thousand women and girls lost their lives in this terrible holocaust. After the fire the bodies were found packed in a solid mass against the doors. The church was afterwards razed to the ground by order of the government, and this monument erected on the site. Scarcely a leading family in Santiago escaped bereavement, and the Feast of the Virgins has ever since been celebrated with mourning in Chile.

There are many worthy charitable institutions in Santiago. Some of these are municipal institutions and others are church charities. Among these are numerous hospitals for the care of the sick and unfortunate. There is one very large orphan asylum, which cares for many hundreds of unfortunate children—many of them of unknown parentage. The method of reception of these unfortunate, and generally unwelcome, infants is unique. In the rear wall is an opening with a wooden box in it which swings in and out. The mother wishing to get rid of her baby places the little mite in the box and swings it in. The automatic ringing of a bell notifies the nuns inside and the baby is taken charge of by them. No effort is ever made to find the mother, and she is thus enabled to rid herself of her charge. Some moralists would criticize this practice, but it is certainly better than infanticide, which is said to be an almost unknown crime in Chile, where the ratio of illegitimate births is very large.

The Opera House is a municipal institution and is a very fine building. During the season opera is given here several nights each week, and generally by Italian companies. Not only is the building furnished free, but a good subsidy is given the management each year in order to bring good talent here. The seats and boxes are sold by subscription for the season as a guaranty fund and are paid for in advance, although many sell their seats occasionally if there is a demand for them. The audiences are very interesting, for the people dress exceedingly well and are lavish in their wearing of jewels. There is a large foyer in which the people promenade between acts and there are refreshment rooms where all kinds of refreshments are served. A special box is reserved for the President of the republic and the _intendente_ of the city. There is also a mourning box protected by screens, where those in mourning may watch the performance without being themselves seen.

The city of Santiago is a municipality within the province of the same name. A little more democracy has been infused into the government than used to prevail. The city is divided into ten sections or wards. Each of these wards, called _circumscripciones_, elects three councillors, all the members together constituting the municipal legislative body. They must be citizens of at least five years’ residence in the city, must not have any interest in national or municipal contracts, and must not hold any other public office or commission. The three members from each ward have certain local powers and duties principally in connection with the elections. From its members the council elect three alcaldes, or mayors, fixing the order of precedence among the three, also a secretary and treasurer. The powers and jurisdiction of this body extends to the entire government, subject only to the constitution and the organic act under which the municipality is organized. The principal revenues are derived from a personal tax levied for school purposes, a tax on liquors and tobacco, a license for industries and professions, revenues derived from city property and an annual grant from the national Congress.

It is in the market-places that one can best study the common people. There are two markets in Santiago, both of them on the bank of the Mapocho. At the newer one one will be sure to find some newsboys plying their trade. “_La Union_” and “_El Mercurio_” are the cries of these busy little newsboys, as they flit in and out among the marketers of Santiago. They are barefooted ragamuffins, most of them, but they industriously ply their trade. Their complexions are of different shades, for some of the boys have Indian blood in their veins, which gives them a deeper colouring. I posed two small boys for a picture, but before I could take it a half dozen had crowded into it, making an interesting group. The boys of South America, just like their counterparts in the United States, want to take a part in everything that comes within their range of vision.

It would be difficult to find a more interesting place in Santiago than the old market, which will soon be abandoned. Around it will be seen the huge, two-wheeled market carts in which the produce has been brought. Many of these marketers have been on the road for two or three days, bringing in the products of their fertile fields for the people in the city. The meek-eyed oxen stand or recline while chewing their cud, no doubt enjoying to the full the brief respite from their work. The produce displayed in the market is good. The fruits of Chile are simply delicious in flavour, and they are large in size. The pears and peaches of California are not better than those grown here below the equator, and yet they have been grown with very little care in their cultivation.

One must bargain with or pay an exorbitant price to these market men and women. If it is only a melon, or a dozen juicy pears, twice as much will be asked as is expected. If you shake your head when a price is given, the man or woman in charge of the stall will immediately ask, “What will you give?” On the outside of the market building dozens of women will be seen seated on the ground with a little pile of tomatoes, radishes, potatoes or melons heaped up in front of them. The housewife or servant will pass around among them making purchases and gradually filling up the basket which she carries, or hires some boy to bear for her.

The poorer Chileans are a hard working people—the most industrious of the South Americans. A walk through the sections of the city occupied by them shows much grinding poverty. Across the Mapocho penury stretches on all sides. The dwellings are low, with floors oftentimes below the street level, and the interiors show unsanitary conditions and an entire lack of the comforts of life, let alone the decencies. The improvement of such surroundings should command immediate attention from the authorities. The wages paid this class are not very large, so that they are compelled to live in comparative poverty. They drink a great deal on Sundays and holidays. Monday is a bad day to get anything done, for the peons must have a few hours to recover from the previous day’s celebration. It is a sort of a “_dias non_,” a day that is not. Holidays are greatly desired, and it takes five of them to properly celebrate the “diaz y ocho de Setiembre,” the 18th of September, the anniversary of Chilean independence. _Fiestas_ are held in every park and plaza, and all the banks and business houses close. Everybody, young and old, engages in the festivities with zeal and enthusiasm. The poor people save up their money for weeks and months in order to celebrate this occasion in the only way that seems appropriate to them—that is, by carousing. Saturday is beggars’ day, and every mendicant in the city is out with open palm. On other days only the licensed beggars appear. Some beggars even come out on horseback, for horses are remarkably cheap in Chile.

Another good view may be had of the poorer classes on the occasion of a church celebration, such as the festival of Corpus Christi. Both church and state take a part in this _fiesta_. The troops appear in their finest uniforms. The infantry are gorgeous in their blue and yellow, with helmets surmounted with white plumes. The cavalry wear blue plumes and the bands are adorned with red plumes. The religious procession consists of the Procession of the Cross, which is composed of various societies, the Dominicans, Franciscans, Augustinians and other orders. The parochial clergy follow with the Archbishop in the lead. During the procession hundreds of women and children, and some men, kneel in the streets. Some men doff their hats, while others look on in seemingly idle curiosity without any special attitude of reverence.

The wealthier people take life easy. The real life is only for this class. After breakfast, which is served from eleven to twelve o’clock, comes the siesta. This meal is frequently an elaborate and formal function if guests are present, and is more like a dinner. On the door of many business houses one will see the sign “_cerrado de las 12 a 1½ horas_,” which means that they are closed between these hours. Business calls are usually made between two and four. At six o’clock every person who owns or can hire a carriage goes out to Cousiño Park. Everyone dresses in his best, the men wearing silk hats and frock suits, and the women having on fashionable gowns and large hats. In the park the carriages parade up and down the principal drives and the occupants nod to their acquaintances. It is quite the correct thing for men to make audible remarks about the personal appearance of ladies, if they are complimentary. After about half an hour of this parade they adjourn as by mutual consent to the Alameda, which is twice as wide as Pennsylvania Avenue in Washington, and the parade continues up one side of the imposing avenue and down the other for another half hour. There are all kinds of vehicles—drays, victorias, landaus, four-in-hands and automobiles. The driving is superintended by mounted policemen, and the scene is quite imposing, though rather stilted in the eyes of an American. The parade then breaks up and all drive home to partake of the dinner, which is the principal meal of the day. The politeness of the Chileno is excessive. He will always give the lady the inner side of the street, and would cheerfully step off the sidewalk in order to render this courtesy. The man always extends the first greeting also to a lady of his acquaintance.

Club life is greatly enjoyed in Santiago, for the resident of that city is very much of a night-hawk. The Club de la Union is the best club in the country. It was my privilege to be entertained there a number of times. The real life does not begin until rather late, and there is always a representative crowd of men to be found there after ten o’clock, and gambling is sure to be indulged in in some form. While the men are at the club the women stay at home, or attend the theatre.

When Italian opera is not being given, one-act comedies are the favourite plays. Going to the theatre, however, usually means looking in for a _zarzuela_ or two during the evening. Three or four of these one-act pieces, or _zarzuelas_, are usually put on in an evening, and the house is cleared after each performance. Those who dine late usually drop in for the second turn, which begins about half-past nine; or one can catch the last one, which does not begin until about eleven o’clock. Some of these _zarzuelas_ are one-act musical plays, abridged from popular operas, but most of them are melodrama or grotesque comedy. The audiences are very alert and are quick to respond to appeals from the stage.

“Oh, _Mamacita_, let us go around the plaza once more, for the band has not yet quit playing,” plead the little girls and young ladies of Santiago. On Tuesday, Thursday and Sunday evenings a band plays in the Plaza de Armas, which is the centre of life and business in the Chilean capital. Then occurs the _paseo_, or promenade, so common in Spanish towns. It usually begins before the light has yet faded from the highest peaks of the Andes, and while the newsboys are still calling out “_Las Ultimas Noticias_.” The girls and young ladies, the boys and young men, all come here on these evenings. The former are always accompanied by their mothers, as the social customs are very strict and the girls do not enjoy as much freedom as their cousins have in North America. The mothers sit on the benches, while the younger women and girls walk around the plaza in pairs and groups. The young men, among whom are many officers in German uniforms and with clanking swords, walk around in the opposite direction, and pass audible comments on the girls who pass. Their remarks are irritating to an Anglo-Saxon who understands the Castilian lisp, but the girls only laugh or smile, for they are quite accustomed to it. The same attentions bestowed on young ladies on the average American street would result in an interference by a man in blue uniform, and possibly a gentle use of the “big stick.” The young men exchange a few words with those with whom they are acquainted, but not for long, for mamma keeps her vigilant eyes on them. The girls, even little tots, are finished coquettes, and they aim to attract attention. This is one of the few opportunities afforded to the young people to see each other. If a young man observes a girl by whom he is attracted he will begin inquiries as to who she is, and perhaps even his folks will aid him in his effort to make the acquaintance of his inamorata.

Within almost a stone’s throw of the Plaza is all of Chile—those who rule and those who own—the principal club, theatres, public buildings and residences of diplomats. The chief business streets converge at this plaza, and the leading business houses are near it. The great cathedral and archbishop’s palace occupy one entire side, the post office and a government building another side, and the portales, or corridors, under which are many booths and stores, fill up the remaining two sides. The stores around the plaza are small and like those of old Spain. This is the oldest business section in Santiago and was in existence two centuries before our own national capital. Some of the stores are like holes in the wall, with goods stacked up in the doorway and even on the street outside. They are far different from the larger and more modern establishments near the corner of Ahumada and Huerfanos, a block away. There one will find splendid stores where goods from all parts of the world can be purchased. A fine large department store has recently been opened up in the city, which is a great improvement over any of the old establishments. The prices in the windows look very high, but an article marked five dollars means only about one-fifth that amount in United States currency.

During the day many shoppers may be seen. The women trip along two by two or roll up in their broughams, victorias or automobiles. In the morning the women wear black gowns and the _mantas_, which are shawls folded into a sort of bonnet which gives a very demure setting to the black-eyed, oval, and, oftentimes, beautiful faces underneath. This is the dress worn to the morning mass, and is not changed until after the breakfast hour. One may sometimes see the roguish eyes of the wearer peering at him from beneath this _manta_, even while the owner is fingering her beads and uttering her prayers in the cathedral. Some one has described the _manta_ as “that graceful euphemism which shields the poor and disarms the vain, hides bad taste and clumsy waists, and wrapped about the head and nipped in in some marvellous fashion at the nape of the neck, envelops all femininity in gracefulness and mystery.”

One’s visit is not complete without seeing a sunset from Santa Lucia. Santiago is situated in a valley, surrounded by lofty mountains on every side. At its back are the Cordilleras of the Andes, with their lofty peaks which lift their eternal snows far up into the blue ethereal canopy overhead. As the sun creeps slowly into the western sky it illumes the red tile roof of the city and the many spires. Then its rays fall full upon the snow-clad peaks, and long after the fiery ball has dropped behind the lower range of mountains, which separate Santiago from the sea, its rays continue to glisten upon the loftier peaks that form the eastern horizon. Then, as darkness slowly falls over the landscape, the electric lights of the city flash forth beneath you like visions in fairy land. The whole scene, with its variations and transformations, is one that will long linger in memory.