dangerously near, on which there ought also to be a light. Daylight took us to the open sea, and four and a half days' steaming brought us again into Rio harbour on the morning of Wednesday, the 5th of February, when we were put to quarantine in what is called Three Fathom Bay, where we remained until the third morning, when we were released and steamed to the coal wharf.
Precisely three months after my first arrival in Rio, I left it again to return to the River Plate, whence the pestilence had departed and things resumed more or less their usual appearance. Monte Video had, however, been the scene of a dreadful tragedy—the murder of General Flores in open day—and the subsequent terrible retribution which followed that catastrophe. A gloom hung over the country, heightened by the impending bank crisis, and it seemed as if the spirit of evil had taken possession of the place. Whatever may have been the faults or errors of General Flores, he deserved a better fate at the hands of his countrymen. In forcing himself into power he only followed in the footsteps of others who had resorted to this unconstitutional mode of proceeding. During his dictatorship the country was perfectly tranquil and highly prosperous, nor was a single life sacrificed by him, although he knew he had many secret enemies. His personal courage was undoubted and evinced in many a bloody encounter in Paraguay, where he appeared to wear a charmed life, and had he been at all prepared the assassins might have found the old man more than a match for them. Altogether, this sad event has created a feeling in Monte Video which it will take long to recover from, nor is any confidence felt in the ability of the present rulers to overcome the difficulties of their position. It is a great pity so fine a country and so fair a city should be sacrificed to objects of mere personal ambition, and be the sport of every discontented chief or partisan who chooses to set himself in array against the Government; but unfortunately this is too much the case, nor do the people themselves rise to put down such a state of anarchy.
In alluding to the new buildings erected at Monte Video I omitted the Bolsa or Exchange, which is quite an ornament to the city, with its light, highly ornamented façade. The interior is of a quadrilateral form, providing a spacious hall where the business of the place is carried on, with brokers' offices on the ground floor, the upper storey being devoted to a tribunal of commerce and other public purposes. The cost of the building is stated at about 160,000 hard dollars, or £32,000 sterling, an instance of public spirit hardly to be found elsewhere in South America.
The only thing wanting to Monte Video is business, in which respect the contrast with Buenos Ayres is very much in favour of the latter. Nevertheless, the banks have gone into considerable extravagance in the way of architecture, the Italian Bank being conspicuous by a superfluity of marble. Indeed, the facility for issuing notes has evidently led to expenditure in “bricks and mortar” to an extent that must have greatly embarrassed the managers of these institutions when called upon to meet their paper in gold.
As to the cause of the money crisis there cannot be two opinions. In the first place, Government was wrong in allowing private issues of notes, and in the second place, in interfering when it came to a question of the banks meeting their notes in gold. A “forced currency,” as it was then called, was sure to lead to a depreciation in the value of the paper and only postponed the evil day. It was a curious sight to see a guard of soldiers with fixed bayonets on duty round the doors of the Italian Bank, and a crowd of people waiting outside to receive specie payment of their notes. This process had already shut up several of the banks, and there was little hope of saving the Italian Bank, although great efforts were being made by the mercantile body to do so, as from the large number of Italian tradesmen doing business with the bank serious results might attend the closing of its doors. The wisest course would have been for all the banks to have followed in the wake of Mauá and Co. and closed their doors when they found themselves unable to meet the pressure for gold. This would have brought about some remedial action on the part of Government with a view to self-preservation.
Amongst other public improvements at Monte Video is a large market, a tramway for a few miles out of the city, and the commencement of a railway intended eventually to reach Durazno, but at present only a few miles can be completed, owing to the want of capital. Unfortunately, the Government is not in a position to assist any enterprise of this kind, spite of the large amount of Brazilian gold that has been poured into the place during the war. Altogether, Monte Video has an ordeal to go through that will require time and patience on the part of those who may have to conduct its affairs.
The Bay presents its usual animated appearance as regards the collection of ships and steamers, and a large sprinkling of foreign men-of-war, whose services have been much called into requisition of late, in order to protect foreign property; but in other respects there is a total absence of vitality or of actual business.
THE CITY OF RIO DE JANEIRO.
It cannot be said in this case, as in most others, that
“'Tis distance lends enchantment to the view;”—
for the nearer you approach this far-famed city, the more sensible are you to the beauties it unfolds. Strangers are always struck with the singularly picturesque appearance of the land approaching Rio de Janeiro, but once fairly in the bay they are bewildered at its great extent, surrounded on all sides by hills and mountains of every possible form, shape, and size, most of them clothed in luxuriant verdure to the summit. No picture or representation I have seen of the Bay of Rio does justice to the splendid panorama its scenery presents. Even those who have often approached it from the sea, so far from being tired of gazing, not only recognise old familiar points, but discover some new feature in the fairy-like landscape that had before escaped their notice. It varies very much according to the light and shade—sunrise, noonday, and sunset each possessing peculiar marks of delighting beauty. In my former description of Rio occurs the following passage:—
The city of Rio Janeiro extends some three miles along the south-west side of the bay, and being much intersected by hills, it is difficult to get a good view of the whole range, unless from the top of one of the mountains near the city, such as the celebrated “Corcovado,” which stands out like a pulpit on the plain below, and is some 2,500 feet perpendicular. The view from this pulpit on a clear day is superb, and I should almost say unequalled in the world: the city, with its numerous divisions and suburbs below you—the bay, extending as far as the eye can reach, until lost in the plain below the Organ Mountain—the sea, studded with numerous picturesque islands, with vessels looking like white specks upon it, and seen to a great distance—all together form a most enchanting picture, and amply repay the toil of an ascent. The mountain is of granite rock, like all others in this country, but thickly wooded almost to the summit, and you come out quite suddenly on the bare point before alluded to, so much resembling a pulpit. In consequence of the tortuous formation of the streets, constructed round the base of the hills, it is difficult to get more than a bird's-eye view of the city, on ground made by encroachment on the sea; consequently, the streets are low, without drainage, and in several of the back ones the water collects and stagnates, to the great detriment of health and comfort. Rio itself is a bad copy of Lisbon—streets at right angles, a large square facing the sea, and the suburbs extending up the hills which everywhere meet your eye. In Lisbon the streets are tolerably wide, but here they have built them so miserably narrow, that scarcely even one carriage can pass through, much less pass each other; and it is evident that such vehicles were never contemplated in the original formation of these streets. The only way of getting over the difficulty is for carriages coming into the city to take one line of streets, and those leaving it another, which they do, excluding omnibuses altogether from the principal thoroughfares. Improvements in this way were what I found most backward; indeed there was a marked falling-off in such respect since I was last here, and there seems a great want of municipal government.[2] In many places the pavement is execrable, and generally very bad, the difficulty having been probably increased by laying down mains for water and gas, the latter now in process of execution, and also to heavy rains having washed away many parts of the road, and otherwise caused much damage. Once this troublesome job is got through, it is to be hoped that some effective measures will be taken to put the streets and branch roads in order; otherwise they will soon be rendered impassable.