another of the disagreeables.
A north wind, in summer, is very unpleasant, the heated atmosphere relaxing both mind and body. The combined effects of heat, dust, and wind, make the enjoyment of an evening promenade extremely precarious.
In summer, the pastures frequently catch fire, from the intenseness of the heat. In 1821, Mr. Halsey, an American gentleman, who has a large sheep farm, sustained a considerable loss by an event of this kind, many of his sheep having been burnt. The same heat that occasioned Mr. Halsey’s loss brought on a violent Pampero; and, from the dust and burning ashes that enveloped the city, one might have supposed that the days of Herculaneum and Pompeii were about to return.
The winter is mild, yet there are days of piercing cold in the months of June, July, and August; and thin ice may be seen in the morning, but not any snow. We have here the penetrating rains, mists, and November days of England, without its comforts: from these circumstances, and the heat of the summer, Englishmen feel the cold much more than in England, and cling to their fire-sides, for they have introduced those luxuries, and the natives in some cases follow our example; otherwise, the ladies wrap themselves up in their shawls, and the gentlemen in their capotes, and thus pass the severe days of winter. The thermometer in winter is generally at 40 to 50, sometimes at 35.
The roads, after heavy rains, are nearly impassable, forming pantanas, or mud holes, which are dangerous to travellers; but, on the return of fine weather; they quickly dry again. The dead horses and dogs, that lie about the roads, quickly decay.
The rich pastures afford food to the cattle all the year round. The winter’s general mildness prevents the necessity of housing them.
That Buenos Ayres possesses a fine climate, no one can deny; but not to the extent its panegyrists have stated. I speak as I have found it, having in vain looked for that Italian sky, soul-breathing softness in the air, that some pretend to have found: but it may be defined a healthy, warm climate.
The various and sudden changes to which the British climate is subject, form a fruitful grumbling topic to many Englishmen and foreigners, who can fancy nothing that is not foreign. According to their accounts, even the moon shines better here than at home. I will venture to assert, that we have in England more real fine days in May, June, July, August, and September, than in the best months at Buenos Ayres. Of our delightful summer evenings, they have nothing to compare. To make any contrast of a winter, in latitude 34, and that of 50, is out of the question.
In this part of South America, earthquakes are only heard of; we dread not, here, the catastrophes of Peru, Chili, and Mexico.
The prevalent DISEASES of Buenos Ayres are fevers, sore throats, rheumatism, and others common to Europe. Strangers are subject to rheumatism from the dampness and searching winds. Sore throats, in many instances, have been fatal.
It has often been observed, that we feel the effects of free-drinking here, more than in England. I have experienced this more than once, and thought it peculiar to myself, till others complained of the same.
The country round Buenos Ayres is uninteresting; all is dreary sameness. But where, indeed, shall we find the charming scenery of our dear England—its hills and dales, parks, thick-set hedges, and splendid mansions? We miss, too, that endless chirping of birds, ever heard in our thick-set hedges. Here, the equestrian takes his ride merely for the sake of exercise, and not from any pleasure the country can afford. I did not expect to find villas, parks, and cultivated grounds; but I thought it would be more diversified.
In a place where horses are so cheap, one might conclude that Englishmen would be continually on horseback, but they soon get tired of a recreation, in which nothing but exercise is concerned. The most frequented ride is to the village of Isidro, fifteen miles from the city, the Richmond of this place. On Sundays and holidays much company resort thither. It has some attractions in point of scenery.
The Barracca road is good—upon a par with those of England. Horse-racing and other sports are practised there, both by Englishmen and natives.
A ride in the neighbourhood of Buenos Ayres is not, however, entirely devoid of interest; especially in the fruit season, when the quintas, or farm-houses, with the peach trees weighed down by delicious fruit, the orange trees (though this is not their soil), and the wild aloe, so common in this and the opposite continent of Africa, afford an agreeable prospect. But the wild rose, blackberries, and the mass of roots and plants of English fields and hedges, are not to be seen. The trees (if they can be called so) are of a nature so dwarfish, that they seem like apologies for trees, stinted in their growth by bad nursing.
The Alameda, or public walk of Buenos Ayres, is upon the beach, near the mole. It is totally unworthy such a city, and in the neighbourhood of all the rabble of the town. It is only about 200 yards in length, with rows of trees the height of bushes on each side, and brick seats, which are too much honoured by the fair forms that use them. A moderate assemblage frequent this walk on Sunday evenings: the beauty and dress of the females could alone tempt a stranger to visit it. On other days it is deserted, except by some elderly gentlemen, who, as in our St. James’s Park and Kensington Gardens, are glad to escape from the multitude, and commune with themselves.
The beach well deserves its nick-name of Wapping; being crowded with sailors of all nations, grog-shops, stores, &c. The English sailors idling about the beach would man a ship of war. A stranger, seeing so many English faces, might suppose it an English colony. At night, the sailors in the grog-shops dance, to the music of the fiddle and flute, reels, and the College hornpipe in perfection, astonishing the Spanish girls. At one of these pulperias, or grog-shops, on the beach, a large picture was lately hoisted, of H.M.S. Boyne in full sail, flags, signals, &c. streaming. The English sailors mustered in great numbers upon this occasion, and rent the air with their cheers.
The seamen upon the beach are, at times, disorderly; but not more so than in other countries. American sailors have been the most refractory, causing their captains infinite trouble. The captain of an American ship going to sea, lately, made application to the captain of one of our packets, for irons, to punish his mutinous crew; but he replied, that he never had such articles on board his ship.
In no part of the world are masters of vessels subject to such annoyance from the desertion of their crews.[3] Men get into the hands of crimps, who conceal them, and exact their own price from those who are in want of sailors. This has been in some measure rectified lately, especially since the suppression of privateering. Many sailors roam about the country, working as labourers; but they soon get tired of that, and hanker after their old employment, as an old coachman likes to hear the smack of the whip. These “beach-rangers,” as they are called, have often wished to enter for his majesty’s ships that have been lying off Buenos Ayres; but few or none have been accepted. Sailors begin to find there is no service equal to our’s.
There are two English COFFEE-HOUSES, or HOTELS; Faunch’s, and Keen’s. The former is a very superior one, and provides the dinners given upon our national days, such as St. George’s, St. Andrew’s, &c. besides numerous private dinners of Englishmen, Americans, Creolians, &c. It is situated near the Fort. Faunch, the master, and his wife, have had great experience in their profession in London; and the style of his dinners is hardly to be exceeded there. The king’s birth-day dinner is kept up with great éclat: the room is surrounded by flags of different nations; and they have both vocal and instrumental music. From 70 to 80 persons generally sit down to table, including the ministers of the country, who are always invited. The government pay us the compliment of hoisting the flag at the Fort, on that day.
Another hotel, kept by a respectable North-American female, Mrs. Thorn, a widow, is much resorted to by the Americans.
In
